I don’t wait for the brownies to cool. I’m in too much of a hurry, and Sooz once said she liked them best when they were still warm and the choc chips were a bit melty.
“I’ll be back by dinnertime,” I call as I grab my helmet and head for the garage. Even though Dad and Gran are both at the dining table – him reading the newspaper and her texting Archie – Rocky is the only one who acknowledges my departure. Mum’s still in bed.
Siouxsie’s mum is wearing her usual assortment of chunky silver jewellery and beads and has a string of bells around one ankle, which makes it sound like a herd of very small cows is coming to open the door. She greets me with a big hug.
“If you’re looking for Sooz, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. She’s at her dad’s,” she says when she’s done squeezing me.
“Her dad’s? Is she working today?”
Pam cocks her head and gives me the same expression Siouxsie gets when she thinks I’ve lost the plot. “No, she’s at Mike’s apartment. Didn’t Sooz tell you he moved out?”
I shake my head, speechless.
“Poor love, a visit from you is probably just what she needs.”
She tinkles away from the door before I have time to protest that I may actually be the last person Siouxsie wants to see, returning a minute later with a city address on a scrap of paper. “Give her a hug from me and tell her I miss her.”
According to the plaque outside Siouxsie’s dad’s building, until a couple of years ago it was the tallest residential block in the city. I chain my bike outside and walk slowly towards the revolving doors. It would be so easy to turn around now and pretend I was never here. I could go home and call Sooz to casually suggest we catch a movie at the Astor and see if she brings it up herself. Or better yet, email her and see whether she responds at all.
“Are you coming in or just admiring the architecture?”
Siouxsie’s standing behind me, holding two bulging bags stamped with the logo of the convenience store on the corner.
“Um, coming in … if that’s okay?”
She gives a single nod and steps into the revolving door. I follow a step too closely and we end up in the same glassed segment. From the way Sooz legs it out the door as soon as we get to the lobby, I get the feeling it’s too close for comfort. It’s the same in the lift, where we both stare straight ahead like we’re strangers. When we get to the thirty-third floor the doors open with a soft bing and I follow Siouxsie up a beige corridor to apartment 3309.
“Excuse the mess,” says Siouxsie, dumping the shopping bags on the kitchen bench when we get inside. “When Mike decided he wanted to start his new life on New Year’s Eve, he didn’t think about taking any time off work to unpack.” She sees me looking from the kitchen to the large living room, which is furnished with a folding chair and two milk crates. “He didn’t think about buying any furniture, either.”
I walk to one of the full-length windows that lead out to a small balcony. “The view’s amazing, though.”
Siouxsie stops rifling through the shopping bags and comes to stand next to me. “It is,” she says, gazing over the river towards the botanic gardens. “You should’ve seen the fireworks on New Year’s Eve. This year I’m chucking Mike out and we’re partying here.”
“You were here on New Year’s Eve? I thought you were – oh.”
“I didn’t want Mike to be all alone. For all his talk about how happy he is to be his own man again, he’s pretty miserable most of the time. And thirty-three storeys is a long way to fall.”
If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself, I would’ve realised that there was more to Siouxsie withdrawing from everything than just being pissed off that I hadn’t told her about Mum.
She doesn’t look at me when I put my arm around her shoulder, but she doesn’t pull away. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, really. The split’s been on the cards for months,” she says. “It took finding out about Pam’s lover to force him to do something about it, finally.”
“Pam had an affair?”
“Correction: is having one. Turns out her friend Max from book club is more than just a reading buddy.”
I shake my head in disbelief. In my mind affairs are had by movie stars and politicians, not mums from Parkville. It sounds as unlikely as Dad announcing that someone wants to publish his book.
Siouxsie fills me in on the whole story while we devour most of the brownies. “I’m not so fussed about the divorce,” she says, licking chocolate from her fingers. “It’s more that Mum didn’t have the decency to end things with Dad before starting another relationship. I mean, that’s just good manners, don’t you think? And they could’ve sorted out the furniture situation first, too – I don’t even have a bed here.”
When Siouxsie calls her parents Mum and Dad instead of by their first names, I know she’s not coping nearly as well as she’s making out. We unpack the rest of the boxes in the kitchen and make a long list of all the things Mike needs (such as forks).
“Do you want to stay at my place tonight?” I ask as I’m leaving. “The sofa bed’s not the greatest, but it can fit two if we kick Boris out.”
Siouxsie’s face brightens for an instant before fading again. “What about your mum? Is she well enough to have people to stay?”
“Mum would love to see you,” I assure her. “And Dad’ll appreciate having someone else there to dilute Gran. If he wasn’t so worried about Mum, I reckon he would try to move in here with Mike till she goes back to Queensland.”
“Okay, I definitely have to see this gran of yours for myself! I’ll get Mike to drive me over when he gets back from work.”
Gran’s sitting in what’s become her usual armchair when I get home, but something feels out of place. It takes me a moment to realise she’s not knitting. Her tote bag is at her feet and she’s staring into a mug of tea.
“Hi, Gran.”
