Recipe for Rebellion (Zodiac Girls) Read online

  Time to go home, I thought. So. Saturn was a headmaster and Neptune ran the chippie. That confirmed it. Joe was mad. Completely mad. But his being mad suddenly gave me an excellent idea to try out at school…

  Chapter Seven

  Psycho woman

  Tuesday lunch time and it was my appointment to see the school counsellor. I was well ready. Plan A hadn’t worked but Plan B had begun to hatch in my brain on the way home last night after seeing Joe.

  It’s your choice how your life turns out, he’d told me. Okay, I told myself. My number one option was still to get out of here and unknowingly, by ordering me to see the school counsellor, Mrs Richards had presented me with a way to do it. I was going to pretend that I was stark staring bonkers. Flies in the attic. Spanner in the head or whatever. Mad. I was going to get myself dismissed on grounds of being mental. If that didn’t bring my dad hurrying back from the graveyard slot, I didn’t know what would.

  I sat outside the counsellor’s office going over my act. I would be a little snuffly and occasionally make weird bird-like noises. I would make my eyes go cross-eyed. I’d let one arm have a life of its own and float up in the air above my head. And I’d dribble. If none of that worked, I’d pretend I was a teapot.

  After about five minutes sitting there, running through what I hoped was to be an Oscar-winning performance, the school secretary came out.

  “You can go in now Danu,” she said. “Miss Luna will see you now. Door on the right.”

  “Umbanga,” I said and beamed back at her.

  She gave me a strange look so I winked at her and went into the door that she’d indicated.

  “Oh!” I said when I got inside and saw the lady who was waiting for me. “Are you the counsellor?”

  The lady who was standing by the window nodded her head slightly. She wasn’t what I had imagined although I don’t know what I’d expected. Someone who looked professional in smart clothes like a teacher or a bank manager or something. Not the woman who was in front of me. For a moment, I forgot to do my mad act as I was too busy gawping at her. She looked like an artist or a gypsy with long silver grey wavy hair, a crescent moon pendant round her neck, stars on her ears and she was wearing a silvery silk skirt that matched her hair. She looked like a waif mermaid who had grown legs and been washed ashore. I waited for her to say something so that I could begin my act but she didn’t. She just stood staring out of the window up at the sky. After a while, when she hadn’t taken any notice of me, I began to wonder if she even knew that I was there.

  I coughed. “Ahem.”

  She turned to look at me then but still didn’t say anything.

  “I’m Danu. Your one o’clock. Raving loonie reporting for counselling. Yes, Ma’am.” I saluted like they do in the army then began to bark like a dog.

  No reaction. She just looked at me. Then put her arms out and began to sway, side to side, front to back. What the bat poo is she doing? I wondered. I let her carry on for a moment then she stopped and sat down. She looked as though she was going to cry.

  I sat down opposite her. She reached out to the table, took a tissue and blew her nose.

  “Well aren’t you going to say anything?” I asked. “Take notes? Give me some advice?”

  She sniffed. “No.”

  We sat there in silence for a while then my curiosity got the better of me.

  “Um. Aren’t you supposed to do something?” I asked. “Say something wise?”

  She turned her silvery blue eyes in my direction. “What? What could I possibly say?”

  “Dunno. But isn’t it your job to know what to say or do?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Say. Do. Is that all there is? Sometimes all I want to do is be. It’s best just to go with the flow.” She rose from her chair and went to stand at the window where she tilted her face to look at the sky again. “You know Danu, sometimes I think Is this it? There has to be more. Otherwise what’s it all been for?”

  And then to my total and utter amazement, she started to dance. A flowy, hippie type of dance like the kind that we used to do when we were in junior school and some over-enthusiastic teacher would say, “Everyone be a tree, let your arms be branches and sway with the breeze why don’t you?”.

  I watched her with my mouth hanging open for a few moments then the penny dropped. Ah. Yes. I get it, I thought. She’s trying to out-loon me. Yes, she’s clever this one. She knows the stunt I was going to try and she’s trying to outdo me. Well, hah! I sussed it and I’m not giving up here.

