‘You get to choose a complimentary crystal too,’ said the photographer, offering them a basket of smooth, polished stones.
Bianca picked a stripy golden-brown stone, Steph took pale pink and Maeve selected a shimmering yellow crystal flecked with silver. It felt cool and magical in her palm.
‘That’s citrine,’ said the photographer. ‘It’s a survivor’s stone, it gives you courage when the chips are down.’
Maeve smiled. ‘What do the other ones mean?’
‘The pink stone, that’s rose quartz. It’s a symbol of unconditional love. It opens your heart.’
‘Lurve,’ said Bianca. ‘Romance, it’s all going to happen to you this year, Steph. I can feel it. How about my stone?’ She held out her crystal.
‘That’s tiger’s eye. It’s really good for flighty people and kids with ADD. It’s calming.’
Steph laughed and Bianca looked a little put out. ‘Well, it’s got a cool name and I like the look of it. I don’t care what it means.’
When the prints were ready, the girls crowded in close to see. A cloud of colours swirled around each figure. Steph was surrounded by purple and green, Bianca by blue and pink, but Maeve’s aura burnt fiery red with a single blaze of white just above her head.
‘Looks like I’m burning up,’ said Maeve.
‘Well, red is good. It means happiness, doesn’t it?’ said Steph. ‘That’s what it means in China, anyway. So that means you’re destined for happiness.’
The girl at the counter smiled. ‘Colours have different meanings in aura photography. Red is a powerful symbol of anger and energy. And I think that white bit means a spirit is watching over you.’
‘Like a guardian angel?’ asked Maeve.
‘Something like that,’ said the girl. ‘But look, I’ve only just started learning about auras so I can only give you a general idea. The fortune-tellers can give you a better explanation.’
‘I think I’m over all this future crap,’ said Bianca. ‘I need to get into the moment and buy something.’
‘I want to see the fortune-teller,’ said Maeve impulsively.
‘Oh no!’ said Bianca. ‘Mum will be stoked. She’ll think she’s won you over too!’
‘My granny gave me some spending money. I may as well spend it on something.’
‘You’d rather spend it on a fortune-teller than on clothes? And I guess me and Steph can try on all the goddess clothing,’ said Bianca. ‘I could look amazing in green velvet.’
Steph groaned and followed Bianca into the clothes shop, while Maeve climbed the winding stairs up to the tower of the Crystal Castle. Afternoon light shone through the tiny, deep-set windows, making warm puddles of gold on the wooden floors. Maeve wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but Ceridwen, the fortune-teller, looked more like the sandwich lady in the canteen at St Philomena’s than a Welsh witch.
‘Welcome, Maeve,’ she said, glancing at the note that the attendant had sent up. ‘You have a beautiful, mystical name.’
‘My mum said I was named after a queen, an Irish queen.’
‘But before she was a queen, she was a goddess, Mebd. Sometimes they talk about her as Queen Mab of the fairies. In ancient myth, the gods and rulers and ordinary mortals, their stories all intertwine.’
Maeve nodded politely and held out her aura photo. ‘The lady who took the photo, she said you could explain what this means. Why am I all red when my friends are all different colours?’
Ceridwen took the photo and frowned as she studied it. ‘I’m glad you brought this. It will help enrich your palm-reading. All the arts of divination complement each other. This photo shows you are full of fire, Maeve, the fire of creativity. Red is the colour of the creative life force. But see, there’s a little arc of indigo coming into the picture on the left. That’s the future. You are going to uncover a deep truth. And then here, this blaze of white, this is your spirit guide. There is someone watching over you. Someone very close to you that has passed over into the spirit world. Perhaps your grandmother, or an older woman close to you.’
Maeve wanted to say it must be her mother but it felt like giving something away. She leant in closer and studied the strange photo, wishing the blaze of white had a face. ‘My grandmother is still alive,’ she said.
The fortune-teller nodded and took her hand, examining her fingers and stretching them out to their full length.
