Lindy thanked him. She knew her dad had already had lots of offers of help. That was one good thing about the station not running sheep any more. There wasn’t anything urgent to be done.
‘Celia’s doing okay up there on her own?’ Mr Lawson asked. ‘Want us to drop in to her at all?’
She was fine, Lindy told him. Joan was phoning her each day, and visiting every second day with fresh milk, prepared meals. Joan had even offered a bed at her house but Celia had insisted on staying at Errigal.
Jane and Richard’s flight was called. Lindy cast a glance at Richard. They’d hardly said a word to each other. Jane and Mr Lawson had done all the talking. It was minutes now before he boarded.
She surprised herself. ‘Richard, will you come with me to that souvenir shop over there? There’s some great South Australian chocolate; you really shouldn’t leave without any.’
He sprang out of his seat. Lindy hoped Jane would stay where she was. To her surprise, she did.
‘I’m really sorry about your mother,’ Richard said, as they walked to the shop.
‘And I’m sorry for leaving you alone that night.’
‘I just kept wishing I hadn’t seen Wolf Creek. Or any of the Mad Max films.’ He smiled at her. ‘Sorry. I promise I did find the beauty in all that open space. Especially once I was safely inside the Lawsons’ house.’
She bought him some chocolates, insisting they were a farewell gift. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jane gathering her bags, sending glares in their direction.
‘You were so great out there,’ Richard said. ‘Your tour-guiding. Your driving. Your tyre-changing. Your kissing.’
She felt a flame of colour burn her cheeks. ‘You were pretty good too. Not the tyre stuff. Or the driving. But the, you know —’
‘Lindy, can we keep in touch?’
‘Yes, please,’ she said. That sounded so lame. ‘But since Mum’s accident —’ She tried again. ‘I don’t know what’ll happen yet. If I’ll be back in Melbourne any time soon. We just don’t know.’
‘Maybe I could come and visit one weekend. Once you know how things are with your mum.’
‘I’d really like that.’
He moved to hug her. It went awkwardly. Their noses bumped.They skipped the hug. They kissed instead. They would have kept kissing if they hadn’t suddenly felt someone else standing beside them. Jane.
‘Come on, Richard, or we’ll miss our flight.’
Lindy stayed at the gate with Mr Lawson, watching until they were both out of sight. It had been one of the worst weeks of her life. But in a funny way, it had also turned into one of the best.
Back at Celia’s, Genevieve and Victoria were in the living room. Victoria was watching TV. Genevieve was cursing at her father’s old mobile phone as she tried to send some texts on his behalf.
‘Which century did he buy this in? I’m starting to wish he didn’t have so many concerned friends. What did people do at times like this before mobile phones, anyway?’
‘They didn’t know as much, I guess. Or they waited to find out in other ways.’
Genevieve swore again as she accidentally pressed delete instead of send and lost another message. ‘Forget it. There has to be a better way to do this. Could I just email everyone? I’m quicker on email. All I’d have to do is text them all first and get their email addresses.’
‘We already have everyone’s email addresses. On Mum’s letter.’
‘Dear clever sister. You’re right, we do.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out the printout she’d kept of Angela’s Christmas letter. There were one hundred email addresses on it, including those of all the friends who had been in touch over the past days.
She checked with her father first. He was reading Ig a story. Ig had become very clingy the past few days; they were all keeping a close eye on him. Nick thought the email was a good idea. He was also happy to let Genevieve write the message.
Five minutes later, she and Victoria were in Celia’s neat office, in front of her pristine computer. Genevieve opened up a new email, and keyed in all the addresses as Victoria read them out.
‘What do I put in the subject line?’ she said, once the addresses were ready. ‘“About Mum”? “The latest about Mum”? “How Mum is”?’
‘Do what Mum would do,’ Victoria said.
Genevieve started to type.
