by Hannah Bent
‘You look stunning,’ Marlowe says.
‘Yes I do.’ My hands brush my dress again. It feels thick and smooth under my fingertips. Around my waist, the dress is a bit tight, but then at my hips it puffs out and is long long long behind me. I am in swirly lace from my head to my toes and I feel like a princess from the royal family.
The window is open. I can smell the sea and the earth and jasmine. Mum, are you here? Are you with me now on my special day?
Wài Pó gives me a bunch of flowers in the colours of pink and red. She tells me the roses are from my dad’s garden. Marlowe adds a few thin stems of a very cute and tiny blue flower to this bunch.
‘These are forget-me-nots,’ she says. ‘This is your something blue.’
Forget-me-nots. And then I feel a swimming, happy kind of sadness in my heart. My mum is here. My mum is with me on my wedding day.
‘Thank you,’ I say to my Marlowe. As I look at her, I think again in my brain about how beautiful she is. Her long hair is tied up on the top of her head the way ballerinas do. Inside this bun she has put a few small yellow flowers. She is wearing a light blue dress that comes to her knees.
Wài Pó takes my hand in hers. Even though she is gentle, I have to say a small ‘ouch’ when the needle inside my hand moves.
‘Sorry,’ she says as she puts a very soft, long white glove over my hand. It looks like a very nice white glove and has perfectly round buttons on the side of it. She takes my other hand and puts another glove on that too.
‘I wore these on special occasions when I was your age.’ She kisses me on the cheek.
‘This is your something old,’ Marlowe says.
Aunt Lĭ Nà takes out a small red chest and opens it. Inside there is a gold bracelet. I know this is a Chinese thing to do because this is what happens in a Chinese wedding.
‘For you.’ She puts the bracelet onto my wrist. It is heavy and feels uncomfortable but I don’t tell her this personal private information.
‘Can I?’ Irene stands behind me holding a very shiny pearl necklace. When I nod, she puts it around my neck and clips it at the back. ‘This was my grandmother’s, my mother’s, then mine. It was supposed to be your something borrowed, but I would like you to have it.’
Pearls from the ocean. I run my hands over each wonderful treasure. I feel like a lucky lady with all my jewels and gifts.
‘And now it is my turn,’ Bì Yù says. In her hand, she holds a hairpin. It is silver with a butterfly on the side of it. Under the light, it glitters. ‘This is your something new.’ She stands on her tippy-toes and puts the pin in my hair.
Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. And now I think to myself that I cannot wait for my Louis to see me with all my jewels and beautiful things on our special day.
‘One more thing.’ Deborah hands me a book. It is called: One Hundred Love Sonnets by Pablo Neruda. ‘I thought you would appreciate these words; it is something to feed the lover and the writer in you.’
I feel something in my chest. It is like a waterfall.
‘Knock knock.’ I turn to see my handsome dad standing in the doorway. He is dressed in a very smart blue suit the same colour as Marlowe’s dress. It is the same colour as their eyes.
‘My precious girl,’ he says with his voice that sounds a bit broken. ‘Are you ready?’ He pushes a wheelchair for me to sit.
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I want to walk.’
‘Are you sure?’
I take a breath and nod. Then he holds out his arm for me to take.
‘Now I am ready,’ I say, because in my heart, I have been ready for a very, very long time.
Outside, the wind is blowing in from the sea. I can taste salt in the air.
‘Thank you, sea,’ I say. ‘You give us pearls and shells. You are the home for all the creatures in your waters, like dolphins and whales and crabs and seahorses. You move in a fast way and a slow way and I love it when I am standing on the beach and your water licks my feet.’
I look up. The sunset has arrived in pink and orange and gold.
‘Thank you, sky,’ I say. ‘You give us sun and rain and clouds that tell us of stories and shapes and patterns. Today, you have made a wonderful sunset for me to marry the love of my heart, Louis.’
