Kate's Memory.
As she sang, Kate heard her father call;
"Katie! Katie me darlin'! Katie McGregor, where are you?"
"Here Daddy! I'm here!" She jumped up from behind the rock where she had been crouched down, hiding, and laughed.
"Ah, there you are! Come on me little one, it's time for tea." Ten-year-old Kate grabbed her father's hand and swung along beside him. Philip's baritone voice began; - "There once was a ship that put to sea
The name of the ship was the Billy of Tea
The winds blew up, her bow dipped down
Oh blow, my bully boys, blow (huh)"
He came to the chorus, and Kate joined in: "Soon may the Wellerman come
To bring us sugar and tea and rum
One day, when the tonguing is done
We'll take our leave and go!"
By the time they'd finished the sea shanty, they reached their cottage where they lived surrounded by paddocks, facing the river. They went inside, and Philip started to peel the vegetables, while Kate set the table. They finished eating, together they washed the dishes. Philip watched his daughter, looking for the opportune time to tell her the news. When Kate had put all the crockery and glasses away, he said, "We'll have a visitor tomorrow."
"Who?"
"Your mother."
Kate's face fell.
"I don't want to see her. Do I have to?"
"I think you should, Katie."
"But Daddy, she makes things so awful. She shouts at me and calls you names. Why can't she leave us alone?"
"She's your mother, mo ghaoil (my dear). A girl should see her mother. Come on now, what about a game of cards? You pick."
"Rickety Kate," she said and Philip laughed.
The visit with her mother was every bit as bad as Kate predicted. Her mother called her father terrible names, and screamed at Kate, until she ran out of the house, sobbing. It was made worse by the fact that her mother was drunk; and the alcohol exacerbated the viciousness, the bitterness and anger that was stored up in Noreen Jamison's heart. Philip didn't bother arguing with her; he simply picked up his car keys, led her out of the house, put her in his car and drove her to town, where he bought a ticket and put her on the bus.
When Philip got home, he knew where his daughter would be; sure enough, she was behind the large rock, sobbing piteously. Philip sat on his haunches next to her, stroking her long hair, "Ah Katie, Katie, mo ghaoil, mo chroì, (my dear, my heart) don't cry now, don't cry."
Kate looked up at her father, through tear-swollen eyes. "Why can't she leave us alone, Daddy, why? Why does she have to come here and be so horrible? I hate her!"
Philip stood up, and held his hands out. Kate grasped them, and he pulled her to her feet. "Now, little one, hate does you no good. It will eat you alive and spit you out. You have seen a good example of what hate can do, Katie. Never hate, Katie, it will kill you inside. You will end up lonely, with no soul. Now you don't want to be like that do you?"
Kate shook her head. "No."
Philip took her hand. "Let's go home." He started to sing a Scottish ballad, and as Kate listened, she started to feel better. She joined in the next song and the next until they got home.
Later that night, as she went to bed, Philip came in to say goodnight. "Katie, I'm so sorry it was a hard day for you. But mo ghaoil, there will be lots of hard days, and I won't always be there for you. But I want you to remember something, Katie."
"What, Daddy?"
"Don't forget to sing. A song is always good for the heart. It may not make your problems go away, Katie, but a song will always make you feel better. So, when life is hard, sing."
"Yes, Daddy."
As Kate grew up, she often had occasion to remember her father's advice. During high school, the angst of teenage years and boyfriends, dealing with her mother, and when she joined the Navy, Kate found plenty of opportunities to sing. Like now. In the ICU at Cairns Hospital.
She finished her sea shanties and thought of her father. Dad, she thought, I need you…I'll call him when I get home.
He was floating above his body, looking down at the figure on the bed, swathed in bandages, with tubes coming in and out. He felt at peace yet…is that me in the bed? Can't be. What am I doing up here? Am I going somewhere? Wait. Hammersley. Why aren't I there? Where's the X? I feel like I should leave…wait… who is that singing? It's the X. What's she doing singing on the ship? But I'm not on the ship. Is that me on the bed? That singing, I need to hear it. He was in his body again, he tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't. He tried to move, he felt trapped. He called, Kate, Kate, can you hear me. I can hear you. Don't stop singing, please Kate!
But she couldn't hear him.
Amelia's Memory.
Kate changed places with Amelia, to give her time with Mike. Amelia gently passed a motherly hand over his hair and face.
