Henry checked the tables again. They were decked out for the party, with plastic red-checked tablecloths, shells from the beach and small white candles. He counted the chairs. ‘Are you sure you’ve got enough? For everybody?’ His tummy was churning. He wanted everything to be perfect.
‘I am,’ said Mum. ‘Enough for everyone. All of us. Hooblers. Carsons and Barones. I also borrowed two extra chairs from the recreation room for Cassie and her grandfather.’
‘Second-last night,’ said Dad. He chumped Henry in the arm. ‘It’ll be back to school before you know it. Year Three. You’ll be up with the big kids. How do you feel about that?’
Henry shrugged his dad’s hand away. He didn’t want to think about the second-last night. He didn’t want to think about going back to school or moving up to Year Three. He didn’t want to think about big kids with their grazed knees and fierce eyes and handball playing. He didn’t want to think about saying goodbye to Yelonga. He didn’t want to think about saying goodbye to Cassie.
He counted the cups and the serviettes again. ‘Are you sure they’re coming?’
‘Her grandfather said they would,’ said Mum.
‘Did you tell him it was a hat party?’
‘I did,’ said Mum. She was wearing a lime green witch’s hat with foamy black netting, sprinkled with spiders and bugs.
‘What did he say?’
‘Well, he said he thought he could hunt something up and that it wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Did he seem grumpy?’
‘No. I don’t think so,’ said Mum.
‘What about the tarp?’ asked Henry, gazing at his dad. ‘Have you tightened it?’
‘Well, no,’ said Dad.
‘But her Pop hates loose tarps!’
‘I think the tarp will be okay for tonight, mate,’ said Dad, scooping up some platters of green salad. ‘Not too flappy. There’s not a lot of wind.’
‘And he’s not very fond of tourists!’ said Henry. ‘That’s what Cassie said!’
‘Now, Henry,’ said Mum, gently, ‘we can only be who we are.’
‘I think everything will be okay,’ said Dad. ‘After all, Cassie’s been over here for lunch and dinner nearly every day and you two have been riding around the countryside, swimming in the pool, jumping on the giant pillow—’
‘Snorkelling in the Hole!’ interrupted Mum.
‘Whacking each other senseless at totem tennis,’ said Patch, bringing out the drinks. He was wearing a Viking helmet, which kept slipping down his forehead.
‘And chasing little blue crabs!’ added Lulu, galloping about in a giant brown glossy papier-mache horse head.
‘If her Pop wasn’t keen on that, I’m sure he would have said something. You need to settle, son of my heart!’
‘Her Pop seemed like a perfectly ordinary man to me,’ said Mum. ‘Only a little more sunburnt than average.’
Henry groaned. ‘But what if he doesn’t like curry? Why couldn’t we do a pasta night?’
‘There’s plenty of salads and bread rolls,’ said Dad, plopping down the platters on the main tables.
‘Cassie said he likes to eat plain food.’
Mum neatened up the platters, moving them away from the candles. ‘I’m sure he will be fine.’
‘Some people don’t like spicy, hot food because it gives them . . . well, you know what—’
‘Runny bot-bot!’ said Dad.
‘Daniel!’ Mum whirled around.
Dad grinned. ‘Not to mention a burning ring of fire.’
‘Oh, Daddy!’ said Lulu. ‘That’s rude!’
‘Sorry!’ Dad pressed a hand against his mouth. He flicked a pink plait over his shoulder.
‘Maybe Dad shouldn’t wear that wig,’ said Henry. ‘And I don’t think a tiara counts as a hat!’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Dad. ‘I’ve got a police cap to wear over the top of it.’
‘But what if he thinks Dad’s a bit, you know . . . bonkers?’ asked Henry.
Mum’s lips twitched. ‘Ah, well, Henry . . .’
Henry touched his bike helmet. His dad had strung a forest of cable ties through it to make it look more crazy and exciting, as if at any moment a flock of magpies would swoop down and pluck his eyes out.
‘Do you think I look like an echidna?’ Henry flicked the cable ties sticking up like spikes. He followed his mum around the table, as she straightened up the place settings.
‘Not at all,’ said Mum, glancing over. ‘But if you’d like a different hat, I’ve still got a spare sombrero.’