Hello from the Gillespies,
By now I think you’ve all heard the news that Mum was in a car accident five days ago. Thank you so much for your many texts and phone calls, they are helping us very much. She is in the best medical hands and we remain hopeful of a full recovery. We hope you’ll understand if we keep in touch with you via email rather than reply individually from now on. We also hope you’ll keep her in your thoughts and prayers.
Thanks very much,
Nick, Genevieve, Victoria, Lindy and Ig Gillespie.
She was reading it back to Victoria when there was a voice at the door.
‘What are you doing?’ It was Ig, half-asleep, his dark-red hair tousled, his pyjama top buttoned wrong. He looked even younger than ten.
Genevieve explained. Ig came over and read it too.
‘What about Robbie?’ he said. ‘You left him off.’
‘Ig, people won’t know who he is.’
‘Please,’ he said.
Go on, Victoria mouthed. Genevieve added Robbie’s name.
‘Can I send it with you?’ Ig said. ‘Mum always lets me help her.’
‘Of course you can,’ Genevieve said.
He came close, leaning up against her. She put her arm around him.
‘Ready?’ she said.
‘Ready,’ he answered.
They pressed send together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
They knew as soon as Ruth called them together at the hospital the next day that the news wasn’t good. The MRI scan had showed up what she called ‘changes’ on the brain. She did her best to keep the terms simple, but they were soon lost with the terminology: hypoxic ischaemic injury, white and grey matter junction, a diffusion-weighted scan, a T2 scan showing the pattern of damage. Medial temporal lobes. Changes to the hippocampus caused by lack of oxygen to these areas.
‘But what does it mean?’ Genevieve asked. ‘That she definitely has some kind of brain damage?’
‘It’s still too early to say,’ Ruth answered. ‘We won’t know what the effect is until she wakes up.’
‘Will she wake up soon?’ Lindy asked.
‘We expect her to, yes. The changes to her brain can manifest in all sorts of ways. Her memory might be affected; there could be a period of confusion. Disorientation. We won’t know for sure until she’s conscious again. We just have to be —’
‘Patient,’ Genevieve said.
Everyone was starting to hate that word.
They continued to take turns sitting by her bed, holding her hands, talking to her. There were three other women in the ward. They were conscious of crowding the limited space.
Ig stuck up his favourite bird drawings on the side of her locker. He’d cut out each bird, to fit more on, he said. It was like a little paper aviary: three robins, a magpie, a kookaburra and an emu. That would stop her feeling homesick, he said.
That night, Genevieve sent out another email.
Hello from the Gillespies,
Mum is still unconscious and the doctors are continuing to run a series of tests. We are staying hopeful. Thank you for your messages, they mean a lot.
She signed all their names, as before. Robbie too.
Genevieve, Victoria and Lindy were in the waiting room the next day when they had a surprise visitor: Joan.
‘I had to come. I felt useless up there, waiting for those daily email reports. As if they would help me stop worrying. What’s going on? What can I do?’
They spoke at once, explaining that Nick and Ig were in by her bed now, that all they could do was wait, that it was a matter of her waking up.
‘Nonsense. I’ll go in and give her a good talking-to,’ Joan said. ‘She’ll listen to me.’
They let her go in on her own, watching from the doorway. Nick looked up, his exhausted expression changing to a smile. Ig threw himself into Joan’s arms. Still holding him, Joan moved closer to Angela. She looked down at her for a long moment, and then gently touched her face.
It was too much for Genevieve. She turned away, back into the waiting room, her eyes filled with tears. Victoria followed her.
‘She’s not going to get better, is she? Joan touched her then, like she was —’ Genevieve couldn’t say the words. ‘Like she was dying.’
Victoria pulled her into a hug. ‘Don’t think like that. We have to stay positive. For Mum.’
‘I’m too scared. What if this is it? What if she never wakes up?’
‘She will. We just have to be —’
‘Don’t say it. If I hear that word one more time, I will —’
A shout stopped her mid-sentence. It was Ig.
‘She opened her eyes! She opened her eyes!’
