I nod, and we find a table, then order the fried things and the burgers and meat pies, and Jack and I trade different words we have for things, and why, and I laugh at the beetroot and egg and pineapple on the burger and he says how much he would like to travel to America one day, before he gets too old. And with those words we both look at Fred and Sarah in the corner, their heads together, their faces wreathed in wrinkles and their eyes on the edge of wetness. And I think about how Grandma seems different here, as if she has slipped right into place; the veneer of trying is gone. And I think about what it is to be too old and how I don’t want to get there and wish I had spent my life feeling happier with what I’d had, rather than always feeling bad about what I’d done.

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 37

I was hoping for a nap after lunch, as I’m not used to drinking in the middle of the day, but Jack has planned to drive us past some of the old sights. In Forest Lodge we sit with the engine idling outside a block of flats where our house used to be. There is still an oleander vine across the neighbour’s fence, and one of the pubs where I would fetch Dad in the evening is still standing, but everything else has changed. Everywhere now there are cafes and convenience stores, SUVs parked with their tyres up on the kerb on the narrow streets. There is a yoga studio where the milk bar was and a hairdresser at the corner shop where I bought cigarettes waiting for Dad. There are hoardings up where people are knocking down the tiny semis and weatherboards and turning them into four-bedroom houses that extend right up to the edge of their properties. Even the weeds have to fight to survive amid the concrete and bitumen; gardens are reduced to a few spiky ornamental plants in pots.

‘Changed, hasn’t it?’ Fred says, rolling his window down. The air is warm and smells of star jasmine. I feel infinitely tired, as though if I shut my eyes now I would fall asleep for a year.

We drive past the dogs at Wentworth Park, and Jack tells us they’re closing soon, the land has been sold to a developer. Hannah puts her hand on my shoulder. I think of climbing those stands, watching for Dad and seeing him—without Mum—happy, handsome even. For so many years I blamed myself for not telling Mum what I saw, but I think now: what would have changed? I only wish I could have tried to know him then. I only wish I tried to understand.

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 38