‘No,’ said Henry. He had tried on some other hats in the tent earlier that afternoon, a leprechaun hat and a propeller cap, but neither of them felt right. It was like an insult to even try another hat on, especially when his bike helmet had given him the most fun in the past few days. Holy Tramoley! The truth was maybe no other hat made him quite as comfy.
‘Ha-ha, Henry,’ said Dad. ‘There’s no need to worry. Here comes Cassie and her Pop now.’
They came waltzing through the twilight, under the pines and across the grass, Cassie skipping ahead, her Pop bow-legged and gallant, as if he was summoning up pluck and courage.
‘What is that thingie on his head?’ Lulu stopped mid-gallop.
‘I believe that would be a traffic cone,’ said Dad.
‘A different kind of witch’s hat altogether,’ said Mum, with a laugh.
‘Oh, wow, so cool,’ said Patch, the horn of his Viking helmet snagging on a tent line. ‘It’s got a flashing light inside it.’
Dad stamped a foot. ‘Now, that is the spirit,’ he exclaimed.
‘And look!’ Lulu pointed. ‘Cassie’s got a nest for a hat!’
‘A magpie nest,’ said Dad, arching his eyebrows at Henry.
‘Sheez,’ said Patch. He flicked the cable ties on Henry’s helmet. ‘You’d better watch out, sunshine!’
‘Welcome,’ said Mum, walking towards Cassie and Pop, her arms outstretched. ‘Can I get you both a drink?’
‘You’re so tall!’ cried Lulu. She looked up at Cassie’s grandfather, her mouth wide open. ‘Like a lighthouse!’
‘And this must be Lulu!’ said Pop, bending down to shake her hand. ‘How do you do?’
‘I’m good.’ Lulu tilted her head. ‘Would you like to meet my ponies?’
‘Of course,’ said Pop.
‘All of them?’
Pop bowed his head. ‘Every single one!’
‘None of them are my favourite,’ she confided, leading Pop to a camp chair. ‘I love them all. Every single one!’
‘I’m glad to hear that!’ said Pop.
‘Oh, Lulu!’ said Mum. ‘Let poor Frank have a drink and a chat first before you stampede him with ponies.’
‘No, no, no,’ said Pop. ‘I would love to meet them now. It would be a great privilege and a pleasure.’
Dad turned and winked at Henry. ‘See, matie! Nothing to worry about!’
The tightness in Henry’s chest eased. He smiled tentatively and gazed up. The whole sky was iced with cloud, long dusky ribbons of light, glimmering like party streamers.
Everyone sat at the long table together, their funny hats bobbing up and down as they laughed and chatted. They lifted their faded plastic cups and chinked them together, calling out ‘Cheers!’ and ‘Here’s to our second-last night’ and ‘Hurrah for holidays.’ Then they passed around platters and piled up their plates with rice, chicken tikka masala, butternut pumpkin curry, gobi aloo, beef biryani and butter chicken.
The moon shone like a paper lantern.
People strolled by on the bike path: the big bikie with the steel-wool beard and his bikie mates, the nuggety rugrats from next door and the coconut girls. They all stopped to stare, taken aback and then delighted to see a long table of people wearing funny hats.
Dad lifted a glass in their direction and offered a toast. The big bikie with the steel-wool beard laughed and clapped. ‘I want a helmet like that one,’ he cried, pointing at Henry.
The coconut girls and the nuggety rugrats from next door danced and weaved their way down the path into the dusk, ringing bike bells, giggling and shouting with excitement, as if they were taking a piece of the party with them.
Henry wiped his soft naan bread across his plate, swooshing up the last bit of butter chicken sauce. It was good. So good! He could tell Cassie’s Pop was having a good time too. He was stretching back in his chair and patting his tummy, as if he couldn’t fit another thing in. And then Lulu tugged on his arm and asked him to tell them a story. He nodded his head and rested a large veiny hand on top of her little one.
‘So it’s a big story you’re wanting?’ asked Pop, nodding gravely.
‘Yes,’ said Lulu. ‘With adventure and shipwrecks and great white sharks and pirates and maybe even a pony.’
‘I’m not sure about a pony!’ said Pop, with a hearty laugh.
