The Secret Life Of Maeve Lee Kwong Part 15

After he'd gone, Por Por pulled out her mobile phone and stared at it, as if willing it to ring.

'Call the hospital for me, Siu Siu,' she said, handing Maeve her phone. 'Perhaps they have forgotten my phone number.'

Obediently, Maeve dialled the number, asked for the nurse on Goong Goong's ward and then handed the phone to Por Por. Maeve could tell by the look on her grandmother's face that there was no news.

'We could be in Melbourne days or weeks. What will your Mr McCabe think of you missing so much school?'

'The school will be fine about it, Por Por. Don't worry.'

'But your Mr McCabe is probably wondering about Goong Goong too. We should call him.'

'There's nothing to tell him yet. And please stop calling him my Mr McCabe!' said Maeve. 'He's your friend. He's only my teacher.'

'Jun see jong dou!' scolded Por Por.

'What's that mean?'

'It means your teachers are precious and must be respected. Respect for your teachers, respect for the past these things are important, Siu Siu. If you don't honour the past, the ghosts can come back to haunt you. Haven't I told you that before? Hungry ghosts are spirits that haven't been honoured.'

Suddenly, they both realised that Keith Kwong and a waiter with a tray of tea things were standing at their table. Maeve blushed. Por Por had never scolded her in front of strangers. Keith looked from Maeve to her grandmother.

'Perhaps what both you ladies need is some distraction from your worries,' he said. 'I have another restaurant in Williamstown. It's a beautiful drive over the West Gate Bridge. Please, let me give you a small tour and be my guests for lunch. You must see Williamstown. That's real old Melbourne. Colm and I lived there when we were kids.'

Keith Kwong's restaurant in Williamstown overlooked the blue-grey waters of Port Phillip Bay. Maeve watched the colour flood back into Por Por's cheeks as she ate. Even though they only managed to eat a small amount, the food was so delicious that they both felt more optimistic.

As they drove along the waterfront on their way back to the city, Maeve looked at the sea wistfully. Her body ached to be in motion. She hated the thought of having to return to the confines of the hospital waiting room.

'Could we go for a walk along the beach before we go back, please?' she asked.

'Sounds like a great idea to me,' said Keith.

Por Por shut her eyes, her face drawn with tiredness. 'Perhaps I'll wait for you here.'

Keith parked in a quiet spot so they could walk along the foresh.o.r.e while Por Por napped in the car. Maeve tucked her hair behind her ears and put her head down into the wind. When a bad squall moved in across the water, they both broke into a run. Ahead, a lump of rock stood in the middle of the gra.s.sy strand. It was barely big enough to shelter the two of them.

'Sorry about this!' shouted Keith above the wind.

'It's okay. I like it. Besides, it was my idea.'

Maeve turned and touched the bronze plaque set into the rock.

'What is this thing?'

'I think they call it the Famine Rock.'

Maeve read the inscription. 'It says they put it up for the 150th anniversary of the Irish famine. It says Irish orphan girls landed here. I wish I could go there Ireland, I mean.'

Keith laughed. 'Ireland before China?'

'I'm just as Irish as I am Chinese. I mean I'm not either, really. I'm Aussie.'

'That's the way I used to feel. But if you travel, you wind up carrying pieces of everywhere inside you like long-lost loves. You know, when I go to China now, when I see the lights of Hong Kong harbour, I feel the same sort of excitement that I feel when the plane circles over Port Phillip Bay. It's as if I have two homes, two hearts, two languages.'

'I've only got one of everything,' said Maeve. She glanced over at the car, suddenly worried. Por Por was holding her mobile phone, frowning at the keypad.

'I think we should be getting back to the hospital,' said Maeve. Suddenly she felt frightened that she might have only one grandparent.

Shortly before dinner, Maeve and Por Por were finally allowed in to see Goong Goong. He was sitting up in bed watching television and looking tired, but he smiled when they came into the room. After ten minutes of stilted conversation, Por Por left to buy Goong Goong something from Chinatown for his evening meal. They'd both decided the hospital food was inedible.

'I'll come and help,' said Maeve.

'No, you must mind your Goong Goong,' said Por Por. 'I won't be long.'

