Free Cool Bananas by Christine Harris Page B

picked up the phone and dialled home.
Please don’t let it be the answering machine.
Often when she rang from after-school care or a friend’s house, she got the answering machine. Mum worked long hours.
    It rang three times. Then she heard her mother’s voice, ‘Hello.’

    ‘Mum,’ she whispered.
    ‘Who is this? I can’t hear you.’
    Claudia spoke louder. ‘It’s me. Claudia.’
    ‘Oh. I thought it was the taxi company ringing me back. Look, sweetie, I’m about to go to the airport. Italy is waiting!’
    ‘Take me with you,’ begged Claudia.
    ‘I can’t. I’m leaving in five minutes.’
    ‘Grandpa’s crazy,’ Claudia whispered.
    ‘I know.’
    ‘You know?’
    ‘He’s my father, remember?’
    ‘Well, why did you send me over here?’
    ‘Mrs Pearl broke her leg. There’s nowhere else to send you. Claudia, you’ll survive, it’s only for a couple of weeks.’
    ‘We had a car accident today,’ she said.
    ‘Are you hurt?’ Her mother’s tone changed. ‘What did you hit?’
    ‘A rubbish bin.’
    ‘That’s all?’
    ‘I might be suffering from shock. I could faint at any time.’
    ‘Don’t waste energy talking then…gotta go. Taxi’s here.’
    ‘I could drown. Grandpa could lose me on the beach. A freak wave could dash me to pieces on the rocks. You might never see me again.’
    ‘Love you too.’ There was a clunk. Then silence.
    ‘Mum?’

Six

    T he sun sank behind the sea as Claudia followed Grandpa along the footpath.
    It isn’t fair,
she thought.
Mum’s on her way to Italy and I have to stay with a man who drives over bins and wears purple-and-orange board shorts.
    Grandpa stopped at a cafe with outside tables.
    ‘Here we are.’ Grandpa held out a chair for Claudia. ‘The food here is so fresh the chicken still has feathers on it.’
    Claudia decided not to order the chicken.
    Each table was brightened by a tea-light candle and covered with a red tablecloth. Clear plastic sheeting blocked a cool wind from the beach.
    Grandpa’s yellow-and-red shirt clashed with the tablecloth.
    Claudia sneaked a look under the table. Her pretty new sandals had green straps and shiny stones along the top. But they had rubbed skin from her toe. She could have done with a bandaid. But she’d rather eat snails than wear a bandaid out to dinner.

    Grandpa examined the tablecloth. He pushed a black speck onto his serviette and took it over to a pot plant.
    He returned with a satisfied look. ‘He lives to bite another day.’
    ‘Who does?’ asked Claudia.
    ‘The ant. That’s why I wear ripple-soled shoes, to give the ants a fifty-fifty chance,’ he said. ‘It might rain.’
    ‘Ants are a sign of rain?’ asked Claudia.
    ‘Are they?’
    ‘That’s what
you
just said.’
    ‘No. I had a full stop in that sentence. I’m just telling you that I saw an ant. I know it might rain because I saw the weather report on TV last night.’
    Talking to Grandpa was like talking to six people at once. Except all the words came out of one mouth.
    Annoyed, Claudia looked at the menu. She didn’t know what half the dishes were, but she didn’t say so.
    ‘I’m ordering dessert first.’ Grandpa smacked his lips.
    ‘You can’t do that.’
    ‘Why not?’ He blinked through his reading glasses.
    ‘You’re supposed to eat meat and vegetables first.’
    ‘We’re on holidays. What does it matter this one time?’ Grandpa laughed. ‘I’m having Death by Chocolate.’
    Claudia wriggled and her chair creaked.
    ‘Pardon,’ said Grandpa.
    Startled, Claudia looked up. ‘It wasn’t you.’
    ‘Oh, it usually is.’ He grinned.
    Claudia smothered her own grin.
    A young, dark-haired waiter with a pierced nose came to take their order.
    Grandpa peered at the waiter’s nose ring.
    Claudia was relieved when he didn’t say anything.
    ‘So I can have whatever I like?’ she asked.
    Grandpa nodded.

    ‘First, I’d like the butterscotch pudding with caramel sauce and cream,’ she told the waiter. ‘After