Our house was spotless when we got back. Every surface gleamed. Dad’s maps had gone from the hallway and were covered in bubble wrap, stacked neatly against the wall. In the lounge room, the furniture had shifted slightly, and there were fresh flowers in a vase on the counter.

The old Mum had been busy. The new Mum had left a note under a red-spotted teapot I hadn’t seen in years on the kitchen table.

Dear Hannah and Sam,

Gone to a potter’s convention. Ha-ha, not really! Having a coffee with Ange. Come on over if you fancy it.

Lots of love, Mum x

My eyes filled with tears, and Sam nudged me. ‘Sook.’

I laughed at myself and realised I hadn’t done enough of that lately. But I couldn’t help feeling this way about a note to us, from our mum. I folded it up and put it in my back pocket. Then I took the painting I’d been carrying, and held it up in front of one of the clean squares on the wall in the hallway where one of Dad’s maps used to hang. A girl and a baby, a famous bridge. It still had a layer of grey dust. It would be another tiny step to get rid of the dust, and one more step to hang it. Things might unravel, but you could put them back together again, even if the picture didn’t look the same.

‘Are you still angry with Dad?’ I said.

‘Yep.’

‘So you’re not so keen on the plan?’

‘Let’s go to Angie’s. If anyone can sort us out, she can.’

 

Angie gave us bear hugs when we went in. Mum was sitting at a round kitchen table with Margot and a plate piled high with muffins.

‘Kids! Have a muffin,’ said Margot, pushing the plate towards us.

‘They’re completely inedible,’ said Mum, and the three women burst out laughing.

‘It’s true,’ said Margot, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘I tried to make them too healthy and they’re like bloody bullets.’

‘There you go.’ Angie threw a packet of Tim Tams on the table and we all went for them like a flock of seagulls. ‘So, Hannah, your mum was about to tell us about this plan of yours.’

‘You tell them, Hannah,’ said Mum, gently.

So I did. I explained about Essie being sick; how I thought being lonely had to be worse than any pain. I said we couldn’t change the past, but we could decide the shape of our future now that we all knew the truth. We needed to make Essie part of our lives and our home. Essie, Mum and me – no one could tell us we didn’t belong together. It might not be easy, but it felt right.

I said that Dad was lonely, too. That was why I thought he and Sam could get a place together.

‘I’m not trying to push you out,’ I said to Sam. He took another Tim Tam and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

‘It’s up to you, Sam,’ said Mum. ‘Both your dad and I love you.’

Sam munched the biscuit, looking serious, as we stared at him, waiting for an answer. Finally he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I reckon we could try,’ he said to Mum, his solemn face breaking into a grin as all three women got up and mauled his head until he begged for them to stop. ‘You’ve all lost it! I think a bit of man time will do me good.’

Angie made more coffees and we all talked about Essie some more. There were things I hadn’t thought of, like the signs that Essie might have cancer, and the kind of care she might need if it wasn’t the type they could cure.

I stared for ages at the small wooden crucifix that hung over the doorway to Angie’s garden.

‘What are you thinking, Hannah?’ said Ange. I didn’t know how to put it. I just didn’t understand how such terrible things could have happened in places that were supposed to be about kindness and forgiveness and charity. Or how someone like Angie, as well as all the nuns and priests and Aunt Caro-types who had set their moral dial in a way that caused such pain to others, could all think they were connected by the same faith.

‘How can you be part of it?’ I said.

‘I’ve asked myself that a hundred times, Hannah. It went on all over the world, for too long, and hurt a lot of people. But that’s not what I believe in. It’s got nothing to do with me and my faith.’

I blushed, knowing my anger was misplaced. ‘I know, Angie,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to stop feeling this way.’

 

 

A month later, Dad came to pick up Sam. They’d found an apartment in St Kilda. I was jealous, in a way, that they’d be down there by the beach. I wondered a few times if this plan was such a good idea after all. That my life might be easier with Dad instead of Mum.

‘I’ll pick you up later,’ said Dad, as he hauled out the last of Sam’s boxes.

‘What for?’

‘It’s movie night. You haven’t forgotten, have you?’

I shook my head and hugged him. Sam gently punched me on the arm and got into the car. Watching them pull away, I felt a pocket of emptiness inside but I had to believe this would all be for the best.

Mum gave her room to Essie. We put her chair right by the window so she could look out at the street. She had a TV and her old Roberts radio in navy-blue leather that she said worked better than my iPod any day of the week.

That first night we were so polite – it was like being in a play and not knowing your lines, or any of the other cast members. Essie sat at one end of the table for dinner, while Mum was at the other end and I was in the middle, wondering if I’d just made the biggest mistake of our lives.

Essie looked suspiciously at the food Mum had made. I tried to motion for her to pick up her cutlery but she picked up her drink instead.

‘I’ll just have some toast, Hannah.’

Mum looked crushed. She’d spent hours on it.

‘Just try it, Essie,’ I said, coaxing her. I reached over and squeezed her arm. ‘It’s really good.’

There was so much behind Essie’s eyes I didn’t know where to begin when it came to understanding her, but then she looked at Mum and picked up her fork. ‘It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, Sara,’ she said.

I braced myself for what Mum might say. ‘Pass the salad.’ She winked at me so I knew we were in this together.

Almost in silence, the three of us got through the first meal. It was awkward but, unlike all the other times, there wasn’t any hate in the room. In its place was a slow-burning sense of the past being the past.

For the rest of the evening Mum hugged me every time Essie wasn’t looking. She was doing that a lot more anyway.

