Read Online Sunny Days and Moon Cakes by Sarah Webb - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Webb
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pretty around there. The hotel we’re staying in is near the harbour, but it’s not far from our old apartment. Then we’ll do lots more sightseeing and finally, on our last day, we might visit Shenzhen and the orphanage – but that’s Sunny’s choice.”
“What about me?” Min asks. “How come she gets a choice about what we’re doing and I don’t? It’s not fair.”
“This is Sunny’s birthday trip, Min,” Mum says. “You’ll get your own trip another time.”
“It better be a good one,” Min says.
Mum frowns at her. “Min Sullivan, stop being such a madam. Why don’t you play your DS until we board?”
While Min is busy with her new Pokémon game, I pull my sketchbook out of my rucksack, open to a fresh page and start drawing Puggy. Since meeting Rosie, I’ve been sketching him quite a lot and I’ve got much better at capturing his funny sticky-out left ear and his paws. I use the side of my pencil lead to shade in his soft velvety fur. I begin to add a cherry tree beside him, but then I stop and rub it out. No! I don’t want to remember anything about the orphanage. Instead, I draw our old home, remembering the musty smell in the lift of the tower block and its flickering light. And the cats. Lots of silky grey cats. They didn’t live in our block, though. I can’t recall exactly where I saw them or who owned them, but I have a feeling that they weren’t strays.
And then I sketch our funny old neighbour Mama Wei, with her wrinkly brown face like a walnut. When Mama died, Mama Wei looked after Min during the day and collected me from school when Papa was working in the factory. She was strict but kind and she cooked great noodles. She used to let Puggy stay with us in the afternoons. She understood that having Puggy around to hug and curl up with helped me to deal with how much I missed Mama (Min was too small to remember Mama). Puggy loved snuggling.
“Are you sure we’re supposed to be in this bit?” Min whispers, after the air steward has shown us to our seats in business class. “We’re not posh business people. We’re just kids.”
“Anyone who can pay for the seats is welcome in business class,” Dad says. “Trust me.”
“It’s a lovely treat, isn’t it, girls?” Mum says. “I for one am looking forward to lying down. I know we only left the island this afternoon, but it feels like we’ve been travelling for days.” She yawns, making me yawn too.
The seats are really cool, much bigger than normal ones on aeroplanes. They fold down into mini-beds too, and they have their own built-in movie screens. The air steward brings us chicken and noodles to eat with a choice of real metal cutlery or chopsticks. We all choose chopsticks. Then Mum makes us put on our pyjamas and do our teeth in the tiny loo.
Min falls asleep almost as soon as she lies down. So much for being too excited to rest! Dad’s been snoring away since the minute they dimmed the lights – he never has any problem sleeping – and Mum has just dozed off too. So it’s only me still awake. I’m lying here with my eyes closed, trying to get to sleep, but my mind won’t let me. Behind me, the Chinese girl from the boarding area is being settled down.
“Close your eyes now, little one,” her mum is telling her in Cantonese.
“Can I have a song, Mama?” the girl asks.
Her mum starts to sing very softly, a song about a little bird:
“Once I saw a little bird come hop, hop hop
.
And I cried, ‘Little bird, please stop, stop, stop…’”
I know that song! Mama used to sing it to me and Min every night. I close my eyes and try to imagine that it’s Mama singing to me.
Mama.
I have a photo of her tucked into the back of my sketchbook. In it she is about ten years old. She’s wearing a traditional red-and-blue silk tunic dress over matching trousers. She is small like Min, with paintbrush plaits and bright eyes. I also have a photo of Puggy – his coat all shiny and black. And a photo of Mama
“What about me?” Min asks. “How come she gets a choice about what we’re doing and I don’t? It’s not fair.”
“This is Sunny’s birthday trip, Min,” Mum says. “You’ll get your own trip another time.”
“It better be a good one,” Min says.
Mum frowns at her. “Min Sullivan, stop being such a madam. Why don’t you play your DS until we board?”
While Min is busy with her new Pokémon game, I pull my sketchbook out of my rucksack, open to a fresh page and start drawing Puggy. Since meeting Rosie, I’ve been sketching him quite a lot and I’ve got much better at capturing his funny sticky-out left ear and his paws. I use the side of my pencil lead to shade in his soft velvety fur. I begin to add a cherry tree beside him, but then I stop and rub it out. No! I don’t want to remember anything about the orphanage. Instead, I draw our old home, remembering the musty smell in the lift of the tower block and its flickering light. And the cats. Lots of silky grey cats. They didn’t live in our block, though. I can’t recall exactly where I saw them or who owned them, but I have a feeling that they weren’t strays.
And then I sketch our funny old neighbour Mama Wei, with her wrinkly brown face like a walnut. When Mama died, Mama Wei looked after Min during the day and collected me from school when Papa was working in the factory. She was strict but kind and she cooked great noodles. She used to let Puggy stay with us in the afternoons. She understood that having Puggy around to hug and curl up with helped me to deal with how much I missed Mama (Min was too small to remember Mama). Puggy loved snuggling.
“Are you sure we’re supposed to be in this bit?” Min whispers, after the air steward has shown us to our seats in business class. “We’re not posh business people. We’re just kids.”
“Anyone who can pay for the seats is welcome in business class,” Dad says. “Trust me.”
“It’s a lovely treat, isn’t it, girls?” Mum says. “I for one am looking forward to lying down. I know we only left the island this afternoon, but it feels like we’ve been travelling for days.” She yawns, making me yawn too.
The seats are really cool, much bigger than normal ones on aeroplanes. They fold down into mini-beds too, and they have their own built-in movie screens. The air steward brings us chicken and noodles to eat with a choice of real metal cutlery or chopsticks. We all choose chopsticks. Then Mum makes us put on our pyjamas and do our teeth in the tiny loo.
Min falls asleep almost as soon as she lies down. So much for being too excited to rest! Dad’s been snoring away since the minute they dimmed the lights – he never has any problem sleeping – and Mum has just dozed off too. So it’s only me still awake. I’m lying here with my eyes closed, trying to get to sleep, but my mind won’t let me. Behind me, the Chinese girl from the boarding area is being settled down.
“Close your eyes now, little one,” her mum is telling her in Cantonese.
“Can I have a song, Mama?” the girl asks.
Her mum starts to sing very softly, a song about a little bird:
“Once I saw a little bird come hop, hop hop
.
And I cried, ‘Little bird, please stop, stop, stop…’”
I know that song! Mama used to sing it to me and Min every night. I close my eyes and try to imagine that it’s Mama singing to me.
Mama.
I have a photo of her tucked into the back of my sketchbook. In it she is about ten years old. She’s wearing a traditional red-and-blue silk tunic dress over matching trousers. She is small like Min, with paintbrush plaits and bright eyes. I also have a photo of Puggy – his coat all shiny and black. And a photo of Mama
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