Hello from the Gillespies

by Monica McInerney

  Lindy and Richard were still on the side of the road, in the spot where the windscreen had shattered. The other car had driven on, oblivious. Their intention had been to take out the broken windscreen glass and keep driving – with Lindy at the wheel – but somewhere in the process, the idea of carefully picking out pieces of broken glass had been replaced with the idea of kissing. They had now been kissing for twenty minutes. Lindy couldn’t believe how wonderful it felt. To be here, outside, pressed against the car, her arms around a man who had his arms around her. Any more of these deep, amazing kisses, and that rug on the seat of her dad’s four-wheel drive would be on the ground beside them, and them on top of it. Richard’s hands were already inside her shirt, on her skin. Her hands had long been on the bare skin of his back. She could hear small moans of pleasure. Her name, spoken again and again.

  ‘Lindy, answer me. Lindy.’

  It was her father. Her father’s voice coming from the radio in the car.

  ‘Can you ignore it?’ Richard murmured.

  ‘Sure,’ she said.

  ‘Lindy, where the hell are you? Answer me.’

  She broke away, reluctantly. ‘Sorry, I’ll be right back.’

  She picked up the handset. ‘Dad?’

  ‘Get home now.’

  ‘But, Dad, I —’

  ‘I need the four-wheel drive. Your mother’s had a car accident.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘In Adelaide. She’s in hospital. I need to get there and I haven’t got a bloody car.’

  ‘Dad, the windscreen – it’s smashed.’

  ‘Fuck. Okay. Forget it, Lindy.’

  He hung up.

  Richard had heard it all. ‘Lindy, what is —’

  She got into the car and started the engine. ‘Get in,’ she said. ‘We have to go.’

  They’d only gone twenty metres when the radio crackled into life again.

  Lindy snatched it up. ‘We’re on our way. As fast as we can.’

  ‘About time, Lindy.’ It was Jane Lawson. ‘Is this some kind of joke? What now? Overheated engine? Another flat tyre? My cousins are about to leave and —’

  About to explain about her mother, her father, the windscreen, Lindy lost patience. She said something she’d wanted to say to Jane Lawson for years, then replaced the handset.

  ‘Wow,’ Richard said. ‘That told her.’

  Lindy just kept driving.

  Genevieve saw the light ahead first. They’d turned off the main road and were now on the dirt road to Errigal, travelling at forty kilometres an hour, the fastest she dared to go. It wasn’t a car or a truck coming towards them. ‘It’s a motorbike,’ Ig said. Their father was coming along the road towards them on the station motorbike.

  She pulled onto the side of the road. He did the same. He leapt off the bike, holding out his hand for the car keys. Genevieve handed them over.

  ‘But we’re coming with you, Dad,’ she said. ‘All of us.’

  He’d just started the car and was turning back towards the main road when the radio crackled. It was Lindy. ‘Genevieve? It’s me, quick, answer.’

  ‘Does she know, Dad?’

  Nick nodded.

  Genevieve picked up the handset. ‘We’re on our way, Lindy. You’ll have to follow us.’

  ‘I can’t. My windscreen’s gone. Wait for me, please. I can see your lights, I’m not far.’

  ‘Dad?’ Genevieve put her hand on her father’s arm. ‘Dad, please. She has to be with us too.’

  Nick took his foot off the pedal. They waited.

  Lindy was parking behind them less than five minutes later. She ran across to the car, got into the back with Victoria and Ig. Then she got out again and ran back.

  ‘Richard, sorry. Here are the keys. Just drive slowly. Keep going in that direction. Past our house for another forty minutes. The Lawsons is the only other station on this road. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘But I don’t know where I am.’

  ‘You’ll find your way. Use the radio if you get lost.’

  ‘I don’t know how to use it.’

  ‘You’ll work it out. I’m sorry.’

  He stood watching as Lindy and her family drove away.

  The car filled with voices as Lindy and Genevieve fired questions at their father. Ig started to cry. Victoria tried to soothe him. Nick eventually held up his hand to silence them.

  ‘Stop it, everyone, just stop it. Just shut up. Please,’ he snapped, finally.