‘How about a Princess?’ asked Lulu.
Pop winked. ‘How about an orangutan?’
‘Yes!’ breathed Lulu, clutching her hands tight.
And Pop told them about the time when he was a younger man and sailed his way around the world in a wooden boat he had built himself, navigating by the stars and travelling by wind. He told them about how a pod of whales once sang him to safety on the inkiest of nights and how he once saw orangutans, orange as the setting sun, swinging from some trees in Borneo.
‘Really?’ asked Lulu.
‘I swear,’ said Pop. ‘I barely breathed because I was scared the slightest sigh might scare them off.’
‘What did you eat?’ asked Dylan. The bells on his jester hat jingled. ‘You know, while you were on the boat?’
‘Mostly fresh fish and the hard vegies like carrots and potatoes. Some barley, rice, oats and pre-sprouted beans. And lots of tinned food. Baked beans. Tuna. Creamed rice pudding was a treat,’ said Pop. He adjusted the traffic cone on his head. ‘But one time, on an island, some friendly villagers gave me fifty-eight green bananas and I strung them up around the boat, in every nook and cranny, and ate one a day until they were gone.’
‘And you saw lots of animals,’ said Lulu. ‘But no ponies.’
‘No ponies, I’m very sorry to say,’ said Pop, shaking his head. ‘But I did see pink iguanas and swam with the seals on the Galapagos Islands and chatted to a lot of fish, stingrays and turtles along the way too.’
‘Pink iguanas!’ said Lulu. ‘That’s almost as good as pink ponies!’
‘Almost,’ said Pop, chuckling. ‘I like that!’
Reed leant forward. The corks on his slouch hat swung about his face. ‘But what about great white sharks?’
‘Aaaah, yes!’ Pop stretched back and crossed his arms. Candlelight flickered across his face. ‘There was this one time, when there were a lot of different schools of fish about. I had a line in the water, when – bang – with one gigantic tug, my whole rod flew overboard. I peered over and a giant great white shark surged up, teeth bared. It rolled over on its side and gave me the eyeball. I hoisted the sail and got out of there quick-sticks, but wouldn’t you know it, the darned thing swam alongside, like a ghost. Then just when I thought I had given it the shake, it leapt out of the water like a holy whale and had an almighty chew on the back of the boat, before sliding off and swimming away. I swear to God, I was so shaky I nearly fell overboard.’
Reed shivered. ‘It was lucky you didn’t die of a heart attack.’
‘You’re telling me,’ said Pop, with a grin.
Jay snatched up a piece of naan bread. ‘Did you see anything else?’
‘How about a live volcano shooting out sparks all through the night?’
Carey slid off his Dr Seuss hat. He crumpled it in his hands. ‘No way!’
‘Cross my heart,’ grinned Pop.
‘What about the hard bits?’ asked Mr Barone, his Tutankhamun hat glinting gold. He plopped a slice of coconut banana into his mouth.
Pop sighed. ‘Well, there’s always something breaking on a boat and so much fixing and hoping against hope to make it to the next port before everything goes bung again.’ He shuffled forwards in his chair and pinched his lip. ‘And then there are the doldrums, when the wind leaves a sailor altogether. One time I was motionless in the ocean for a month until I thought I might go crazy. And there are pirates and sea gypsies disguised as fishermen, and hundred-foot waves.’
‘Hundred-foot waves!’ gasped Reed.
‘But then there are nights,’ said Pop, ‘when veils of light trail beneath the boat, like the sea has swallowed the whole sky and I’m sailing a galaxy, and it makes a man glad to be alive. It does.’
Mum fell back against her chair. ‘Oh, my, that sounds so amazing!’
‘Yes!’ breathed Reed. ‘I want to hear more.’
Pop’s face was soft with remembering. ‘Ah, you’re too kind,’ he said, rubbing his knees and smiling sheepishly. ‘Listening to an old man rabbit on and on.’
‘Not at all,’ said Dad. ‘It’s a privilege. Gosh. Wow! There’s so much juicy goodness in the world.’
