‘We can’t not go on the trip, Mum. You promised. You promised we’d go this summer holiday. Even Steph has at least been to New Zealand. I’ve never been anywhere, ever.’
‘Maybe we should go somewhere inside Australia.’
‘You just mean somewhere cheaper, don’t you?’
‘I don’t want to have to ask your grandparents to help us out. Andy would hate it.’
‘Andy! What’s he got to do with it, anyway? He never wants us to go anywhere without him, that’s his problem. Besides, we don’t need anyone’s help. Your designs are so cool. Even my friends think they’re cool. You’ll sell heaps before Christmas.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ said Sue.
‘And next year, I’ll get a job. When I’m fourteen, I’ll get a job in Macca’s at Darling Harbour. Jessica works there. She’s earned enough to go on the overseas tour next year.’
‘It’s okay, Maeve. You don’t have to get a job the minute you’re old enough. We’re not that hard up.’ She picked Ned up and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll give you a lift, if you like.’
Maeve wasn’t used to being early for school. She jumped out of the car and ran straight through the cast-iron gate, and then realised the bell wouldn’t ring for another twenty minutes. By the time she turned around to wave to Ned, the Corolla was out of sight. She flung her backpack onto the grass beneath a jacaranda tree and lay down beside it. The purple blossoms looked hazy against the summery blue morning sky. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steph sitting near the old convent verandah, doing her homework. Maeve sat up and waved, calling her over.
‘You’re never here before nine. Why are you so early?’ she asked, hugging Steph.
‘Homework. I didn’t get that book report finished. But I worked all day Sunday and I’ve got eighty bucks to prove it!’
‘Doing what?’ asked Maeve, sitting up abruptly.
‘You know that florist’s near the bus stop, Crazy Daisies? They’ve been really busy doing all these functions and they needed someone to help out. They’re going to give me work every weekend, Saturday and Sunday, from now on.’
‘But what about dance? You can’t not come to dance! We’ve been going together since we were three. Remember when we were fluffy ducks at that first concert? If you miss classes, Louise might not let you dance with us.’
‘I’ll come to the Tuesday-night class and I’ll make it some of the Saturdays,’ said Steph, avoiding meeting Maeve’s shocked expression. ‘Anyway, you and Bianca will be fine. I mean, you two are the party animals.’
‘Don’t start that again. I told you that party would be crap and it was. Bianca hooked up with Omar while I stood around bored out of my brain.’
Stephanie laughed. ‘That’s what you get being a bodyguard.’
Maeve was glad it was music class first up until she realised she’d left her flute in her mum’s car. Chloe was playing clarinet at the front of the classroom, running through a long, squeaky piece of jazz. Maeve slumped lower in her seat between Steph and Bianca. ‘I am so going to cop it,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t have my flute.’
‘McCabe won’t give you a detention,’ said Bianca.
‘Yeah, but he’ll make me feel really guilty. He’s good at that. I’d rather get shouted at.’
‘Musketeers,’ said McCabe, turning around, ‘I know it’s Monday and you feel a compelling need to debrief on your weekends, but the rest of us are trying to listen to Chloe.’
‘See what I mean?’ whispered Maeve, as soon as the teacher turned away.
Steph and Bianca shook their heads, warning Maeve to be quiet, but it was too late.
‘Maeve!’ said McCabe, his voice sharp. ‘You’re next.’
‘I forgot my flute,’ said Maeve.
McCabe rolled his eyes and ran one hand through his thick, silvery hair. ‘You can borrow one of the school’s,’ he said.
Maeve suddenly felt an irresistible urge to annoy him. ‘Can Bianca and Steph come with me?’
‘No!’ he shouted, pointing towards the music storeroom door. ‘Go, now, this instant!’
At recess, Maeve, Steph and Bianca took up their position on the bench under the jacaranda. ‘You shouldn’t wind up McCabe,’ said Steph. ‘He’s cool. I mean, he’s not like a regular teacher. I heard he used to be a famous musician or something and he only got into teaching to sort of discover new talent.’
‘You’re hopeful,’ said Maeve, laughing.
‘I heard he used to be a priest,’ added Bianca. ‘And that he chucked it in and ran off with one of his parishioners.’
