I woke in the night at 4:44 a.m. I knew it would be 4:44 even before I checked the time because it’s always 4:44 a.m. if I wake in the night with my mind abuzz. I checked the clock. Sure enough – 4:44 a.m.! There was still so much to do for the forest concert and as much as I’d been focussing for days on the best possible forest concert scenarios, in the deep silence of night my mind had flipped over. Now, like the worst kind of waking dream, all I could think about was what might go wrong. The worst-case scenario, of course, was the horrific notion that the trees would already be gone before the forest concert had even begun. That’s if Mayor Pizzey really did give permission for Seth’s dad to do the job earlier that day. Our only hope with that one was that Seth promised to mess with Paul Cromby by letting down his car tyres, if things got really desperate. Then there were all the other worst possible scenarios, like the one where we were all set up in the forest in front of a real live audience and who knows how many people online. I had just given my big speech, kept it short and sweet, like Mikki and I had planned, but when it was time for the Memory Tree to burst into song … nothing happened. There I was, standing in front of the Memory Tree, while the murmur of chatter grew louder and louder in the audience. People were laughing and jeering, mean people like the Kingfisher Krew, who’d really only turned up to see us fail in the first place. Even Sylvie and Georgette and Bella were sniggering and laughing while Clementine was crying on account of the mean comments flooding in online. I had painted the scene in my mind in so much detail I could almost smell the forest as I lay tossing and turning in my bed. And then there was my speech. I had told Mikki that I had it under control … but I still hadn’t written one word.
I needed to get out of that forest (and my bed) and get started. As I switched on my light I heard Mum’s footsteps coming down the hall. Then, she was in my actual room.
‘Alberta!’ Mum whispered, ‘Please tell me you haven’t stayed up all night?’
‘I just woke up,’ I said. ‘I have to work on my speech. Anyway, why are you up?’
‘Just not sleeping well these days,’ she said. ‘But I do have some good news. Come on. I’ll make us both a cup of herbal tea.’
I followed Mum to the kitchen with my notebook and sat at the table while she put the kettle on. Fact was, Mum’s idea of good news could mean anything. Her last good news announcement was Netflix wanting to make her book into a TV series. Was it possible Tammy Bracken’s Guide to Modern Manners might also become a musical? I was already deep into imagining a chorus line of actors in cutlery outfits when finally, Mum joined me at the table with two mugs of chamomile tea. I looked at her expectedly.
‘Well, after you’d gone to bed, I spoke to Mayor Pizzey again,’ Mum said, ‘and it turns he’s agreed to postpone Paul Cromby and his men until the day after your forest concert.’
‘For real? Oh my God!’ I said. ‘I can’t wait to tell Mikki! How did you manage to turn him around?’
‘Well … let’s just say I reminded him of the upcoming council elections and how after the dreadful situation he caused with the excrement in the front beach car park—’
‘The poo incident,’ I interrupted.
Mum took a sip of tea. ‘I simply pointed out to Mayor Pizzey that, under the circumstances, he needed all the community support he could muster right now. It certainly wasn’t going to help him in the popularity stakes if he was seen to be cancelling an event that would bring together nearly the entire voting community of Kingfisher Bay.’
‘Nice one, Mum!’
‘Now, of course, he’s organised for a journalist from the Kingfisher Gazette to be at the forest concert, as if the whole thing was his idea. I’m telling you that man hasn’t got a bone of originality in his body!’ Mum chuckled. ‘But I can’t take all the credit. Apparently Harriet had given him a good push too.’
I leaned over and gave Mum a kiss. ‘Thanks so much, Mum!’ I said, feeling the weight of my biggest worst-case scenario literally disappear. Throughout the conversation I felt there was a bigger conversation that needed to happen too. I had a question for Mum, though I knew she probably wouldn’t answer it. In the end I just blurted it out anyway.
‘Mum, are you going to let Dad come back home?’
‘Alberta, it’s not that simple, darling. There are things you don’t understand.’
Boy did she have a point there! It took all my self-restraint not to blurt something out about the shoplifting issue.
‘Well, are you?’ I asked. ‘People can change, Mum. Just look at Seth Cromby!’
‘Don’t get me started on that Seth Cromby!’ she said, clunking her mug down on the table.
‘Anyway, I’ve forgiven Seth for what he did and maybe you should forgive Dad too?’ I suggested.
Mum got all jittery and couldn’t look me in the eye.
‘I mean, it’s not just about you, Mum. There’s me and Clementine too.’
Mum was quick to change the topic. ‘The other thing I need to mention is that I’ll be going to the city on the day of the concert. It’s the only day I can shop for an outfit for my TED Talk and I’ve seen the perfect dress at David Jones. I need to try it on, but they said they’d only hold it for one day.’
I wondered why Mum couldn’t find a dress here in Kingfisher Bay. I remembered the haul of clothing I’d found from Penelope’s by the Sea. And all the other stores. Clearly, she hadn’t shoplifted anything she liked enough yet! Or, maybe after talking with Dad she needed to avoid all the shops in town?
‘You’ll be back in time for the concert though, won’t you?’
Tammy’s Tips
#16 good manners means
arriving on time
Being late to a special event such as a ceremony, show or performance displays terrible manners and is disruptive to others. Always arrive fifteen minutes early to get settled before the event begins.
‘Of course, darling. It will just be a quick dash. I wouldn’t miss your forest concert for the world. Especially after my conversation with Mayor Pizzey. I’m so proud of you kids for fighting for what you believe in. God knows us adults don’t always set the best example.’
You can say that again, I thought.
‘Oh, I gave the forest concert a plug on my Instagram too, not that it has much to do with good manners!’ Mum laughed.
As it grew light outside I visited the fig tree in our yard. I was hoping it might help me find just the right words for my speech. I sat cross-legged at the base of the tree with my back against its trunk, my notebook, open to a blank page, nestled between my knees. As I breathed in and out I felt my mind clear. Slowly my thoughts turned to the best possible version of a speech. That’s when a ripe purple fig fell right onto the middle of my page. I knew I was on the right track.