Violet Mackerel's Natural Habitat Read online

  For Gaynor (my mama)

  —A. B.

  Mumma, I drew this for you.

  Will you put it up on the fridge?

  —E. A.

  Violet Mackerel is a seven-year-old girl who is at the shopping center with her mama.

  They have been there all afternoon, buying violin strings for Violet’s eleven-year-old brother, Dylan, and an Encyclopedia of Natural Science for her thirteen-year-old sister, Nicola, who is doing a special display for a school science fair. They have not been buying anything for Violet, unless you count gray school socks. Violet does not count gray school socks.

  And now Mama has bumped into Mrs. Lin from across the road and they are having an extremely long cup of tea in the food court.

  “With petrol prices as they are,” says Mama to Mrs. Lin, “it’s getting difficult to make ends meet.”

  “I know,” says Mrs. Lin to Mama. “My bills are going through the roof.”

  No one says anything to Violet, so she thinks about Mrs. Lin’s bills going through the roof. The roof of the food court is quite high up. Past two whole floors of shops. And there is a small brown sparrow flying there.

  Violet wonders if the sparrow has always lived in the shopping mall or if he flew in by mistake and can’t find his way out of the automatic sliding doors that creak open and shut as the people come and go. She wonders if indoor sparrows are jealous of outdoor sparrows, who have leafy trees to nest in, or if outdoor sparrows are jealous of indoor sparrows, who get doughnut crumbs and bits of hot dog to eat. It is difficult to know what small creatures think. But while Violet is wondering, the sparrow flies down onto the floor of the food court and hops and jumps just near where she is sitting.

  Violet wishes she had some doughnut crumbs, but since she doesn’t, she tries to think of what else a sparrow might like. She suspects it is probably quite difficult for an indoor sparrow to find things to build a nest with, and that gives her an idea. The hem of her daisy skirt is coming unraveled, and she pulls on a loose thread. It gets quite long before it breaks. Violet puts it down on the ground for the sparrow.

  “You can weave this into your nest,” says Violet.

  The sparrow hops over, picks it up in his beak, and flies back toward the roof of the shopping mall.

  Violet smiles. A new thought is forming in her mind. It is called the Theory of Helping Small Things and it works like this: If you do something to help a small thing, that small thing might find a way of helping you.

  Violet waits to see if anything happens.

  The sparrow flies back down again and this time it hops and jumps near Mrs. Lin’s feet. Mrs. Lin wrinkles her nose.

  “Ugh, I can’t stand sparrows. They look like mice with wings,” says Mrs. Lin. “It’s time I was going home.”

  “Us too, I suppose,” says Mama.

  “Thank you,” whispers Violet to the sparrow, very glad that they are finally leaving.

  In the car Violet asks Mama about birds who live in shopping centers.

  “Birds are good at finding places to build their nests and things to eat wherever they are,” says Mama, “but a shopping center is not a bird’s natural habitat.”

  “What’s a natural habitat?” asks Violet.

  “The place where something lives and grows best,” says Mama.

  Violet suspects that the shopping center is not her natural habitat either.

  When they get home, Mama gets busy cooking dinner and everyone is talking about Nicola’s natural science project. Violet thinks it is the perfect time to test her new theory a bit more.

  In her garden there is a patch of fennel with soft, feathery leaves. Lots of ladybugs live in it, and one of them is a bit smaller than the others. Violet wonders what sort of help a small ladybug might like.

  The trick of helping small things, Violet suspects, is to understand them.

  Violet is the smallest in her family, so she expects she knows how the small ladybug feels. It probably has to go to bed before all the others, and whenever it finds out something interesting (like that your ears keep growing all your life, even when you are old), the bigger ladybugs probably say they already knew.

  Violet gently nudges the small ladybug onto the tip of her finger. She names it Gloria. Naming is not exactly understanding or helping but it is a good start, she thinks.

  Small Gloria sits on Violet’s fingertip for a little while in a friendly way. Violet tells her about her big sister, Nicola, (who is always grumpy these days) and her big brother, Dylan, (who is going through a stage). Then she puts Small Gloria back into the feathery fennel plant.

  Violet goes inside to think of a plan for helping Small Gloria, but it is hard to think properly because there is so much crossness coming from the kitchen.

  “Everyone else has something interesting for their natural science project,” Nicola is saying to Mama. “Anson McGregor is building an ant farm and Nigel Ridley is growing blue crystals and Belinda Maxwell has a real Venus flytrap plant and she will be feeding it flies with tweezers for the fair.”

  “Well, I’m sure you can do something interesting for your project too,” says Mama. “What would you like to do?”

  But Nicola does not know, and that is the problem. She says natural science is her worst subject. She says it is worse than math, much worse. She says she does not see the point in rediscovering something that has already been discovered and then making a display of it.

  “Maybe you could discover things about ladybugs that haven’t been discovered yet,” says Violet helpfully. “There are lots in the garden.”

  Violet says this quite loudly so that Mama will notice how helpful she is being. Mama is probably thinking, If only everyone was as helpful as Violet and always had such good ideas. She is probably thinking of a special treat for Violet as a thank-you for always being such a help to everybody.

