Grace

by Morris Gleitzman

  I stared.

  Not at the nurse, at the figure I’d just noticed standing at the other side of the room. He was in front of the window, so I couldn’t see him in detail, just a dark outline against the bright glare of the outside world.

  The nurse’s beeper went off.

  ‘See you later, Grace,’ she said, and hurried out.

  I didn’t even reply.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the figure in front of the window.

  ‘Dad?’ I whispered.

  ‘Thanks be to the Lord you’re alright,’ he said.

  But it wasn’t Dad. As he came over to the bed, a long wisp of hair flopped over one ear.

  I shut my eyes.

  I wanted to run, but you can’t when you’re attached to a pulley. I had to just lie there, feeling sick with disappointment, while Mr Gosper held my good hand in his clammy ones.

  ‘O Lord,’ he said, ‘we thank you for delivering this child from evil and returning her to her righteous family.’

  I tried not to think of Mr Gosper’s blood swilling around in my veins. I heard the door open and more footsteps come in. I hoped it was doctors and nurses with a big knockout needle so I wouldn’t have to feel this awful.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was Grandpop.

  ‘Praise be,’ he said. ‘Look at you, young lady. A picture of health.’

  ‘Considering,’ said Mr Gosper.

  They both nodded, frowning.

  ‘Never again, Grace,’ said Grandpop. ‘It’s over. We promise you’ll never be exposed to that evil man again.’

  ‘As God is my witness,’ said Mr Gosper, ‘he’s gone from your life.’

  I realised they were talking about Dad. I had trouble breathing. Talking was beyond me. Pulling my hand away from Mr Gosper’s was the most I could manage.

  ‘We’ll get you out of this hospital as quickly as possible,’ said Grandpop. ‘In the meantime, Cain and Turk are going to stay with you and make sure you’re not bothered by any unauthorised visitors.’

  While he was saying this, Cain and Turk clumped into the room, each carrying a chair.

  ‘Is Mum coming?’ I whispered.

  Grandpop frowned again.

  ‘As you can imagine,’ he said, ‘she was very upset when she heard what had happened to you. We had to get a doctor to give her some pills to calm her down. She’s sleeping a lot, but when you’re better you’ll certainly see her.’

  Mr Gosper took my hand again and squeezed it quite hard.

  ‘I think you owe her peace of mind, young lady,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’

  I didn’t reply.

  I couldn’t.

  So this was what serious loss of God felt like.

  Cain and Turk sat on their chairs, one on each side of the doorway like prison guards, reading weightlifting magazines.

  I kept my eyes closed and tried not to feel the despair that was upon me.

  The nurse came back and took my temperature. She made a sympathetic sound and dabbed the corners of my eyes with a tissue. I wasn’t being very successful at not feeling the despair.

  I opened my eyes.

  The nurse was looking at me.

  Concern was upon her.

  ‘Grace,’ she said softly. ‘Try not to worry if you’re having bad feelings or worrying thoughts. That can happen after a big blood transfusion and lots of anaesthetic. You’ll probably feel better in a couple of days.’

  I stared at her.

  I was tempted to tell her I wouldn’t. But I didn’t because she wasn’t trained to treat what I was suffering from, and that wouldn’t have been fair on her.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  ‘If you’re still feeling sad in a couple of days,’ said the nurse, ‘there’s a very nice lady here in the hospital who’ll come and talk to you. She knows a lot about what makes people sad.’

  ‘Is she a church elder?’ I asked.

  The nurse smiled.

  ‘She’s a special doctor who knows everything about what goes on inside minds,’ said the nurse. ‘And inside zoos.’

  The moment the nurse left, I started thinking about what she’d said. I thought about it for a long time.

  Then I had a word with God.

  I told Him the kind nurse definitely proved that outsiders deserved to go to heaven.

  I also told God I believed He was as kind as the nurse, and I believed He knew as much about what went on in minds as the special doctor.

  ‘Because You’re God,’ I told Him.