‘That’s just gossip,’ said Steph.
‘I don’t know. He’s kind of handsome,’ said Bianca. ‘For an old guy,’ she added hurriedly. ‘Like one of those twentieth-century movie stars. You know, like Harrison Ford.’
‘I guess he’s okay,’ said Maeve. ‘At least he sees us for what we are. All for one and one for all, hey?’ She put her hand out and Steph and Bianca slapped their hands on top.
Shortly before the lunch break, McCabe came into the classroom and spoke to their maths teacher. They both glanced in Maeve’s direction as they talked. Maeve felt a tight feeling in the pit of her stomach. He couldn’t still be angry with her, could he? But he didn’t look pissed off. Maeve couldn’t read his expression at all.
‘Maeve, Mrs Spinelli wants to see you in her office,’ he said.
Maeve felt uneasy as the music teacher walked silently beside her all the way to the Vice-Principal’s office. It wasn’t until she was alone with Mrs Spinelli that she understood why. Mrs Spinelli came out from behind her desk and rested one hand on Maeve’s arm. Maeve felt her heart start to beat faster. This was seriously weird.
‘Maeve, sit down please, dear. I have some bad news. There’s been an accident. Your mother’s car was involved in a crash in the Cahill Expressway tunnel early this morning.’
Maeve felt her stomach hollow out. ‘Mum? An accident?’
‘Now, she’s all right. She’s in St Vincent’s Hospital, but they haven’t been able to get in contact with your stepfather and they need to find him.’
‘He was going up to the Blue Mountains on a job, I think. I don’t know where he is. He’s not answering his mobile?’
‘Apparently not.’
‘Ned, what about Ned? My little brother. She was taking him to crèche this morning. He was in the car.’
‘I don’t know, Maeve. I’m sure they would have said something about your brother if he’d been involved.’
Maeve remembered the story of a baby who’d been left under the seat when the family car had crashed. What if they hadn’t realised Ned was in the car too? She felt dizzy. She put one hand on Mrs Spinelli’s desk, to steady herself.
‘I’m sure your mother is going to be all right, but is there anyone else who can go to the hospital in your stepfather’s place? Is there a relative or a friend who you’d like us to contact? Your grandparents?’
‘They’re too far away. They live in Queensland. We don’t have any family in Sydney. I have to go. I have to go to the hospital,’ said Maeve. ‘I have to be with Mum.’
‘I don’t know if that’s appropriate, Maeve.’
‘Please, Mrs Spinelli. I have to be near her. Even if Andy comes, I have to be there too.’
‘You can’t go to the hospital alone, Maeve, and you need parental permission to leave the school.’
‘But my parent is at the hospital. And I wouldn’t have to go alone. Steph and Bianca can come with me. Steph’s mum, she’s friends with my mum. She’ll give permission. Please, Mrs Spinelli.’
Mrs Spinelli frowned and rubbed her forehead. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Five minutes later, Stephanie and Bianca were sitting either side of Maeve in the corridor.
‘Mum’s going to meet us at the hospital, Maeve,’ said Steph. ‘It will be okay. It will be okay,’ she repeated, squeezing Maeve’s arm. But Maeve was already starting to feel numb all over.
; Mrs Spinelli came hurrying down the corridor towards them with McCabe beside her.
‘Girls, Mr McCabe is going to drive you to the hospital where you’ll meet with Stephanie’s mother. She’s coming from the northern beaches but won’t be far behind you.’
When they got into the school car park, Maeve wanted to run to McCabe’s car, but she forced herself to simply walk swiftly.
‘Do you mind if we sit in the back seat together, sir?’ asked Steph, putting her arm around Maeve protectively.
‘Of course not,’ said McCabe. ‘Don’t worry, Maeve. We’ll be there in no time. Things always seem worse while you’re waiting to confront them.’
7
The black chasm
McCabe was wrong. Maeve felt her knees grow weak as they walked up the steps of the hospital, as if she were walking into a dark tunnel. As the doors parted and they walked into the foyer of the hospital, she could feel a shudder run through Steph’s body. A momentary panic surged through Maeve. She turned to Bianca but all the colour had drained out of Bianca’s face and her eyes were glassy. She looked as frightened as Maeve felt. As if he knew they were falling apart, McCabe stepped in front of them and leant down to look directly into Maeve’s face.
