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.
Maeve nodded and sat down on the end of Gina’s bed. ‘I wish they’d put me in here with you,’ she grumbled.
Gina laughed softly. ‘I’d drive you crazy too, girl,’ she said.
‘I’ve never had to share a room with anyone before. Except my baby brother, and he didn’t really count. He just made cute little snuffly noises.’
‘Lucky you don’t come from my family,’ said Gina. ‘I shared with three sisters but they were a lot noisier than this mob.’ She gestured towards the three sleeping figures in the other beds.
Gina pushed her ear against the wall. ‘I reckon Viv is going to be talking all night.’ She lifted up the doona and wriggled over to make room for Maeve. ‘I’ve got to get up early for training, so you’d better not kick me in your sleep.’
Maeve giggled and got in beside her. ‘Talk about kicking. You kick like a bloody kangaroo. Everyone reckons you’re gonna be the next Cathy Freeman.’
‘McCabe thinks that’s pretty funny. You know he got me a music scholarship to come here?’
‘I thought you got a sports scholarship.’
‘Yeah, everyone thinks that, but you know that Koori singer, Rosie Malloy?’
‘Nope,’ said Maeve, yawning sleepily.
‘You’re a city slicker, that’s why. She sings country, like Kasey Chambers except she’s really old, like a legend. She came to Tamworth and heard me sing and dobbed me in to McCabe. Next thing I know, I’m on a train down here. Then they find out I can run too, and so next year I’m gonna have a sports scholarship and McCabe’s going to give the music scholarship to someone else. That bloke is a serious do-gooder.’
‘Don’t you like being here?’
‘Sure, it’s good. But it’s not like being at home, is it?’
Maeve snuggled down under the bedding and tried to make enough space for herself on the edge of the mattress. She hadn’t imagined that life in the boarding school would be like this – so crowded, so full of gossip and new people. And so not like a home. When she’d read the Harry Potter books she’d imagined that boarding school might be like a home away from home, but it was more like a secret club. During the day, the boarders avoided each other. It was as if your life depended on having other friends that kept you connected to the real world. Nothing belonged to you, nothing was permanent, everyone had lives somewhere else that were more important than anything that happened in the boarding house. It was nothing like Hogwarts.
Maeve woke up to find Gina gone and the rest of the dormitory scrambling to get organised for the school day. She trudged back to her room and looked at the mess of papers and homework that covered her desk. She was glad it was Friday.
The best thing about Fridays was Ned. After school, Maeve caught the bus over to Balmain and ran all the way back to her old home. Somehow, when she was with Ned, everything seemed to make sense. He was growing up fast, starting to look more like a little boy and less like a toddler. But when he wrapped his arms tight around her neck and pressed his face into her shoulder, Maeve could almost imagine that they still lived together under the same roof, that nothing had changed for them.
On that hot Friday afternoon, Maeve filled the paddle pool and dressed Ned in his bathers. A magpie laughed as Ned squealed and splashed in the shade of the gum tree. At first Maeve sat and watched, but the heat was so intense that she soon peeled off her socks and sandals and jumped in beside him. She didn’t even bother to take off her school uniform.
‘Whoops,’ said Ned, laughing as he filled a plastic cup with water and tipped it on Maeve’s head. They were still splashing in the pool when Andy came home from the supermarket. He called down to them from the kitchen window and Ned waved back, shouting ‘Dad! Dad! Dad!’
Maeve hauled Ned out of the water and carried him up the back steps. They sat dripping on the doorstep, eating icypoles while Andy put away the shopping.
‘Maybe you should nip upstairs and get something dry to wear over to Steph’s,’ said Andy.
‘I’m not going to Steph’s tonight. She has to work, and Bianca has a date. We’re meeting up tomorrow morning instead. I don’t mind going back to school all wet,’ said Maeve.
‘You could take something of Sue’s. I’ve been meaning to ask you to take what you want. I’ll have to do something with her clothes when we move.’
‘You’re not going to move, really?’ asked Maeve, turning to stare at Andy in dismay.
‘I can’t hold out against your grandparents, Maeve. Besides, the place is too big with just me and Ned rattling around in it. We don’t use the extra rooms and I need a new start. I was thinking maybe we’ll move up to Byron. It’s closer to my parents so they can help me out with Ned more.’
‘But that’s miles away from me! I’ll never get to see Ned if you take him away from Sydney. And this is our home. I mean, what if I want to come back and live here?’
‘Live with me?’ asked Andy, incredulous. ‘You know your grandparents would have a fit. Jesus, they’d take Ned off me if they could.’
‘But what if I want to come back, when I’m eighteen? They couldn’t stop me then!’
‘Honey, I’m not your father.’
Maeve felt her face blushing crimson and she pressed her hands against her cheeks. She dropped the icypole on the steps, leapt to her feet and ran through the kitchen, taking the stairs up to the second floor two at a time.
She’d run to her bedroom on instinct. As soon as she opened the door and looked in at the piles of boxes and stripped-down bed, a wave of misery washed over her. She slammed the door and ran back along the hallway, straight to the main bedroom, a long, elegant room with doors opening on to the upstairs balcony. As soon as she’d shut the door, she regretted coming in here too.
When Maeve was little, she used to climb into her mother’s big bed and press her face against the pillows. There was something sweet and warm and comforting about the smell that used to make her feel calmer. But it didn’t smell like her mother’s room any more. It had a stale, sweaty man’s smell, and Andy’s clothes lay in piles on every piece of furniture.
Maeve slid open the doors of the wardrobe. She ran her hand across the clothes, feeling the softness of her mother’s silk blouses, the coarse texture of the winter coat. She buried her face in them. It was terrible to think that anyone but Sue should wear these clothes. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she stripped them from their hangers and threw them in a pile on the floor. Each item of clothing stirred a memory of an event, a moment Maeve had shared with her mother, that made her chest ache.
Maeve knelt on the floor and took out each pair of shoes, cradling them in her hands. They were so tiny! She crawled into the back of the cupboard and pulled out all the old shoeboxes, folding back the tissue paper to uncover the history of her mother’s shoes. The very last box felt lighter than the others. When Maeve lifted the lid she discovered it held a pile of letters. Most of the letters were in Por Por’s handwriting. Maeve didn’t want to read those. It felt too much like prying into Por Por’s business. There was also a small collection of pale blue envelopes from Andy. Then, right at the bottom of the shoebox, there was a single creased envelope with unfamiliar handwriting on the front. It was covered in stamps from Nepal and Maeve knew, instantly, that it had to be the letter her mother had told her about, the letter from her father. Inside were folds of fine onionskin paper covered with small drawings and words.
As she separated the sheets, a strip of passport photos fell to the floor. The face that looked up at her was sharp and craggy. Maeve cupped the photos in her hand and studied her father’s features. His eyes were so pale, they looked as if they could be colourless. His dark hair was matted in thick curly dreadlocks, and he stared at the camera with an intensity that made her shiver. She thought of Andy’s friendly face. But she couldn’t compare them. Andy wasn’t her father. He’d said so himself.
Maeve took a long purple shawl from the pile of clothes behind her and wrapped it around the letter. Swiftly she stripped off her uniform and slipped into a free-fitting cotton dress. It had reached the ground when her mother wore it, but it only came halfway up Maeve’s calves. Without allowing herself to cry, she picked out a couple of shirts, a jumper and a single pair of winter gloves from the pile of discarded clothing. She gathered up her wet uniform and padded back downstairs, the letter from her father tightly bound in the web of her mother’s clothes.