  I pointed out to Him that if He knew what went on inside my mind and Dad’s mind and Mum’s mind, He must know our faith in Him had never changed.

  So why was He punishing us?

  ‘Unless,’ I said to God, ‘You’re not punishing us, and You let the lion attack me for some other reason I don’t understand yet because I haven’t had a chance to talk about it with Dad.’

  I asked God to please let me know if I was right. If I still had a chance of keeping my family together. So I’d keep trying.

  Just a clue.

  A little message.

  ‘Like the kitten,’ I said to God.

  Chapter 23

  The next afternoon I opened my eyes and, behold, I saw a lion.

  A small cuddly stuffed lion with a pink mane and eyes that winked. Then I saw whose knee it was sitting on and lo, delight was upon me.

  ‘Dad,’ I yelled.

  I tried to get out of bed. Dad put his hand on my good shoulder and gently stopped me.

  ‘Easy, love,’ he said.

  He kissed me on the head and I sank back into the pillows. There was so much to tell him and ask him, but I was still in a sleepy fog.

  ‘Sorry I wasn’t here earlier,’ said Dad. ‘I went to the zoo to thank them for stopping the bleeding and saving your life. They gave me this for you.’

  He handed me the cuddly lion.

  ‘I’ve christened him Daniel,’ said Dad.

  I saw from Dad’s face I didn’t need to tell him why I’d gone to the zoo. He already knew.

  Which meant he knew I’d failed.

  ‘I tried,’ I said sadly, ‘I tried to show God He didn’t need to punish our family. But He let the lion attack me.’

  Dad took my hand in both of his.

  ‘Or maybe,’ he said, ‘God loves you so much He let this injury happen for a reason. So you won’t do anything this dopey again. No more spending nights with wild animals.’

  I thought about this carefully, like I always thought about Dad’s ideas.

  ‘You mean a sort of reminder?’ I said. ‘About how He looks after us in some ways, but we have to look after ourselves as well?’

  Dad nodded.

  ‘The zoo keepers reckon you were very lucky,’ he said. ‘The lioness who attacked you was grieving for her sick cub. They’d given her a sedative so they could take the cub away. She was woozy, and they reckon that’s why she didn’t kill you.’

  I could see how emotional and grateful Dad was feeling about that. I was feeling the same and I squeezed his hand.

  Suddenly I remembered Cain and Turk.

  I peered anxiously at the doorway.

  They weren’t there.

  ‘Your guards were called away,’ said Dad. ‘Reception rang telling them their car’s being towed away by a red tow truck.’

  I stared at Dad, amazed.

  ‘They found you?’ I said. ‘Mr Denny and Kyle found you?’

  Dad grinned.

  ‘Kind of,’ he said. ‘The minute I saw you on the TV news yesterday morning, I rushed straight here. There was another bloke and his son at reception wanting to see you as well. Claiming it was all their fault. Something about their bolt cutters.’

  Alas, I felt awful when Dad said that. Poor Kyle. I’d brought him nothing but tribulation.

  ‘I told them not to blame themselves,’ said Dad. ‘I explained how you think for yourself, even when you do nutty things. That seemed to cheer them up a bit. He’s a generous bloke i
s Geoff Denny. So’s his boy.’

  I was glad Dad had stopped them feeling bad.

  Looking at him sitting there next to my bed I felt so much love for him, I couldn’t stop myself. I threw caution to the wind and hugged him tight. I didn’t care about the pain.

  Dad hugged me too, then lowered me back onto the pillows.

  ‘You have to be careful with that arm,’ he said. ‘Don’t want you losing any more of our blood.’

  I stared at Dad again. And saw that on one of his arm veins was a small scab and a bruise. Relief flowed through my veins. Relief so bountiful I felt dizzy. For I beheld it was my real dad’s blood inside me after all.

  I hugged him again.

  He let me.

  ‘We were lucky,’ he said. ‘We got it done before Grandpop and the others found out you were here.’

  Suddenly I remembered something else.

