The Secret Life Of Maeve Lee Kwong Part 14

'I think you're really something, Maeve.'

Suddenly, Maeve realised she should thank him but she wasn't sure how. She leant forward and gave Jackson a quick hug and then stepped back. Why did it always feel as if there was a charge of static electricity in the air when she was close to him?

'Gotta go,' said Maeve. 'My friend Steph is waiting out front for me.'

When she was settled in the taxi with Steph, Maeve pushed her face against the gla.s.s, watching the other performers stream out of the theatre.

'Do you have to make it so obvious?' said Steph.

'What?'

'That you'd rather be with Bianca than with me. At least you two got to be in the show together.'

'You could have auditioned as well.'

'No I couldn't. I would have had to quit my job. I can hardly keep up with my homework as it is. And now you're going to Ireland without me too. It's so not fair.'

Maeve turned to her. 'I'm not going to Ireland. My grandparents won't let me. And we're still the Three Musketeers, even if Bunka goes to Ireland without us. Nothing can change that.'

Back at the apartment, Maeve microwaved a packet of popcorn and they took the bowl into the guest room where Maeve stayed when her grandparents were in Sydney. They climbed into the big double bed and flicked on the television. Maeve was channel-surfing when Steph s.n.a.t.c.hed the controls out of her hand.

'No, wait,' said Steph, flicking back to SBS.

'We don't want to watch the news,' said Maeve. 'It's gross.'

'But it was about Iraq. Something has happened in Iraq.'

'Something's always happening in Iraq.'

Then Maeve realised why Steph had flipped out. A group of Australian soldiers had been attacked by a suicide bomber. Steph began to tremble.

'That's Ben's unit. That's my brother's unit,' she said. 'I know it is.'

There wasn't any question of Steph staying the night. She wanted to go home straight away, to wait for the updates. She was angry that her parents hadn't told her what had happened, but mostly she was frightened.

'I'll drive you home, Stephanie,' said Goong Goong. 'Get your things.'

'Can I come too, Goong Goong? To keep Steph company.'

'If you must,' he replied.

'Of course I must,' thought Maeve. 'That's what friends do for each other.'

Steph and Maeve sat in the back seat of the car together but every time they pa.s.sed under a streetlight, Maeve noticed Goong Goong was watching them in the mirror.

'Maeve tells me you work very hard at McDonald's, Stephanie, and that's why you weren't in the show.'

'Steph's even more into acting than I am,' said Maeve. 'She's really good. She's saving up to go on next year's drama trip.'

As soon as she'd said it, she bit her lip. Maybe Goong Goong would think it was flaky to want to be an actor.

'So you're working with a goal. To make money for the tour. I admire that sort of resourcefulness very much,' said Goong Goong.

Maeve felt Goong Goong's remark like a rebuke. It was as if she couldn't do anything that really pleased him.

'I was hoping to meet up with my brother in London,' said Steph. 'But now . . .' She leant forward and covered her face with her hands.

'Don't worry, Steph. Ben will be okay.'

'How can you know that?'

'Because one bad thing for the Musketeers is enough.'

'What if it's one bad thing for each of us?' whispered Steph.

On the ride home from Stephanie's, Goong Goong and Maeve didn't speak. It was as if they couldn't think of anything to say to each other without someone else there. Maeve wondered if it was like this when her mother was little. She thought about Will saying his father had held the family together after Will's mother died. All of a sudden, Maeve grew frightened at the idea that something might happen to Por Por and then there'd only be her and Goong Goong left, with this great gulf of silence between them. She was glad when they pulled into the apartment carpark.

Maeve was barely in the door again when Steph phoned in tears. For a minute, Maeve thought it was going to be bad news, but Steph was sobbing with relief. Everything was okay. When Steph's father had finally got through to the hospital, Ben had said he was injured but not badly. They were sending him back to London for R&R and there was nothing for his family to worry about.

'You were right, Maeve. My dad says all that superst.i.tious stuff about bad things happening in threes is dumb. He is such a rock, my dad.'

Maeve switched off her mobile phone and pulled the green notebook from her bedside table. She hadn't written in it since before the Seussmania audition. It opened up on the page with the picture of her father. Would he be a rock if she knew him? Her pen hovered over the page. She wanted to write something about him but she didn't know him well enough. She'd studied his letter from Nepal so many times that she could almost recite it, but there were no clues in it about who he really was.

Things I know about my father My father's name is David Lee. He was born in Ireland.

He has a good memory, he can recite poetry, he can draw and he could make my mum laugh.