  Nicola, however, is not thinking of Violet’s helpfulness.

  “Buzz off, Violet,” she says. “It’s not an elementary-school project where you can just put some ladybugs in a jar. It is for a fair, and it has to be actual science.”

  “Nicola,” says Mama, “Violet is only trying to help.”

  Violet sighs deeply with the wounded look of someone who has been buzzed off while only trying to help. She stares at the ground for a long time in sad silence. Nicola is probably wishing she could take it back. Mama is probably thinking that a good treat for poor, helpful, buzzed-off Violet would be her own kitten.

  Although actually, when Violet looks up, Mama and Nicola have gone back to reading the Encyclopedia of Natural Science.

  So Violet takes a glass jar from the kitchen cupboard. Nicola might not have any ideas for herself, but she has given one to Violet.

  It is drizzling now, and one of Violet’s favorite feelings is to be warm and dry inside while there is wetness and coldness blowing around outside. The fennel patch probably isn’t very cozy for a small ladybug on a rainy day. Cold wind and raindrops would easily sneak through the feathery leaves. So Violet decides to help Small Gloria by making her a new habitat, which will be nicer than her natural one.

  Gloria likes fennel, so Violet snips some from the plant outside and puts that in the jar first. Violet likes Christmas tinsel, and she has some that she saved from Christmas, so she puts that in next. There are sweet pea flowers in a jug on the kitchen table that Mama’s boyfriend, Vincent, gave her. Mama doesn’t mind Violet having one, so she puts it in with the tinsel. All living creatures need water, so she sprinkles a little bit in with her fingertips. And then Violet makes a paper sign for the new home, which says NEW HABITAT OF SMALL GLORIA. She sticks it onto the jar with sticky tape.

  It is a good hab
itat, Violet thinks, but it needs something else—something ladybugs really like, so that when a smallish ladybug has one, the bigger ladybugs all wish they had one too. Violet has a wishing stone she was given at a fairy party. It is a small, clear pebble with a rainbow glaze, and it is a particular treasure of hers. She puts it very carefully in the jar, on top of the fennel but underneath the silver tinsel. And now the New Habitat of Small Gloria is ready.

  Violet takes her umbrella and the jar out into the garden. The trouble with small things is that they can be the hardest to spot, especially in the half-light of evening. Violet looks closely into the fennel patch. At first she can’t see any ladybugs at all. Then after a while of standing over the patch and sheltering it with her umbrella, she can see some of the bigger ones scurrying about as raindrops drip through the feathery leaves. But the small ladybug is nowhere to be seen.

  Violet looks right in the middle of the plant, near the stalk, to see if it is sheltering there. Then she tries looking out at the very tips, in case it is stuck where the leaves have been bouncing up and down the most. She walks in a circle around the fennel, just to make sure she hasn’t missed a spot. But she cannot find the small ladybug anywhere.

  Just as she is about to give up and go back inside, she has the idea of looking among some pebbles that she and Nicola used to build a ladybug cave under the fennel leaves last summer. It was quite a secret place, which Nicola and Violet used for hiding small notes they wrote to each other, a bit like a private letter box. That was before everything made Nicola grumpy, especially Violet. Now the cave has fallen down, but the pebbles are still there in a little heap. Violet carefully lifts them one by one to avoid squashing any small creature underneath. And there, right at the bottom of the pile between two pebbles, she spies a ladybug that is a bit smaller than the others and sort of looks up if you say “Small Gloria.”

  Violet gently nudges the little ladybug onto her finger, puts her finger against the silver tinsel in the jar, and lets Small Gloria explore the new habitat. Gloria walks carefully down the tinsel and around the wishing stone, which is nearly twenty times as big as she is. She looks at her reflection in it for a while, and then disappears into the fennel.

  So that Small Gloria doesn’t accidentally fly out and lose her new habitat, Violet puts the lid on the jar. She walks with it very carefully, so that there is not too much joggling, and takes it upstairs to her room.

  Then it is dinnertime, and it is cheese-on-toast. Violet saves a corner for Gloria.

  That night Violet says good night to Nicola, who is still grumpy. Then she says good night to Dylan, who says, “Is it?,” which Mama says is part of the stage he is going through. Then she says good night to Vincent and to Mama. And then, just before bed, she gently opens the lid of the New Habitat of Small Gloria.

  She puts in the dinner she has saved.

  “Good night, Small Gloria,” she says.

  Violet puts her ear over the mouth of the jar, in case there is any sort of reply, but there is none, which is normal for ladybugs. Violet feels she might be getting quite good at understanding small things.

  Violet puts the lid back on, puts the jar on her bedside table, and tries to go to sleep, but it is difficult when there is a new friend in your room.

  In the morning it will be just her and Nicola, since Mama and Vincent and Dylan are all going to the market very early. Mama has a stall to sell knitted things, Vincent has a stall selling china birds, and Dylan plays his violin and people throw coins into his violin case. Usually Nicola and Violet go too, so Nicola can sell the earrings she makes out of beads and Violet can help everybody and also eat little pancakes out of a paper cup.

  But tomorrow Nicola will be working on her project and Violet plans to stay home too, for the pretend reason of sleeping in, but for the actual reason of Small Gloria.