  ‘That letter,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t from me. I didn’t have any idea that Grandpop …’

  ‘I know,’ said Dad. ‘I never thought you did.’

  I beheld he was telling the truth because he always did. To me and to everyone.

  I lay back on the pillow. All this relief was making me feel a bit weak. And I still had another big worry afflicting me.

  ‘Dad,’ I said quietly. ‘Don’t divorce Mum. You don’t have to. We don’t want you to.’

  Dad stared at me.

  ‘Divorce?’ he said. ‘I don’t want a divorce.’

  ‘Your lawyer rang Grandpop,’ I said. ‘He told Grandpop you want a divorce.’

  ‘He couldn’t have,’ said Dad. ‘I never asked him to do anything of the kind. I asked him to write a letter to the elders saying I’m prepared to obey the church laws if they let me back in, but he hasn’t sent it yet.’

  I could see Dad was trying to make sense of all this.

  I was too. My mind was churning harder than the Red Sea.

  Grandpop had definitely told Mum that Dad wanted a divorce.

  And then I realised what must have happened. And lo, the knowledge hurt almost as much as being slashed by a lion.

  Grandpop must have lied about that too.

  And it came to pass, even before the shock had completely worn off, that I knew what I must do.

  Get me and Mum and Dad and Mark and Luke out of that church.

  Forever.

  While Dad sat with his head bowed, staring at the floor, I had a silent word with God.

  ‘I don’t want to be involved with a church that tells lies,’ I said to God. ‘Do You?’

  I told Him that unless He let me know He did, I’d assume He didn’t.

  ‘So,’ I said to God, ‘our family is going to need Your advice on where to find another church. A kind and loving one that tells the truth.’

  Unfortunately, Dad didn’t agree. When I told him we had to leave our church, he shook his head.

  ‘We can’t,’ he said. ‘It’s not possible for Mum.’

  I knew it wouldn’t be easy for her, but I told Dad we had to ask her to try.

  Dad shook his head again.

  ‘I can’t ask her to leave her parents,’ he said. ‘I’m the one who has to change. If it’s the only way to get Mum and you kids back, I’ll do anything the church wants. Beg forgiveness, be meek and obedient for the rest of my life, anything.’

  The sadness in Dad’s eyes made mine fill with tears. But I couldn’t persuade him to change his mind.

  Dad left just before Cain and Turk got back.

  They slumped muttering into their chairs and snatched up their body-building magazines and didn’t even notice I was lying in bed cuddling a fluffy pink cheery-faced messenger from God.

  They wouldn’t have ignored me if they’d known what I was thinking about.

  How to get Mum out of the church.

  As her choice.

  I thought about this for a long time. Finally, while Cain and Turk whispered to each other about protein supplements, I asked God to help me do it.

  Well, I started to ask Him.

  Then I stopped.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said to God. ‘Forgot again.’

  My arm was throbbing and I had ninety-four stitches in it and I knew I’d probably have a scar for the rest of my life. Which was good. In future, every time I was tempted to sit back and ask God to solve my problems, I’d be able to roll up my sleeve and be reminded of what I’d learned at the zoo.

  That God gave us heaven and earth and loving hearts, and the rest is up to us.

  Chapter 24

  And lo, before I could work out a way of solving our family’s tribulations, things came to pass that made the problem even worse.

  It was very early morning and I was asleep. So was most of the outside world. But as Dad always said, in our church the bossy boots never slept.

  Suddenly I was being shaken and pulled out of bed, and by the time I was half-awake I was staggering along a hospital corridor with Cain gripping one arm and Turk supporting my armpit so he didn’t have to touch my bandage.

  Nurses were shouting and Uncle Vern was waving sheets of paper at them and threatening to take the hospital to court.

  Then I was outside in the chill dawn air and Mr Gosper was opening the rear door of his station wagon and I was being pushed into the back seat.

  Mark and Luke were sitting there sleepily in their pyjamas.

  ‘We’re going on an adventure,’ said Mark.

  ‘Why are we?’ said Luke.