‘The lines on your hand form a pattern, a story woven of all these threads. Look at your life line.’ Ceridwen traced the line that ran in an arc between Maeve’s thumb and forefinger. ‘See how deep it is? That’s a sign of your good health and your passion for living. And your head line, here, shows you are a girl of action. Very direct. You act upon your thoughts.’
Maeve thought she spent more time not acting upon her thoughts, but she didn’t want to contradict the fortuneteller.
As Ceridwen traced the lines on her hand, explaining each one, Maeve tried to picture her mother’s hands. Had there been something on her life line that showed she was going to die in a car accident? She could see the way the little finger on Sue’s left hand had a kink in it. She could see the perfect half-moons of her cuticles. But she couldn’t see the palms. She shut her eyes tight and tried to envision them, but in the end the picture vanished and all she was left with was the whiteness of her mother’s hospital bed.
‘But what is the spirit guide trying to tell me? What does my palm say I’m meant to do?’
Ceridwen smiled. ‘No one can tell you what you have to do. You have to listen to your own inner wisdom, make your own decisions about what’s best for you.’
‘My grandmother wouldn’t want to hear you say that. Or my grandfather. They want to make all the decisions for me.’
‘They want to make the right choices for you, but only you can guide them, Maeve. If you’re sure of your path, your grandparents will respect your decisions.’
Maeve wanted to say, ‘Ha, what do you know?’ But she folded her hands in her lap and got up from the table.
‘Thank you,’ she said. As she walked down the winding staircase she crumpled the aura photo in her hand.
17
In morning light
Maeve woke at dawn. A thin mist lay across the valley and a tiny glimmer of sea sparkled beyond the green hills. She opened the doors of the bungalow and stepped out into the garden. The magnolia tree spread its giant arms above her and the scent was clean and sweet in the morning air. Maeve walked out to the orange grove and took one of the big, mangled uglis from a dark-leafed tree, peeling the thick rind, taking a segment at a time and slipping it in her mouth.
‘Boo!’ shouted Bianca and Steph, jumping out from behind the fruit trees in their skimpy summer pyjamas.
Maeve lost her balance and fell back into the long, wet grass. ‘Now I’m soaking,’ she said, laughing as Steph and Bianca hauled her to her feet.
‘That’s okay,’ said Steph. ‘We’re going swimming.’
Bianca led the way down a narrow track lined with tall, spindly gums that finally opened out beside the dam. A thick mass of pink and gold water lilies clustered at one end and the water sparkled in the morning sunlight.
Bianca immediately stripped off her pyjamas and dived in.
‘What if someone comes along?’ asked Steph, glancing back along the path.
‘Like who? There’s no one for miles. And Mum always spends a couple of hours meditating before breakfast. C’mon. Don’t be prunes.’
‘I think she means prudes,’ said Maeve. She didn’t need any more encouragement. She peeled off her T-shirt and shorts and followed Bianca into the dam. The water felt warm and silky against her skin, even though the air was cool. She turned onto her back and lay floating, staring up at the pale blue morning sky. Steph finally joined them, though she kept her pyjamas on, just in case.
‘I wish we could stay here for ever,’ said Maeve.
‘Serena says this was a special spirit place for the Arakwal people, you know, the Abo
rigines from around here,’ said Steph. ‘I think she said they were called the Bundjalung nation.’
‘It must annoy them that a bunch of hippies has taken over,’ said Bianca, splashing water at Steph with the flat of her hand.
‘Can’t you be serious about anything for five minutes?’ complained Steph.
‘Probably not,’ said Bianca. ‘You know how shallow I am.’
They started splashing each other wildly, sending plumes of water into the air and making the lilies sway on the rippling surface. Dazzling sun cut through the morning shadows and made every colour sharp, every drop of water shimmer.
Suddenly Maeve felt tired. Something heavy in her chest stopped her from keeping on with the game. She swam to the edge of the dam and climbed out. After putting on her damp pyjamas, she sat on a flat stone, her knees drawn up against her chest.
Steph and Bianca swam towards her.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Steph, wading out.