  In the morning Violet has the feeling of something exciting that you can’t quite remember for the first few seconds while you are waking up. And then she spies the jar on her bedside table, and she remembers.

  Violet picks it up and looks inside, turning it slowly and gently so that its resident doesn’t get queasy. But she cannot see Small Gloria. She undoes the lid and looks inside.

  Violet takes out the corner of cheese-on-toast, which does not seem very nibbled, and carefully pulls out the silver tinsel, in case Gloria is hiding there. Then, very gently, she tweaks out the feathery fennel.

  In the bottom of the jar there are only two things left.

  One is the wishing stone.

  The other is Gloria, the wrong way up and not moving, with her legs curled tightly against her.

  Violet feels a bit queasy, as though her habitat is being turned around. The ladybug is not walking or flying or even looking up a bit when Violet says “Small Gloria.” She is just lying quite still on her back beside the wishing stone.

  Violet is not sure what to do.

  It is a horrible surprise.

  She sits still on her bed for a little while and wishes Mama would come home. She would like to tell someone what has happened, even though they might just say, “It’s only a ladybug” or “That wasn’t very clever to put it in a jar.” But there is only grumpy Nicola. This morning, of all mornings, Violet does not feel like being buzzed off.

  Violet stands in Nicola’s doorway with the jar in her hand. Nicola is sitting at her desk, still looking through the Encyclopedia of Natural Science. She has the look of someone who has not been to sleep yet.

  “Nicola?” says Violet.

  “What?” grumps Nicola.

  Violet thinks of how the problem of Small Gloria is much more horrible than the problem of the natural science project and feels slightly cross as well as sad.

  Then suddenly Nicola’s face goes a bit funny, like she is trying not to sneeze. Then she does a strange cough. And then she starts crying. Nicola doesn’t cry very often, and when she does, it is usually like a grown-up, just tears and sniffling and not much noise.

  This different way of crying is another bad surprise for the morning.

  Violet is not supposed to go into Nicola’s room without knocking, and after she knocks she is supposed to wait until Nicola says, “Come in,” because of an incident a few weeks ago that involved some borrowed nail polish and a spillage. But this morning Violet just goes in and holds Nicola’s hand.

  “Are you sad about your project?” asks Violet after a little while.

  Nicola nods and gulps. “I can’t do it,” she says.

  “It does sound difficult,” says Violet, even though there is no one around to think of giving her a kitten.

  “Only to a pea brain like me,” says Nicola with a hiccup. “Everyone will laugh at me at the natural science fair.”

  “You’re not a pea brain,” says Violet. “I’m the pea brain,” she adds.

  “Why are you a pea brain?” Nicola sniffs.

  “I tried to make a new habitat for Small Gloria, so she wouldn’t always have to be out in the cold and wet,” says Violet, “and now look.”

  Violet shows Nicola the jar with the wishing stone and the little upside-down ladybug.

  Nicola does not say “So what, it’s just a ladybug,” and she also does not say “It wasn’t very clever to put it in a jar.” It is nice, when two people are having disasters, if neither of them says anything like that.

  Violet pulls up a chair at Nicola’s desk, where the Encyclopedia of Natural Science is still open.

  “Maybe we can be pea brains together,” says Violet.

  “I was reading last night about the life spans of animals,” says Nicola a bit later, looking it up in the encyclopedia. “Ladybugs don’t live for very long. Mostly, the bigger the animal, the longer it lives, and the smaller the animal, the shorter it lives.”

  Blue whales, which are the biggest animals, can live for ninety years, reads Violet from the encyclopedia, but mayflies, which are very tiny, live only for a few hours.

  Violet is quite glad she is a person and n
ot a mayfly or she would have had all her life in the shopping mall yesterday while Mama had tea with Mrs. Lin.

  “How long do ladybugs live?” asks Violet.

  “I’m not sure exactly,” says Nicola, “but I think maybe Gloria would have had quite a short life even if she had stayed in her natural habitat. I don’t think it’s all your fault.”

  Violet wishes Gloria was alive in the fennel patch and not dead in the bottom of a jar, but it is nice to think that it might not be all her fault.

  “Maybe the jar was not a good habitat for a ladybug,” says Violet.

  “Maybe not,” says Nicola, but not meanly.

  Although she is extremely sad, Violet thinks it is nice with just the two of them there, sitting at the desk in her sister’s room, not being told to buzz off. She is glad that she and Nicola share the same habitat.

  Violet looks up ladybugs in the encyclopedia. There is a picture of their life cycle, which starts with lots of tiny yellow eggs sitting on a leaf. They look like the little yellow seed beads Nicola sometimes uses when she is making earrings, and that gives Violet a possible idea.

  “You could make that out of green felt and yellow seed beads,” she says.

  Once at Christmastime, Nicola made little dangling elves with hats out of beads, and some were holding presents and some were holding candy canes. Even though Violet helped to pack up most of the Christmas decorations, she quite liked the elf and still has it on the windowsill of her bedroom. Eggs on a leaf are easy compared with that.

  “Everyone else has real living things in their display,” says Nicola.