Tall Story - Candy Gourlay [22]
But when I opened my mouth to speak, the English weighed my tongue down like a stone.
‘I am glad you meet me.’
Uncle William smiled. ‘Glad to meet you too,’ he replied and I almost sagged with relief.
‘I am fine, you are how?’ I said.
Uncle William paused like he was adding up a complicated sum, but he just clapped me on the shoulder and answered my question as if everything was OK. ‘I’m fine, Bernardo. Thank you for asking!’
Ma beamed up at me and continued to cling to my hand.
Where was Amandolina? There was no sign of my sister in the airport crowd. Did she not come to meet me? Disappointment began to gnaw at my chest.
Ma turned to a freckled little boy in a Chicago Bulls jacket. ‘Andi, aren’t you going to say hello?’
The boy stared up at me open-mouthed. He was no higher than my hip bone.
Then he snapped his jaws together with a click.
‘Hey, Bernardo,’ he mumbled in a gruff voice, raising a hand in a half-salute while tracing a crack in the linoleum with the toe of his shoe.
I hesitated and then raised my hand too. ‘Pleased you meet me?’ I said, unsure.
The boy turned to Ma, his bottom lip thrust out, dark brows drawn together in a scowl. Uncle William frowned at the boy and Ma’s grip on my hand tightened.
‘Mum, why couldn’t you just tell me?’ he said in a soft voice.
‘Andi!’ Mum said. ‘Say hello properly.’
It was only then that I realized. It was Amandolina.
The photos Mama sent had not prepared me for the hunched shoulders, hands stuffed into skinny jeans ripped at the knees, high-top canvas shoes smudged with dirt, and spiky short hair.
Amandolina slowly turned back to me and shielded her eyes from the glare of the fluorescent lights as she stared up into my face. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said.
But she didn’t look at all pleased.
3
Andi
What was everybody at school going to say when I turned up escorting the Big Friendly Giant?
I felt sick just thinking about it.
After Mum had talked to the school about Bernardo, Mrs Green had suddenly come over all friendly.
‘I hear your brother from the Philippines will be joining us soon, Andi?’
‘Yes, miss.’ I had wondered at the chummy way she touched my shoulder, the way she looked at me, as if there was a terrible illness in the family.
‘Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.’
Help? I’d wondered. Why would we need help?
Now I knew.
4
Bernardo
Amandolina’s eyes seemed to be fixed on my necktie and I tugged at it self-consciously.
‘Very smart,’ Ma said. ‘Did Timbuktu make your suit?’
I nodded.
It had been a rush job. Timbuktu had refused at first. But Uncle told him it was an emergency. A cousin from out of town suddenly needed to get married. Tim understood, of course. As a tailor he often dealt with urgent weddings with fire-breathing families intent on rescuing the honour of an expectant bride. Uncle told Tim I was best man.
‘Everyone on the plane will be wearing suits,’ Uncle told me. ‘And you must make a good first impression when you get to Heathrow.’
Tim charged extra for the rush and he charged extra for the Velcro on the tie. Tim liked Velcro. All the trousers that he’d ever made me were fastened with Velcro. The only thing about Velcro was the whole household could hear you undressing.
Zzzzt. Nardo’s emptying his pockets. Zzzzt. Nardo’s unzipped his fly.
Of course, there weren’t any smart shoes to go with the suit. Nobody had ever even heard of size twenty-two in San Andres and shoes were way beyond Timbuktu’s considerable abilities. So he made me a pair of leather sandals instead. Uncle said he had once seen a fashion magazine where the male models wore sandals with suits.
‘Nardo, you look so smart,’ Uncle had said. But I felt more like a tightly rolled piece of dim sum.
The morning of my flight to London was boiling hot long before the sun had even risen beyond the coconut trees.
Auntie made me put the jacket on, then turned me around and around as if she was inspecting a marrow for bruises.
‘It’s too hot, Auntie!’
‘Just let me have a good look!’
I rotated,