‘Does your mum know?’
‘I’ll tell her when she gets home from work, once I’m packed and ready to leave.’
Maggie’s face creases with worry. ‘Where will you go?’
‘Brisbane.’
‘To your sister?’
I nod.
‘She know you’re coming?’
‘I don’t even know if she’s still there.’
Maggie thinks a moment. ‘What about your dad? You could go to Melbourne.’
I could. I’m sure Dad would open his door to me if I needed him to.
‘I need to find my sister.’
She pulls me into a hug. ‘Course you do. I bet she’ll welcome you with open arms. And I’ll be cheering you both on. You girls deserve a life of your choosing.’
A life of my choosing.
I’m crying now, body shaking with the effort of trying to cry quietly. She holds me until I stop, holds me in the way she knows my own mother won’t.
Stepping back, I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jumper. ‘Again, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more notice.’
She waves the apology away. ‘I know you don’t have that kind of luxury. I won’t pretend to understand your beliefs, but I’ve been around your kind enough times to know it’s more complicated than most realise.’ She wipes her eyes. ‘Oh, dear. I’m going to look a mess for the day now. Come on out front. We’ll get your pay sorted.’
I don’t feel comfortable taking money from her after dropping this on her, but I also need every cent owed to me for this next part. I’ll be relying on my car savings because any leftover money after expenses has always gone into the contribution box at the Kingdom Hall, and I’ve no idea how long it’ll be between jobs. She pats my back a few times, then waves me towards the door.
Maggie takes cash directly from the till and counts out four hundred dollars. ‘So far as the tax department’s concerned, you finished up last week.’ She hands it to me with a wink.
The kindness of this woman is overwhelming, but I hand some of the money back. ‘I’ve only worked three days this week, and it’s too much for four anyway.’
She pushes my hand away. ‘It’s for the remaining jewellery sitting on the counter right there. I’ll have no way to pay you otherwise.’
I bite down on my lip and nod. ‘Thank you—for everything.’
When the doorbell chimes on my way out, I can’t help but smile. It’ll be a long time before I’m deafened by that sound again.
On my way home, I deliver some farewell letters. I don’t have the time or emotional bandwidth for goodbyes. It’s close to midday when I get to packing, and my hands are shaking as I fill a large suitcase with all my clothes and important belongings. I make sure everything I pack belongs to me, because I can’t predict Mum’s reaction, and I don’t want to be stopped by the police before I even make it to the ‘Thank you for visiting Chirnside!’ sign.
It’s tempting to just leave. It would be so much easier. But I refuse to run scared. I have to be able to live with myself later, to look back on my departure with some degree of pride.
I have two hours until Mum gets home from work, and I spend that time cleaning the house, washing linen, feeding Charlie carrots, and committing Banjo’s scent to memory.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe if I get a place with a big yard one day, you can come live with me.’
He’s turning his head back and forth, desperately trying to comprehend what I’m saying. I think he senses I’m leaving, but he just doesn’t know why or for how long.
I take a final look around the house, then wheel my suitcase out front. I’m seated under the veranda rubbing Banjo’s head and listening for Mum’s car, telling myself she’ll be all right. She has an entire congregation to take care of her.
My palms go clammy when I hear her car pull into the driveway. She spots me, turns the engine off, but doesn’t get out. Her eyes go to the suitcase beside me, and then we’re watching each other through the glass. I’m patient with her, because I understand the enormity of this moment and how hard she’s working to keep it together right now.
Finally, the door swings open and she climbs out. But she doesn’t come towards me. Instead, she closes the car door and leans against it.