  ‘Dad, please, tell us everything.’ It was Victoria, her voice quiet. ‘Now we’re all here.’

  ‘The police rang. She had an accident. In the Adelaide Hills. She’s been seriously hurt. They rushed her to hospital. She’s being operated on now.’

  ‘What do they mean by seriously hurt?’

  Nick glanced back at Ig. Victoria had both arms around him.

  ‘He needs to know, Dad,’ Genevieve said. ‘We all do.’

  ‘She’s had some kind of internal bleeding. It caused a sudden drop in her blood pressure.’ He hesitated. ‘The paramedics had to restart her heart.’

  Lindy gasped.

  ‘Did she die?’ Ig asked.

  Victoria held him even tighter. ‘No, Ig. There were paramedics there. They kept her heart going.’

  ‘But if they hadn’t been there —’

  ‘They were there, Ig,’ Victoria said. ‘They got her to hospital. She’s in hospital now. The very best place.’

  A mobile phone rang. They’d just come into signal range. Nick scrabbled inside his shirt pocket, took it out and gave it to Genevieve.

  It was a nurse from the hospital with an update. Genevieve asked questions, listened for several minutes. She told the caller they were on the way, that they’d be there in less than four hours.

  ‘Mum’s still in the operating theatre,’ she reported. ‘It’s a ruptured spleen. That’s what caused the bleeding and the lack of oxygen. They had to —’

  ‘They had to what?’ Nick said. ‘Genevieve, what?’

  ‘Her heart stopped again. They had to use the defibrillator on her in the hospital, in the operating theatre. But she’s alive. She’s still alive.’

  In the back seat, Victoria held Ig tighter.

  Lindy was crying. ‘Will she be all right, Dad?’

  ‘Of course she will,’ he said. ‘Of course.’

  They prayed. All of them, for the rest of the journey. Prayers that they hadn’t said in years, since school, since the days they used to go to Mass every Sunday. Hail Marys. Our Fathers. Over and over again, until they reached the outskirts of Adelaide. They made only one stop, for petrol. Only Nick got out. In the light from the petrol station, their faces took on a strange golden glow.

  Ig spoke, his voice clear in the silence of the car. ‘Robbie says she’ll be fine.’

  Lindy sobbed. ‘It’s not the time for Robbie, Ig.’

  ‘He says she’ll be fine!’ He shouted the words.

  Victoria held him tight again, stroking his hair, kissing his head. ‘It’s okay, Ig. It’s okay.’

  ‘He knows about this stuff,’ Ig said. He was crying again now too. ‘He told me to tell you.’

  ‘Tell him thanks, Ig,’ Genevieve said.

  ‘He’s here. Thank him yourself.’

  Their father was approaching. Genevieve exchanged a glance with Victoria, who nodded.

  Genevieve turned right around in the seat and addressed a spot somewhere between Ig and Victoria. ‘Thanks, Robbie. We’re really glad to hear that.’

  ‘Ready?’ Nick said as he got back into the driver’s seat.

  ‘Ready,’ they said.

  Thirty minutes later, Nick pulled up in front of the main hospital in the centre of the city. All four doors of the car opened.

  ‘Go, Dad,’ Genevieve said. ‘I’ll find a car park. I’ll find you all.’

  ‘I’ll stay with you,’ Victoria said.

  ‘No,’ Genevieve said. ‘Go now, please. One of us should be there if —’

 
‘She’s going to be all right.’ Victoria’s tone was fierce.

  ‘I know. Just go, Victoria. I’ll be there as quick as I can.’

  Victoria turned and ran after her father, sister and little brother.

  It took Genevieve twenty minutes to find a car park and then find her family. They were sitting in a small waiting room near the operating theatres. There were plenty of spare seats but they were in a huddle in the corner, sitting side by side. Her father was staring across the room. Lindy and Victoria were talking softly to each other. Ig was talking too; smiling even. As Genevieve got closer, she realised he was talking to Robbie. About a TV program they both liked.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Genevieve asked her father. ‘Is she —’

  ‘They’re still operating,’ Nick said.

  Beside him, Ig laughed. ‘No, that’s not the funny bit. The best bit is when the duck goes —’

  Genevieve was shocked at her rush of temper. ‘Ig, no, not now. Tell Robbie to be quiet.’