As the days went on, it wasn’t easy. I could never have imagined what it would be like to watch someone die. Essie was sicker than we’d thought, and after only a few weeks she couldn’t even get out of bed. She stopped wearing make-up and kept her hair swept right back from her face. Mum had to wash her; she ate even less. Angie came often, bringing her positive energy every time in a way that became like a drug to us. And Essie had a stack of real drugs, too, to make her feel more comfortable, but she always looked like she was in pain.

Sometimes I’d remember a detail that was missing from her story. Why had the letter from her friend in London said ‘poor James’? What had happened to him? More questions like that would be on my lips when Essie was having a better day, but she’d earned the right to let it rest.

After a while it seemed as if she’d been in that bed forever. For days at a time I’d forget what she used to be like; how I’d been afraid of Essie and mystified by her for most of my life. The painting of her in our hallway became so familiar that I’d forget to look at it. It simply belonged there, like Essie. Visits to her room felt slow and difficult, but at the same time, the cancer was taking her so quickly. I almost couldn’t believe that cancer could get someone like Essie.

 

 

Mum was out with Angie one night when Essie called out. I walked round the foot of the bed and into the gap between Essie and the window that gave a view of the street. She opened her eyes.

‘You came,’ she breathed.

‘Of course,’ I said. But then she closed her eyes again. ‘Essie? Are you okay?’

‘Yes. It’s me, yes,’ she said, forcing her eyes open again. ‘I thought they’d taken you away.’

‘No one’s taken me, Essie.’ By now I was used to her saying things that didn’t make sense.

‘I saw you. From the window.’ She paused and coughed. She closed her eyes for a second longer, before she said, ‘I saw them take you, Jo. In the van. I wanted to help but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself.’

She cried as I stroked her hand.

‘It wasn’t your fault, Essie. I’m okay. Go to sleep now. Everything’s going to be fine.’

I stayed there for a while, my thoughts lost in a clear night sky. What had happened to Connie and all the other children who were stolen away? The thousands of them. It was as if they no longer existed in our bit of universe.

But then I remembered lying underneath the stars with Evan, and I got the feeling that those children were all the stars we can’t see. They were out there. I could believe in invisible things after all.

 

 

The day after was the first performance of Oklahoma at school. I knew Essie wouldn’t be able to come. We’d hired a nurse to sit with her. It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d stuck with my one line, but after everything had happened I’d gone to see Mr Inglewood. I wasn’t just Cowboy 3 any more.

‘I want to do something bigger,’ I’d said. ‘I don’t just want my crappy one line. Sorry.’

‘Sorry for what?’ he’d said.

‘Saying crappy.’

He’d laughed, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to make it too easy for me. ‘All the parts are taken, Hannah.’

‘I know, I don’t want to be up on stage. I could co-direct.’

He’d stayed silent. I’d imagined him having a dozen different reactions but none of them was indifference. It made me even more determined.

‘I can do it,’ I said firmly. ‘I think I’d be good.’

‘Right then.’ He smiled, and I knew he’d just been testing me. ‘Deal.’ We even shook hands. He was all right, I suppose. He fancied himself a bit, but then again, there weren’t many of us who didn’t. Except me, that is.

We were about to go on. Chloe and I had done a brilliant job of each pretending the other didn’t exist, but now we were stuck in the same space backstage. This felt like the one issue that hadn’t been resolved, left open and raw so it could never really heal.

I was right by the table where she was laying out props.

‘Nice hat,’ she said. It was sarcastic but it was also our first conversation in weeks so maybe I could run with it. Mr Inglewood had told me I still had to go on stage and say my stupid line even though I’d directed the whole thing. Co-directed.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘And it’s roomy, so I’ve got my one line hidden underneath it in case I forget.’

‘Even you couldn’t stuff that up.’ Chloe had her back to me and was frantically rummaging through a pile of clothes. She twisted round. ‘I can’t find Tess Edwards’ other shoe,’ she said, wide-eyed.

‘Where is it?’ Tess hissed from beside the curtain. ‘I’m on in five minutes.’

‘Sshh! Keep your wig on,’ I said. I bent down to help Chloe. It was odd being so close to her now. Her arms stopped moving suddenly and she gave me a conspiratorial wink as she showed me Tess’s shoe before burying it underneath a pile of holsters and billy kettles and frilly parasols.

I giggled, but then straightened up and gave Chloe a look.

‘Oh, fine, Miss Director.’ She rolled her eyes and flung the shoe. Tess nearly fell over trying to put it on, and then ran off.

It was just the two of us again, plus a bunch of other girls in costume who had no idea what had happened between Chloe and me.

‘So . . .’ I said.

‘Yep . . .’ Chloe crossed her arms. ‘Listen, it’s pretty shit how things turned out. But Evan wanted me to tell you that nobody made him ask you out. Even though I still think it’s gross, he did like you.’

I don’t know how well I managed to hide how happy this made me feel, but I gave it my best shot. ‘Okay. Thanks.’

‘I don’t know how to say this to you, Hannah.’ Chloe looked at her feet. I’d never seen her so awkward. ‘I think maybe we’re not that good for each other.’

I smiled. ‘I think maybe you’re right. It was fun though. Most of the time.’

She shrugged and winked at me, still so pretty and still a really special kind of person. And then it felt over. Properly finished. Another weight dissolved.

It took a few minutes to adjust my eyes to the lights bearing down on the stage. Then I could make out faces in the audience. On the right, Mum next to Ange next to Margot, then Sam and Dad, all in a row. I imagined the jokes we’d later share in the kitchen about how many fans had turned up just to hear me say ‘Howdy’. Margot whispered something to Sam and he pretended to get it, though I saw him make a face when she turned away.

I walked the path I was supposed to take to the makeshift fence, I found my mark in between Rachel and Justine. And then, before I even had a chance to get nervous, I said my line. It wasn’t such a big deal, after all.