The Colour of Happiness
I am bored, bored, bored. It’s Saturday and I’ve got absolutely nothing to do. Hannah phoned me earlier and asked if I wanted to hang out in town, but I told her I wasn’t feeling well and I’d give it a miss.
This isn’t totally true. I hate lying to her, but the truth makes me sound really silly and I’ve had enough of feeling silly to last a lifetime. The reason that I don’t want to go to town is that I don’t want to see any boys from school. Ever since the day of the basketball disaster, a group of them have been waiting for me on the way home.
It’s not like they really do anything to me. Nothing that I could tell Mum or a teacher about. I’d sound completely ridiculous making a fuss about a few rude words and horrid looks. And anyway I’ve got Alex. She was walking home behind me last week and saw what was going on. She was totally brilliant – telling them exactly what she’d do to them if they gave me any more grief – and Alex in full-blown battle mode is pretty terrifying.
So as long as she’s around I know I’m safe. But, if it’s just me and Hannah and we bump into them, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone. It’s like the basketball match made people notice me – and not in a good way. I liked it before, when nobody really knew I was even there.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table and wondering if I’m bored enough to join Mum in doing the chores. She’s finished the vacuuming and has moved on to cleaning the work surfaces, and I’m just about to offer to help when Alex and Finn tumble through the back door.
‘It’s freezing out there,’ says Alex, shivering dramatically before pulling off her scarf and throwing it on to the table.
‘I did tell you to wear a coat,’ Mum tuts, but it’s a conversation they’ve had a million times and she knows that nothing she can say will make Alex listen. I don’t understand it: being cold is horrible and I don’t really see what the problem is with wearing a coat. It’s not like it’s a fashion crime, surely? Alex won’t wear a coat ever, even on a freezing January day like today. It doesn’t stop her moaning about being cold though.
I don’t actually know how Finn puts up with her. We all love Finn and I think he loves us back, although he loves Alex the most. He virtually lives in our house some days, which is fine with me because Finn is fantastic. He lives across the road and his mum is friends with our mum and they’ve known each other since Finn and Alex were babies. Mum has got photos of them lying next to each other on a rug in our garden. Sometimes Finn comes over because band practice is at our house and sometimes he comes over for no reason, just because he feels like it. He and Alex spend most of their time together. I think he must be very patient to cope with all her drama.
‘Anyway,’ continues Alex, as if Mum hasn’t spoken, ‘we’re planning on a musical afternoon, complete with the West Side Story DVD and serious amounts of popcorn. Is it OK if we have the living room, Mum?’
Mum nods and squirts the cooker with cleaning spray.
‘Sounds fun! I might join you when I’ve finished these jobs. Granny and Grandpa should be here soon as well.’
‘Didn’t you tell me your grandpa used to do a lot of singing when he was younger?’ Finn asks Alex.
‘Yeah,’ says Alex. ‘He was always singing when I was little.’
‘He used to sing in local amateur dramatics performances,’ says Mum. ‘I loved seeing him up there on stage – everyone always said how handsome he was and when he started singing the room would go silent. He was quite something in those days.’
‘Why doesn’t he sing any more?’ I ask her. I know that Grandpa still loves music because I play my violin for him all the time, but I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him sing.
‘Oh, I don’t think he can remember the words to the songs any more,’ Mum tells me, a sad look passing over her face for a second. ‘I’m not sure he even remembers that he used to sing.’
Alex grabs a large bowl from the cupboard and puts it on the table. Finn pulls two big bags of popcorn out of a carrier that he’s been holding and fills the bowl, right to the brim. The sweet smell of popcorn hits me and I wish, for the thousandth time, that I was seventeen and not twelve.
I look up, so busy feeling sorry for myself and thinking about Grandpa and his forgotten voice, that I haven’t noticed Finn and Alex walking towards the kitchen door. They’re standing there, looking as if they’re waiting for me.