  His expression turned mutinous. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Then at least whisper to him, will you?’ She turned back to her father. ‘Have they told you anything else? How it’s going? How long they’ll be?’

  Nick shook his head. ‘Nothing new.’

  Victoria reached up and took her twin’s hand. ‘We just have to wait, Genevieve.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  One hour went past. Two. Genevieve became the family’s spokeswoman. After a third visit to the nurse’s station, she had more news. Angela was out of the operating theatre.

  ‘She’s in intensive care. They had to remove her spleen, but the operation went well.’

  Ig raised his hand as if he was in school. ‘I don’t know what a spleen is.’

  Genevieve’s expression softened. ‘It’s here, Ig,’ she said, pointing to her left side. ‘I had to ask too. It cleans your blood. But you can live without it.’

  ‘So they think she’ll be all right?’ Lindy said. ‘That was all they had to do?’

  ‘They think so, but they don’t know. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet.’

  Nick was quiet. Victoria touched his shoulder. He flinched.

  ‘Dad, it’ll be okay. She’s come through the operation. She’ll be okay. She will.’

  ‘It’s my fault,’ he said. ‘I should have driven her down here. What kind of husband lets his wife be tested for a brain tumour on her own?’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Genevieve said. ‘It’s no one’s fault. She wanted to be on her own. And for whatever reason, she went for a drive tonight and had an accident. An accident. It’s not your fault, Dad.’

  ‘But what was she doing up in the hills?’ Lindy said. ‘That’s miles from the hotel, isn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe she just needed a distraction after all those tests,’ Genevieve said. ‘Maybe she wanted some fresh air. When she wakes up, she’ll tell us everything. Lindy, can you ring Celia and update her? And you better contact Horrible Jane too, find out if your Richard got home safely, or if we need to call in a search party. I’ll ring Joan.’

  Joan was shocked. ‘But why was she even up there? Should she have been driving after those tests? And is that it, injury-wise? Do you want me to come down? What about Celia? Is she all right on her own?’

  Genevieve didn’t have any of the answers.

  A nurse told them the doctor would be out to talk to them soon. While they waited, they ate and drank from the vending mach­ines. Ig dozed, his head on Victoria’s lap. Lindy kept talking about Richard. He’d made it to Jane’s house two hours after she’d left him, a journey that usually took only forty minutes.

  She was interrupted by the arrival of a doctor, still in scrubs, and one of the nurses. The doctor invited them into a room down the hall.

  As they followed them, Lindy became upset. ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not, I promise,’ the doctor said, overhearing. ‘It’s just more private in here.’ He waited until Genevieve had shut the door. He explained about the removal of the ruptured spleen. ‘She’s come through the operation well. She’s in a stable condition.’

  ‘Were there any other injuries?’ Genevieve asked.

  ‘We’re keeping a close eye on her, but her pulse is strong again, the bleeding has stopped. Once she regains consciousness we’ll know more, but the tests so far are clear. The best thing you can all do for her now is go home and get some sleep.’

  ‘But we live four hours away,’ Lindy said.

  It was Ig who suggested it. Aunt Celia’s house was empty. It was only two suburbs away, in North Adelaide. Victoria made the call. It was well after midnight, but Celia was still awake. She rang her neighbour, then rang back. He’d be there waiting with the key. It was a five-bedroom house. Room for them all.

  The nurse reassured them before they left. ‘You all need some sleep. We’ve got your number. You’re ten minutes away if anything happens. But it won’t. She’s stable.’

  As they headed to the car, Genevieve hugged Ig. ‘That was a brainwave about Celia’s house, Ig. Well done.’

  ‘Robbie thought of it, not me,’ he said.

  Celia’s neighbour was waiting outside the house. Ig had fallen asleep on the way. Nick carried him inside and put him to bed. Genevieve did all the talking, thanking the neighbour, filling him in on Angela’s condition. He and his wife had already turned on the lights and air-conditioning, made up the beds. They’d also left a big plate of sandwiches in the kitchen. The Gillespies were touched by their kindness.

