End of the Alphabet by Fleur Beale

Author:Fleur Beale [Beale, Fleur]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781775530459
Published: 2012-09-30T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Those were the best holidays ever. We went to two movies, we went skating and horse riding. We cooked, and ate what we made. On the last Thursday, Davey and I arrived in the pouring rain. Cat was glaring out the window. ‘Stupid rain. I hate stupid rain.’

‘Say it in Portuguese, Cat,’ said Davey — in Portuguese.

That cheered her up. They danced around the room chanting Stupid rain. We hate stupid rain in Portuguese.

Maria rolled her eyes. ‘Good luck,’ she said as she left.

But it was the perfect day for painting boxes and making a street of houses and shops. I’d brought the flattened boxes with me. We’d need to go into town for the paints and brushes. ‘Okay, kids — get the rain gear on. We’re on a mission.’

Cat made us say it again in Portuguese. ‘And we’ll sit on the bus,’ Davey said, ‘and we’ll talk in Portuguese and everyone will look at us. It’ll be cool.’

So we did, and it was. So were the houses we made, and the shops. We put newspaper on the floor of the garage and got to work. We learnt the words for the colours while we did it.

We lined all our houses up where they wouldn’t get squashed when Maria and Lucas came home.

Every day when she got home, Maria made me say the reading thing. Then we had a cup of tea and chatted in Portuguese. On the last Friday when she made me say it, I said, ‘Maria, I have something to tell you. It really isn’t a big deal any more. I don’t feel ashamed now. It’s just how things are. I’ll cope with it.’

She threw her arms around me and cheered.

I said, ‘Obrigada, Maria. Obrigada.’

Davey and I walked home. I was happy. Maria wanted me to pick Cat up after school each day and then walk home from our house with her at four. ‘We’ll sit and talk in Portuguese for half an hour each day,’ she said. And she insisted on paying me for picking Cat up.

My Brazil account was growing. Maria said they’d be back home in Brazil by the next April and that I was to come and stay with them. ‘It will make us very happy.’

That was good. But I didn’t seem to be able to make Mum happy. She tried to smile. She tried to be interested in what I was doing, but her heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t say anything about my room. She never laughed now. She wrote to Max every two or three days. He didn’t reply. Calvin and I worried about her, but she just shrugged. ‘I’m okay. Leave me alone.’

During the first week of school, her work went on strike. I thought that would totally break her, but instead, it perked her up. She threw herself into organising for the union. She stood on picket lines. She was interviewed on radio and on telly. We were proud of her. She spoke brilliantly.

But altogether she lost a week’s pay.

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