“And you think she’s the cure for that?”
“Andy,”Aunty Bec says, but mildly.
“Race you, then.” Dad takes off.
Upstairs, my victorious (but slightly puffed) dad raps lightly on GG’s door, then doesn’t wait for an answer. GG is propped up in bed, covered by her flowery pink quilt, and knitting something small and blue.
“Have you come to say bye before you hit the road?”
“About that,” Dad says. “You’re going to have to put up with us for another night.”
“What?” GG’s head jerks up.
“There was a snake in the garden.”
“A snake?”
“Nick tried to catch it.”
“Sorry?”
“With kitchen tongs.”
“Oh. I heard some kerfuffle in the garden.”
“He’s gone to the hospital, so we’re sticking around to make sure he’s okay.”
“You’ll stay here?”
If you’re thinking GG seems at best confused and at worst disappointed that her extended family will be spending more time with her—yeah, me too. Possibly I’ve been a bad almost granddaughter and not listened sufficiently attentively to herstories about her (dead) cat, her (dead) son, or her (dead) husband(s), but shouldn’t shewantto spend time with me?
“I’m sure Nick will be fine,” I say, in case she’s worried. I’m not actually sure Nickisgoing to be okay, because I always thought brown snakes were deadly. (That was the thesis of my sixth-grade report on Australia’s deadliest animals, and I got two gold stars.)
“Is that okay?” Dad asks.
“Of course it is,” GG says, rallying. “Do we have enough food in the house?”
“The pantry is stocked for the apocalypse,” Dad says. “Were you a Scout, Gertie, or just a hoarder?”
“A Brownie,” she says, although I think the question was rhetorical.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine for now. Just happy having a rest. Could I borrow your phone, though, Andrew?”
“There’s no coverage in the house,” Dad says slowly, like Gertie’s losing it—which, if she’s forgotten this basic fact, maybe she is?
“Telstra works now.”
“Does it? I’m with Optus.”
“Me too,” I add, although nobody asked.
“Gertie,” Dad says, “don’t you have a cell with Telstra? Can I get it for you? And, by the way, what’s happened to the landline?”
“The landline’s broken and my cell’s useless because I missed a bill.”
“I can have a look at the landline, if you like,” Dad says—somewhat disingenuously, because he’s the only person I know capable of making a broken phone worse. The one time I asked him to help install an app on mine he Snapchatted a random selfie, then reset the whole thing to factory settings.
