‘My grandfather took you to the hospital?’ asked Maeve. She couldn’t make a picture of it in her mind. Davy covered in blood and blue paint, bleeding all over the back of Goong Goong’s BMW. No wonder Goong Goong thought he wasn’t ‘suitable’. She laughed out loud. Davy looked relieved.
‘There you have it,’ he said, slapping the table. ‘One of my dirty secrets. I was an idiot. I’m sorry that I met your mother when I was wandering through the realm of stupid mistakes. Things might have worked out differently if we’d met when we were older.’
‘Then I wouldn’t be here.’
‘And that would be a great loss to the world,’ he said. ‘Now then, I don’t really expect you to be telling me all your teenage secrets, darlin’ girl, but I’d like to know more about you. In fact, I’d like to know everything you’re willing to tell me about the secret life of Maeve Lee Kwong.’
Maeve propped her chin on her hands and thought. And then she began, at the beginning, telling her dad everything about the fourteen years he’d missed out on.
36
A time to dance
As the hire car drove up the winding road over the Connor Pass and headed back towards Tralee, Maeve glanced out the rear window. Below them the lights of Dingle harbour had begun to twinkle, and beyond, in the deepening evening, lay the Ring of Kerry, the water sparkling as the moon rose over the landscape.
‘It’s a beautiful part of the world, isn’t it?’ said McCabe. He glanced across at Deirdre, who was sleeping in the passenger seat beside him. ‘Deirdre and I hope to find a home here. I can’t take her back to Australia. It’s too far and it’s too late to uproot her. But I want to take care of her. I need to get to know her, while there’s still time.
‘While you were off with your father, I talked to Maria about buying something on the peninsula. I couldn’t live in Dublin, not in that wretched house by the canal. But perhaps I could bring Deirdre west and make a home for us both. There’s music here, and my boys would love to come over and visit. It won’t be for ever, but this is my chance to be with my mother and I’m going to take it.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Maeve. ‘Meeting my dad . . . I can understand why you need to be with your mum. Thanks for giving me the chance, sir. I know it must have been tricky, me asking you to take me out here. I won’t tell my granny. She’d be pretty pissed off.’
‘I wouldn’t have taken you without asking your grandparents first,’ said McCabe. ‘I phoned them last night.’
‘You’re kidding! Por Por said it was okay?’
‘I didn’t speak to Lily. I discussed it with your grandfather and he gave permission. But he asked me not to tell you until after you’d met your father. Your family are fierce secret-keepers.’
Maeve looked out at the darkening countryside, the first flush of stars twinkling in the night sky. Nothing could surprise her now.
That evening, all the St Philomena’s students and their hosts met at the pub for their final night in the West of Ireland.
McCabe parked the hire car behind the whitewashed building and Maeve helped Deirdre across the muddy ground.
Inside the pub logs blazed in the wide open fireplace. Bianca and Steph yelled and waved for Maeve to come and join them at their table.
‘Oh-mi-god! What happened? What was he like?’ asked Bianca.
‘Tell us everything! Was it amazing?’ asked Steph. ‘Did you sort of know him, like, instantly?’
Maeve took a deep breath. ‘He said I could come and live at his house,’ she said.
‘What? Live in Ireland?’ asked Steph, stricken.
‘You can’t do that,’ said Bianca. ‘Not until you’ve finished school. Not until we can come with you.’
Maeve was about to explain when Hannah’s mother came over to the table carrying a tray laden with pints of Guinness.
‘I know you’re a little bit under-age, but you can’t be going back to Australia without trying a pint,’ she said, setting a glass down in front of each of the girls.
‘Slainte,’ she said, raising her Guinness.
Bianca giggled and picked up her glass. ‘Slainte,’ she said, nudging the others.
Maeve licked the thick foam from her lips. ‘My dad bought me a pint of Guinness this afternoon, but I couldn’t drink it. It tastes disgusting. Though I guess if I’m half-Irish I should get used to it.’
‘There’s plenty of time,’ said Steph, frowning at her glass. ‘Anyway, you’re not really going to leave Sydney, are you?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve been thinking about it all the way back in the car. I don’t want to stay with him. It’s funny, before I met him I had this idea that maybe I would move in with him straight away – that maybe he could solve everything for me. But it’s not about him.’
‘You’re not disappointed, are you?’
‘No. He was great but kind of crazy.’
‘That explains a lot about you,’ said Steph.
‘Maybe. There were some things about him that were like me. And I’ve got this little sister, who doesn’t look anything like me but she reminds me of Ned. She was so cute.’
‘Great, just what you need in your life. More rugrats,’ said Bianca. ‘He probably just needs you to babysit.’
‘I don’t think he needs me at all. He doesn’t really need anyone. He’s just that sort of person. But I’m not like that. I need you guys. And I need Ned and Andy. And Por Por and Goong Goong. And Jackson. I need all of you.
‘My dad talked about being blown around by the wind and I know what he means. I had this weird feeling in Hong Kong, that there was a part of me that belonged there. And I get it here too, but I think, deep down, where I really belong is with you guys in Sydney.’
Bianca and Steph giggled, clinked their glasses together and started singing ‘We Still Call Australia Home’. Maeve clapped a hand over each of their mouths. ‘Stop it or Ms Donahue will make us sing it for the whole bloody pub!’
Over by the bar, McCabe had settled down at the piano and struck up a tune. Someone had given Deirdre a fiddle and she sat on a chair beside him, her head tilted to one side, her eyes closed as she soaked up the music. After listening for a moment, she quickly picked up the melody and started playing. Soon a guitarist joined in and people started getting to their feet to form a céilis. A group of St Brigid’s students tried to show Ms Donahue and the St Philomena’ girls how to dance a Galway reel and everyone’s cheeks were flushed, their eyes bright.
‘C’mon,’ said Maeve, dragging her friends to their feet. ‘It’s time to dance. It’s time to really start living.’
Author’s note
Although this novel is contemporary in its setting, it connects to three earlier novels set in the 1850s, 1890s and 1950s. In creating the character of Maeve Lee Kwong, I drew on stories of girls I know from around Australia and I thought long and hard about 150 years of Australian stories, what changes and what stays the same.
The lives of Australian children have changed immeasurably over the course of the last 100 years. Children today have more consumer power and yet are much less likely to be employed than children of earlier generations. They are more likely to be well-travelled and have more privilege and yet, in many ways, less freedom. Their families are smaller but often more complex. Maeve’s life reflects these complex changes.
Like the Irish, the Chinese have made an enduring contribution to Australian history and culture, despite persecution and exclusion. In fact, both diasporas have helped build immigrant nations across the world. Maeve is heir to both these rich histories, but ultimately she is a very Australian character.
Australia, like all vibrant modern societies, is constantly changing and adapting to embrace new ideas and new influences. Sometimes that makes it easy for us to ignore the ‘hungry ghosts’ from our past and forget the importance of listening to their voices. In writing Maeve’s story and the companion novels that form the Children of the Wind quartet, I hope to have made a small contribution to our und
erstanding of the voices and stories that connect us across time.
The Secret Life of Maeve Lee Kwong Page 20
