Another Taste of Honeydew

Mack Periwinkle wanted to discuss some music arrangements for the Bear Bangers and that prompted me to visit Alex Periwinkle's house. He and Mabel were staying temporarily with their son because they were having their bedroom decorated.

"Glad you could make it, Jackson," said Mack, "but I'm afraid we're not alone as I'd hoped."

"Oh?" I looked around but saw no one.

"He's in the bathroom," Mack explained, noting my movements. "Katherine's nephew, Button Honeydew. He was very interested when he heard you were coming. He shouldn't be long."

o 0 O 0 o

You may recall that I had briefly met Button at the Ghost Story reading last year. You may even recall that Cecile and her Cake Club friend Katherine Periwinkle had discussed the lad and information had filtered back to me. However, I'd never been the subject of Button's scrutiny. Clearly, this was to change.

"Hello Mister Butterglove," a jolly voice hailed, and I turned to see a smiling young rabbit.

 

"Hello, Button," I responded, wondering what the boy had in mind.

"Did you ask him, Uncle Mack?" asked Button, "Or did you want to leave it to me?"

Mack gestured towards me. "Feel free, Button."

The boy regarded me with his full attention.

"Figgy Ivory says he's learning about music from you. I asked him about it but he didn't really have an answer. So I wanted to ask you. What is music for?"

 

I blinked. I'd heard Button thought about things in a novel way, but one had to experience his direct and earnest approach to fully appreciate him.

"What is music FOR?" I repeated. "Do you mean you want to know it's purpose?"

 

He backed on to the settee as he responded. "Yes. Figgy didn't know."

"Well..." My mind whizzed. "It makes you feel good. Emotionally. Producing music is a creative task, like painting pictures, sculpting stone, writing stories..."

 

"Right..."  

"...and it communicates emotion. Like having happy tunes, sad tunes. Is that what you needed to know?"

"Hmm. Yes. I'll have to think about that. So let me ask you another."

I thought I was doing too well. What was his followup question? 

"Do big ears mean you enjoy music more?"

"Big ears?"

"Yes. Like rabbits and elephants have bigger ears than otters and beavers."

"Oh. I wouldn't have thought so."

"Are you sure? I wanted to know why we have bigger ears and thought music might be why. The Bunny Boys are musicians. You and Mister Snow-Warren write songs."

I glanced at Mack and he was trying to suppress a smile.

"Well, Button, I don't think anyone has looked into that. But Lionel Grand has smaller ears and he's the most talented pianist we know."

"Hmm. Yes. I'll have to think about that too."

"I'm glad I've helped."

 

"Hmm. Yes," Button repeated. He had a little crease between his eyes; he was thinking about something. Which prompted another question.

"You said that music makes you feel good. All music?"

 

I needed to handle this question carefully. "Button - you know people are different, don't you?"

"Yes?"

"So it follows they can have different tastes. The music that makes them feel good can vary from person to person."

"That makes sense I suppose. Although it complicates matters. Either way, I still don't understand why any music does that. Why does it?"

 

I didn't know how to answer that so decided to throw the question back.

"Wow, that's a good question. I'd like to know that too. Has any music ever made you feel good, Button?"

"I think so. But I thought you'd know why since you're teaching Figgy."

"I'm showing him some of the rules of music, and how to play the piano a little. It's more how one does things. Not why."

"Hmm. But there will be a reason. And with you being a teacher..."

I saw a way out. "Ah, but I'm not a qualified teacher. I'm simply helping Figgy by sharing skills I've learned."

 

"Oh. Do I need to ask a qualified teacher, then? Like Uncle Alex?"

"I suppose you could..."

 

Was it bad of me to shift the boy's attention to Alex Periwinkle? One could argue that. However, months ago, Cecile had informed me that - unchecked - Button Honeydew's questions could last for over an hour. 

"I'll do that."

He turned and made for the door, pausing only to throw a "thank you" over his shoulder.

 

And then Button was gone.

Mack finally exploded with laughter. "Oh, Jackson..."

 

I returned a weak smile. "Am I a bad person, Mack?"

 

"Let's put it this way," he chuckled, "As far as Button is concerned, I'm thinking of being a little bad in future." 

 

o 0 O 0 o

 

Hope's Sand Dreams

When one's best friend's wife wants one to keep a secret from her husband, I think a little explanation is reasonable. 

 

This thought was prompted by a visit from Charity Snow-Warren. She was accompanied by her elder daughter Susan, and we congregated in my living room as per usual. Also present to hear Charity's request were Cecile and Brendan. My son's presence was briefly queried, but by his adamant response it was clear he thought that he should remain.

 

"I can keep secrets," he said. "I've kept loads."

"Ooh, what?" asked Susan.

"Can't say," said Brendan, nose in the air, "as they're secrets."

 

"Hmm. I'm not sure how I feel about that," said Cecile, "but if your Auntie Charity is happy for you to stay..."

"I can keep secrets," repeated Brendan.