‘Hurry up, sleepyhead!’ says Alex. ‘We’re ready to start.’
A warm feeling spreads through me, starting at my toes and moving up to my tummy and then down to the ends of my fingers. It might be freezing outside, but in our house it’s warm and snug. I follow them through to the living room and then we sit, squashed on to the sofa, with the bowl of popcorn resting on Alex’s knees because she’s in the middle.
‘Watch her, Izzy,’ warns Finn. ‘She’ll take more than her fair share if we’re not careful!’
‘Cheek!’ says Alex, elbowing Finn in the ribs and then grabbing a fistful of popcorn and cramming it into her mouth. ‘Ummm – yum, yum, yum, delicious popcorn and it’s all for me.’
‘You are such a kid,’ sighs Finn, sounding like Mum for a moment, which makes Alex screech with laughter.
‘And you’re SO mature, naturally?’ she asks him and then turns to me. ‘Don’t let him fool you, Izzy. He’s the most juvenile person I know. Here – watch this!’
She picks up a piece of popcorn and turns back to Finn.
‘Open wide,’ she says and he grins before tipping his head back and opening his mouth. Alex throws the popcorn in the air and Finn leans forward and catches it, right in his mouth.
‘One of these days you’re going to choke doing that,’ says Mum, coming into the room and settling into the armchair with a cup of tea. ‘Izzy, ignore everything that these two do – they’re terrible role models and you should probably do the exact opposite of anything you see them getting up to.’
‘Charming!’ says Alex. ‘I’ll have you know that I have many admirable qualities.’
‘Yes, you do, my darling,’ says Mum. ‘Now, are we watching this film or not?’
But before we can begin there’s a knock at the door.
‘You can start without me,’ says Mum, getting up and going out into the hallway. Alex presses play and, as the opening credits roll, Mum comes back into the room with Granny and Grandpa.
‘Is there room for a little one?’ asks Granny, and Finn leaps up and helps Mum settle Grandpa into the armchair. Granny sits down on the other sofa and Mum sends Alex out to the kitchen to make two more cups of tea. I pause the film and go over to give Granny a hug.
‘Mum says you’re watching West Side Story,’ says Granny. ‘Grandpa was in a production of this once.’
‘Seriously!’ I breathe, looking over at Grandpa and trying to imagine him doing something so cool. ‘Where was that?’
‘Oh, just in the town hall!’ laughs Granny. ‘But it’s hard to imagine a more dashing Tony. I fell in love with him all over again watching him up there onstage.’
‘When did he do that?’ I ask her.
‘Oh, years and years ago. Before your mum was born. But he used to sing all the songs for a long time after. He’d sing them to your mum to get her to go to sleep at night!’
‘I remember him doing that!’ says Mum, coming over to the sofa. Alex has come back in with the tea so I pass one to Granny and then sit back with Finn and Alex while Mum settles down next to Granny. ‘He sang me those songs for years – how could I have forgotten that?’
I hand the remote to Alex and she presses play. We’re all quiet, engrossed in the storyline, until the first song where the character of Tony sings. Suddenly, as the actor in the film starts singing, Grandpa opens his mouth and joins in. His voice is croaky, like it’s out of practice, but none of us are looking at the screen any more. We’re all watching Grandpa, who can’t remember where he lives or what he had for breakfast, but, as it turns out, knows the words to West Side Story perfectly.
We spend the next few hours watching Grandpa and the film. His voice gets louder and more powerful with each song and I see Granny and Mum looking at each other in amazement, Mum holding on to Granny’s hand and squeezing it tightly.
Alex stretches her legs out and rests them on Finn, and occasionally feeds him popcorn when he looks at her in a hungry way. She sings along to some of the songs with Grandpa and we all tease Mum for crying when Tony dies, even though I definitely see Alex wiping her eyes when she thinks nobody’s looking.
And sitting on our sofa, with my whole family together, I think I can totally define the colour of happiness.