Candles Glowing Orange

By Vanessa Griffen

JOHNNY opened his eyes slowly.

The million little eyes in the mosquito net stared back at him. A bright bar of sunlight had shot through the curtains to shine on his face. Hot. He had to wake up. Then he remembered it was his birthday today. Quick, pull aside the mosquito net, look under the bed!

There should be a present waiting for him, with a ribbon tying up its face.

Upside-down eyes saw only dust, cobwebs and last night’s Phantom comic. His throat felt funny inside, he swallowed, and gave one last look.

No present. He fell back on his pillow again, very quiet.

His eyes looked at the mosquito net, his ears picked up the noises of his mother’s movements in the kit chen. She was making sandwiches for his father’s lunch, and grumbling about the flies, and the butter melting in the heat.

He got out of bed and went into the kitchen, where he stood in the doorway, eyeing his mother timidly.

His mother’s arms were big and dark and round. Johnny watched them move, shaking, to scoop up butter with the knife, then swing back to slap the butter onto the bread. Her arms moved back and forth and still she said nothing. She worked quickly. Butter, cheese, slap of bread—a sandwich. Johnny wished she would stop and say

‘Happy Birthday”.

“Hurry up and have breakfast,” she >aid abruptly. Johnny stared. “Then go and help your sister.”

Furiously, he cut the biggest, thickest slices of bread that he could.

He swallowed big mouthfuls, gulped Jpwn tea, hating his mother, hating birthdays, trying not to cry. “I’ll run way, that’s what. I’ll run away till lark. That will show them.”

Out the back door before his sister Wild stop him, he ran to his friend Arthur’s place, and stood by the gate, ooking in. Arthur lived in a white 'Oncrete house that had changed jolour over the years to suit the aded green roof, “Ss-st!” he called.

No reply. “Ss-st!” again. Finally, onnny tried their special gang , .istle, which was a bit like a lying fox’s squeak in the night. It bought Arthur out, tousle-haired, ooking fearfully over his shoulder.

“Where we going?” Arthur asked.

“Tin boat. Quick, I side-stepped to day.”

“Me too. Let’s go.”

They ran down the street and through Mr Prasad’s short-cut. His dog, that mad black-and-white patchy one, chased them. Johnny took off, clutching his hand-me-down trousers in case they fell off.

Arthur, wide grin full of gaps, was laughing at him.

“Shut up. That bloody bugger nearly got me,” Johnny said. He felt much better for having said “bloody”.

The tin boat was hidden under a bush. It was full of water, dirty leaves and wriggling mosquito larvae.

They tipped out all the rubbish, and hauled it over the sea-wall onto the sand. The tide was out so they dragged the boat down to the water, making a trail in the sand that scattered all the little orange crabs.

Zip!—they went into their holes.

Johnny stuffed a few holes with the

red berries from the barka tree.

They fitted perfectly.

They played in the water all morn ing. The tin boat kept tipping over, spilling them into the water. It was hot, and the salt dried on their arms and back. It was lunch time and they were hungry. But who wanted to go back to mothers and sisters and cry ing babies. And lunch.

Arthur had an idea.

“Look,” he said. “Why don’t we run away today? Com’on. Let’s go!”

Johnny hesitated.

“Can’t,” he said. “Have to go home.”

“Com’on. Don’t be a baby!”

“I’m not a baby. I’m eight!”

He remembered his birthday again.

“Com’on then. We go . . .” Arthur was saying.

He saw his mother slapping butter over the bread, her back to him.

“OK. Let’s go,” Johnny said, and he started running along the sea-wall towards town.

WHEN they came to the Botanical Gardens, they saw a Fijian boy in khaki trousers and a blue shirt, sitting under a frangipani tree.

Hey, let’s go and see what he’s doing, Arthur said.

They crossed the road and went up to him. Head bent, he was absorbed in stringing together masses of white frangipani which were in a plastic bag beside him.

Johnny was the first to talk. “Hey bro, what you doing?”

The Fijian boy did not look up.

“Making some leis.”

“What you going to do with them?”

“Sell them.” He held up a string of the flowers, all massed together, to see how long it was, tied a few knots and bit off the extra thread with his teeth.

“Where?”

“Oh, down by the waterfront,” a hand waved vaguely towards town.

“All the tourists come and they buy them.”

Already he was making another lei, pushing the flowers along the string, twisting them into place. He looked very efficient, the two boys were impressed.

“Can we come too?”

“Sure. You help me first, but.”

Eagerly, they sat down and began making leis. Theirs were straggly

ones, with bunches and gaps but the Fijian boy, his name was Tevita, laughed at them, a big white grin splitting his face, and straightened up. Johnny still felt apprehensive about being so far from home.

Looking around at the green lawns and the lily pond, he knew he was in forbidden territory.

Tevita was perhaps 11 or 12. He took command of everything, speak ing very fast. .

“Come,” he said, when they had finished. “Let’s go now.”

Sitting on the sea-wall, they waited for the tourist cruise boats to come in. Johnny watched the boats. Early afternoon, the sun was still high and the sea seemed hemmed in by the green hills, which curved around majestically to shelter the small white sailing boats. Tevita got down to pursue a tourist, then disappeared.

