Blue smiled.
Her tears stopped falling.
How funny we look, she thought with a snort.
Blue snorted again. A puff of air escaped from her nose, which wasn’t the least bit extraordinary. What was extraordinary was piggybacking on that small puff of air was a teeny tiny ‘hee’ sound, not unlike the noise of a dreaming dog.
Another ‘hee’ followed.
And quickly behind that ‘hee’ came another.
Suddenly, Blue let out a ‘ha’.
Then another.
Then another and another and another, until they all joined up and formed a hearty, happy, UNMISTAKABLE …
LAUGH.
Yes, that’s right. Blue was LAUGHING!
Still lost in their tears, Bessie and Dr Boogaloo didn’t immediately notice something remarkable was happening. But as Blue started whooping, her body pitching back and forth in a fit of uncontrollable belly laughs, the spell of sadness shattered. Bessie’s jingly-jangly arms flew into the air. She leapt at Blue and squeezed her so tight she almost stopped breathing, let alone laughing. Dr Boogaloo, usually a man of restraint unless listening to African drumbeats or the wildest Jamaican dancehall, jumped into the air.
‘ALL RIGHT!’ he yelled.
Squeezing and laughing, laughing and crying, at that moment in time they were the three happiest people in the entire universe (and every universe beyond, although that would be almost impossible prove).
After a while, they all calmed down enough to communicate with words.
‘What happened, Dr Boogaloo? Why did I get my laughter back now?’ Blue asked.
‘A Boogaloo musical cure, that’s what happened – courtesy of these fine fellows with just a dash of castanets! I lost my magical thinking for a bit there, but as soon as I gave up, it came back to me! Like a boomerang! You’ve always got to let go for things to come back. And you’ve got to be ready to catch them when they do. Musical cures, there’s no telling them when to arrive. Five parts pure mystery, Blue, five parts pure mystery! There’s one thing you can be certain of, though …’ Overcome with emotion, the Doctor’s voice trailed off into a whisper. ‘Music will bring our hopes and dreams to us – if we let it! Sometimes it just takes a helluva long time to find the right tune.’
Dr Boogaloo composed himself. He turned to the scruffy musicians, who didn’t look the least bit surprised, as if people always cried and laughed uncontrollably when they heard their music.
‘That’s one helluva weeping song, boys. How’d you like to record it?’ he said, dabbing the corner of his eyes with the hanky Bessie had quietly tucked into his hand. The musicians looked delighted. ‘But first,’ said the Doctor, breaking into a trot, ‘I’ve got some instruments to save. Come on, Bess, come on, Blue … to the iBike!’
By the time Dr Boogaloo arrived back at the clinic, the hammer had already fallen on his cigar-box guitar, his hurdy-gurdy and his extensive collection of harmonicas. When he explained to the buyers he’d had a change of heart, they all happily returned their instruments in exchange for their money back. Except one extraordinarily grumpy collector from France, into whose hands the hurdy-gurdy had fallen, who insisted the Doctor pay him double plus travel expenses.
That night, Dr Boogaloo took down the CLOSED FOR BUSINESS sign from the roadside. After telling all the animals the good news, the Boogaloos decided to make a cup of tea and retire for the night. Boris, the guitarist from Uzbekistan, had reappeared in the comfy chair in the kitchen, snoozing and snoring as always like a big bass drum. Still being a touch gassy of late, the Doctor added some Spanish fandango to the tea and a splash of swing for Bessie, who looked shattered. Even her fairy-floss hair had lost its glow. Its Mars-orange radiance dimmed to a brittle pale apricot through utter exhaustion, unlike her possums, unfortunately, who had just risen and were feeling perky. Dolly and Makeba were tumbling about in the folds of her skirt and dangling upside down like bats.
Before going to bed, Dr Boogaloo pulled down his book of musical cures. On page 308,704 he made a correction to the treatment section of No Laughing Syndrome:
Responds well to scruffy trios in tunnels with cylindrical acoustics and spiralling echoes. Need a wizard on keys wearing plenty of rings for extra chinks, star-like guitar and gentle freshwater drums, with just a dash of castanets.
Dr Boogaloo closed the book and made his way upstairs to bed.
Tomorrow, the clinic would be busy and he could barely wait to get started.
When Blue got home she told Melvin, Luz and Tracee the good news. Melvin was so thrilled he cursed out loud for the very first time: ‘That’s #*$@&* marvellous news, my dear!’ Luz and Tracee shook their mabungos and screeched with laughter. Even Melvin shook what little mabungo he had left.
Blue then Skyped her father. He was in the mountains of Tibet, purchasing a monastery he planned to convert into a luxury hotel.
‘What wonderful news, Maggie,’ said Blue’s father. ‘Well, you won’t be needing this, then.’ He held up a fluffy white balaclava. ‘It’s made from the fur of a snow leopard. They’re endangered, you know. It was awfully expensive.’
‘I knew that Doctor would fix you up. Didn’t I tell you!’ said Blue’s mother from an expensive resort in Switzerland. ‘I can’t believe my ordeal is finally over. I’m going to order the most expensive bubbles on Earth to celebrate.’
Although Blue still struggled to understand many things about her parents, it made her feel so good to make them happy again. They were just people after all. And there aren’t any perfect people. Not any. Blue decided loving each other just the way we are is all any of us can try our best to