  I got up and joined in her wacko dancing. I could dance like a loonie petunie too. “Yes. Yes. Come on, let’s be trees,” I said as I waved my arms in the air and bent my knees. “Bending in the wind, this way, that way. La la la la la la laaaaaaaaa.”

  “Not trees,” she said as she pranced around the room. “Water. Dance like the water, flowing, the tides go in, the tides go out. Go with the flow Danu, go with the flow.”

  She must have done some up-to-the-minute counselling course where they teach this as a new approach to try with difficult pupils. Fine by me, I told myself as I followed her lead.

  “Water. Flow. Right. Can do,” I said and changed my tree dance to the sea dance which actually looked pretty similar and consisted of me wiggling my hips and waving my arms side to side in the air.

  We danced round the room for a few minutes like a pair of demented hippies then she stood on one of the chairs. “If I stretch high enough, I can reach the stars.”

  Ohmigod, I thought when I realized that she was showing no signs of giving up either. What if she really is bonkers? In fact…

  “Excuse me Miss but are you really the school counsellor?” I asked.

  She looked down at me from the chair. “I am and I’m not. I don’t think we ought to define ourselves by what we do. Do you? I mean, do you feel that you are just a schoolgirl.”

  “Blimey no. I’m much more than that.”

  “There you are then. So don’t ask stupid questions.”

  “Right,” I said and sat down to try and work out my next move.

  Miss Luna finally got down off the chair and sat on the couch opposite me.

  “So,” she said.

  At last, I thought. She’s done with trying to act madder than me and we’re going to get down to business. “So…”

  And then she burst into tears. First a few sobs and then her chest began to heave… and heave. Wow, I thought. This lady really is a psycho woman. She’s not putting this on.

  I handed her the box of tissues. “Is there anything I can do Miss Luna? Shall I fetch someone?”

  “Oh no, no.” She carried on sobbing but took a tissue. “Please… please don’t tell anyone… just I’m not feeling myself today… and please call me Selene not Miss Luna. That sounds so grown-up.”

  “Oh okay. Selene. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Now. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? It can’t be all that bad.”

  Selene or Miss Luna lay back on the couch, flicked her shoes off and began to tell me all about how she felt, how it wasn’t easy for her being so affected by the waxing or waning of the Moon.

  “Every two days the Moon changes signs,” she sobbed. “If it’s not waxing, it’s waning, then it’s full, half moon then new moon, crescent. Never a day off to relax.”

  I had no idea what she was on about but I listened patiently. The more I listened, the gist of it seemed to be that she was having the same problem that I had. She didn’t like everything changing all the time either. I didn’t know what to say but talking did seem to help her so I let her go on. Every now and then I would interject by saying, “Uhuh. And how do you feel about that?”.

  At the end of my hour, my “counsellor” had calmed down. She looked at her watch. “Oh time’s up,” she said. “Thank you so much. You’ve been marvellous. I feel… well, almost… more cheerful about things.”

  “Anytime,” I said as I got up to leave. “Call me anytime you need to talk.”

  “Thank y
ou sooooo much,” said Selene. “I will.”

  And then it dawned on me. Tides. Waxing. Waning. Moons. Joe had told me I might have an encounter with the moon. He couldn’t have meant Miss Luna could he?

  “Hey, you don’t by any chance know Joe Joeve who runs the deli do you?”

  Selene nodded. “Diu Pater. Godfather. Of course. Everyone knows him round here.”

  “And er… you don’t by any chance think you’re the Moon do you?”

  She laughed as if I’d said something really stupid then she nodded again. “Of course I do because that’s who I am. But how did you know?’

  “Joe told me that my horoscope said that I had an encounter with the Moon today. I didn’t know what he meant though. He’s been telling me a lot of things I don’t understand in fact.”

  Selene beamed at me. “Of course! You’re a Zodiac Girl. You are, aren’t you?”

  “Zodiac Girl, Queen of Sheba or demented chicken. I’m still trying to decide.”