‘Hang in there, Maeve,’ he said quietly. ‘You can do this.’
Then he herded the three of them gently towards the front desk. Maeve could barely understand the words he was speaking as the nurse looked from them to him.
‘Oh God, Steph,’ said Maeve. ‘It’s bad. I can feel it. I can feel this is really bad.’
‘It’ll be okay,’ said Steph. But her voice was thin and frightened and Maeve could tell she didn’t believe it.
McCabe guided them into a small waiting room with brown, vinyl-covered furniture and a picture of a sunset on the wall. Maeve found herself thinking it was a crap picture. Her mother could draw better than that. Her mother, her mother.
‘I want to see my mum,’ said Maeve. ‘I want to see her now. Why do we have to wait?’
‘C’mon, Maeve,’ said Steph, taking Maeve by the hand. Bianca took her other hand and between them they tried to draw her over to one of the couches but she shook herself free. She didn’t want to sit on the horrible vinyl furniture. If she sat down, they’d make her wait. Hospitals always made people wait, didn’t they?
‘She’s still in Emergency,’ said McCabe. ‘When your stepfather arrives, they’ll let him in to see her and then maybe you can go too.’
‘But I’m her daughter. I’ve known her longer than Andy. I’ve known her all my life. He’s only known her for three years. That’s nothing.’
‘It’s the way it is, Maeve. He’s an adult.’
‘Mr McCabe, I’m not a baby. I’m fourteen in March. I want to be with my mother.’
McCabe’s hazel eyes were steady and calm. Not like the nurses, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. Even Steph and Bianca were staring at the ground, as if they couldn’t bear to face what lay ahead.
‘Sit with Stephanie and Bianca. I’ll talk to the doctor.’
Steph began rocking back and forth very slightly as she hunched over on the couch. Bianca sat with her hands on her knees, her eyes blank, staring at the ugly landscape painting.
‘Your mum will be okay. Your mum will be okay. They can do amazing things these days. They save people.’
Maeve looked at her crossly. ‘Please don’t, Bunka. You don’t know yet. Let’s just be quiet, and . . . and wait.’
On the coffee table in the middle of the room, there was a stack of women’s magazines. Princess Diana stared out from the cover and Maeve had that tight, sick feeling again. Then she realised both her friends were looking at it and thinking the same thought. They hadn’t been able to save Princess Diana. She’d been famous and rich and beautiful, but they hadn’t been able to save her.
Maeve couldn’t tear her eyes away from the picture. That was such a big story. She remembered the magazines plastered with Princess Diana’s face all through her primary-school years. Maeve didn’t want to be part of a big story. She wanted everything to be ordinary and the same. She didn’t want any of this to be happening. She shut her eyes. Suddenly, she thought of the ouija board and the exploding glass. This wasn’t a dream she wanted to come true. This was a nightmare.
Steph’s mum, Julie, arrived wearing the same frightened expression as Steph, her gaze flickering around the room, from one girl to the next. Maeve couldn’t bear to look at her either. Even when Julie hugged her, Maeve kept her eyes down. But when McCabe walked back into the waiting room with another man, Maeve stared hard into his face, trying to read him. If she kept looking at him, somehow all of this would start making sense.
‘Maeve,’ said McCabe, ‘this is Doctor Wilson. He’s been treating your mother.’
Maeve glanced at the doctor. He was a short, wiry man whose face was drawn with tiredness.
‘I’m very sorry, Maeve,’ he said. ‘Your mother has sustained extensive head injuries. I’d wanted to wait until your father arrived before . . .’
‘He’s my stepfather. You can talk to me. I need to know too.’
‘Is there anyone else in your family that you would like to contact?’
‘No, there’s only me and my mum, so tell me now,’ said Maeve, struggling to keep her voice even.
The doctor looked at McCabe and Julie, as if he couldn’t bear to speak to Maeve directly.
‘We have Ms Kwong on life support, but I’m very sorry to have to tell you that we won’t be able to revive her.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Maeve, aware her voice was too loud, almost a shout.
‘I’m very sorry, Maeve, but your mother is brain-dead. Do you understand what that means?’