My dad walks me through the garden. All around the greenery are candles and fairy lights. Behind me, Marlowe is holding my dress and Bì Yù is holding my oxygen tank in a very careful way. We have only done a few steps together, but my breathing feels tight and my chest feels heavy, so I have to stop for a while. We wait together by the fishpond, where the koi are swimming around in the water waiting for bread. I used to give them bread when I was small but I don’t do this anymore.
A drop of sweat runs down the side of my face. I feel a swirling in my belly.
Come on, Harper, I tell myself. Come on. But suddenly I don’t feel like I can go on. I take another step, but my legs feel shaky and weak.
‘Wait,’ my dad says. Then he lifts me up, all in one go. ‘Let me carry you.’
I laugh, because I think this is a funny way to go down the aisle to meet my love, Louis. I wrap my arms around my dad’s neck and lean my head into his chest. His sound is strong and brave, like a soldier’s heart.
My dad walks slowly, stepping on the stone path one foot at a time. We pass the old banyan tree, which is covered in coloured lanterns. It is so beautiful that I feel certain there is some magic swimming in the air around it. Thank you, old banyan tree. Thank you for being my friend.
Dad walks on. We pass the bush with red flowers and come to the place where Mum’s temple used to be. A sound comes from my mouth, a high sound. In front of me, a new temple has been built. It is made from wood and is the colour of whipped cream. There are red roses all around its arches. Inside, the love of my heart, Louis, is standing tall. His chest is proud. There are chairs all in front of the temple, lots of them, filled with people I love.
‘I can walk now.’
Dad gently lowers me to the ground. My dress makes a swishing sound as Marlowe and Bì Yù make all the folds straight.
Music starts to come from a violin and a white piano just like the one Mum used to have. Even though their faces are puffy now and they have some grey hairs, I recognise these people from when Mum was with us on this earth. They are her friends Maxine Tam and Ronnie Chen. As they play, I remember this song in my heart. It was one Mum used to play for me.
I look at the crowd of people in front of me, all here to celebrate this special moment in time. I see all my friends from the vocational centre and from my work at the library, and some of the kind nurses from the heart hospital that I have been going to since I was small. Then there is Oliver, Uncle Bĭng Wén, Aunt Lĭ Nà, Deborah and Michael, and Wài Pó with all her mahjong ladies. I see Uncle Johnny; he winks at me and it makes me smile.
I think to myself that all our guests are so smartly dressed.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ I say.
‘Shall we?’ Dad holds out his arm for me to take and we start walking down a carpet made from pink rose petals. The music changes, and Wài Pó stands at the entrance to the temple. She opens her mouth and the most beautiful sound comes out, made from her voice. My chest tingles and it is like shooting stars have filled my heart. Dad squeezes my hand and I squeeze his hand back.
As I get closer and closer to Louis I can see his face clearly. He is crying. No, Louis, I want to say, today is a happy day, this is not a day to cry. But then my own feeling rises up up up in me and I find myself telling my heart to hold on.
‘I am happy here on this earth,’ I say.
With silent words, I tell my heart that I don’t want to leave. I beg my heart to let me stay.
Marlowe
As bridesmaids, Bì Yù and I stood to the left of Harper in the pagoda we had built for this day. It still smelled of fresh timber and sour, drying paint. Harper and Louis were facing each other, holding hands, the celebrant behind th
em. Louis’s alarm watch then beeped, loudly.
‘Oh, shoot.’ He switched it off. ‘Sorry, everyone,’ he said. ‘That was just my digital alarm watch reminding me that it is time to get married. Good news! We are ahead of the schedule.’
The celebrant, a woman with funky blue-rimmed glasses, began to speak. I struggled to focus on what she was saying. I was watching Harper. She looked so beautiful. Her features were soft and her almond-shaped eyes made her look like she was forever smiling. Blush and lipstick added colour to her otherwise pale face. With her hair in an elegant French braid and dressed in an ivory lace gown, she looked a bit like Grace Kelly. It was as if she had never been sick.