  Soon afterwards, Nick said goodnight and went to bed. Genevieve, Victoria and Lindy sat in the kitchen, eating the sandwiches, drinking tea, going over all that had happened, every detail the nurse and doctor had said. Lindy was checking her phone for messages.

  She smiled. ‘There’s one from Richard. “Thinking of you. xx.” Two kisses. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Two kisses? Should I write back now, or would it be better to wait for a while?’

  ‘You are unbelievable,’ Genevieve said. ‘Don’t let a little minor thing like your mother being in intensive care get in the way of a possible boyfriend, will you?’

  ‘Genevieve —’ Victoria said.

  ‘No, Victoria, this needs to be said. Seriously, Lindy? “Sorry about your accident, Mum, but look, some hipster boy sent me two text kisses, that’s much more important.”’

  Lindy stood up, eyes welling. ‘That’s not fair! I’m as scared about her as you are, okay? I just had a nice thing happen to me today and it’s helping me to think about him as well as Mum. But oh no, you have to ruin it like you try to ruin everything good that ever happens to me.’

  ‘That is complete garbage. You selfish, self-centred little —’

  Victoria interrupted. ‘Genevieve, stop it. We’re all tired. It’s been a bad day.’

  Lindy snatched her phone. ‘I’m going to bed.’ At the door, she paused, looking back at Victoria, not Genevieve. ‘Mum will be all right, won’t she?’

  ‘Of course she will.’

  Lindy looked at her other sister. ‘Sorry, Genevieve.’

  Genevieve rubbed her eyes. ‘It’s okay, Lindy. I’m sorry too. Sleep well.’

  They waited until they heard a bedroom door close.

  ‘Sorry,’ Victoria said. ‘I couldn’t bear a fight. Not tonight.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. Thanks for stepping in.’

  ‘Mum could have died tonight, couldn’t she?’

  ‘She could have. But she didn’t. Don’t think that way.’

  They reached for each other’s hands across the table.

  ‘I don’t even know what a spleen looks like,’ Victoria said.

  ‘Then you won’t miss hers, will you?’

  They started to laugh. And then suddenly they were both crying.

  Ig woke Genevieve just after dawn. She’d barely had any sleep.

  ‘What is it, Ig? Are you okay?’

  ‘Can I get in with you?’

  ‘Sure.’ She
moved over and he wriggled in next to her. He gave her a look. She moved again, making room for Robbie too.

  They lay there holding hands until Victoria knocked softly on the door. She came in and sat on the bed. She had some news. Moments later, Lindy came in too, sleepy-eyed. Victoria had woken her as well. She’d knocked on their father’s closed bedroom door but got no answer. She’d decided it was best to let him sleep. She’d rung the hospital, right at seven a.m. Their mother’s condition was still stable. She hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but all her vital signs were fine. There was no need to hurry back in. Visiting hours were from ten a.m. They’d be welcome any time from then.

  They tried to pretend things were normal, that it wasn’t strange to be staying here in Celia’s too big, too grand house while she was back in their homestead. They had showers and dressed in the same clothes. They had nothing else with them. Afterwards, they sat around the kitchen table, eating breakfast, as if it were a normal day, a normal morning.

  They heard the front door open. Nick walked in, fully dressed, carrying milk and a newspaper.

  ‘Dad!’ Lindy said. ‘We thought you were still in bed.’

  ‘I’ve been at the hospital. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to be there with her.’

  The questions flew at him. How was she? Was she awake? Did she say anything?

  She was still unconscious, he told them. There were drips and medical equipment around her, some bruising on her face, but she still looked like herself.

  ‘Can we see her too?’ Genevieve asked.

  ‘Later today, they said.’

  ‘But she’s our mum,’ Ig said. ‘Why do we have to wait?’

  ‘She’s in a special ward, Ig,’ Nick said. ‘She has to be kept safe from any germs.’

  ‘I don’t have any germs. I had a shower.’

  ‘Not those kinds of germs, Ig,’ Victoria said. ‘I know, what about you do some drawings for her? Some nice bright ones that she can put by her bed when she wakes up?’

  ‘When will that be?’

  They all looked to their father.

  ‘They don’t know. Sometime today, they hope.’

  ‘I’ll draw her some robins,’ Ig said.