‘That’s me, the tattooed lady. I wanted them to tattoo your names on my breast, but they wouldn’t.’
‘Can I see?’ Samantha’s wagging her pony-tail like a puppy-dog’s tail. I’m really un-funny tonight. Not in the mood.
‘I don’t like tattoos.’ Nanna’s face creases into a wrinkle.
Mum’s laughing as she shows us two tiny dots. ‘I don’t think I’d be a great attraction at the circus with this.’
We’re all laughing now, until Rob ruins everything. ‘I want to see Leo before Mum starts radiotherapy.’
I’m not interested. I shove my chair back. ‘I’ve got to check out my ponto and fungus.’
‘Hold on, Jack. I’m driving up to see Leo this weekend.’ As if I care. ‘There’s a great fishing spot in the National Park. Great place to camp.’ As if I care. ‘Thought we’d drive up together. We can have a boys’ weekend. What do you think?’
I just stand there like a stunned fish-head. Rotten joke. Mouth open, feeling like an idiot.
‘What about me? I want to go too.’
‘Samantha, we can have a special girls’ weekend. Just Nanna, you, me.’
‘And Anna?’ Samantha pipes in.
‘Yes, Anna too. We’ll go to the markets, have a sundae at the ice-cream shop.’ Nanna’s happy because she loves sundaes and going out.
I really want to go camping with Rob, but maybe I shouldn’t go. What if Mum needs me? What if Nanna falls? Samantha always needs me to do something too. But I want to go with Rob. He asked me, like he’s my dad. Not that he is or anything, but he wants us to drive up together. Just us.
Rob reads my mind. ‘Mum will be fine. The Napolis are dropping by and she’s better anyway.’
Is Mum really better? ‘OK, Rob. I’ll come.’
‘Then you’d better pack your fishing gear. We’re going tomorrow.’
Nanna’s face shines. ‘It was Grandad’s fishing gear. It’s Jack’s now. You’ve made Grandad happy, Jack.’
The four-wheel drive is loaded. We strap the tents onto the roof-racks. Sleeping bags, fold-up table and three chairs, camp stove, lamp, fishing rods, food and water. Everything fits in and we’re heading north.
Rob’s seen some weird and funny number plates in Spare Parts. ‘What do you think of these, Jack?’
IXELR8 — I accelerate (that’s so smart).
2KUL4U — Too cool for you (even smarter).
LV2EAT — Love to eat (Mum wants that one).
2phast — Too fast (ME).
IDIOT (who’d want that?).
NERD (that’s worse).
We listen to music for a while, eat, drink, talk about cars. ‘Did you hear about that guy in America who built a pick-up truck from spare parts? Heaps of colours and even though it looks weird, it works.’
‘That’s impressive, but what sort of car do you want?’
‘I’m going to do up a second-hand van and put on mag wheels, speakers at the back …’ I go on for ages. Rob talks about what parts I can use to get precision tuning and I start to relax. We drive along the freeway for a while, then onto main roads along the coast. The CD’s humming when I take a breath. I have to ask Rob. ‘Is Mum going to be all right, Rob? Don’t just say she’s fine. I need to know.’
Rob glances at me, doesn’t answer at first. He drives for a while. ‘OK, Jack. Mum will be fine, but there’s still a way to go.’ He takes his time. ‘Radiotherapy is for around six weeks and Mum’ll go in every day except weekends. She gets the radiation where the cancer was removed. It won’t hurt but she’ll be tired and it will be like her chest is really sunburnt.’
‘And will it come back?’ My stomach knots.
‘The tablets help prevent that. The surgery and radio prevent that too. But no one’s a hundred per cent sure.’ The knot in my stomach gets harder. ‘Some people have chemotherapy as well, but Mum’s not. Chemo kills cancer cells.’
‘Why won’t Mum be having that?’
‘Her cancer was caught early enough. She didn’t have cancer cells spreading under her arm and that’s great news.’
‘Great news,’ I repeat Rob. Is it?
‘The cancer in her breast was under three centimetres and the surgeon cut away a lot around it. If Mum had chemo, it’d mean months of treatment and side effects. She’d feel pretty sick too.’
I don’t want Mum to be sick. I feel sick.
‘The doctor said that as long as she takes special hormone tablets it would be all right.’ Rob puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s Mum’s choice, Jack. I believe she’ll be fine.’
‘Do you, Rob?’ I stammer.
‘Yes, I do.’