‘I don’t want to go back to Surfers. I want to go to Sydney with you guys. I don’t feel like I’m really myself when I’m with my grandparents. It’s like they want to wrap me up in cotton wool and I can’t breathe. I know they love me but they have this whole scene that I can’t be part of. Por Por says I have to make a new life with them, but I liked my old one with you two.’
Steph and Bianca looked at each other, as if they had a secret dialogue that Maeve couldn’t be part of. It made her feel even more alone. She picked up a twig and made patterns in the mud around her feet.
‘We miss you too,’ said Bianca, pulling on her muddied pyjamas. She nudged Maeve to one side and sat down close to her, sharing the rock. ‘You’ll just have to come back.’
‘Like how?’ asked Maeve.
‘You can be a boarder,’ said Bianca. ‘Plenty of St Phil’s girls are boarders. And then you can spend the weekends with me one week and Steph the next. That way we both get a piece of you. I can’t believe you wanted to go and live at Steph’s house instead of mine.’
Steph put her arm around Maeve’s shoulder and hugged her. ‘See, we’ve figured it all out.’
‘Why didn’t you say so before?’
‘We weren’t sure you wanted to come back. I mean you have that cool room to yourself and the beach outside and we didn’t know if you wanted to leave.’
Maeve jabbed her drawing stick into the muddy ground. ‘But how do I tell my grandparents? I don’t want to hurt them.’
‘Love hurts,’ said Bianca, shrugging.
‘That’s not very helpful,’ said Steph reproachfully. ‘Maeve, what would your mum have wanted you to do?’
Maeve stared out over the water at the thick forest beyond. ‘I think she would have wanted me to be near Ned. She didn’t have any brothers or sisters, so that was important to her.’
‘Brothers are such a waste of time,’ said Bianca. ‘I am so glad I’m an only child.’
‘Will you shut up!’ said Steph, scooping up a handful of mud and flinging it at Bianca. Bianca squealed and made a dive at her.
Before Maeve could stop them, they were rolling around on the muddy bank of the dam. How could she make any important decisions with these two crazy people as her advisors? She scraped her fingers through the thick gooey sludge and gathered up two handfuls of ammunition.
‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!’ she shouted, diving into the fray.
18
The Book of Changes
Maeve took a deep breath as she walked through the entrance to Azalea Apartments. It had been hard watching Steph and Bianca pass through the gates at Coolangatta airport without her. But the conversation she was about to have with her grandparents was going to be much harder.
Por Por and Goong Goong were sitting on the balcony drinking tea and reading the morning papers when Maeve let herself into the apartment. She put her bag in her room and went to join them, her stomach full of butterflies as she rehearsed in her mind what she was about to say. There was no point waiting for the right moment. If she didn’t say what she was thinking now, she might never have the courage. She sat between them and reached over to put her hand on her grandmother’s.
‘Goong Goong, Por Por, I can’t go to Ingleside College. I did a lot of thinking when I was in Byron. I have to go back to Sydney. I want to go back to St Philomena’s as a boarder.’
Goong Goong’s face didn’t show a flicker of emotion but Por Por almost dropped her teacup.
‘But Ingleside is a good school! A good school where you will make good new friends.’
‘St Philomena’s was a good school and I already have good old friends, Por Por. I have to go back to Sydney. I miss my friends and I miss Ned. Mum would have wanted me to be there for him. I have to go back.’
Por Por pulled her hand away. Talking about Ned was painful for Por Por. She had wanted Ned to come to Queensland too.
‘Heaps of girls live in the boarding school at St Phil’s,’ said Maeve, talking quickly, not wanting to give Por Por an opportunity to think up too many arguments. ‘And I can come up to Surfers in all the holidays. And we can see each other for weekends in Sydney when you’re at Potts Point. St Philomena’s has a really top music and drama department and that’s important to me.’
Por Por took off her tortoise-shell reading glasses and put them down on the table with such force that Maeve thought they might break.
‘Music and drama!’ she said. ‘What about science and maths! What about your Chinese!’ She looked to Goong Goong, trying to encourage him to back her up, but he returned her gaze impassively.
