Hello from the Gillespies

by Monica McInerney

  As he fetched pens and paper from Celia’s office, the talk turned to practicalities. They needed clothes, groceries. They’d go to the hospital first, and then make further plans.

  The eight a.m. news came on the radio. It was like a signal. Their phones started to ring. Word had spread quickly. Joan was first, ringing Genevieve for an update. Celia rang Nick. There was another message from Richard, on behalf of the Lawsons, saying Angela was in everyone’s thoughts.

  Genevieve followed her father as he went down the hall to Celia’s study. As she watched, he started going through her filing cabinets. She was taken aback as he opened drawer after drawer.

  ‘Should you be doing that?’ she said. ‘Isn’t that her private stuff?’

  ‘She told me there’s family tree info in here somewhere.’

  ‘What?’ She felt the same rush of temper she’d felt the evening before with Lindy. ‘I don’t believe this. Mum’s lying in hospital; she was nearly killed, and you’re worrying about your family tree?’

  He slammed a drawer shut. ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’

  ‘Someone has to.’ She lowered her voice, speaking quickly, furiously. ‘You think none of us noticed what was going on with you two? That big freeze? We all read her Christmas letter, Dad. We all felt hurt. But we got over it. Can’t you?’

  ‘This isn’t your business, Genevieve. This is between me and your mother.’

  ‘It is my business. When she wakes up again, Dad, the minute she wakes up, if you don’t sort it out with her and apologise, then I will —’

  Lindy appeared at the door. ‘Has anyone got a phone charger?’

  ‘In my bag,’ Genevieve snapped. ‘In the kitchen.’

  ‘I just asked, Genevieve. No need to —’

  ‘Lindy, get out and shut the door, would you? Behind you.’

  Lindy shut it with a slam.

  Genevieve turned to her father again. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Who do I think I am, breezing back home again, saying all this stuff. I’m your eldest daughter, that’s who. And I would have said something to you eventually, even if Mum hadn’t had this accident. This only makes it more urgent. Something’s wrong with her, Dad. It’s not just the headaches. She’s unhappy. Victoria and I noticed it as soon as we saw her at the airport. We think she’s lonely. Depressed, even. It’s all right for you, you’ve got a hobby, a new obsession, but what about her? What was she supposed to do day after day, night after night, while you were locked in the office, doing your research, flirting with your precious Carol —’

  ‘That is enough. You’ve stepped over the line.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. This is my family and it’s my business.’

  The door opened. It was Lindy again.

  Genevieve spun around. ‘For God’s sake, Lindy, now what?’

  Lindy held up a paper bag. ‘Why do you have two pregnancy tests in your handbag?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  It was nearly lunchtime. They were all back in the hospital. They had the waiting room to themselves. Nick was in one corner, reading through the family-tree information he’d found at Celia’s. Genevieve was in the other corner, reading a magazine. Ig was quiet, kneeling on the floor, using the seat of a chair as a desk for his drawing.

  Lindy was whispering to Victoria. ‘I’ve already said sorry to her. What was I supposed to do, pretend I hadn’t seen them? They were right at the top of her bag.’

  ‘You should have said nothing. Or at least said nothing in front of Dad.’

  ‘I didn’t think. I was so shocked.’

  ‘Sure,’ Victoria whispered. ‘So much for the sisterhood.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to get her into trouble,’ Lindy insisted. ‘She didn’t answer me when I asked her about them anyway. She just got madder, said it was a silly joke and hasn’t talked to me since, as if it were all my fault Dad saw them. And why did she have two, if it was just for a joke?’

  ‘I’ve already told you why, and told Dad why. Because I dared her,’ Victoria said. ‘You know how we always dare each other to do embarrassing things.’

  ‘When you were fifteen, sure; not thirty-two.’

  ‘We’re back home, we’ve regressed. Once and for all, Lindy, this is what happened. When we were in Port Augusta yesterday, I dared her to go into the chemist and buy either condoms or a pregnancy testing kit, whichever was the most embarrassing. She chose a pregnancy test. And she got two of them, just to show off. You know what she’s like.’

