The Secret Life Of Maeve Lee Kwong Part 2

Everyone in English was working in groups when Maeve and Steph handed their late pa.s.ses to Mrs Spinelli. As soon as they joined Bianca, she leant across and whispered to Maeve in a sharp, sulky voice, 'Mum won't let me go to the party unless you come too.'

'Me? I'm not even invited!' said Maeve.

'Well, you are now. I told Jess and she said it's fine to bring you.'

'What about Steph?' whispered Maeve.

'She said her parents wouldn't let her.'

'You mean, I'm not cool enough,' said Steph bitterly.

'You know that's not why,' said Bianca.

Maeve looked from one friend to the other. 'Even if I could get permission, I don't know if I'd want to go, Bunka. I hardly know Jess.'

'Please, Maeve. I so want to go, but Mum and Dad said only if you come with me.'

'Why me?'

'Because they think you're so smart and sensible that you'll stop me doing anything stupid.'

'That shows they don't know me at all. I'm your minder, am I?'

'Please?'

'Don't get excited. I'll have to ask my mum. I'm not allowed to do parties not at night. Not yet.'

As soon as the teacher turned away, Bianca slipped the pink invitation into Maeve's hand. 'Think about it,' she whispered into Maeve's ear. 'Please.'

Maeve clipped off the comment about alcohol at the bottom of the card and then took it downstairs and handed it to her mother. She'd already tried to get Sue to agree without seeing the invitation but Sue had been hardline. 'It can't be much of a special occasion if they haven't even handed out proper invitations. It's probably just some big, out-of-control free-for-all.'

Sue looked slightly defeated when Maeve handed her the amended card. A good sign. She turned the pink invitation over in her hand.

'Look, darling, you're only thirteen. This girl is turning sixteen. I really don't think it's appropriate.'

'I'm nearly fourteen. It's not my fault that I'm young for my year level. Besides, what's a year or two anyway?'

'No, Maeve.'

'But Mum, if you don't let me go, Bianca won't be allowed to go. So you're letting both of us down. Please. We won't stay long. We'll come home when you say.'

'Maybe you should let her go,' said Andy, looking up from the couch where he was watching The Bill.

'I really don't need you weighing in on this,' said Sue.

'I'm not "weighing in". But Maeve is a real teenager now. Teenagers have parties. It's a fact of life.'

Sue gave Andy the sort of look that usually finished any conversation and he turned back to the TV.

'See! You make it sound like I'm going to get into trouble or something, Mum. Like you don't trust me.'

'It's not that. I trust you. I just don't trust the world.'

'Mum! It's only a party! Do you mean you're not going to let me go to a party until I finish high school? That's insane!'

'You're not old enough to be making the sort of decisions that you need to make in those situations. Decisions that could change your life.'

'You mean you made the wrong decision at a party once? You mean having me was the wrong decision?'

Maeve knew she'd gone too far. She was definitely going to lose the argument now. She wasn't meant to know about how she was conceived.

Sue didn't miss a beat. 'I was a lot older than you, Maeve. I was an adult. There is absolutely no comparison. If you think flinging something like that at me is going to help win me over, you are even less mature than I'd given you credit for.'

Maeve groaned. She didn't care that much about the party, but she couldn't let Bianca down. 'Mum, it's probably the last party of the year. And then it will be summer and there won't be any parties. At least, not ones that I'm invited to.'

'There's always muck-up day,' said Andy, turning around again and grinning. 'We were real ratbags at my school at the end of the year. Me and the boys, we put an ad in the Sydney Morning Herald "Prime real estate for sale". You know, "three hectares, ripe for redevelopment, central location". Then we put the phone number of the Princ.i.p.al's office. The switchboard rang hot as h.e.l.l.'

'I'm only in Year 8, Andy. You don't muck up in Year 8. That's Year 12.'

'Andy, don't tell her these stories. It doesn't help,' scolded Sue.

'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy and Maeve a crazy girl,' added Andy, not turning around to look at them this time.

'If Andy thinks it's all right, then why not? You always said that you hated the way your mum and dad stopped you from doing anything fun. And now you're even worse with me.'

'She's right, Sue. Your parents still can't leave you alone. You don't want history repeating.'

'Don't you start, Andy. At least my parents have tried to help us out.'

'Help us out? You mean manipulated. Manipulated you and Maeve. Bullied you into sending her to the school of their choice, not yours or hers. Nothing they do for you comes without strings attached. Everything is conditional. That's not love, that's coercion.'

Suddenly, the argument wasn't about Maeve at all. She backed away as Andy and Sue started dredging up every problem they'd ever had with her grandparents. It was always the same. Why did Andy have to bring the fight back to him every time? Now Sue would never let her go.

Maeve stormed out of the room and took the stairs two at a time. She sat on her bed with the doona over her head and tried to pretend she couldn't hear the quarrelling downstairs. She wished Andy would shut up. It wasn't as if the decision was up to him anyway. He wasn't her parent. She and Mum had been fine before he came along. Maeve remembered crying when Sue told her Andy was moving in with them. It was as if she wasn't enough for Sue.

After half an hour, the shouting from downstairs subsided and the house grew still. Maeve pulled the doona off her head and sat down at her desk, staring out the little window that looked out towards the Harbour Bridge. She pulled one of the Harry Potter books off her bookshelf and flicked through the pages, re-reading her favourite scenes at Hogwarts, half-wishing her grandparents had sent her to a boarding school.

Later that night, when Maeve had gone to bed, she heard Andy clumping down the hall to Ned's room. That's what they did when things got really spiky after an argument. One of them would get up and sleep on the folding bed beside Ned's cot. In the morning they'd pretend that they'd slept with him because he was restless. Neither of them was a good liar.

