NINE

I make straight for the computers at the back. A navy-

polo-shirted guy says, Yo! You need help?
No... just looking... thanks. Hell think Im crazy
if I ask how to connect to the internet. I click furiously on
icons. Boxes appear, but I cant see where to type in my
keywords. Whole minutes go by. My underarms are damp
and prickly. I picture Mom stirring her soup and I bite the
inside of my lip, drawing blood.
What are you doing?
I turn and see a girl around ten years old staring at
my screen of boxes. Is this connected to the internet?
I ask. I take a step backwards and let the unspoken words
jump between us. Please help me. A few clicks from her
and Im connected. Thanks, I say, and suddenly I have
unrestricted access to the world and no one can check
what I search. Theres a f loating sensation in my body and
the blood-taste of rebellion in my mouth.

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 I search Vonnie Hill England. There are a few listed but I
cant find out much about them. One has run a marathon
and raised over three thousand pounds. Another has a dog-
walking business. Theres no indication that any of them
has recently died.
The store is filling up. Theres another customer
hovering behind me. I search Frank Hill England and
there are heaps, but I dont know how to contact them.
I think I might have to join a website and give an email
address. I put Vonnie Frank Louelle Hill UK into the
search bar and odd ancestry websites show up which
dont help.
What was I expecting? Im not sure, but something
more. Perhaps a newspaper article about my grandmothers
death, naming her children, Frank and Louelle. The
English side of my family is just as much a mystery as they
were to me before.
I should leave. I clear the screen and weave my way
back through the store. When I reach the entrance, I
glance across at the security guard and my lungs implode.
Hes talking to Mick.
Mick has his arms out in front of him. Teenager. Dark
brown hair. Tanned. Green top, maybe. Dunno. This
height.
I turn back and vaguely attach myself to a group of
three chatting women. Im wearing a dark purple top and
Im taller than Mick thinks. I hope he keeps distracting
the security guard. Fear fuses with nausea, and I force

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myself to move. Once outside the store, I speed-walk to
the restaurant, my breath uneven and painful.
Mom is slumped back against the wall of the booth.
Her eyes are closed. When I take her arm, she shudders,
and then her eyes open. Mae! her voice is faint. Mick
went looking for you.
I went to the bathroom, Mom, I say. Did you tell
him?
She nods. Need to go back. Not feeling well. She
looks towards the purse on the table. I paid the bill.
Ive made her stressed, by ordering the potato chips and
by disappearing for longer than she was expecting. And
before that, by telling her about Franks phone call. I think
the news about her moms death has hit her hard. Im
sorry, I say softly, but I dont think she hears.
I gather up our bags and stand by the table to wait for
Mick to return. Its something Thet taught me: standing
makes you braver.
He calls across the restaurant when he sees me, so that
most people turn to look at us. Whereve you been, Mae?
Your moms been on her own.
I refuse to speak until hes closer, but that might have
been a mistake because his face is contorted with irritation
by the time he reaches me. One of my legs is shaking. I
dont know if having curious witnesses here will stop him
behaving like he does at the Creek.
The restroom, I say.
I looked, he says. You werent there.

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 Coldness spreads through me. Mick went into the
female bathroom to look for me?
You must have missed me, I say. I work really hard
on keeping my voice level. All I want is to get Mom
home. We should go. Moms not well.
Mick stares at me. Is he going to yell and spit at me,
boot-camp style? You know the rules, Mae. You stay
with your adult at all times.
My adult wasnt well enough to come with me, I say,
and thats it. Moms saved me. It doesnt make me feel any
better about myself though, and Micks bound to make
sure Im never allowed her as my supervising adult again.
We help Mom to stand up and she leans against Mick
all the way to the car. When hes helped her on to the back
seat, I climb in next to her and fasten her seatbelt. Mick
selects his music, and I scooch closer to her and whisper,
We shouldnt have come. Im sorry. This time I make
sure she hears.
I want you to be happy, she says.
Well be home soon, I say, because I want it to be
true. Were still driving circuits of the parking lot on the
way to the exit.
Your dad will run tests on me, she says in a f lat
voice.
Hell make you better. I think of my conversation
with Raoul. Were lucky to have world-class healthcare.
You remember your appendicitis? Mom murmurs,
then sits up straighter. Shes waiting for an answer. When