  Selene looked perplexed. “Pardon?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Um… put it this way, if you think you’re the Moon, then yes, I’m a Zodiac Girl.” I wonder how many there are in their club, I asked myself. What Joe had told me about people being planets was beginning to make sense. They obviously belonged to a club that was into astrology and each of them got a nickname when they joined – like you be the Moon, you be Mars, I’ll be Venus – in the same way that anybody might like to dress up according to their favourite characters. My mate Jane was Harry Potter-mad and belonged to a club back home where all the members dressed up as characters from the books. Jane got to be Hermione Granger every second Saturday. So Joe, Miss Luna, Hermie and the others, they weren’t mad. Maybe a little eccentric. That was all.

  “I thought you were unusually perceptive,” said Selene. “Most of the pupils here can’t see what’s in front of them. But you can. Yes. I should have known that you were a Zodiac Girl. Now everything makes more sense.”

  A little, I thought as I got up to leave. Miss Luna is another member of a strange club along with a load of others who like to pretend that they are planets. Why not? At least it made life more interesting and I did feel marginally better after my counselling session. Maybe Miss Luna’s “dance like the sea” therapy had something going for it after all.

  Chapter Eight

  Cakes

  What an insane day, I thought as I let myself into the flat after school. I went into the kitchen to put my supplies on the counter. I’d been having a big think about everything Joe had said to me at our last meeting – about how if you want a home, make it yourself. And the quote about knowing what you could change and what you couldn’t had made more sense after talking to him. Once Joe had explained it, it seemed obvious and I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought it before. So, okay, maybe I couldn’t change the fact that I had to live here a bit longer and I couldn’t change the fact that I had to go to the new school, but I could change how it was living with Aunt Esme. I could make her cold unwelcoming flat more of a home and as Joe had suggested, I was going to start with a bit of baking. I’d been to Mr Patel’s shop and bought all the ingredients I thought I’d need to make cakes. Chocolate cakes were my favourite so I’d bought a large bar of dark chocolate, butter, flour, sugar, milk, icing sugar, pecans and cherries.

  I glanced over the recipe that Joe had given me and as directed switched the oven to 190C.

  I laid out all my ingredients on the counter in the order that I’d need them then looked for a baking tray. Nothing. I went from cupboard to cupboard but there was little there: just a couple of plates, two bowls, three mugs, two wine glasses, two tumblers, one box of my breakfast cereal. I felt so disappointed as I’d been looking forward to my first attempt at being a super chef. I was about to turn off the oven when I spotted a drawer under the oven door. I pulled it open and luckily, there were a couple of baking tins and a baking tray in there. All pristine, never been used. They must have come with the flat, I thought. Aunt Esme would never go out and buy something you needed to cook with in a million years.

  Another quick check of my supplies and I was off.

  When Rosa arrived with my supper at six o’clock, she sniffed the air in appreciation.

  “Making the cook?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Cooking. Making the cakes. I am. Almost ready. Want to try?”

  She shook her head as if she didn’t understand so I acted out eating and pointed at the kitchen. She nodded her head.

  My cakes were almost ready and I’d followed the directions to the letter and judging by the lovely buttery cocoa smell, they were going to turn out fine. I could hardly believe how good the simple exercise of baking had made me feel. It reminded me of home when I used to help Mrs Wilkins. And the time had flown. Usually the hours when I got home from school were the worst, when I felt the most lonely, but this time, I’d been so busy, I’d hardly noticed being on my own.

  Rosa came and stood by the kitchen door so I pointed at the oven, crossed my fingers and made an anxious face. She laughed and sniffed the air.

  “Smell goods.”

  When the timer bell on the oven dinged, I opened the door and took out my tray of cakes. They had risen beautifully and looked perfect. Rosa did a little clap so I gave her a bow.

  It was nice having someone in the kitchen. My second visitor in a week. I looked at Rosa and pointed at the kettle. “Cup of tea?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Thanks to you.”

  I made us some tea and when the cakes had cooled, I put them on a plate and took them into the living room. Rosa followed me but seemed hesitant to sit.