Very faintly, Maeve could hear the sound of her mother crying. She rolled onto her side and covered her ears with her hands at first, but then she slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the hall. Sue lay curled up alone.

Maeve pulled back the doona and slipped in beside her mum. Sue was lying so still that for a moment, Maeve wondered if she was holding her breath.

'I couldn't sleep,' she whispered to her mother's back.

'I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry if we woke you.'

'No, you didn't wake me. I couldn't sleep.'

'I hope you understand, when Andy and I have our fights. It's not about you. It's not your fault or anything.'

'It's okay. He's not my dad, anyway.'

'He does love you, Maeve.'

'Maybe. But I didn't choose him and he didn't choose me. You were the one who wanted to play happy families,' said Maeve, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

Sue lay very still and then she turned around to face Maeve.

'You didn't choose me either.'

'Maybe I did,' replied Maeve. 'Maybe I saw you from heaven and thought, there's the best mum in the world. Ned thought the same thing. That's why we're here.'

Maeve could just make out a small smile on her mother's face in the dim light. 'I'm so glad you and Ned have each other. I always wanted a brother or a sister. I hope you two will always be there for each other.'

'Just wait until he's a teenager. Then we'll really start ganging up on you and Andy.'

Sue laughed. 'I hope not. And I hope you don't tell him everything either. There are some things parents like to keep to themselves. I didn't know you knew about the party when you were conceived.'

Maeve wriggled uncomfortably and slipped her hand out from under the covers. 'I'm sorry for shouting that at you. I've known for ages. I heard you telling someone once. I was sitting under the kitchen table, playing with Ned, and I heard you.'

'I guess it's good we can talk about it, Maeve,' said Sue. 'I could never talk about anything with my own mother. Or my father.'

'So tell me something different about my dad, my real dad.'

Sue grew quiet but Maeve knew she'd offer some small bit of information. It was a game they played, like knitting a scarf, where each time they talked a few new st.i.tches were cast on and the scarf grew longer and more interesting. Before Andy came along, Maeve had never been able to ask her mother about her birth father, but somehow, now that he and Ned were in their lives, the past wasn't so treacherous.

'I wish I'd known him better. When I found out I was pregnant, I did try to find him, Maeve. You know that, don't you?'

'I know that, Mum.' This was always part of the process. Maeve had to rea.s.sure her mother if she was going to get her to talk about what had happened. As a young woman, Sue had fought with her parents to be allowed to go to art school and then, to their horror, she'd fallen pregnant to a stranger. It was bad enough that he wasn't from a good Chinese-Australian family but he wasn't even Australian. An Irish backpacker, a whirlwind romance, an accidental baby.

'I loved his voice. I loved the stories he told. That man, he knew so many stories. Not just about Ireland, but about all the places he'd visited. He had a way of looking at things that was different to anyone I'd ever met. He was a real traveller, not a tourist. He's probably still travelling. One day, I'll give you the letter he wrote from Nepal.'

'You never told me there was a letter.'

'It was the only one.'

Sue was silent then. Maeve knew they were wandering into dangerous territory.

'Tell me the story about how I got my name. Tell me that one again,' said Maeve, snuggling down beside her mum, pretending that she was little again.

Maeve heard Sue take a deep breath. Somehow, stories were always easier to tell in the darkness.

'Davy told me this story while we were riding a ferry across the harbour. I think that's why I remembered it so well. And it was really rough on the water that day. We were caught in a storm and Davy had his arms around me. He was reciting a poem. He had this amazing memory. He could memorise great long poems word for word.

'Something about the sound of the sea and his voice on that day stayed with me. When you were being born, I thought it was like riding a storm at sea. So as soon as you were in my arms, I looked at you and remembered the poem about the Irish queen that he'd told me on that stormy ferry ride. Maeve was a great ruler all in her own right, because in ancient times in that country, the women could be as powerful as the men. If I'd given you a Chinese name, it might have been Mu Lan.'

'Like Mulan in that Disney cartoon?'

'Not quite like the cartoon, but she was a great warrior woman, and so was Queen Maeve.'

'And you remembered the poem when you saw me?'

'I'm not like Davy, I can't memorise poetry, but I never forgot some of those lines. That Queen Maeve . . . had lucky eyes and a high heart,

And wisdom that caught fire like the dried flax,

At need, and made her beautiful and fierce,

Sudden and laughing.

And that was you, when you were born, you were so beautiful and fierce and then you opened your eyes and I could have sworn that you smiled at me. They say newborn babies can't see to smile, but you smiled. Sudden and laughing.'

'There was another poem too, wasn't there?'

'That's right. But I can only remember a s.n.a.t.c.h of the other one. There was a line that ran 'you who are the Maeve of me'. Isn't that beautiful? And you were my Maeve, the Maeve of me. So I couldn't have called you by any other name. Even if Goong Goong and Por Por didn't like it. I was a disappointment to them, but you will never be a disappointment to me, Maeve.'

Sue took Maeve's hand and held it in a firm and loving grip.

'Then I can go to the party?' said Maeve, entwining her fingers with her mother's and holding tight.

'Maeve, don't you ever let go?'

'Nope, never. Why did you name me after a warrior queen? I had to turn out stubborn with a name like Maeve.'

Maeve heard her mother laughing in the darkness.

'Okay, chicken, you can go to the party. But I will drop you off and I will be there to pick you up at ten p.m. on the nose and not a minute later.'

'But it doesn't start until eight! That's only two hours.'

'That's two hours more than you were going to get when this conversation started. Take it or leave it.'