Awake and Dreaming - Kit Pearson [31]
The house was warm and clean and although some of the furniture was shabby, it wasn’t broken. Theo hadn’t spotted a mouse or a cockroach since she’d been here. The refrigerator and cupboards were crammed with food. The van was parked in the driveway and Dad had driven a smaller car to work.
“You must be very rich!” Theo told Mum back in the studio.
“Rich?” Mum laughed. “We’ve never thought of ourselves as rich! We have a large mortgage and it’s a real struggle to pay for things like John’s music lessons and Anna’s braces. The cars are both getting old but we can’t afford a new one, and we really need to add another room.”
“But you have so much!” said Theo.
Mum looked at her. “Yes,” she said quietly. “We have so much. We’re very, very lucky.” She gave Theo a hug. “And now we have you, too.”
THEO SHOOK HER HEAD when Mum asked her if she wanted to go to school the next morning. Mum said gently, “You’re just not ready, are you? I’ll tell you what—you can stay home for the rest of this week if you try to be brave enough to go on Monday—is it a deal?”
Theo nodded. Maybe she wouldn’t be here next week. Maybe the dream would end by then.
She had now decided that being here was a dream. In the books she’d read magic had always made sense; it was never as simple as just wishing on the new moon. She’d probably fallen asleep on the ferry and dreamt she’d wished.
If she had come here by magic, there would be an explanation. Anna or Lisbeth would say, “Isn’t it wonderful that your wish came true?” But no one had said that. No one asked Theo any questions or referred to her past or thought that it was in any way odd that she was here. And the two times she’d asked them they didn’t seem to hear. It didn’t make sense—so it must be a dream.
And only in a dream could anyone be as happy as she felt. Only in a dream could everything be so easy. She didn’t have to do anything. She was simply here—bathed in love and acceptance, soaking up this wonderful family and their safe and comfortable life.
Theo floated through the rest of the week, trying not to think about waking up. Sometimes she watched Mum work, or she read or she played with Beardsley, trailing a bit of string for him to attack. Often she just lay dozily on the living-room couch, watching the birds at the feeder outside the window. The morning silence was broken by the noisy arrival of the others home for lunch. Theo sat passively and soaked up the stories they told her.
In the afternoons, after Ben woke up from his nap, Theo took him and Bingo for a walk—although it felt as though they were taking her. Sometimes they climbed up the mountain, and sometimes they explored the cemetery; Mum said they weren’t to go to the beach without the others. Theo held Ben’s hand as they crossed the street, just like a big sister.
Ben often made Theo attach Bingo’s leash to his belt loop so he could be a horse that she ordered to walk or trot or gallop. Or he wanted her to be his partner in a game—another pirate or another warrior. It was relaxing to act like a four-year-old.
“When I was little, I pretended I was a fairy,” she told him.
“A fairy!” scoffed Ben. “I’m a knight! You can be my squire, okay? Bingo’s a dragon.” They galloped along the path in the cemetery after Bingo, Ben waving his plastic sword.
After school they returned to the cemetery with Anna and Lisbeth. Then they played hide-and-seek, crouching behind the vaults or bushes or trees and trying not to shout “Home Free!” too loud. But whenever they passed a cemetery gardener, he just smiled at them.
They always ended up resting at the foot of their favourite angel. On Friday afternoon John found them there on his way home from his