Maeve sat down on the chair beside the bed and she and Goong Goong silently watched the evening news.

Suddenly Goong Goong offered the remote to Maeve. 'Would you like to be in charge?' he asked.

'That's okay, Goong Goong. I'll watch whatever you want to watch.'

But Goong Goong switched the TV off and turned to gaze at Maeve.

'So we will talk instead,' he said.

Maeve felt a tightness in her chest. She and Goong Goong never talked about anything. She fumbled around in her memory, trying to think of something to say that he might find interesting. But she didn't know anything about banks or business or the stock market or any of the things he probably thought were good to talk about. She took a breath, but no words emerged.

'It's your birthday on Thursday,' he said. 'Fourteen years old this week. Have you thought what you might like for a birthday gift?'

Maeve didn't know how to answer. She was surprised Goong Goong even remembered when her birthday was. He'd never even signed the birthday cards that Por Por had sent over the years.

'Ummm. Not really,' she said.

'Well, I have been thinking of this problem.'

He gestured to the drawer beside the bed and Maeve pulled it open.

'Could you find me my wallet, Siu Siu. They've taken out all my cards and all my money and put them in the safe deposit. But there is something very valuable that I have kept which I believe is very precious. I want to show you.'

Maeve took out her grandfather's s.h.i.+ny black leather wallet. She noticed how smooth it was as she handed it to him.

He frowned as he pulled open the compartments and looked inside.

'Ah, here it is.'

It was a tiny sc.r.a.p of paper folded in half. Silently he handed it to Maeve. When she unfolded it, she saw it was a page torn from a desk diary: 17 March 1991, the day Maeve was born.

'I've carried it with me since that day. A most auspicious date, don't you agree?'

Maeve smiled and looked at the slip of paper in awe. She tried to imagine her grandfather at his desk when the phone call came through that she had been born, carefully removing the date from his desk calendar and putting it in his wallet. On the bottom of the page, a quote for the day was printed in tiny letters: The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears. Francis Bacon, 15611626.

Maeve folded the slip of paper into a neat square again and put it back in the wallet.

'Thanks, Goong Goong,' she said.

Goong Goong reached out to her and for a minute she thought he simply wanted the paper back, but he took her hand and clasped it in both of his.

'I think, for your fourteenth birthday, I would like to give you and your friend Stephanie a gift. I believe a gift you can share with your friend will give the most pleasure. So I would like for you both to go on this trip that your teacher proposed. My gift to you, Maeve.'

Maeve felt her eyes sting with tears. 'You don't have to do that, Goong Goong. You just have to get better. That will be a really good present.'

'No. I'm still the person in charge around here and I say you and Stephanie will go on this drama tour. Okay?'

Maeve laughed through her tears. 'Okay, Goong Goong. You're still the boss.'

27.

Guilty secrets On the morning of Maeve's fourteenth birthday, Por Por put her in a taxi to the airport. Goong Goong and Por Por would be following in a few more days but they both wanted Maeve to get back to Sydney in time to celebrate her birthday with her friends. As the taxi tried to cross one of the main streets, it was stopped by police who were holding up traffic while a parade meandered past. A slow-moving truck nudged along the wide main street. It was decorated in green and Maeve caught a glimpse of a green and gold banner. On the back of the truck, sitting on a throne, was a man with a long white beard wearing green and gold robes and holding a bishop's mitre.

'Is that the St Patrick's Day Parade?' Maeve asked the taxi-driver.

'St Patrick's Day?' echoed the driver, mystified. But Maeve knew she was right. She leant out the window and watched the parade pa.s.s by.

Following the truck was a troupe of Irish dancers in traditional costume twirling ribbons as if they were straight out of Riverdance. In the midst of the youngest dancers was a small Asian girl. Beside the freckle-faced blonde and red-headed dancers, she looked oddly out of place. Would Maeve be out of place in Ireland? If she found her father, would he expect her to become part of his life? She felt a guilty s.h.i.+ver at the thought of him. To search for her father when Goong Goong had been the one to make her journey possible felt like a betrayal.

Steph couldn't believe that Goong Goong had offered to pay her way. At first her parents weren't keen for her to accept, but when she argued that it meant she'd be able to see Ben and that if she didn't go Maeve might not be allowed, they relented. The trip was to fall across part of the first-term break and one week of second term.