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you had to go to hospital? Do you remember?
Not really, I say. It was back when we were in the
UK. My memories are like snippets of blurry footage,
each a few seconds long. Crying because I didnt want to
wear the hospital gown. Mum lying on a bed with me. A
Winnie the Pooh toy with a bandage round its stomach.
Dyou remember the horse? asks Mom.
Sorry?
The horse, Mae. The horse was there. She sounds
distressed. Her face is very pale.
I nod. This conversation frightens me because I dont
understand it and it seems to be important to her.
In the hospital, says Mom. There are sweat beads on
her nose and her body is hot. It was the last time. Her
eyelids f lutter and her mind slides away someplace else.
Mick lowers the music volume.
Mom? I ask.
Keep her awake, says Mick.
But I cant, however much I squeeze her arms and shake
her shoulders.
We have to take her to the hospital in Pattonville, I
tell Mick.
He drives faster, towards the highway. Were going
back to the Creek, he says.
Please, I say. Pattonvilles hospital must be closer.
No, says Mick. Well do as I say. He reaches for his
cell phone. I listen to him call Creek reception, explaining
were going to need medical help when we arrive.

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 I shift Moms body, trying to make her more
comfortable, and I hold her hand so she knows Im close.
Nearly there, I mutter, over and over as the journey goes
on for ever.
Finally, I see the sign for the Creek. The gates are open.
Raoul is there, and moments later hes checking Moms
pulse, then looking at her watch. Dad is running down
the drive.
When Dad reaches us he barks at me, What are her
symptoms?
Muscle pain. Headache, no energy, not making sense,
I say. And pins and needles in her neck.
He nods. You get out, Mae. Go through security
clearance. Mick, Ill see you later.
I take the bags. Dad scoops up Mom as if shes a child
and hes rescuing her. I watch him carry her up the steps
to the main building, Raoul beside him. Its the quickest
way to the medical suite.
In the security building I place my bags on the scanner,
and a female security guard pats me down, then says,
Cleared to go. I mumble goodbye to Mick whos signing
us back in and handing over his cell phone, and he grunts
in reply.

I wait all afternoon in the apartment for someone to

tell me whats happening with Mom. I tidy away my
new clothes, watch TV, lean over the roof terrace to
gaze at people walking around the grounds, and practise

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calligraphy with my newest pen. I write Louelle Hill in
different styles and then block them out with a thick
Sharpie before scrunching the paper and burying it in the
kitchen trash. I pick up the phone and hover my finger
over the zero, but even if reception puts me through to the
medical suite, I wont be told anything because Im being
impatient. I have to be mindful. I have to trust.
The sun goes in and a breeze starts up. I sit on the
terrace and pick a leaf off one of the plants. Tearing off
tiny piece after tiny piece, I say in my head: OK, not OK,
OK, not OK.
When the front door opens, Im on my feet. Its Raoul
with a couple of medical bags. I rush towards him. Hows
Mom?
Shell be OK. He sees my face. You doubted your
father? He holds up his bags. Shes coming back here
soon, and Im setting up my nursing station. Your mom
will have gold-star care. Nothing to worry about, little
lady.
I hate how he fobs me off. Shes really ill, I say.
She has me, says Raoul. He pushes his wide chest
outwards. Im the best nurse. In fact Im more than the
best nurse, Im a biochemist.
What does that mean? I ask.
Raoul carries on through to Mom and Dads bedroom.
It means I understand her illness, he says. Shes lucky
to have me.
About an hour later, Dad brings Mom over in a

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wheelchair. Shes sleepy with a drip in her arm but her skin
is a better colour. Dad and Raoul settle her in bed while I
wait in the living room.
When Dad emerges for dinner he tells me Im not
allowed to see her until tomorrow afternoon. She needs
complete rest.
Whats wrong with her? I ask. Its strange eating at
the table, just the two of us. Moms always eaten dinner
with me. Always.
Not a lot, he says, as he hands me my vitamin. Shes
run down.
No matter what he and Raoul say, Im worried about
Moms condition. How can it be nothing serious if she
wasnt making sense and has to be monitored twenty-four
hours a day?
After dinner I go to my room to read one of the books
on Ms Rays list: Animal Farm by George Orwell. My
mind keeps thinking of the bizarre image of a horse in the
hospital. Mom was there when I had my appendix out.
Dad wasnt there. He must have been working as usual.
Wait. There was someone else there before my operation
when my stomach hurt so badly. An older woman with
a lined face. Drawn-on eyebrows. She gave me sweets,
which Mom said I wasnt allowed to eat, and the plastic
horse. The one on my chest of drawers. I get up and go
pick it up, and the memory becomes a little stronger. The
woman hugged me and told me that soon the pain would
be gone. Mom cried when she left.

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 We left England soon afterwards. Might that woman
have been Moms mom, my grandmother, meeting us
without Dad knowing? Was that the last time Mom and
I saw her?

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