Leo’s waiting for us at the front of his apartment. He races into the car, waves to his mother and we’re off to the National Park. We want to set up camp while there’s light. ‘We’re going to have a great time, boys, and we’ll be eating fish tomorrow night. Fish we catch.’
Leo taps Rob on his shoulder. ‘Dad, thanks for coming.’
‘I’ll always come for you, Leo.’ He looks at me sideways. ‘And for you, Jack.’
‘I’m sorry about your mum, Jack.’ I can see that he really means it.
I don’t mind Leo in the front seat. I sat next to Rob all the way up to Port. The road’s rocky in the National Park. There’re potholes and loose dirt. But it’s easy in Rob’s four-wheel drive, except when we nearly hit a kangaroo. It just bounded across the track into the old ferns.
I like looking out of the car window at the huge ferns. There’re crimson rosellas in the trees and pink-and-grey galahs. After everything happening with Mum, being here feels like pressure’s slipping out of my head.
I spot some orangey banksia bushes. They make me think of dishes. ‘Hey Rob, what’s the same between the rainforest and you washing dishes?’
‘Don’t know, Jack.’
‘Both use bottlebrushes.’
‘Ha, ha. I get it.’ Leo’s laughing, because he knows about Rob’s nutty dish-washing too. Banksias look like a bottlebrush and Rob uses a bottlebrush to get those dishes to shine.
There’re squawky seagulls in the air as the road dips downward. Suddenly it appears like a movie. Blue waves with frothy white manes roll onto sandy beaches stretching out as far as we can see. Rob turns the four-wheel drive onto the sand and we coast along the beach with the salty smell of the ocean blowing through our open windows.
The campsite has a fireplace. We help Rob put up our tent. Leo and I collect wood, while Rob unpacks the car. When we come back, there’re three fold-up chairs and a table around the fireplace. Rob brings out Mum’s famous quiche and banana cake. Mum … I get a lump in my throat. Then I see Rob’s orange squisher and start to laugh. I explain it to Leo, who laughs too, as we squish and squeeze oranges. Rob can’t go anywhere without his squisher.
‘We’ll catch flathead tomorrow.’
I’ve got Grandad’s fishing rod. I know I will.
Rob gives Leo a new fishing rod. ‘That’s for you to keep, Leo.’
‘We might even catch blackfish. They’re sweet if you cook them right.’
The fire makes us warm. There are murmurs from another campsite and sounds from the bush. I like the chit-chit of the willie wagtail. The sun’s setting across the beach and we eat, talk, tell jokes, and sleep really well in our tent.
Chapter 12
A Girl with a Bow in Her Hair
Mum loves the three blackfish we bring home. Samantha shows off that the girls’ day out was fantastic. I’m glad they had a good time, but camping was the best.
Mum’s still not doing star jumps and she starts treatment at the hospital soon.
When Christopher asks me to go over for dinner, I feel like I should stay home.
‘Please go, Jack,’ Mum insists. ‘Say hello to them for me and tell them I’m doing well. I want you to have a good time. Rob and Nanna are home. Just go please. Make me happy!’
I haven’t had dinner there for ages. Christopher’s mother brings steamed bun dumpli
ngs stuffed with barbecue pork and vegetables. My favourite. There’s noodle soup on the stove. I like that too.
‘Enjoy.’ Christopher’s mother smiles.
We talk about school, the bakery, my ponto, then Mum. ‘Mum’s having radiotherapy and she’s doing OK.’
‘We are lucky to live in this country because there’s treatment, doctors and hospitals. People can get better. Your mother’ll get better.’ She pauses, looks at Christopher, then me. ‘There were women in my village who couldn’t get treatment. There aren’t many hospitals and medicines in Vietnam.’
I find that unbelievable. After dinner Christopher and I look it up on the computer. There are only two cancer centres; one in Hanoi in the north and one in Ho Chi Minh City in the south. This means only ten per cent of the country’s cancer needs are met. Breast cancer is one of the leading causes of cancer death in women in Vietnam. Yet with early diagnosis and appropriate treatment, breast cancer frequently has a good outcome.
‘Maybe we can do something, Christopher. Let’s ask Mr Angelou.’
I can’t sleep very well any more. Samantha can’t either. She asks if she can sleep in my room. I don’t tell her that sharing makes me feel better too. I think everything is going to be all right. But I’m not sure. I’m glad Mum lives here where there’re lots of hospitals. I’m going to ask Mr Angelou about Vietnam. He’ll have an idea.