Maeve turned to her grandfather, appealing to him with both hands folded as if in prayer.
‘I’ll learn Chinese too,’ she said. ‘I will work so hard. You won’t be sorry. I promise.’
Goong Goong turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her earnest face full of longing.
‘This is not a decision for you to make,’ he said. Then he turned to Por Por and began to speak to her in Chinese, his voice low but each sentence finishing with an emphatic sharpness. Maeve pushed her chair away from the table in disgust and went straight to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Maeve’s brain felt fuzzy with rage. When she logged on to MSN, there were six people on line. Before she even had time to write anything, Dancing Man sent her a message. Where U been WPKA?
Slumming in Byron, answered Maeve.
Cool.
I hate 13.
?
I wanna be 18. Be the boss of my own life.
14 is cool. I dig 14. Sexy body, good times, no responsibilities. Jk. lol.
lol. Gtg.
Maeve logged off in disgust. How had this guy got into her address book? She blocked him and opened her email to write a long, frustrated rant to Steph and Bianca. She was so engrossed in writing that it was only when Por Por sat down on the edge of her bed that she realised she was no longer alone.
‘Siu Siu, when I was a little girl like you and I had to make a serious decision, my grandmother would consult the I Ching. The Book of Changes is what some people call it. Perhaps now is a good time for me to teach you how to use this. I don’t want to fight with you. The I Ching will help both of us find answers.’
‘Do you believe in that sort of thing?’ asked Maeve.
‘I believe that the world is always torn between order and chaos. And that the I Ching can help you find a way forward.’ Por Por got up from the bed and stretched her hand out to Maeve. ‘I will teach you as my grandmother taught me,’ she said.
In the living room, Por Por went to the lacquered enamel cabinet and took out a long bamboo tube and a weathered old brown book.
She ran her hand along the tablecloth, smoothing out every wrinkle, and sat down with Maeve opposite her. ‘Now first, you must make a question and hold that question in your mind,’ said Por Por.
‘Like, should I go to boarding school?’ asked Maeve, half expecting Por Por to complain about the question.
‘That’s r
ight,’ said Por Por. ‘Now you hold the question and you take the yarrow sticks that you find in this container and build a gua, a hexagram that we can interpret to find the answer to your question.’
Following Por Por’s instructions, Maeve laid out the skinny yarrow sticks, counting them into groups of four and then picking up the remaining twigs and continuing to lay them out in more groups of four. It felt confusing at first, but slowly the task became rhythmic. Each time Maeve laid them out, Por Por made a note of what number Maeve’s pattern symbolised. When she’d repeated the task five more times, Por Por opened the Book of Changes.
Maeve leapt up and tried to read over her grandmother’s shoulder. The pages of the book were of thick, yellowing paper and all the writing was in complex Chinese characters.
‘The fifty-sixth gua,’ said Por Por, sighing. ‘Lu, a quest, a journey, you will stay in places other than your home, a lodger, surrounded by others that are also on a quest. A stranger in a strange land . . .’ Her voice was heavy.
‘I don’t get it. Does that mean staying here, or does that mean going to boarding school?’
Suddenly, Goong Goong was standing at the end of the dining-room table, gazing down at the gua. ‘It means that you should go to boarding school,’ he said firmly.
19
A single creased envelope
Maeve pulled her doona over her head. She wished Vivienne would stop talking. It was after midnight.
Vivienne was so homesick that she phoned her friends and family in Malaysia every night on her mobile. She was trying to speak quietly but every now and then she’d give a little squeal of laughter and it would drag Maeve back from the edge of sleep. She could dob her in, go and complain about her at the office in the morning, but that would be plain mean. Boarders had to stick together.
Maeve rolled over and tapped the wall beside her bed three times, listening for the response. When the seven short taps came in reply, she slipped out of bed, picked up her Maglite and padded down the corridor.
Gina was reading by torchlight when Maeve tiptoed into her dorm. ‘Is blabbermouth at it again?’ she whispered.
The Secret Life of Maeve Lee Kwong Page 10