Free Sunny Days and Moon Cakes by Sarah Webb Page B

been waiting for you guys for ages. What kept you?”
    “Ha, ha, Mother,” Min says. “Very funny. Race you all to the door.”
    As she tears away, Dad shouts after her, “Min Sullivan, what did we tell you about running off?”
    Min is waiting for us outside the entrance to the hotel. It’s the early evening now, but the air outside is still warm and smoggy. It catches at the back of your throat like builder’s dust.
    “Next time, you wait inside the door, young lady,” Dad says sternly. “I mean it. This isn’t Ireland, Min – understand?”
    “OK, sorry,” Min says, the smile dropping off her face.
    “We wouldn’t want to lose you, pet, that’s all,” Mum says. “Remember what happened to Sunny at the airport?”
    “It wouldn’t happen to me,” Min says. “I’m not an idiot who won’t speak to people.”
    “I’ve warned you before about being unkind to your sister,” Mum says. “You know it’s not Sunny’s fault.”
    Min rolls her eyes. “It’s always about Sunny. Sunny, Sunny, Sunny.”
    “Min, that’s enough!” Mum snaps.
    “It’s OK, Nadia,” Dad says, putting his hand on Mum’s arm. “I think Min gets it. And you won’t do it again, will you, Min? Say sorry to Sunny.”
    “Sorry,” Min mutters, but I can tell she doesn’t mean it.
    “Ready to do a little exploring before dinner, girls?” Dad says.
    “Yes! And hurry up, slowcoaches, there’s a taxi.” Min waves her arms in the air and a yellow cab pulls up in front of the entrance.
    “Let me or your mum do that, please, Min,” says Dad.
    We all bundle into the taxi – Dad in the front, and me, Min and Mum in the back. On the way to the restaurant, Mum talks to the driver in Cantonese.
    “My daughters, Soon Yi and Min Yen,” she says.
    The driver tells Mum that we are beautiful girls.
    “Dohjeh,”
Mum says. Thank you.
    I mouth the word to myself, hearing Mama’s voice ringing in my ears. It was one of the first words she ever taught me. “Don’t forget your pleases and thank yous, Soon Yi,” she always said. “It shows respect to your elders.” There are different words that mean thank you in Cantonese.
Dohjeh
is for when someone gives you a gift or a compliment,
mhgoi
is for when someone helps you.
    “Mum, when did you first learn Cantonese?” Min asks. “When you were my age?”
    Mum laughs. “No, a long time after that. I was a teacher here, remember? I had lots of Chinese students and I did some evening classes. My Cantonese came in very useful when we were adopting you, because your Chinese family spoke it too. That’s pretty unusual. Lots of people in Shenzhen speak Mandarin instead. The adoption agency was surprised – but pleased, I think – that I was able to speak to you both in your native language.”
    I’ll never forget Mum speaking in Cantonese the first time we met her. It made me feel less afraid and less alone. She said, “Hello, Soon Yi and Min Yen. We’re so happy to finally meet you.”
    “Well, I can speak
three
languages,” Min says. “English, Irish and Cantonese.”
    I glare at Min. She knows a few words of Cantonese – Mum taught her – but she can’t “speak” it, not the way I can. I wish I could show her, by talking to the driver. But even the thought of opening my mouth in front of him makes me feel sick.
    “Tell us about our Collection Day,” Min pipes up, oblivious to the fact that I’m staring at her.
    “Let’s save it until Monday,” Dad says. “It’s a long way to Shenzhen, Min. We’ll have plenty of time for stories on the drive.”
    I stare out of the window again. I vividly remember seeing my new white parents for the first time. I was terrified, literally shaking all over. But once I realized that the smiling couple really was taking both of us, me and Min, and that Mum knew Cantonese, I stopped being quite so scared.
    “Sunny? Did you hear what I said?” Min says.
    I shake my head. I wasn’t listening.
    “I was asking what kind of noodles you