“There you are, Bloss. Be a good girl and call us a cab. Tell them it’s urgent.” Her voice is even, but she doesn’t sound her usual bossy self.
“What’s happened? Where are we going?”
“I’m afraid Gene’s taken a turn for the worse – some kind of infection, they think. Your dad’s already at the hospital, but I said I’d wait and come with you.”
“What about Ziggy?”
“He’s at that boy’s house. Terence called there, but Ziggy didn’t want to go to the hospital. I don’t think he’s handling this very well.”
None of us are, I think as I dial the number on the Silver Cabs card Mum keeps by the phone. But we’re still doing our bit, aren’t we? After ten minutes of listening to an instrumental version of that song from Titanic and being told intermittently how important my call is, I hang up and dial another number.
Jay honks his horn less than five minutes later. Either he didn’t lock up when he left Switch or he’s ignored the speed limit. Right now I don’t care which it is.
“Come on, Gran. Our lift’s here.”
Jay gives a little wave when he sees us coming down the driveway. “You must be Thelma,” he says, opening the front passenger door of his enormous old car for her. “Freia’s told me all about you.”
“Really,” says Gran, turning to shoot me a raised eyebrow over the back of her seat. “She’s told me nothing about you.”
“I’m Jay. Nicky’s boyfriend.”
“Nicky’s my English tutor, Gran. You met her when you visited last year.”
“Was she the pretty girl with overdyed hair and too much red lipstick?”
“Gran!”
Jay laughs. “That sounds about right. Luckily, I find overdyed hair and red lipstick irresistible.”
Finding herself with a new male to flirt with lifts Gran’s mood. While I stare at the traffic, willing it to part so that we can escape the peak-hour crush, the two of them chat like old friends. Gran tells Jay about Rocky’s nervous twitch and moans about Archie coming on too strong, and Jay tells her how much he misses Nicky and that he can empathise with Archie, which makes Gran giggle and check her lippie in the side mirror.
When Jay pulls up outside the hospital he hops out to open Gran’s door. “I hope your mum’s okay,” he says to me. “You know where I am if you need me.”
I nod without making eye contact and step towards the sliding glass doors, pulling Gran with me.
The woman on the front desk tells us that Mum’s been taken to the Intensive Care Unit. “You can go to ICU and find out how she’s doing,” she says, “but they might not let you see her.”
Gran mutters under her breath all the way, something about a mother’s right to be with her child and jumped-up nurses with superiority complexes. I cross fingers that we get to see Mum before Gran does something to get us kicked out of the building altogether. She marches through the swinging doors marked Intensive Care – Visitors Restricted and is marched straight back out.
“It’s strictly one visitor at a time in the ICU,” says the nurse, directing Gran to a row of plastic seats. “I’ll let your son-in-law know you’re here.”
Gran scowls but sits down. She resumes her muttering. I take the seat next to her even though I’d rather pretend I wasn’t with the crazy old lady who’s talking to herself. A couple of minutes later Dad comes through the swinging doors. He looks exhausted. Exhausted and terrified. He gives me a sad smile.
“What’s happening? How’s Gene?” demands Gran.
“She’s stable but she still has a very high temperature. They think it’s some kind of bacterial infection but they have to wait for the pathology results to know how to treat it.”
“Is she in pain?” I ask, imagining Mum’s face twisted in agony.
“She’s agitated, but they’ve given her a sedative, so she’s barely awake. To be honest, I’m not sure she knows what’s going on.” As Dad speaks, his face crumples and his shoulders hunch.
I stand and hug him as tightly as I can. “She’ll be okay,” I say, trying to sound as if I believe it.
The Rocky theme song makes us both jump.
“Bloody Archie,” says Gran, pulling her phone from her handbag. “I said I’d call you later,” she barks without saying hello. Then, “Oh. Sorry, Mrs Biggie, I mean, Mrs Biggins. I thought you were someone else … Yes, he’s here.”
She holds the phone out to Dad who puts it cautiously to his ear, as if he’s scared it might bite him. He gets as far in the conversation as “Hello?” before the nurse returns, points to the Switch Off Your Phone sign and nods to the door that leads back to the main foyer. As the door swings behind him, Dad says, “He’s done what?”
Dad returns a few minutes later. “That was Paul’s mum,” he says, as if we didn’t already know. “Ziggy’s at the police station.”
“What for?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Mrs Biggins is in a panic; she wasn’t making much sense – something about vandalism and a park ranger. I have to go to the station so they can interview him.”
“But what about Mum? What if something happens to her while you’re gone?”
“Freia’s right,” says Gran. “You should stay here and I’ll look after Ziggy. I’ve seen enough of those LA cop shows to know when they’re intimidating the suspect.”
“Thanks, Thelma, but I really think I should go. If anything happens to Ziggy, Gene will be furious with me.”
Gran makes Dad take her phone with him so we can call if there’s any news about Mum. “And if Archie calls, tell him I’m on a hot date,” she says with an evil cackle.
After Dad leaves, the nurse says one of us can go in and see Mum.
“You go,” I tell Gran. “I should let Siouxsie know what’s going on.” Besides, I’m scared of seeing Mum by myself.