  “No, please,” I said, indicating that she should sit down.

  She sat on the edge of the sofa, took a cake and bit into it.

  “Very very goods,” she smiled at me.

  I took one too and tried it. It was good. The dark chocolate had melted beautifully to make bursts of liquid chocolate in the middle. Delicious.

  As we sat there munching, I realized that Rosa and I had never exchanged more than two or three words in all the time that she’d been coming. I’d been so cross with Dad and Aunt Esme that I’d taken it out on her too. But it wasn’t her fault that I’d been left alone and as we sat there, I began to wonder what her life was like. She didn’t speak much English so she must have felt alienated at times as well.

  “Where do you live Rosa?” I asked. I pointed at her then acted out going to sleep.

  “Ah,” she replied. “Sleeping. I sleep…” she pointed out the window in the direction of the flats on top of Mr Patel’s corner shop at the other side of the square.

  “And your home?”

  She looked at me quizzically.

  “Home,” I repeated. “Family. Are your family there?”

  She didn’t understand so I fetched my purse and got out the photo that was taken of Dad and me in the garden last summer. “Family. Me. Dad,” I said.

  Her face suddenly looked sad and she shook her head. “No. No family here. Family Poland.”

  I nodded. “You have friends here?”

  “Cousin Halina. She nice lady. She work here too. No see much.” She then pointed at me. “You? Family is where?”

  “Mum died when I was three,” I said but Rosa looked puzzled. “Dead. Caput.” I acted out someone having their throat cut which she clearly didn’t get. So I acted out someone being shot in the head which caused her to look even more confused. I lay on the floor with my eyes closed then acted out someone stabbing me with a knife. Rosa looked horrified.

  “Murdering?” she asked.

  I shook my head vigorously. Mum had been ill but she died peacefully in her sleep. Maybe I should have thought of a more subtle way of acting out deceased, I thought. Then I had an idea. I raced to my room and got a few sheets of paper. I drew a matchstick man getting on an aeroplane.

  I pointed to the drawing and then the photo of Dad.

  “Dad,” I said and Rosa nodded.

  Then
I drew a matchstick lady under the ground with a cross above her. Rosa nodded. I think she got the fact that Mum wasn’t here any more. And lastly, I drew a smaller man for my brother and showed him to be at a building by the sea reading a book. “Brother, university,” I said.

  “Understand. University,” Rosa smiled then took the pen and paper. She drew a mother, father and three little girls. “Sisters,” she said. Then she drew £££ signs and pointed to herself. “I work, send money.”

  I nodded. So she was away from her family too. I wondered what her life was like back in Poland and whether she missed her friends and family and if she had any pets. I drew a dog, cat and horse. She nodded and drew two cats. She looked sad when she drew them.

  We looked at each other and I put my hand on my heart. She put her hand on hers. We understand each other completely, I thought, even though we don’t have all the words. She’s lonely too. I resolved to make time for her in future when she brought my supper. I’d been so selfish grumping about like a miserable brat when all the time she had been missing her home and family just like me.

  After she’d gone, I cleared up the kitchen, left a cake out for Aunt Esme then went to my computer to check for mail. Only one from my brother who had finally remembered that I existed.

  Hey Danu. Sorry I haven’t been in touch. Let me know if you need anything. Look after yourself.

  Luke.

  Pff, I thought. Hopeless. He’s as bad as Dad. Head in the clouds and nose in a book. He’s studying ancient history and wasn’t very interested in anything or anybody else.

  I quickly did a round robin email to Annie, Fran, Bernie and Jane letting them all know what I’d been up to and as I was finishing up, my zodiac phone went.

  “Hey Danu,” said Joe. “Go to the site. There’s a competition on there that’s just up your street. First correct answer wins. And according to your chart, Pluto is coming square to your fourth house.”

  “D’oh. Which means what?”

  “Oh right. Pluto is the planet of transformation and your fourth house is the house of home. So it sounds fated that you win doesn’t it? Don’t waste any time. Bye.”