I felt Bì Yù’s hand take mine.
‘Repeat after me.’ The celebrant spoke to Louis first. ‘I, Louis Martin Browne, take you, Harper Míng Huà Eve, to be my lawfully wedded wife.’
Louis cleared his throat and turned to face the guests. ‘First of all, I would also like to thank everyone for coming on this special day.’
‘Louis,’ Harper whispered, ‘you have to stick to what the lady says.’
‘Ah, yes, sorry.’ He kissed her on the hand and cleared his throat again. ‘I, Louis Martin Browne…’ He looked at the celebrant for help but a friend of his seated nearby got there first.
‘Take you, Harper Míng Huà Eve! Come on, Louis!’
‘Thank you, Max.’ Louis waved at him from the pagoda. ‘I would just like to tell everyone that sometimes I forget things.’ He turned back to face Harper. ‘You see, my brain is not as good as yours, my love.’
Harper put her palm to his cheek and stroked the side of his face.
‘It’s okay.’
The celebrant spoke more slowly this time. Louis followed her words.
‘To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.’
Louis bowed his head. His chin was trembling.
‘In sickness and in health…’ the celebrant prompted.
‘I can’t do that bit. I can’t say that word.’
Harper was barely moving. I was close enough to see a single tear trickle down the side of her face.
‘Louis,’ the celebrant whispered, ‘is there something you would like to say instead?’
He nodded and looked up at Harper. ‘I know that the heart inside your chest is sick. I know you are scared. I wish I could make you better but everyone tells me I can’t fix your heart, and I am sorry about this. I am so sorry. I wish my brain was different so that I could become a doctor and learn how to fix you, just so that I could have longer with you. But even though I can’t do this, I can stand by you and I can love you with all that is inside my heart. My watch cannot tell me how much time is left for you, but no matter what, I will be by your side, as your man, for the rest of my life and yours.’
My chest ached, but I decided not to fight it. I followed the emotion as it rose to my eyes and I let it consume my thoughts. As I watched my sister deliver her vows, I gave myself up to the harsh reality that soon I would no longer hear the scratch of her fountain pen, held the wrong way against paper. I would never see her spinning in the garden or in the snow. I would never again annoy her, never tell her she was being too loud, never feel embarrassed by her, burdened by her, never again tell her to do things my way. I would never hold her, touch her, never smell her, never hear her singing in the kitchen as she helped Wài Pó cook. I would no longer have her as my constant reminder that there is so much on this earth we will never understand with our minds, and that is okay.
Maxine and Ronnie filled the garden with my mother’s music as Harper and Louis shared their first kiss as husband and wife. I looked at Olly, who was seated in the front row. He smiled at me and nodded.
As we followed Harper and Louis out of the pagoda, Olly met me and entwined his arm in mine. At that moment, a lemon emigrant butterfly landed on Louis’s shoulder in front of us. I held my breath until I could hold it no longer. In my exhale, the butterfly vanished.
Acknowledgments
This book has had a long gestation period, and there are many people to whom I owe my thanks and appreciation.
To Gaby Naher at Left Bank Literary, the very best agent. You have believed in this novel from the start and I am continually thankful our paths crossed all those years ago.
Alex Craig. I am so grateful for the wonderful synchronicities that brought this manuscript to your table. Your deep understanding, guidance and vision for ‘the hum’ has been such a gift and it has been a great joy and privilege to work with you.
To James Kellow, Robert Watkins, Brigid Mullane and everyone at Ultimo Press. I thank my lucky stars that I have had the chance to be a part of your exciting vision for Australian publishing. Thank you for giving me this amazing opportunity.
Thank you to all at Hardie Grant, especially Sandy Grant, Julie Pinkham and Julia Kumschick and the entire Hardie Grant sales team.
To Ali Lavau for your insightful edits and comments.
To Alissa Dinallo for the stunning cover.
