fight verb: to struggle, to carry on
‘There’s a storm coming,’ Mum says as we eat fish and chips. ‘There’s the smell of rain in the air.’
Usually I love the sound of the water hitting the windows. Mum always turns the outside lights on so that we can see the garden, wet with storm. Tonight I feel unsettled. I want the next day to be warm, calm.
Mum starts quietly. ‘The good news is that the business is better. Not much, but a little. The thing is, we need to do a lot better. I don’t know if we can hold on much longer.’
Things are moving too quickly now.
‘You can have the money we’ve saved for New South Wales, Mum. I’ll work harder too. I promise.’
‘Gracie, it’s not your fault. It’s going to take more than just you and me to save the nursery.’ She eases herself off the chair and looks old. ‘Don’t worry. I think I know what we need.’
‘A miracle,’ I say.
‘Not quite, but I know a person who can help us.’
‘Can they help me too?’ I ask.
She touches my hair. ‘Gracie, don’t just sit back and wait for the next thing to happen. If you’re not happy, then do something about it.’
‘What should I do?’
‘I can’t tell you that, Gracie. No one can.’
I want Dad. I want to hear the sound of his keys in the lock, his bag dropping at the door. I want him to come home and stop the wind howling.
Don’t let go, Gracie. Hold on. Fight.