‘She’s in a coma?’
‘No, it’s not a coma. There’s no possibility of her recovering.’
Maeve bit her lip until salty blood filled her mouth. Steph and Bianca took a step towards her, each clutching the other’s hand. Maeve felt light-headed, as if she might float away. The only thing that kept her tethered to the earth was McCabe’s steady gaze, as if he was willing her to be strong.
‘Can I see her?’ she asked.
The doctor glanced across at McCabe, who simply nodded in reply.
‘Very well.’
Julie stepped forward. ‘I’ll come with you, honey.’
‘No, just Mr McCabe, please. I just want Mr McCabe to go with me,’ said Maeve, making her voice as calm as she could. ‘Thank you.’
A nurse walked Maeve and McCabe to a lift at the end of a long corridor and they went up three floors. They followed the nurse for what seemed like miles until they finally came to a small alcove outside a room and Maeve knew they had arrived.
Maeve had never felt so frightened. What if her mother looked crushed and unrecognisable? How would she bear it? But then a wild, crazy thought came to her. Maybe if Sue heard her speak, heard her own daughter’s voice, she’d wake up. Maybe the doctor was wrong. When Maeve said her name, she’d call her back, back from the other side.
The room seemed so quiet. There was no sound from the rest of the hospital, just the low hum of the machines that her mother was connected to. Sue looked tiny, like a small child adrift in the hospital bed. Her head was swathed in a turban of white bandages and there was a darkening shadow of bruises on one side of her neck. Her face was pale, as if all the golden hue had drained out of it and already she had become a ghost. A wisp of black hair lay against her cheekbone. Maeve wanted to touch her, to tuck the stray hair to one side, but suddenly was frozen, unable to move closer.
‘I’m here, Maeve,’ said McCabe, as if he’d seen her falter. ‘I won’t leave you.’
Maeve took a step nearer to the bed. Her mother’s hand was resting on the bedspread. A long, thin tube was snaking up to a machine full of clear fluid.
‘Why are all these machines on?’ asked Maeve.
‘We’re waiting for your stepfather,’ said the nurse.
Maeve felt a sob choke i
n her throat. She stepped forward and gently laid her hands on Sue’s bare arm. She leant down and pressed her cheek against her mother’s. She wasn’t cold, she was warm, and Maeve could hear air moving in and out of her lungs. Surely the doctor was wrong.
‘Mum,’ she whispered, close to where the bandages covered Sue’s ear. ‘I’m here, Mum. It’s me, Maeve. Please, Mum. Come back, Mum. Come back to me.’
But Sue lay utterly still. There was not a flicker of expression on her pale face. Maeve picked up her mother’s hand, small in her own. The nails were clipped short, the way she always kept them so she wouldn’t risk snaring any fabric. Maeve cupped Sue’s hand gently between her own and traced the length of her mother’s fingers, trying to feel the firmness of her mother’s grip as their fingers enmeshed. That’s how she knew she was already dead. It didn’t matter that Sue’s blood was still moving, that these machines were making her body keep breathing. Maeve knew she wasn’t there any longer. Her mother was gone. The room was empty. Sue was never this still, not even in sleep. She was always so alive, as if a fire burnt inside her that made her shimmer with warmth and energy. And now the fire was out.
Maeve stood up and turned to McCabe.
‘She’s not there,’ said Maeve, her voice small with bewilderment.
‘That’s only her shell, Maeve, but her spirit is still with us.’
‘No, that’s gone too. She’s not here.’
‘Would you like to pray, Maeve? I’ll pray with you. It might help.’
Maeve shook her head. Though she went to chapel along with all the other girls at St Philomena’s, prayer had never meant anything to her. Sue hadn’t believed in any God stuff and neither did Maeve. The only thing that she had been sure of was that her mother would always be there for her.
Maeve sat on a chair beside the bed and pressed her face against the mattress.
‘I want to wait here. I want to wait here until the end.’
People came in and out of the room and Maeve heard them murmuring quietly. She didn’t bother to look up. It was only when two trembling hands rested on her shoulder that she opened her eyes. It was Andy. She got to her feet and they exchanged a quick, anxious hug.
The Secret Life of Maeve Lee Kwong Page 4
