Monday Night- Aunt Joanie

In Year Four, Sandy’s class had done a topic on Ancient Greece, and Sandy had read the big illustrated book about the gods and goddesses and mythical creatures about fifty times.  The picture of Athene, the goddess of war and wisdom (grey-eyed, troubled-looking and surrounded by owls) had always made her think of Aunt Caroline, which was weird, because two pages later there was a picture of Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, with her long golden curls, magnificent bosom, and expression of inner peace. That picture had always made Sandy think of Caroline’s sister, Aunt Joanie.

Actually, Joanie wouldn’t have made a bad goddess of the harvest.  She lived out in the country, in a little cottage just on the edge of a farm, and she kept a flock of fat, moody-looking chickens in a run just by her back door.  At mealtimes, when she wasn’t just cooking the chickens’ eggs, she’d make weird concoctions out of the fruits and berries she picked in the woods.  These usually tasted more of the spices in the back of Joanie’s cupboard than anything else, but Sandy had to give her points for being resourceful.

Over dinner (an apple-and-blackberry pie with plenty of cinnamon), Sandy told Joanie how things were going at school.  She told her how she’d given up answering questions in French lessons, because every time she did, Mr Marshall (who thought he was a comedian) insisted on singing, “Sandy, baby, I am feeling blue!” and that got really annoying after the third or fourth time.  Joanie said to tell him that she wasn’t named after Sandy from Grease, anyway- she was named after Sandy from The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, which had been her mother, Tamsin’s, favourite book. That Sandy was a lot smarter and more ruthless than the one from Grease, although less likely to sing catchy 50s-style songs, which was a bit of a drawback.

Sandy told her about the girl who sat next to her in Maths, who’d lost her calculator and tried to convince Sandy to give her hers, on the grounds that they didn’t know for sure which one had been lost.  Joanie told Sandy that Bible story about the Wisdom of Solomon, although she admitted that trying it out in this case would probably just get them both detention for getting broken calculator parts all over the classroom.

Sandy told her about the “Everyday Technology” video they’d had to watch in IT, and how angry her friend Amy had been that the dad in it had got to use various bits of technology at work, but the mum had just scanned her credit card at the supermarket and then been picked up by a speed camera.  Joanie told her about her Year Eight and Nine Geography teacher, who’d always spent the first ten minutes of the lesson screaming her lungs out at the class for not coming in quietly enough.  At first, Joanie had found this upsetting, but then she’d worked out that it meant every time she had Geography, she could bring in a CD player and listen to exactly three songs she liked without being caught.  For two whole years, she’d got away with it- the teacher was always too busy venting her spleen to notice.

“You know, Sandy, one of the biggest lies adults tell children is that they know what they’re doing,” said Joanie, finishing off her drink, “And we all do it.  Even if it’s just because we want you to feel safe.”

Sandy smiled.  “One of the biggest lies?”  If Joanie was spilling sinister adult secrets, Sandy wanted to hear as many as possible.

“Oh, yeah.  Right up there with Santa and the Tooth Fairy.”

Sandy remembered being eight, losing a tooth, putting it under her pillow, and pretending to be asleep when her granddad had snuck into the room.  “And then, the next morning, when he found out I’d seen him, he still tried to tell me it had been the tooth fairy who’d left the money,” she told Joanie, “He said, You must have fallen asleep after I left the room and missed her.”

Joanie laughed heartily.  “Do you want to help me with the washing-up?”

Sandy didn’t want to help her with the washing-up, but she knew that saying so wouldn’t get her anywhere, so she said yes.  She ended up doing the drying, while Joanie fiddled with the taps and cursed her unreliable boiler.  “I’m lucky to get two minutes of warm water in the shower every morning,” she said, looking forlornly at the stubborn sticky stains in the middle of the plate she was holding.  “And as for central heating, forget it.  Those radiators have never once been more than lukewarm since I moved in here.”

Sandy made a sympathetic noise, and thought about what she’d done with Gran’s plant on Friday afternoon.  She didn’t know if she might be able to do the same thing with Joanie’s pipes, or if it only worked on living things.  Probably worth a try, anyway.

“And you know the worst thing?” Joanie continued, “Every time Caroline visits, she finds something wrong.  She barely even has to say anything- she just gives me that sad, long-suffering look that…”  Joanie let out a huff of breath, and shook her hands in the air, calming herself down.  “Oh, I shouldn’t complain.  She only wants to help.  But God, does she interfere…”

“It’s a big sister thing,” said Sandy, as if she knew anything about that.  After all, Roma was Keeley’s big sister, and she definitely wasn’t interested in interfering in her life.  Or acknowledging her existence, if she could help it.

“I know, I know.”  Joanie started to pick the dried fruit juice off the plate with her fingernails.  “I guess if someone knew you as a little kid, they have trouble remembering that you’re not anymore.”  She looked up at Sandy and smiled.  “I know I can’t quite believe you’re in Year Eight already.”

Sandy laughed.

“Jesus, it seems like the day before yesterday that I picked you up from playgroup every Thursday and took you to see the animals.”

“Yeah,” said Sandy, “It was nice of them to put up with me all those times.  You know, the people who run the farm.”   As soon as Aunt Joanie turned away, she reached towards a cold little water droplet on the handle of one of the mugs.  There was something she wanted to try out.

“Nah, they were glad to have you.  I think they were hoping I’d let them train you up, so you’d be like those three-year-olds who can deliver lambs.”

There was a little spark, like a static shock, from Sandy’s finger.  And then the water droplet was gone, leaving behind a little wisp of steam.

“Some farmers say they can do that better than adults, you know,” Joanie continued, still scratching at the same plate, “Little hands, see?  They can reach in and make sure the lamb’s pointing the right way.”

Sandy smiled.  “Thanks for not making me deliver a lamb.”

“Hey, don’t thank me yet- I might still do it.”  She put the plate back in the basin, and added some more hot water.  “You’re going to want an after-school job one of these days, you know.”

Sandy looked at the mug, where the droplet had been, and at the water in the basin, full of congealing dishes.  “Do you want to swap?”

“Nah, that’s OK.  I think I can get these taps to behave now.”  She turned on the hot water again, and gave a satisfied nod when a little bit of steam rose from the sink.  “It’s just a matter of letting them know who’s boss.”

Sandy nodded, and carried on drying.

“They’ve still got Lady,” said Joanie, handing her a clean plate, “You know, the shire horse?”

“I was terrified of her!”  Sandy remembered a furry white mountain with massive hooves, whose neigh had always sounded more like a growl.  “I kept thinking she was going to trample me to death!”

Joanie smiled ruefully.  “Yeah, maybe you were a bit too young to be introduced to her.  She’s a perfectly nice horse, but, you know, those hooves…”

“They looked like they were made out of rock.”

“I’m glad you were so safety-conscious.  Not many four-year-olds know to be careful around horses.”

Sandy gave an exaggerated shudder.  “Demon horse,” she mumbled.  Her gaze settled on the radiator in the corner, and she wondered what she could do if she got the chance to be alone with it.