On a cool autumn night a week before they were to depart, Maeve pushed a chair up against the door of the bedroom she shared with Viv. She needed to dance without being interrupted. The music from the portable CD player sounded tinny in the boarding-house bedroom, but she didn't care. The song was 'Blue and Yellow' by The Used, and it suited her mood. She wanted to dance until she didn't feel anything but the rhythm of the music filling every corner of her mind.

When Gina banged on the thin part.i.tion wall, Maeve turned off the CD player and sat on the floor, annoyed. There were so many thoughts she couldn't sort through, so much thwarted energy rippling under her skin. She hated feeling this way. When her mobile rang, she didn't even notice who was calling.

'Yes,' she snapped. She knew she sounded angry.

'Is that Maeve?'

'Oh, hey,' she said, taken aback. 'Hey, Jackson.'

'You want to waste some time with me?'

Maeve laughed. 'That's a line from "Blue and Yellow". Have you been listening to The Used?'

'Umm, yeah,' said Jackson shyly, his cover blown.

'That is weird. I love that band. And I was just listening to them too.'

'Well, I don't know what the h.e.l.l that means. But I guess maybe you should meet me after school tomorrow. Maybe. Because, like, if you want to. Or whatever.' His words came out in a rush, as if he were racing to get them said as quickly as possible.

'Okay,' said Maeve. 'Where?'

'Can you meet me at Central?'

'Why Central?'

'There's a photo booth there. I thought it would be cool to get a pic of you and me before you go to Ireland. You know, one where we don't have blue wigs on.'

Maeve laughed. It would be tricky to go without getting permission, but Central wasn't too far away. She could probably get there and back before anyone noticed she was missing.

When she switched off the mobile, she felt as if all the restless energy had settled in her chest like a cloud of b.u.t.terflies but this time it was a good feeling, a feeling that she wanted to hold onto.

Jackson was lounging against the side of the photo booth in a pair of low-slung jeans and an oversized windcheater, his skateboard tucked under one arm. Maeve had changed out of her school uniform but suddenly she wished she'd put on something different. The strap on her favourite singlet top was broken and she'd had to use a safety pin to hold it in place. Her black jeans suddenly felt too tight and the daisies on her thongs looked babyish.

As soon as Jackson saw her, he dropped his board and skated towards her.

''S'up, Warrior Princess?' he said. He smiled at Maeve as if she really was a princess and he was ecstatic at the prospect of meeting her. Suddenly, what she was wearing didn't matter one little bit.

They squashed into the photo booth, laughing at the simple pleasure of being alone together. There were four b.u.t.tons to choose from, each offering different photo options. First up they tried the option that produced four different photos, but somehow they managed to both look goofy in every frame. Either Jackson was looking down so you only saw the cowlick on the top of his head or Maeve had her eyes shut.

'If we just act natural we could get a good photo,' said Maeve.

'Okay, but I'll have to be kissing you just as the flash goes,' said Jackson.

'That sounds way too dangerous,' said Maeve. 'Why don't we try being ourselves?'

They put their arms around each other's shoulders and stared into the lens. Maeve could feel energy surging through them both as Jackson hit the b.u.t.ton. It wasn't until after the flash had fired that he turned to kiss her.

The photos were perfect. Their heads were tilted towards each other and they were both smiling. They looked like best friends. As they sat in Subway sharing a vegetarian sub, Maeve opened out her green notebook and slipped her strip of four tiny photos inside.

'Is that your diary?' asked Jackson.

'Sort of. It used to belong to my mum. I keep all sorts of stuff inside it.'

'Secret stuff?'

'Yeah, secret stuff,' said Maeve.

'Like what?'

'It wouldn't be secret if I told you! Stuff about my life and my friends and my mum and dad. Ordinary stuff.'

'There is nothing ordinary about you, Kwong. Absolutely nothing you tell me could be a surprise.'

Maeve looked into Jackson's laughing brown eyes. She took a deep breath, flipped the notebook open on the page with the photos of her father and turned them around so Jackson could see. She told him everything she knew, showed him the Weaving Girl and talked about what going to Ireland could mean.