I have had wonderful mentors that have empowered me as a writer. From the very beginning, Mary Lacey Vittachi – in my youth you incited in me a deep passion for storytelling. Anna Maria Dell’oso, you believed in me, and gave me confidence to write. It goes without saying that same applies for Xu Xi, Amanda Hampson, those at The Faber Academy, in particular Kathryn Heyman and the Australian Writers Mentoring Program. Kathryn, I am especially grateful for the way you allowed me a safe space to find my voice.
To those at UTS, especially Delia Falconer and Debra Adelaide. The Australian Society of Authors and the Ray Koppe Young Writers Award, Varuna Writers’ House. The Sydney Writers’ Room for providing a wonderful sanctuary to write.
There have been so many individuals who have generously given me their time, shared valued expertise and were instrumental in my research and learning. First and foremost I would like to thank Robert Blackburn and the school of Biological Sciences at the University of Sydney. I have loved every minute learning about bugs and butterflies. Rob, watching you work in the lab has been one of the highlights of this writing process for me and I am forever grateful for your patience and time. Thanks to the Society for Insect Studies.
To all the medical professionals who have given me their time and extensive knowledge: Professor David Celermajer, Dr David Stirling, Professor Jeremy Chapman, Professor Liza Thomas, Dr Shravan Varanasi and most of all Dr Matthew Puliyel. You have been beyond generous with your time and knowledge. I have enjoyed pestering you with my many questions and learning so much from your feedback.
To Marge Lo, Fay Wong, Helen Chen, Catherine Platt, everyone at District-15, especially Li Xu and Venkatraman for your time, translation and knowledge.
Last but never least, to my friends and family who have at different stages supported me and my work. To dearest Ana Vanovac. All these years I have been writing, we have been talking. Our conversations about love, life and grief have deepened me, nourished me and have forever changed me.
Simon Westcott for your support and guidance. Anjali Nihalchaand. Witnessing your resilience, grace and wisdom have over the years changed me as a woman and a writer.
Ileana, there is so much I could say. You and I both know how your guidance has deepened me and helped me find my home again and again.
To my fellow talented writers, especially Zoe Knowles for your continual encouragement, support and passion, Jack Stanton-Cameron, Jonas Kubitscheck and Harry Goddard. Thank you all for journeying with me as Harper and Marlowe came to life and supporting me in this very long birthing process.
Jeneffa Soldatic and my fellow actors in particular: Sian Ewers and Daniel Monks for being a large part of my exploration of both Marlowe and Harper.
And to my family: Mathew and Shoba, for always encouraging me. Alisha for enthusiastically reading my work, supporting me and for always talking about books, books and more books. You are the best sister-in
-law a girl could have.
Amy Gaspar for your fierce and loyal tiger heart.
To Fulvia and Edward Bent, for your support, advice and knowledge on all things botanical and horticultural.
Leigh Tong, for all your introductions and support.
Alexander. You have been a constant source of strength that has kept me going. You know in a way that few others will, what this journey with Camilla has been like and I’m so lucky to have you as my brother and friend.
To my mother, Marjory Bent. The way you read and write inspires me. Your intelligence, strength and grace has fuelled me. You have always given me every opportunity in the world to blossom.
To my father, John Bent. Your enchantment has been contagious. The magic I found while in nature with you all those years ago, holding tightly to your steady hand, has found its place in my work and will remain in my heart.
To my darling Nihal. Your unwavering faith in me has been my protection, strength and sustenance. As Harper and Louis might say: You are all of my sunrises and all of my sunsets. I find such joy in our love.
Camilla. The pulse of your gentle soul is behind every word on these pages. Without you, ‘the hum’ would never have found its way into these words and given my life such meaning and grace. You are my muse and one of my greatest loves.
Author’s note: Marlowe’s ‘discovery’ relating to the conservation of the Phengaris arion butterfly (Maculinea arion) is based on the work of J.A. Thomas and D.J. Simcox.
Published in 2021 by Ultimo Press,
an imprint of Hardie Grant Publishing
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