He doesn't know I exist.

Things I know about Jackson His full name is Jackson Delaney Totafurno. He was born in Melbourne but came to live in Sydney when he was three. He is a great dancer, he can kick a.r.s.e and he can make me laugh. He thinks I'm really something.

Maeve laughed. 'Really something' didn't look very interesting when she wrote it down, but it had felt so good when Jackson said it. She wanted to keep thinking about Jackson, but the photo of her father kept staring up at her. If she looked at him for too long she felt as if she could disappear into the crazy man's eyes. He shouldn't matter to her. She had her grandparents, Ned and Andy, her friends, and now she even had Jackson. Why should it matter that she didn't know who her father was?

25.

The real thing McCabe had organised a barbecue in a park near his apartment in Coogee for the cast and crew of Seussmania along with their families. Goong Goong didn't want any of the Kwongs to go. He sat in front of the television with the remote, staring crossly at the screen. Maeve knew this wasn't the sort of fight he was going to win. Slowly, Maeve was starting to understand that when Por Por wanted something badly enough, she always had her way.

'Will you still be here when we get home?' asked Maeve.

Goong Goong made a cross, grunty sort of sound and ignored the question. His bags were by the front door, packed and ready to go for his flight to Melbourne.

'Goong Goong's flight is at seven, darling,' said Por Por, taking Maeve by the hand. 'But he'll be home in a few days.'

Por Por kissed him quickly on the top of his head before they left and Maeve waved. She still felt too shy of Goong Goong to kiss him goodbye.

As they drew the apartment door shut behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

'Why is Goong Goong so grumpy?' asked Maeve.

'Goong Goong has worked very hard all his life. When he was a little boy in China, he had nothing. Now, the things he has, he wants to hang onto.'

'Like us?'

Por Por's face did that neat and annoying trick of closing over and she didn't reply. Her expression became so still that Maeve couldn't guess what she was thinking.

The park at Coogee was bathed in a warm, filtered light that shone gold on the dry gra.s.s. The Norfolk pines cast blue shadows like tiger stripes across the ground. Jackson did a series of handsprings, his body a blur in the soft sunset glow. Maeve followed, cartwheeling across the park in his wake. She loved the feel of her body in motion, the way the world turned for her as she spun. She was so caught in the movement that she didn't realise Jackson had changed direction until he jackknifed into her. They landed in a tangle of limbs in the sandy gra.s.s.

'Ow, that so hurt!' said Maeve, sitting up and rubbing her forehead.

'Sorry,' said Jackson, looking genuinely worried. He leant in close to Maeve and touched her lightly on the forehead, brus.h.i.+ng a strand of hair away. Maeve laughed at the concern on his face.

'It's okay. I'm fine,' she said. 'How about you?'

'Fine,' he said, still frowning. He was looking at her so intently that Maeve wondered if she had something stuck on her face. She lifted one hand to brush her cheek but Jackson stopped her, holding her wrist gently. Then he leant forward and Maeve found herself leaning towards him too. It was as if there was a magnetic force, drawing them closer to each other until finally, she was kissing him, his lips warm against her own.

'Oi!' yelled Will. 'Cunning or what! Kick a girl in the face and then make your move!'

Maeve and Jackson leapt apart as if they'd been electrocuted. Will strode towards them across the yellow gra.s.s. He reached a hand down to each teenager and pulled them to their feet.

'Feeding time, wild things,' he said. He headed towards the picnic area, dragging them along behind him. Maeve saw the tattoos of Thing One and Thing Two peeking out from beneath his singlet top. She pointed at them and Jackson laughed. 'He loves us. That's why we're a pair of tatts on his back.'

'Too right,' said Will. 'You are a total Thing, not a human being.'

'What about me?' said Maeve, in mock offence. 'I was Thing Two!'

'You are a Warrior Princess occasionally disguised as a Thing, Maeve. There is a difference. He's the real Thing,' said Will over his shoulder.

'It's your fault. You are a bad influence, man,' yelled Jackson, wincing as Will twisted his wrist.

'Don't worry, little cuz. Your time will come. One day you will be a bad influence too,' said Will.

'My mum would freak if I turned out like you.'

Will turned around, tousled Jackson's hair and bowed to Maeve. 'Don't listen to the little a.r.s.ehole,' said Will. 'He should be so lucky. His mum adores me.'

Maeve felt laughter bubbling inside her. She'd always thought that only girls knew how to tease each other like this, but Will and Jackson were better than Bianca and Steph in full flight.