By the time they reached the bed, Angela’s eyes were shut again. But the others were adamant. She’d woken up and looked around for a few moments before closing her eyes again.
‘I told you I should have got here earlier,’ Joan said. ‘She’s just been waiting to hear my voice.’
The nurse was now with her. They’d all been asked to leave for the moment. In the waiting room, it was as if they’d been given a shot of adrenalin. Their quiet mood changed to chatter, even laughter. Their patience had been rewarded! This was the start of her recovery! She must have heard Joan, or maybe it was coincidence – ‘Of course it wasn’t!’ Joan said – but the days ahead suddenly didn’t seem so bleak.
That night, Angela opened her eyes again. None of her family was there. But a young nurse was, checking her drip. Angela didn’t just open her eyes. She spoke a few words.
Ruth filled them in the next morning. As usual, Genevieve had phoned at seven a.m. When they heard the news, they came in earlier than usual.
‘The nurse said she sounded okay? She wasn’t slurred or anything?’ Genevieve asked.
‘Not according to her notes, no. Angela was conscious for nearly a minute. She said a few words and then she closed her eyes again.’
Yes, Ruth assured them, these were all very good signs. ‘I know you are sick of me saying this, but you just have to stay —’
‘Patient!’ Ig shouted. Genevieve shushed him.
‘Actually, I was going to say positive,’ Ruth said, smiling.
At nine o’clock that night, Genevieve and Victoria were in the bathroom at Celia’s house. They were whispering.
‘She hasn’t completely woken up,’ Genevieve said. ‘And we weren’t there. Does that count?’
‘We said we’d do the test when she woke up. And she’s woken up twice. So we have to do it.’
‘I don’t want to. I don’t want to know.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘Do you feel any different?’ Genevieve asked. ‘Nauseous? Any other symptoms?’
‘I don’t know how I feel any more. I just feel strange all the time.’
‘Me too,’ Genevieve said.
There was a knock at the door. It was Lindy. ‘Are you two finished?’
‘Not yet,’ Genevieve said. ‘Use the other bathroom.’
‘What are you doing in there?’
‘Victoria’s upset,’ Genevieve said.
‘So am I. Can I come in too?’
They heard something else then. The front door opening. More voices. Their father’s, then someone else’s. A woman.
‘Lindy? Who is it?’
Lindy went away but she didn’t come back. They could hear her talking to the new arrival. It wasn’t the right time to do the tests now. They needed to find out who the visitor was.
It was Celia.
She’d caught the bus from Hawker, after ringing the Lawsons and asking Kevin to drive her into town. She’d taken a taxi from the Adelaide bus station to her house. She had all her suitcases with her. Nick came in from paying the taxi driver.
‘Why didn’t you at least ring from the bus station?’ he said to her. ‘I would have collected you.’
‘You should have called me, Celia,’ Joan said. ‘I would have brought you down with me.’
‘I would have come with you, if you’d told me you were coming. Which you didn’t,’ Celia said. ‘It just seemed silly to me, Nick, to be up there when you were all down here.’
‘But where will we all sleep now?’ Ig said. ‘We’ve run out of bedrooms.’
Celia looked too exhausted to make any arrangements. Joan took over. She put Victoria and Genevieve into one room and moved Lindy into a different bed, giving Celia her own room back. They were still one bed short. Joan checked herself into a nearby hotel. ‘I love you all, but I’m too old to live in a commune.’
That night, Genevieve sent another update email. It was the easiest one to write so far.
Hello from the Gillespies,
Mum woke up briefly today. Still hard days ahead but today has been a good day. Thanks again for all your messages and thoughts, please keep them coming.
Alone in the office, Genevieve was about to log out of her account when a new email came in. It was from Megan, her make-up artist friend in New York. They hadn’t been in touch since Genevieve had left. Their lives were so different now. A dose of NYC gossip was just what she needed, Genevieve thought.
