CHAPTER 9
A Horse
Treatment at the Boogaloos’ was a wonderland of music.
On Tuesday, an entire orchestra from Austria (all in leather lederhosen), four Dohori musicians from the mountains of Nepal and a rock band from Ukraine arrived.
On Wednesday came drummers from Brazil, a full choir from Samoa and a throat singer from Tuva. (Blue had never heard of throat singing before. Dressed in a pink and gold gown, the softly spoken gentleman had the most beautiful smiling eyes.)
On Thursday, eleven DJs from the dancefloors of Europe turned up with pop singers from the closed Kingdom of Bhutan.
Friday was pretty quiet. Just a masenqo minstrel from Ethiopia and a banjo player from Nashville, Tennessee.
Sessions would begin with the Doctor’s planned and precise musical combinations. ‘Okay, now a polka on mangtong and harp guitar. This time with an African back beat, so some djembes, please. Let’s mix up some New Orleans jazz with a bit of Jamaican dancehall, can we? And add some Italian bel canto. Make sure we have some tuba in there, Neil, and a bit of tungso.’
As the sun sank in the sky, the Doctor became less scientific, and the snake charmer and snake would emerge. Abandoning his musical prescriptions, the musicians followed the Doctor’s feet and sweated to keep up.
Blue had no idea there were so many different types of music in the world! Dr Boogaloo said there was no known civilisation in the whole history of mankind that didn’t play music. No matter how rich or poor, hot or cold, wet or dry, as long as they had two hands to clap and a voice to sing, there was music and always would be. ‘Otherwise, the human race would have died out long ago!’ the Doctor explained.
Blue had imagined she would be fed up with listening to music after five days of continuous treatment. But as the weekend rolled around, she wondered how on Earth she was going to get through two whole days without it! It was as if a fire had been lit inside her and music was its fuel.
Back at home, Blue stared at herself in the mirror in bathroom two. She examined every inch of her face. Although she had no idea what she was looking for, Blue hoped she to find some sign that the treatment was working. Her mother was due back this morning from her overseas trip, and Blue knew she’d be wanting cold, hard proof of progress.
Blue smiled, throwing her head back in one of her old fake pirate laughs in the hope of kickstarting a real one. Nothing. Blue tried not to worry. She reminded herself that laughter was a spontaneous thing and not something you can really do on command. And although Blue hadn’t had so much as a ‘ha’ or a ‘ho’ or a ‘hee’, she felt sure on the inside something was different. The hard part would be convincing her mother of this.
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
‘Park it there, will you, boys? I’ll get Melvin to unload. MELVIN!’ screeched Blue’s mother.
Melvin, sitting in the steel white chair where he sat when he wasn’t driving or polishing the family limo, rocked himself up. It took two or three rocks before he could launch his tired old body into an upright position – well, as upright as Melvin could go. By the time you get to eighty, gravity has often done a pretty good job of making you droop – a bit like a wilting sunflower on a hot sunny day. Melvin shuffled outside. Blue’s mother was standing beside a huge truck parked in the driveway.
‘Welcome home, madam,’ said Melvin.
‘Unload this truck for me, Melvin, would you? It’s my shopping from Europe.’
Melvin shuffled to the back of the truck and opened up the doors. There were boxes stacked from floor to ceiling. ‘Oh gawd,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘Don’t drop that one – that’s my precious white lamp!’ barked Blue’s mother, before hurrying back to chat with the shirtless young truck driver.
After Melvin had lugged a few boxes inside, he noticed something extremely odd in the back of the truck. It looked very much like a horse’s hoof. Melvin moved some boxes out of the way to get a better look. Sure enough, there, standing in the middle of the truck, was a huge … white … horse.
Not a live one, of course. A stuffed one.
‘Orh, bacon-shakers-foodle-pop!’ said Melvin, who made up his own swearwords so as not to corrupt the ears of his grandchildren. The sides of his mouth drooped like the rest of his body. He shuffled up to the front of the truck, where Blue’s mother was still chatting with the young truck driver. It was a horror of a sight to behold, her lightbulb-white teeth blinking as she laughed like a hyena and furiously batted her eyelids.
‘Excuse me, madam. I’m not sure I’ll be able to lift that horse.’
‘That’s a present for my husband. Get Luz and Tracee to help you. I’m going to see Blue. I’m sure that doctor must have fixed her up by now.’ Blue’s mother walked off and headed inside.
‘Darling, I’m home.’
Blue bounced down the stairs. Although she was nervous, she was also excited to see her mother and tell her all about the week she’d had with the Boogaloos.
‘Mummy!’ she said, running to give her mother a hug and a kiss.
But to tell you the truth, hugging Blue’s mother was a bit like hugging a robot. Straight-armed, she struggled to give Blue even a pat on the back. Blue’s mother had never been the huggy type. And ever since Blue’s father had left on his last business trip, her mother had done her best to avoid hugs and kisses completely. They seemed to upset her.
‘Now, anything you want to show me? Like a great big belly laugh, by any chance?’ said Blue’s mother, her eyebrows dancing with anticipation.
‘No, Mummy, I’m only halfway through treatment, but I’m sure it’s