School. In the break Mr Angelou asks me how Mum is going. He worries about Mum too. I wave to Christopher and Anna to come up and we explain about breast cancer and Vietnam. ‘Well, let’s make it our charity this year. It’ll be yellow daffodils for this school.’ As I look up at him, his bald head shines. He’s the best teacher in the world, even when he’s angry.
The Yellow Daffodil Cancer Cake Stall is a huge success. Anna organises the other kids in our class to sell the cakes. Christopher’s parents bake the cakes. Samantha and a few other kids make the posters:
BUY A CAKE AND
SAVE A MUM
FROM BREAST CANCER
FROM AUSTRALIA TO VIETNAM.
Yellow daffodils are on sale in the school administration and lots of kids are wearing them. The money from the daffodils goes to breast and other cancer research, and the cake-stall money goes to Médecins sans Frontières, which helps women in Vietnam get cancer treatment. Mum is so proud of us.
Nanna’s joined the Bridge Club at the Senior Citizens’ and is already a star. Everyone says she’s a natural card player. I know that from playing UNO. They love her there. She’s on the Senior Citizens’ Organising Committee within about five minutes. ‘Nanna may not be able to dance much any more, but she’s smart and wants to be useful. She’s got to have a life that’s not just only us,’ Mum says. The bus comes twice a week to collect Nanna. She looks forward to it and Mum’s happy.
Nanna loves the afternoon teas at Bridge Club. ‘The Senior Citizens’ Club has lovely scones with cream and jam or sometimes chocolate brownies.’ She always brings us home a scone or a brownie each.
Mum’s into the third week of radiotherapy. She’s tired like Rob said. I help with the shopping and I even did the washing yesterday. Mum works parttime, has treatment, comes home. She needs to sleep in the afternoons. Today is Nanna’s bridge day and it’s a pupil-free day as well. That means no students at school and no Nanna at home. So Samantha and I are going with Mum to the radiation-oncology department.
We follow Mum inside the hospital. Mum knows exactly where to go, since she’s been here nearly every day. She swings past the hospital administration, past pathology, waves at the radiation-oncology reception and goes into the waiting room. Everyone knows Mum and there are plenty of hellos. ‘These are my terrific children,’ Mum announces to the nurse. ‘Jack and Samantha.’ Wish Mum wouldn’t do that. She fluffs her orange skirt and her hair out; she must be feeling better. The nurse smiles. ‘Heard all about you, Jack. How’s the ponto growing?’
I hate Mum talking about me to everyone. ‘It’s good,’ I grunt. Actually my ponto is nearly ready to eat. I’ve recorded and photographed every stage of its development. I’ve got three other pontos growing. I’m thinking of planting even more and setting up a ponto bench in the workshop.
The nurse shows us a pile of books. ‘Help yourself, kids.’ Samantha finds a crossword book. She loves doing crosswords. I choose a book called Cosmos that looks ‘out of this world’. Joke. Joke. There’s a trolley with apple juice, salad and cheese sandwiches cut into triangles and coffee and tea. Mum pours juice for us. I take two sandwiches. Samantha does too. I drop into one of the comfortable lounges while Samantha sprawls beside me. Mum gives her a pen for her crosswords.
I look around and feel relieved. It’s pretty nice in here. There are quite a few people in the waiting room. Lots of different ages. A few are bald, even a lady. Mum is chatting to a grandma who’s got purple dye on her knee. Mum knows her from other visits here. The waiting room has toys for kids. Samantha puts down her pen and sits on the floor next to a little girl who’s playing with coloured blocks. She needs help with the tower. As I check out what they’re doing, the little girl looks up at me.
She’s got large dark eyes like Anna’s, but she hasn’t got Anna’s hair or much hair at all really. A satin pink ribbon is tied around her head with a bow at the side. There’s purple dye on her head and I try doubly hard to make her laugh. We build a terrific castle with two towers when the little girl’s mother approaches us. She smiles. ‘We have to go now.’ She takes the little girl’s hand and they walk down the hallway to another room. The little girl waves goodbye.
We sit back on the lounge with Mum. Samantha says, ‘That little girl is so cute. What’s wrong with her?’ I know what’s wrong with her.
Mum looks down the hallway. ‘She has cancer and it’s being treated, like mine is. Like the grandma I was speaking to.’
‘But she’s lost her hair.’
