I say quietly.
Jan stares at me stonily. ‘That’s not a solution,’ she snaps. ‘She needs appropriate care. If worse comes to worst she needs to be in a hospital.’
I dredge up strength from somewhere in my boots. ‘It’s Mum’s solution,’ I say. ‘She doesn’t want to come back.’
Jan is incensed. ‘She’s an old woman who’s lost her mind. It’s up to us to make decisions for her.’
For a few tense moments nobody says anything. Then Jacinta speaks. ‘Nana’s in her right mind. She knows what she wants.’
Jan glares at her. ‘I’m sorry, Jacinta, but if you’d handled this properly in the first place it wouldn’t be an issue. She chose you to take her to Bruny because she knew you’d do as she asked.’
‘Well, Mum wouldn’t choose you.’ Gary folds his arms across his bulging belly. ‘You haven’t been civil to her in years.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘You haven’t exactly had a close relationship with her.’
Jan stiffens. ‘I think I’ve done quite well, given where we’ve come from. What have you done for her in the past six months?’
Things are descending into territory none of us have entered before.
‘At least I haven’t loaded her with grief and guilt trips.’
Jan and Gary face off like bristling dogs about to fight. This is not going well. Somebody has to stop the slide.
‘How about I go down and visit her sometime this week,’ I offer. ‘I can take a day off, maybe Wednesday, and make sure things are set up for her down there.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Jan says. ‘Build a hospital at Lunawanna?’
I shrug, baulking inwardly at the confrontation. ‘I’ll check she has everything she needs.’
‘Like a ventilator? And cylinders of oxygen?’
‘You can go down if you like, Jan,’ Gary says.
‘No. I won’t be going. If Mum chooses to isolate herself like this and you all support her, then I refuse to go and visit.’
‘But she might not come back . . .’ Jacinta’s voice trails off.
Jan stands up. ‘Then that’s her choice. I’m too angry to drop in for a casual visit. And what would I say anyway? How’s it going, Mum? What rubbish! If you’ve all made your decision, I’m going home.’
Jess slinks out from under the table and paces nervously around the room.
‘Can’t you make that dog sit down?’ Jan demands. Then her face crumples. ‘Oh God, this is so awful,’ she says, tears welling.
And she’s done it again; the gathering has become a focus for Jan’s despair. Jacinta hugs her and pats her shoulder while Alex rolls his eyes at me and pours Jan another cup of tea. My continued presence at the table is taken as solidarity. Gary mutters something into his chins and shuffles out to the toilet. When he returns, Jan sits down and wraps her hands around her cup of tea.
‘I still think we should be bringing her home,’ she says.
‘She’ll be all right,’ Gary says.
‘That’s rubbish, Gary. She isn’t capable. We all know she won’t remember her medication. She doesn’t even know what day of the week it is half the time.’
‘It’s her right to decide,’ I say, and the same silence returns that follows everything I say. Jess wriggles against my legs as I pause. ‘It’s her right to decide how she wants to die.’
Jan is outraged. She thumps the table in frustration. ‘This is ridiculous. You’re all trying to put her in the grave. Am I the only one who cares about her?’
I dig deep for boldness. ‘This isn’t about you, Jan. This is about Mum.’ There, I’ve said it, and Jan is turning purple. ‘We’re leaving her there,’ I continue, legs shaking. ‘You can visit if you want. But nobody’s bringing her home. It’s Mum’s choice.’ I stand up and Jess leaps up too. ‘The meeting’s over.’
And, amazingly, it is. Teary, Jan sips her cup of tea. Gary starts talking about his work and the possibility of visiting Mum next week. And Alex clears away the empty cups and squirts dishwashing detergent into the sink.
Over their heads, Jacinta smiles at me wearily. Her quiet nod is affirmation. We’ve won the first battle. For Mum.
4
When Jacinta left that afternoon, the cabin swelled with a beautiful quiet and Mary’s soul hummed. Slowly she succumbed to the soft ripple of remembered happiness. There was work to be done, yes—places she must visit, plans she must make—but for now she could eddy with the flow of time and sit in memory, striving for nothing.
Gazing through the rain-streaked windows, she heard the whisper of the