  ‘Where was Ig when all of this was going on?’

  ‘Stealing cars and buying drugs? I don’t know; talking to Robbie, probably. What is this, an inquest?’

  Lindy lowered her voice. ‘You’re sure it’s not because she thinks she’s pregnant? Or that you are?’

  ‘No, Lindy, I’m not pregnant and neither is Genevieve.’

  By one p.m. Ig was up to his twentieth drawing. He’d now done enough to cover a wall.

  ‘That’s probably plenty, Ig,’ Genevieve said.

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘Ig, when they move Mum into the ward, she’ll only have a little bit of wall space. She won’t be able to display them all.’

  ‘She will.’

  ‘Ig, seriously.’

  He put down the pencil and stood up. ‘I want to see her.’

  ‘We all do, sweetheart. But we can’t. Not just yet. Remember what the nurse said?’

  ‘I want to see her now. I want to see Mum.’

  Nick looked up. So did Victoria and Lindy.

  Genevieve moved to take Ig in her arms. He pushed her away. ‘I have to see her. Now.’

  ‘You can’t, Ig,’ Nick said. ‘Not yet. They’ve asked us to wait until —’

  Ig took off across the room and ran down the corridor towards intensive care.

  By the time they reached him, two nurses had already caught him. He was crying and struggling. There was a hurried conference in the hallway as Lindy and Genevieve tried to calm him down.

  ‘Ig, she’s still unconscious,’ Genevieve said. ‘That means she —’

  ‘I know what unconscious means, but she can still hear us, can’t she? I just want to see her. I want to see my mum.’

  A different doctor appeared in front of them. He was young, sweet-faced. ‘Hello, there. Ignatius, is it?’

  ‘We call him Ig,’ Genevieve said.

  ‘Ig, can you please calm down for me? And especially for your mum?’

  Ig went still.

  The doctor crouched down until he was at Ig’s level. ‘Ig, I’m sorry you’ve had to wait. I know it’s been hard and I know it feels unfair that she’s just over there and you can’t see her. You can all go in now. Usually we’d ask you to take turns, but you can go in together, as long as you’re as quiet as possible and don’t stay long.’

  ‘Can I talk to her?’ Ig asked.

  ‘Of course you can. That’s a great idea.’

  ‘Can I hold her hand?’ Ig said.

  The doctor nodded. ‘I’m sure she’d love that too.’

  It was Angela, but it wasn’t her. She looked asleep, but more than that. There were more tubes than they expected, one in her nose, another going down into her throat. Her face seemed puffy. There were bruises on her hands. Nick stepped back, let the children go to her first. They stood close, staring down at her. Victoria reached for Genevieve’s hand, and then for Lindy’s too.

  Ig was the first to touch her. He patted her hand, the tiniest of touches. ‘Wake up, Mum,’ Ig whispered. ‘We’re here.’

  There was just the sound of the machines, the sight of her chest slowly rising and falling.

  The girls followed Ig’s lead, gently touching her hands, talking to her.

  ‘Can I tuck her in?’ Ig asked Nick. ‘The way she tucks me in?’

  ‘Be careful,’ Nick said.

  Ig gently pushed the covers in close on either side of Angela’s body, as she always did with him. ‘There you are now,’ he said. ‘Snug as a bug.’

&nbs
p; It was what she always said to him.

  It wasn’t until they were all back in the waiting room twenty minutes later that Genevieve remembered. ‘Oh God. Mum’s tests.’

  ‘Tests?’ Victoria said. ‘They’re just monitoring her for now, aren’t they?’

  ‘Not here. The tests she was supposed to have about her headaches. She had a third day of them today. We should have cancelled them. Dad, what’s the name of her specialist?’

  He couldn’t remember. None of them could.

  Genevieve went out into the corridor and rang Joan.

  ‘His name’s Mr Liakos. You should go to her hotel room as well, get her things, check her out. You’re sure you don’t want me to come down, give you a hand? I can be there in four hours. Less, the way I drive.’

  ‘Not yet, Joan, thanks. We might soon, but we’re okay for now.’