The cast and crew were starting to gather like seagulls around picnic tables groaning with food. Bianca was flirting with a guy from Newtown Secondary who had done the lighting design for Seussmania. All around, people were laughing and loading their plates with food. A cool breeze swept across the sea and made the branches of the dark pines wave gently. Maeve wanted to laugh out loud. Life could feel so perfect.

McCabe was turning meat on the barbecue while Por Por stood beside him, holding a platter loaded high with sausages. Maeve watched them laughing at some private joke and suddenly understood why Goong Goong hadn't wanted them to come.

As she sat with Jackson, watching the last glow of sunlight fade from the surface of the ocean, she wanted to ask him about every girl he'd ever met before her, but she couldn't bring herself to shape the question. It would sound as if she was stalking him. It seemed everyone had lived secret lives and the only bits she ever got to see were on the surface of things.

Later, everyone helped carry the remnants of the barbecue up to McCabe's apartment above the beach. Maeve heard the annoying tinkle of Por Por's phone ringing out over the cheerful conversations.

'I hate my gran's mobile tone,' she said to Jackson. 'It's so loud. Everyone always turns and checks us out when it rings. And she shouts into it, as if she can't believe such a little phone can work.'

Jackson laughed. 'Well, at least she uses one. Uncle Mac won't touch them. He is so techno-phobic.'

As they pushed their way into the crowded living room, Jackson touched her hand lightly and she felt a rush of warmth shoot up her arm and make her cheeks glow. It was only when she caught sight of Por Por that she felt the warmth ebb. Por Por stood on the balcony with McCabe, her face pale, eyes wide, clutching her mobile. McCabe had an arm around her, as if to steady her.

'Por Por,' said Maeve, stepping forward. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

'It's your grandfather. He's had a heart attack. On the flight to Melbourne. He's in hospital. We have to go to him. We have to go now.'

26.

A gift of the heart They took a plane to Melbourne that night. At first, Por Por tried to argue that Maeve would have to go back to St Philomena's but Maeve couldn't bear the idea. What if she never had the chance to see Goong Goong again?

As soon as they walked onto the white, bleak ward, Maeve had the same sinking feeling she'd had that terrible day at St Vincent's. Goong Goong looked so shrunken, attached to tubes and machines that monitored his heart and breathing. He was heavily sedated and didn't even know they were standing beside him. Maeve stared at his p.r.o.ne figure while Por Por spoke quietly with the doctor. Goong Goong was out of danger. They needed to have a good night's sleep and come back to the hospital in the morning. There was nothing they could do.

For a long time, Maeve lay awake worrying about Goong Goong. Every time the fridge in their hotel room rumbled, Por Por sighed, so Maeve knew she couldn't sleep either. The night seemed to last forever.

Why had she insisted on coming to Melbourne? It wasn't as if it made any difference to Goong Goong. Sometimes she wondered if he'd let her go to boarding school just to get rid of her. She knew her mother had been a disappointment, and already he seemed to disapprove of every choice that Maeve made. It was her fourteenth birthday on Thursday and none of her friends would be around to help her celebrate. Why did she want to please him so badly? Why did she feel so frightened of losing him?

The next day, Por Por and Maeve spent the morning at the hospital. Maeve hated the stark, bare waiting room but she fought down her distress and stayed close to her grandmother. Por Por looked as if someone had sucked out all her energy. She sat clutching the cup of tea that Maeve had brought, her brow lined with anxiety.

'Can't they tell us when he'll wake up?' asked Maeve.

'Some time this afternoon, perhaps,' said Por Por wearily.

'Por Por, you can't wait around here like this all day. It's not doing you any good and it's not helping Goong Goong. Why don't we go for a walk? You've got your mobile. They'll call if he needs you.'

Por Por didn't answer. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she sniffed the tea before setting it down on a table. Then she fumbled in her handbag, searching for something.

'Your Mr McCabe gave me the address of a restaurant that a friend of his owns. It's not far. Some good tea, that would help us both.'

At the Golden Phoenix restaurant, Por Por asked the matre d if Mr Keith Kwong was available. Within minutes, a man in a stylish, tailored black suit and a pale blue tie made his way towards them. His face was lined but his hair was still jet-black with only a hint of silver at the temples. He bowed slightly to Por Por and smiled at Maeve.

'I'm sorry we have to meet under such unfortunate circ.u.mstances, Madame Kwong. Colm phoned and explained your situation. If there's anything I can do to help, please feel free to call upon me.'

'Thank you. You're too kind. Good tea would be very soothing,' said Por Por.