The two boys sat dangling their legs and feeling very stupid holding all these flowers. A stray flower, pure white like a falling star, hit the water, disturbing the rainbow patterns of an oil slick.

“Here,” a hand thrust two meat pies at them. Tevita climbed up, ar ranged his meat pie, tucked away his change, and carefully balanced a big bottle of lemonade between them.

Then, quite calmly, he took out a packet of cigarettes.

“Want one?” Tevita asked, eye brow lifted casually. Johnny could only shake his head and stare. He couldn’t believe that Tevita would smoke.

Cupping his hands, Tevita lit his cigarette, then put it in his mouth.

Cough, a few impressive spits in the water, then he settled down to smoke his cigarette and tell them how to sell leis “Look here,” he said. “When they come off, you go up, quick, and ask if they want one. If they’re old people, and smile, you charge 30 cents. They’ll pay. If they don’t, all right—2o cents.”

THE boat came. The tourists got off. The three were waiting, leis in hand. Tevita darted forward first, faded shirt mingled with bright cotton print; he was soon involved in sale.

Johnny, big-eyed and wondering, looked around. They were sur rounded by tourists. There were no faces, just coloured cotton dresses, bags, hats, cameras, perfume all around them. Without knowing it, he found his arm out crookedly, his voice saying— “ Ma’am, would you like one/ It wasn’t his voice but a cheeky high pitched monkey’s.

It was an old lady with white curls and faded blue eyes he was talking

to. She looked at him, smiled a kind, crinkly smile, looked at the lei.

Johnny waited, eyes bright, smile brilliant. “Come, come,” he said, “only 20 cents.”

“No, no thank you,” she said softly.

Then she turned, confused, to wait for someone to show her the way.

Somehow, Johnny sold his leis.

His arms were empty; his pockets full. The tourists were wandering off towards the shops. Arthur came up.

They brought out their money, glee fully, and counted it.

“Ssst!” It was Tevita across the road, beckoning them and pointing towards the tourists.

Still excited, they ran across the road to join him.

“Come,” he said. “Carry their bags and things. You’ll get maybe money or food.”

Johnny had a sick moment of worry. This was too much. You couldn’t wander around the shops.

What if his mother knew . . ? But Arthur was already walking off, so he ran to catch up.

They followed Tevita all afternoon.

His thin bedraggled figure moved in and out of the crowd. He carried bags, pointed to shops, followed tourists, offering help.

“Come, sir, can I hold your bag?’ he smiled, hand outstretched.

Someone said “no” and pushed him away a little. Tevita stepped back, smile gone, an ugly look coming over his face. “Bastards, he said under his breath. Then he walked off, to lounge against a shop window, waiting for someone else to come.

It was late. Johnny looked around for Arthur. He was wandering along behind some tourists.

“Ssst-t!” Johnny called.

Arthur joined him.

“Let’s go. It’s dark. Look, he pointed to a fading sun.

“I’ll get into trouble.” Thinking of home, he felt scared. What would his mother say? It was so dark, and

he had never been in town alonea before.

Just as they were going Tevitas called them.

“Hey, where you going now?”

“Home,” Johnny said.

“Home?” He looked blank. “What* for?”

“Tea. I have to, or I’ll be im trouble. What about you?”

Tevita shrugged his shoulders.B “Me? I don’t have to go home.” He pointed up a dark street. “I’ll go un there. Get some more flowers . .

Okay, see you,” he said.

When they left him at the corner of the dark street, he was croucheo: down, and there was a brief orange* flicker as he lit a cigarette.

JOHNNY felt uneasy the nearer ha got home. The street lights hao come on and he knew it was veri late. Even before they got to hit street, he could see his sister waiting for him. Cold guilt and fear rushes through him. What would his mothea say? And the money. What could hr do with it? It was too late to thinr of that now.

His sister yelled at him. “Hum up. Mum’s cross with you. You” better watch out when you ge; home!”

He was quiet all the way home.

A warm square of light fell fro# the kitchen door and there was lovely smell of cooking. He sidled i the back door and stood hesitantl: on the door step, feeling exposed i the light. His mother’s big shape wz' bent over the stove, stirring soma thing in a pot. There was the moc delicious smell in the room. Tn smell of chop-suey- His favourri dish.

Johnny stood there, big-eyee guilty, his clothes dried stiff with tK: salt water.

His mother turned and looked him. . , “You naughty boy! she sau, “Where have you been?”

“Town,” he said in a quiet sma voice, eyes down.

“What were you doing?

“Went with Arthur. We . • • ▼ ... we just loafed around.”

“Humpf,” his mother snorted an turned back to the stove. “Anyws go and have your bath and chanjj Don’t you know it’s your birthday; Johnny had a shower and washi away all the salt. He soaped himse enjoying the smell of the soap, ae shivered under the onslaught of co: water. Clean clothes, a quick bru of the hair, and he was ready. Shy; he went to the table.

There was a cake, and on flickered the light of eight candll

glowing orange.