Free Thirteen Pearls by Melaina Faranda Page A

erupted into a full-scale tantrum.
    I’d seen kids in full flight down at Cairns Central and I’d thought it was pretty funny the way they’d screw up their faces and pound their arms and legs against the floor. Not for a moment had I felt sorry for their poor mother. Instead I’d thought, she should teach her kid how to behave . Now, I watched helplessly while Aran performed an Academy Award winning tantrum, complete with beetroot face, flailing limbs, the whole fandango. I shook my head and sat back to watch helplessly.
    â€˜What’s going on?’
    Leon marched in, scooped up Aran, stood him upright and growled, ‘NO!’
    Aran froze.
    â€˜Now say sorry!’ Leon commanded.
    Aran looked up mutinously. ‘Sorry.’
    He speaks – the boy speaks!
    Leon let him go. ‘Are you all right?’
    I nodded. ‘But I’m never going to have kids. Ever.’
    He grinned. ‘He ’s not that bad. You wait; your clock will start ticking and you’ll get clucky.’
    I glanced at the Opera House clock. It seemed kind of icky that he was talking about my biological clock. And now here’s a news flash to the world: my clock would be permanently set a minute to midnight.
    â€˜Red sent me in to ask when you’ll have lunch ready.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Lunch?’
    â€˜I know what you just said, but he has to be kidding, right? Dealing with Aran is a job for three!’
    Leon shrugged. ‘He said there ’s some fresh bread in one of the boxes.’
    Sighing, I searched the supply boxes and pulled out a squishy loaf of white bread. Mice, or some other creature, had only chewed the top two slices.
    I assembled the can of sardines, cheese-in-a-tube and a tub of margarine.
    Aran stuffed the last Tiny Teddy in his mouth and then turned on the computer game.
    This time, I didn’t care. I opened the can of sardines, squeezed in some runny cheese, stirred it about, found an ancient jar of dried basil, shook half of it in and margarined the bread.
    When the men trooped back to the home–shed, covered in grease and soaked with seawater, they discovered that the outside table had been draped with a fresh new plastic tablecloth and there was a plate of sandwiches piled high. I’d even picked a red hibiscus and put it in a newly washed vegemite jar.
    Aran continued playing his violent computer game. He ’d already eaten the Tiny Teddys plus five marshmallows and a mini chocolate bar, which I figured could count for a kind of brunch.
    I sat at the table, hoping for conversation, but Uncle Red, Leon and Kaito ate without speaking. Instead, they threw down sandwich after sandwich and washed it all down with beer. Even Kaito, who seemed more refined in the way he walked and talked, gulped the revolting sandwiches like a starving man.
    Suddenly, more than ever, the thought of six endlessly stretching weeks filled me with indefinable panic. It was hot. Beads of sweat formed on my upper lip and my hair was sticky and tangling. I walked away from the home–shed, hoping to catch a sea breeze, but the air was equally humid and muggy.
    â€˜Maybe I could come look at the oysters today?’ I suggested as the men filed past to return to work.
    Uncle Red shook his head. ‘We ’ve got too much to do. You’d just get in the way.’
    Seeing my expression, Leon bent his head to my ear and whispered, ‘Last time Aran was in the shed he dropped a one-thousand dollar pearl between the cracks in the floor. Fell straight into the sea.’
    Sighing, I turned back to Aran as, glassy-eyed, he blew up another bad guy. I stalked over and pulled out the plug. ‘Come on kid, let’s have a real adventure.’

‘D OES YOUR MUM LIKE ELEPHANTS TOO, ARAN?’
    I’d decided to talk openly about Lowanna. After all, she ’d only gone away; it wasn’t as if she was dead or anything. Unless there was something more sinister