  ‘I’m ready whenever you need me.’

  Genevieve decided to go outside to make her calls. Ten minutes later, she was back on the phone to Joan again. ‘You’re sure it was that specialist? After I finally convinced them I was her daughter and explained what had happened, they said they hadn’t sent her to have any tests. That they couldn’t fit her in anywhere until next week.’

  ‘It was definitely that one. She couldn’t have had tests anywhere else? Organised them herself?’

  ‘I asked the same question. Not without a referral.’

  ‘That’s strange,’ Joan said.

  ‘You said it,’ Genevieve agreed.

  She decided to ring the hotel next. She’d just dialled the number when she looked down the street. The hotel was in walking distance. It would be quicker to go there and explain in person. She could pack up her mother’s belongings then too.

  The hotel lobby was quiet. Genevieve introduced herself and explained why she was there. The young male receptionist was apologetic. ‘I’m very sorry. What a shock for you all. But I’m afraid I need to see your mother’s ID before I can take you to her room. I’m sorry, it’s company policy.’

  Angela’s handbag was back at the hospital. One of the nurses had given it to them the night of the accident, and Victoria had been looking after it since. Lindy and Ig were away buying sandwiches when Genevieve got back to the waiting room. Her father was still engrossed in the family-tree notes. She didn’t mention Angela’s phantom tests to him yet.

  Victoria came back to the hotel with her. The receptionist took a brief look at the ID. He apologised again.

  Genevieve settled the bill. A young porter accompanied them to their mother’s room. They were all quiet in the lift on the way up. As he let them in, Genevieve felt her breath catch. Seeing her mother’s handbag on the night of the accident had been bad. This was somehow worse.

  There were signs of her everywhere. Her pyjamas at the end of the bed. Her dressing-gown draped across a chair. Her make-up and toiletries in the bathroom. Her book and glasses on the bedside table. There was just a small bag, an overnight case. It took them both only a few minutes to pack everything.

  Neither Genevieve nor Victoria needed to say it out loud. It was as if she had died.

  They held hands as they went down in the lift again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  By the third day, Angela still hadn’t woken up. The family were called together for another meeting. The doctors were concerned she hadn’t regained consciousness. They had called in a neurologist, and wanted the family’s permission to do more tests. The hospital’s neuropsychologist, a woman called Ruth Morgan, would explain it to them all.

  In her late thirties, with long curly hair, Ruth had a calm and gentle manner. ‘Your mother – your wife,’ with a nod to Nick, ‘should have been awake and communicating with us by now. We’re concerned the lack of oxygen caused by the sudden loss of blood after her spleen was ruptured may have caused some damage to her brain. She’s not brain dead, let me stress that. She’s started breathing on her own. We’ve already done brain-stem tests, reflex tests, and they’re all fine. But we’ve been reducing her levels of sedation for the past three days and she should have begun to regain consciousness by now.’

  Their questions came in a torrent. She answered each of them in turn. No, it didn’t necessarily mean she had permanent brain damage. The fact she was starting to breathe independently was a good sign. But in cases like hers, where there had been a period of hypoxia, a lack of oxygen to the brain, there could be temporary issues relating to the frontal lobes, the hippocampus, the parts of the brain that affected the memory. That’s why they wanted to do some more tests, including an MRI, to determine the extent of any effects.

  ‘She might have amnesia, do you mean? But that’s common enough, isn’t it? People get over that, don’t they?’ Genevieve asked.

  ‘We’ll know more once we’ve done the tests,’ Ruth said.

  Nick gave permission to do whatever needed to be done.

  It was Victoria’s idea that they have dinner in a nearby restaurant that night, rather than eat more vending-machine food or try to cook in Celia’s house. There was an Italian restaurant a block away, near Rundle Street. It was early. They glanced at the menu, ordering quickly.

  ‘We have to stay hopeful,’ Lindy said. ‘Maybe the sedation just had a stronger effect on her than on other people. She’ll wake up on her own soon and be perfectly fine.’

