People will still call her Mad May. That’ll probably always stick. Makes me wonder who the mad ones are in this town. I have a feeling they’re all in for a shock. The thought makes me chuckle.

I wake screaming in the middle of the night, sure there is something in the room with me. Certain that something has me.

Mum comes running, wrapping me tight in her arms while I sob on her shoulder. After the storm turns into sniffles, she bundles me into bed with her, making sure to keep the lights blazing. It’s the only way I can relax now. I refuse to talk, to tell her about my dream, even when she begs. I know she’ll take all the blame for herself because that’s what she does. I don’t want her to feel the way I do.

Neither of us sleep. I’m too scared and I think Mum might be afraid to in case I have another nightmare. We stay awake, hugging each other.

Into that sad, desperate place the faintest trace of a scent comes wafting. A familiar one that grows stronger and stronger.

Imperial Leather soap, White Ox tobacco and talcum powder, with hints of fire smoke.

Mum gives a weird combination of a sob and a laugh.

I’m crying again but for far better reasons. The unconditional love enveloping me loosens my throat.

‘Night Mum, night Nan. Love you,’ I whisper.

Mum’s arms tighten hard around me and I feel her shuddering breaths on my neck. I know she’s fighting tears, because of the way she’s holding her breath. She’s so focused on not crying that she doesn’t hear the soft thrumming call that draws my eyes to the window sill. The ghost bird sits staring at us, before turning and flying into the night. Gone as quietly as it came.

For the first time since this all started, I feel safe. I fall asleep with Mum’s arms and Nan’s presence surrounding me.

Author’s Note

Author’s Note

This book grew out of my Masters, where I had the opportunity to sit down with some of my aunties and talk about the history of our town. I asked for and received their permission to write about our community, culture and spiritual beliefs, as long as there were no real people, families or historical events. It breaks my heart to say we’ve lost all but one of those aunties since then. I owe them everything.