  Before I could answer, or even work out what they were talking about, I realised Mum was in the front seat.

  It felt so good to see her. Tears were upon me.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ I said.

  I leaned forward and put my arm round her.

  It must have been terrible for her, not being able to visit me in hospital. I knew she’d have a million questions about how I was. She’d want to have a look under my bandage. She’d want to hear about everything that happened at the zoo.

  Except so far she hadn’t said a thing.

  ‘Mum?’ I said.

  I leaned forward a bit more.

  Mum was asleep. Her seat was tilted back and she was flopped against the headrest, her seatbelt done up tight.

  ‘Let her rest,’ said Mr Gosper, getting into the driver’s seat.

  For a sec I thought that was reasonable. It was very early. Mum probably hadn’t had enough sleep either.

  But something was niggling me. Mum had never been able to sleep in the car. Not even the time Dad got us lost coming home from Bible camp and we had to drive all night.

  As Mr Gosper revved the engine and we sped out of the hospital carpark, I remembered what Grandpop had said about them giving Mum pills to make her sleep.

  I knew what the pills were now.

  Sedatives.

  Like you give an angry lioness.

  I waited till I was completely awake before I started questioning Mr Gosper.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I said.

  We were already out of the city, speeding along a freeway.

  I reminded myself that Mr Gosper was an elder in our church, so what he told me might not be the truth.

  ‘On an adventure,’ said Mark.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mr Gosper in a fake cheery voice. ‘A family adventure.’

  I don’t usually get car sick, but hearing Mr Gosper describe him and us as a family made me want to spew. I controlled myself. Mum was still asleep, so I was the senior family member for now.

  ‘Where exactly?’ I said.

  Mr Gosper was watching me in the rear-view mirror. From his face I could see he was trying to decide how much to tell me.

  ‘We’re going to the countryside,’ he said.

  ‘Why are we?’ said Luke.

  Good boy, Luke, I thought. Dad would be proud of you.

  ‘You’ll see why when we get there,’ said Mr Gosper. ‘Now be quiet and look at the view.’

  I was quiet for a while, but I didn’t look at the view. I’d just noticed
something reflected in the mirror. I turned and saw what was in the luggage area behind me.

  Suitcases.

  Loads of them, piled up to the roof.

  This obviously wasn’t a day trip.

  And that’s when I beheld where we must be going. Dad had told me about it once. A farm some of the church members had started. A very remote farm, hundreds of kilometres out past woop woop.

  Only the elders knew where it was. The farm people moved out there because they thought our church was going soft. Instead of one service a day and two on Sundays, they wanted three every day of the week. They didn’t want TV or computers or telephones or toys. They believed school children should only study the Bible and nothing else.

  I felt woe coming upon me, but I didn’t let it.

  I might be wrong.

  ‘Mr Gosper,’ I said. ‘I left my toy lion in the bedside cabinet at the hospital. Can we ask them to send it to me?’

  Mr Gosper shook his head.

  ‘Better if they give it to another child at the hospital,’ he said. ‘You won’t be needing it now.’

  I was right.

  We were going to the farm.

  But it got worse.

  I looked away from Mr Gosper’s reflection in the mirror. And saw something that filled me with horror.

  A passport, wedged in the car ashtray.

  We didn’t have passports in our family, so I knew it must be Mr Gosper’s.

  Our church had branches in about four other countries. I couldn’t remember where, but I knew that some of them were even stricter than the farm.

  If Mr Gosper kept us hidden at the farm while he got passports for us, and then took us overseas, Dad would never find us.

  Chapter 25

  I went to the toilet more times that day than any other day in my life.

  As we drove further and further away from the city, my tummy got more and more upset.

  Not really, of course. Most of the time I was commiting the sin of lying. I didn’t like doing it, but I hoped God would understand that you can’t always be an angel when you’re trying to save a family from destruction.

  At least Mum didn’t hear me.

  She slept the whole day.

  What I wanted was for us to pull into a petrol station so I could use the toilet. Which would at least give me a chance of getting to a phone.