  ‘The tests Ruth mentioned are just routine, anyway, aren’t they, Dad?’ Victoria said. ‘They’re not looking for anything really serious, are they?’

  It was hard to make conversation. Their mobile phones kept beeping. Word was still spreading about Angela’s accident. Joan had obviously decided Genevieve was the spokeswoman and had given people her American phone number. She was getting text after text on that. She needed to get an Australian mobile phone, she realised. Such an ordinary, mundane thing to do while her mother was being tested for brain damage three streets away.

  It was late-night shopping. She and Victoria decided to get her new phone now. They weren’t hungry anyway. The phone was organised within fifteen minutes. On the way back to the restaurant, Victoria said what they were both thinking.

  ‘What if she does have permanent brain damage?’

  ‘We have to stay hopeful. What if she doesn’t?’

  ‘We have to prepare ourselves. She was clinically dead twice, Genevieve. No matter how quickly they got her heart started again, there had to have been some damage.’

  ‘Or maybe no damage at all.’

  ‘Then why won’t she wake up?’

  ‘She’s catching up on all the sleep she missed out on when we were kids.’

  They stopped on the street before they got back to the restaurant.

  ‘We need to do the pregnancy tests, don’t we?’ Victoria said.

  Genevieve nodded. ‘But I can’t face it at the moment.’

  ‘Neither can I.’

  ‘Can we wait until Mum wakes up? Do them then? A few days won’t matter, will they?’

  They agreed that they wouldn’t.

  For the next two days, all any of them could do was try to fill the time. Angela was transferred from ICU into the high-dependency unit. They moved between Celia’s house and the hospital. Gene­vieve and Victoria went shopping for clothes and toiletries for every­one. They played games. Read magazines. Tried to read books, but returned to magazines, their concentration spans too jittery. Ig kept drawing. He now had more than sixty bird drawings ready for his mother. He also had the use of both hands again. It was Victoria who’d realised it was time the finger splint and sling came off. They were able to get him looked at in the same hospital their mother was in. Ig’s finger was declared to be in good shape. It was welcome news in an otherwise worrying time.

  They’d been told they’d have the test results the morning of the fifth day. The night before, Genevieve couldn’t bear to sit around at Celia’s watching TV any longer. She also needed to talk to her father, tell him about Angela’s non-existent tests. There hadn’t been the opportunity y
et.

  ‘Dad, want to come for a walk with me?’

  He looked up, wary.

  ‘I won’t fight with you, I promise.’

  They walked down the tree-lined street, the hiss of garden hoses the soundtrack to their steps. It had been another hot day. It was after eight p.m. and still in the twenties.

  ‘Sorry about the other day, Dad. For shouting at you. And for what I said about you and Mum.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘It’s your business, not mine. Your marriage. And you’re right, I’ve been away. What right do I have to march on in and make judgements on your lives?’

  ‘It’s never stopped you before.’

  ‘No. I guess not.’ She hesitated. ‘Dad, there’s something I need to tell you about Mum. Something a bit odd.’ She explained about the tests.

  ‘Maybe she just wanted a break from us all for a few days,’ Nick said.

  ‘Do you think so?’ Genevieve said. ‘But what about where she was found? Up in the hills? Why would she have gone up there?’

  ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question,’ he said.

  ‘And?’

  Nick hesitated. That morning he had remembered something. A memory that belonged to him and Angela, not to the whole family. A memory of a trip to the hills, a night or two before their wedding. Had Angela remembered that night too? Was that why she had gone up there?

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. He wanted to keep that thought to himself for now.

  Two hours later, Lindy was at Adelaide airport. Just after Genevieve and her father had gone out for a walk, she’d had a call from Richard. He and Jane were flying back to Melbourne that night. Mr Lawson was driving them down. Was there any chance she could meet him there?

  They met at the cafe nearest to their departure gate. The conversation was all about Angela initially. Lindy could tell Jane didn’t like her being there at all.

  ‘We’re all thinking of your mum,’ Mr Lawson said. He told her he’d also had their car windscreen fixed. He’d even returned the car to Errigal. ‘Tell your dad to let me know if he needs anything done on the station.’