‘That’s the radiotherapy on her head. Her hair will grow back.’ Samantha looks at Mum’s blonde fluff. ‘I won’t lose my hair from this. If I have chemotherapy, then I could lose my hair for a while. Anyway I’m not having chemotherapy. I’m lucky.’
Is Mum lucky? I stare at her and hope she’s telling the truth this time.
‘Will the little girl be all right?’
‘She’ll get better. I don’t know for how long, but the treatment is helping her.’ Mum smiles. ‘I’m getting help too.’ Samantha hugs Mum. I really think Mum is getting better. That makes me feel better.
Mum looks at her watch. ‘Got to get ready. Have to change into my stunning white sack outfit. I’m going to look like a model again.’
‘You look good in anything, Mum.’
‘Flattery gets you everywhere, Jack.’
Mum is in her white sack when she waves us over. ‘I’ve organised that you kids can have a quick look into the radiation treatment room.’ It is super quick but it’s interesting. Reminds me of a laboratory. There’s a major X-ray machine like a big metal right angle, hanging over a metal bed. ‘OK, you’ve seen it now.’ Mum mouths thank you to the technician as she nudges us out. ‘I’ve got to go in now. So I’ll see you both in around twenty minutes.’
I have another apple juice. Samantha finishes another crossword and Mum’s back in no time and she’s laughing. All good. Now it’s lunch and I’m ready for something real to eat. Afterward we’re going to the movies. I love a day off school with Mum. We head for our regular hamburger café. ‘order what you want,’ she announces. My hamburger has the lot with an egg, bacon, cheese, beetroot, salad and tomato sauce and hot chips. Samantha just gets a plain hamburger with cheese and hot chips of course. Mum’s not very hungry, so she has a fruit salad and mineral water.
It’s so good that Mum and Rob have finally set a new wedding date. It means Mum is going to be all right. The wedding will be after radiotherapy has finished and the school holidays. Invitations are being posted soon. Some of the envelopes have little bits of leftover mouse poo on them. I secretly wipe
the evidence away. People will just think it’s a smudge from the post office.
The Napolis are designing a fruit platter display. ‘It’ll be a work of art.’ Anna’s that proud that I think she’s going to pop like a balloon. Christopher’s parents are baking the wedding cake with the wedding figures of Mum the hippie and Rob the surfer. I have to give some advice about the way they look. They were going to put white underpants on Rob — the nerdiest surfer in the world. Samantha gave them her boy surfer doll with cool board shorts. We saved the cake.
Nanna’s bought a new dress. The rest of us have our wedding clothes ready, including Mum. Leo’s coming down for a week and staying in my room. I don’t care any more that I’m going to look like a penguin. As long as Leo does too, it’s fine. It’ll be funny anyway. Everything is go, go, go. Rob’s going to be my real stepdad. Samantha calls him Dad sometimes. Dad-Rob-Dad-Rob. Leo calls him Dad. Maybe. No, I’d better call him Rob.
Great news. No, great, great, great news. Mum’s had her last radiotherapy. Her breast is red and sore, but that’ll disappear in a few weeks. My head doesn’t hurt so much and I’m starting to sleep again. (Except I sometimes wake up with these dumb nightmares that Mum’s gone.) Mum is nearly star jumping and she skips along the front path. We’re having a party to celebrate.
Sunday party lunch. The Napolis arrive with a bowl that looks like vine leaves. It’s filled with a huge serving of tomato-and-black-olive pasta. Anna’s carrying a matching bowl but it contains passionfruit and mangoes. It’s sweet like. oh no, my brain must be going into mash. I was going to say ‘sweet like Anna’. Luckily I didn’t say it aloud.
Christopher throws his handball in the air, walking behind his parents. They baked a Vietnamese cake. ‘You’ll enjoy this honeycomb cake. It’s made with coconut milk.’ Nanna’s very interested in the cake and chats to Christopher’s mother about it.
Lunch is a feast. Mum made her famous egg-and-bacon quiche. Samantha and Anna made their famous banana cake with the mango yoghurt — Jack’s ingredient. Rob and I created our soon-to-be-famous salad. I included baby tomatoes, baby corn spears, baby asparagus and baby potatoes. Rob added baby spinach leaves. You guessed it. The famous secret is the ‘baby’ ingredients. Nanna is the famous eater, except she complained that there were no chocolate-chip cookies. Mum decorated the table with our famous sunflowers.
Always Jack Page 8