 

"I'm happy," said Charity, "but it's Susan's secret. What do you say, Soosoo?"

Susan smiled. "You can trust Brendan. He wouldn't want to spoil Hope's birthday."

 

Brendan beamed at his mum, his expression making the words "told you so" unnecessary.

"That's next month, isn't it?" I asked.

"No, that's my birthday," said Susan. "Hope's is in the summer."

"Of course," I said. "I take it the secret is about her birthday. Why shouldn't your dad know about it?"

 

Charity chuckled. "Tell him, dear."

"Hope can always tell if dad is keeping something from her," said Susan. "I'm not saying he'd tell her, but she might become suspicious enough to investigate."

 

I could see that. Although Hope was the younger sister, she was the more proactive of the two. I remembered her being protective of Susan when they were being pestered by Lincoln Moonflower. We moved to our seats to get comfortable.

Charity explained further. "As Hope is so perceptive, Susan and I thought we should investigate the possibilities first, bringing Chris into the arrangements nearer the date."

 

 

"So how can we help?" said Cecile.

"Hope likes making things. Susan does too, but they have different approaches. As an example, take their dollies. Susan will sew some clothes for them. Hope has grander ideas."

"Yes," said Susan. "She makes things out of card and anything else she can find. Doll's furniture, extra bits to add on to buildings. Even some doll's houses. They're really good too."

 

Charity nodded. "Perhaps we're biased but she is very talented in her... constructions. She even has notebooks where she plans out the things she makes. Draws out templates that she can trace. A proper little architect."

Cecile laughed. "That sounds a bit like Rowan when he was small."

 

"Oh yes!" said Charity, turning to her daughter. "Auntie Cecile's brother was an architect before he decided to go on his trekking."

I felt we were getting a bit distracted, so I chipped into the conversation to put things back on track. "That's interesting. I take it that this relates to this secret you're going to tell us?"

"Susan?" prompted Charity.

 

"Yes, Uncle Jack," she said. "Hope has started a new notebook, and she's designing castles and things. Things she wants to make out of sand. She told me she dreams of building all the things she's designing. She spends most of her time on that notebook."

Susan paused and looked at her mum, the clear expectation being for Charity to explain how this might involve us.

 

"It started when you came back from your summer holiday at North Beach. Beverley told Susan and Hope what a good time you had. The fun she had on the sands."

"It was good," commented Brendan. "We made sand castles."

"Yes!" said Susan. "That's when Hope became excited and started her new notebook. She would like to make grand sandcastles of her own."

"And that's what gave Susan the idea for a present for Hope's birthday. That we should also spend a few days at North Beach like you did. Fulfil Hope's sand dreams."

 

"It sounds a lovely idea," said Cecile.

"It does," said Charity, "but there are practicalities. We'd need to borrow Rowan's camper van..."

"He wouldn't mind," said Cecile.

 

"I'd hoped he wouldn't. It would be ideal for our accommodation - but the problem is that neither Chris nor I can drive."

"Ah," I said.

 

"That's why I hoped, Jack... if I could arrange for you to get a taxi or some other transportation, would you consider driving us there and back in the camper van?"

I was surprised at the request. Perfectly willing, of course.

 

"You don't have to decide now," added Charity hurriedly, "but if you'll give it some thought?"

"We enjoyed it," said Cecile, "but camper vans aren't for everyone. Do you think you'd enjoy staying in one?"

"Well, granted it isn't the sort of holiday I'd put first. Or Chris. But it's not about the rest of us; it's so Hope will have all that sand to work with and time enough to do it."

 

"And it has to be sand?" asked Cecile. "The Billabongs do a workshop where they help students build things in clay."

 

Susan shook her head. "It has to be sand. I know it's a long way to go, but I think my sister deserves it. That's the nearest area of sand."

"No it's not," said Brendan.

 

"It's the nearest beach, Brendan," frowned Susan. "I've checked."

 

"Yes, but you get sand in other places - not just beaches. What about Wildwood's Brick Works? They have loads. And it's in Mellowdene County."

 

"It's a different sort of sand," I pointed out. "It's building sand."

"Mm. And Hope wants to build with sand."

Cecile regarded our son with a placatory smile. "You do know that children aren't allowed in the Brick Works?"

 

"'Course I know that," grinned Brendan, "but they do deliver."

o 0 O 0 o

Brendan's suggestion became the new direction for the Snow-Warrens. Neither Charity nor Susan really fancied spending days in a camper van. The idea that Hope's sand dreams could be fulfilled in their own garden -  that they could shower at home, sleep in their own beds, not have their time restricted by poor weather conditions - appealed to them. There wouldn't be any logistical problems with transport or accommodation, and there was the option to have the sand taken away afterwards. Chris wouldn't need to know any of this until Hope's birthday was imminent and the secret would be easier to keep.

 

Of course there wasn't any suggestion that Brendan and Beverley might accidentally call at the Snow-Warren home in summer and share in some sand sculpting fun.

Some things remain unspoken.

o 0 O 0 o