Megan was full of chat. She’d finished on the TV show that caused the problems for Genevieve. She’d started work on a new film. She hated the hairdresser she was working with:
Ham-fisted, bad-breathed. If I could fly you in, I would. Guess who’s also on set??? Your Matt. Coffee Guy. I was super-surprised to see him. He was super-eager to see me. I haven’t lost my touch, I thought to myself. Nope, turns out he didn’t care about me. All he wanted to do was ask about you. Poor guy got mugged on New Year’s Eve in Costa Rica or some such place; somewhere exotic and dangerous anyway. Hurt (broken ribs and black eye, was in hospital for a week) robbed (completely – phone, laptop, wallet). Hasn’t been able to contact you. So I hope you don’t mind but I gave him your email address. Give him my love when you hear from him. Tell him I’m much closer than the wild west of Australia!
About to call out to Victoria, Genevieve heard the ping of another email.
It was from Matt.
Hi Genevieve. I’m sorry for the long silence. A combination of lost phone – actually, a robbed phone – and no contact details for you. I googled Genevieve and Australia. Do you know how many Genevieves there are in that country of yours? A lot. So hopefully you get this and hopefully you’ll email back. I’m in NYC again. Wish you were too. Matt.
Again about to call out to Victoria, she heard the sound of a phone ringing. Moments later, her father appeared at the door.
‘Genevieve, get everyone. We have to go. That was the hospital. Angela’s awake.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Angela could hear something.
People’s voices and the clattering of cups. As if she were in a cafe or a restaurant. But she was lying down. In a bed. She could feel a sheet under her hand. Was she in her bedroom? Who would be in her bedroom, clattering cups, talking? So many at once, too. It wasn’t Will. It wasn’t Lexie either. These voices sounded different. They sounded . . . yes, Australian.
How very odd.
Still, there were so many Australians working in London these days. Maybe it was the radio coming from the kitchen, a sort of documentary. She tried to open her eyes again. It just felt too hard. It felt like they had been stuck somehow. She felt sore on her left side too. This really was all so strange. She tried calling out for her husband. He didn’t answer but someone else did. Someone standing close to her.
‘Angela? Can you hear me?’
She was no longer seeing the words on her eyelids. She could hear them loud and clear. Had she just
heard someone say something about getting a nurse? Was she in hospital? Good heavens. It really did sound like that. She hadn’t been in hospital since . . . since Lexie was born, surely? How long ago was that? Nearly thirty years? What on earth had happened to put her in hospital? She was supposed to be on holiday. In Australia. With Will and Lexie. Visiting eco-resorts. Staying on an outback station.
If only she could open her eyes and really work out where she was and what was going on. She had managed it earlier, hadn’t she? Or had she? Was that hours ago? Or a few minutes ago? Time seemed to have gone so strange. She felt like she’d been asleep for days. Weeks. It had been quite nice actually. Such a deep, deep sleep.
Her thoughts were all a bit jumbled, but she did seem to remember waking up now and then. Each time there seemed to be different people around her. She’d been having the oddest conversations with them too. One time it had been a young woman in a uniform. Another time, a pretty woman with long dark hair, who’d asked her all sorts of questions, as if she were interviewing her. Another time Angela was sure she’d seen a little boy standing there looking at her. And a tall, serious-faced man. A group of young women. All saying her name.
Who were these people? And where were Will and Lexie? Perhaps they’d got caught up at work. They’d be joining her here soon. Yes, that was it. Will was so dedicated. So in demand. His architectural designs had won so many awards. Angela had been amazed when he said he’d be able to take six weeks off. As for Lexie . . . Angela frowned as she tried to remember. That’s right, Lexie was only going to join them for part of the trip anyway, wasn’t she? She was so dedicated too. So enthusiastic about her work with the community theatre group in Bristol. Angela was so proud of her.
She changed position in the bed. That was better. Yes, she was much more comfortable now. Come on, open your eyes again, she told herself. You can do it, Angela. On the count of three.
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