Pop scratched his nose and scooched forward. ‘Ah, yes . . . but sometimes, you know, the world, it goes off-kilter no matter where you are and everything can appear as strange as a new country. Things haven’t been the same for me since my wife Nance died. Ah, golly, she was the only princess for me.’ He nodded at Lulu and gave a watery smile. ‘North star. Ballast. She was the whole anchor of my life.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Mum. ‘Of course.’
Pop cleared his throat. ‘But I want to thank you all for welcoming Cassie. She’s had a tough time this past year, but I know she’s enjoyed every second with you. Maybe it’s a true thing that it takes people from away to make a local feel at home in the world again.’
‘Ah, Frank,’ said Mum. She stretched over Lulu to press a hand gently against his shoulder. ‘It’s been a pleasure to have Cassie around.’
Dad nodded. ‘A delight from start to finish. And it’s been great to get to know you too, Frank. You’ve given me a grand, genius idea for a future holiday, that’s for sure.’
Mrs Barone snorted. ‘Does it involve a sailing boat and an ocean?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Dad, lifting an eyebrow.
Henry felt a little flutter in his chest.
Holy Swamoley! Did his dad just not hear that whole story about the great white shark and the hundred-foot waves and the pirates and sea gypsies?
Although Henry had to admit it would be pretty grand to sail veils of light in the ocean. He knew this was called bioluminescence because Andrew Chichester, the genius in his class, had spoken about it for news. He had treasured up that word because it was the longest one he’d ever heard.
‘Well, folks, is there something I can do for you . . . anything...to show my gratitude, before you head home?’
‘Ah, no,’ said Dad. ‘Geez, Frank. Please.’
But something zapped inside Henry, like a bug against a blue light. He sat up straight. ‘Well, there is one thing!’
‘Henry,’ said Mum, opening her eyes wide.
Pop beamed. ‘You name it.’
Henry gazed down the table. He hesitated. ‘Well . . . you know . . . I’m thinking . . .’ He took a deep breath. ‘That Reed . . . would love to catch a . . . kingie.’
‘A kingie?’ asked Pop. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Lulu. ‘Because Reed hasn’t caught a thing, the WHOLE holidays. Not one single fish. Not even a gumboot. Even though he’s gone out fishing nearly every single day.’
‘Oh, Lulu,’ said Henry. ‘Shhhhhh!’ Because this was the thing he was pondering; maybe a grand, genius holiday wasn’t a grand, genius holiday if someone nearby was feeling horribly miserable, even if that person happened to be an infuriating bossy-boots smartypants!
Reed stared back at Henry. His lips were moving up and down, as if he wanted to speak but all the words were popping like bubbles before they made it out of his mouth.
‘Consider it done.’ Pop winked at Reed. ‘You and your dad meet me at the wharf at five sharp tomorrow morning and I’ll take you out to the reef. I know the secret haunts of the kingfish and it would be a pleasure to help you.’
Reed stood up and bowed. Then he sat down and then stood up again, like he had just won a golden ticket. ‘Thank you!’ he whispered to Pop. ‘Thank you!’ he breathed shakily, gazing at Henry.
‘Now,’ said Pop, rubbing his hands with glee. ‘Who would like to hear a joke?’
Reed snapped to attention. ‘Me!’
‘Well,’ said Pop. ‘I dreamt about drowning in an ocean made of fizzy drink last night—’
‘Oooooh, no,’ groaned Dylan.
‘If it sounds like a grandad joke,’ said Jay. ‘And it smells like a grandad joke—’
‘It took me a long while to work out it was just a Fanta sea.’ Pop clicked his tongue. ‘Get it?’
‘Aaaa-aaaah!’ Reed scratched his head.
Dylan slumped over. ‘It is a grandad joke!’
‘Ha,’ said Reed. ‘I get it now. Fanta sea as in fantasy.’
‘You don’t like that one, boys?’ asked Pop. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got more. What do you call an alligator wearing a vest?’
Jay grabbed his ears as if they were bleeding. ‘Heeee-eeelp!’ he cried.
‘An investigator!’ Pop slapped his knee.
Cassie giggled. She squeezed her Pop’s hand. She glanced over at Henry, her eyes gleaming. Henry smiled back. He knew for some people, bad old grandad jokes told a million times over were the best kind of wish come true.