"Michael! Michael Gregory, where are you?" Amelia stepped onto the front porch, looking up the street. The bushes next to the steps leading up to the porch parted, and a small nine-year-old boy emerged; filthy dirty, his shirt torn, his face dirty except for where tears had cut tracks.
"I'm here, Mum," he muttered, looking at the ground.
"Michael! Look at you! What happened?"
"Nothing, Mum."
"Danny Morris and his mates beat you up again, didn't they?"
Mike looked at the ground, shifting from one foot to the other under his mother's gaze. She sighed. She had been down to the school several times to confront the teachers about her son being bullied, but to no avail. She knew she couldn't do much more in defence of her cub, without making things worse for him.
"Come on in, get out of those dirty things and into the shower. Your father will be home shortly. I'll talk to him about this."
Later that night, when Mike was supposed to be in bed, he overheard his parents talking.
"Gregory, something has to be done. The poor kid keeps getting belted up each day on the playground and after school. He should learn to defend himself. Teach him to box."
His father said, "He could get himself hurt."
"He already is. Teach him to box." Then came the surprise revelation. "Or I will teach him Taekwondo. I still have my black belt. I was New South Wales Women's Black Belt Champion before we were married."
Young Mike's mouth fell open Mum? A Taekwondo Black Belt Champion?
His father said, "Martial Arts might be better. It teaches a discipline. Yes, I think it would help better than boxing."
Before long, Mike found himself going to Taekwondo classes with his mother. She had even brought out her old dobok for the classes. Mike was embarrassed; his mum looked like she was wearing pyjamas.
Amelia had quickly renewed her skills, and the instructors were impressed with having a black belt Sip Dan in their midst.
Young Mike found that he enjoyed the classes, and he made rapid progress. Often Gregory would come home from work only to find his wife and son in the garage, practising their moves.
Mike began to compete, and he won many bouts, with his proud parents cheering him on. By the end of his first year, Mike achieved three blue stripes on his yellow belt.
His class teacher was pleased with Mike's schoolwork. His marks had improved vastly, and he was more confident in answering questions in class. Amelia attributed this to the Taekwondo.
Mike was riding home one day after school, when he saw Danny Morris and his two friends tormenting three girls. Mike knew them, they were a class below, and one of them lived in his street. He came to a stop, dismounted his bike and put himself between Danny and the girls.
"That's enough. Leave them alone," he said.
Danny threw his head back and laughed. "What are you going to do about it, skinny Flynnie?" he jeered.
Mike took the stance he was taught at Taekwondo. Danny laughed again. "Skinny Flynnie thinks he's Mr Miyagi! I'll get you, Flynn!"
He rushed at Mike, and all of a sudden found himself looking very closely at a trail of ants in the dirt. He had no idea how he got there. He picked himself up off the ground and glared at his two mates who were staring goggle-eyed at the small boy who had again, adopted his stance. Danny charged in again.
This time he found himself flat on his back. Enraged, he rushed in once more at Mike, who stepped aside as Danny charged head-first into a tree, and sprawled in the dirt with a bloodied nose. Mike drew back and waited for the boy to get up, but Danny was too dazed. Assisted by his friends, Danny shakily got to his feet. They said to him, "Let's go, we'll get Flynn another day."
Mike turned to the three girls. "It's over, you can go home now." He went to his bike, picked it up and mounted it, but not before he saw the girls' admiring looks. He was their knight in shining armour, and he basked in their adoration.
When he finally arrived home, Mike saw his mother deep in conversation with the mother of one of the girls. He went into the garage to put his bike away when his mother came in and said, "Mike, I've just heard what you did for the girls. And you stood up to Danny Morris! I'm so proud of you! I can't wait to tell your dad!"
Mike disengaged himself from his mother's hug. "Aw, Mum, it's down to us going to Taekwondo."
Needless to say, Danny and his mates no longer bullied Mike. In fact, his mates deserted Danny and were trying to court Mike's friendship.
Michael Gregory? Only Mum calls me that. Mum? Is that you? Mum? Can you hear me? Why can't you hear me? I want some more singing. Please don't leave…
Kate looked around as Dr Li came toward them. He indicated he wanted to see them outside the ICU unit. Amelia moved aside to let the nurse check Mike's vital signs. The nurse said to Kate, "You sing beautifully. I'd love it if you could sing to all our ICU patients, Mrs Flynn. His vital signs are much better."
Kate answered, "Thank you. My name is Kate. Mrs Flynn is my mother-in-law."
Amelia said, "Oh really dear, we are going to be seeing a lot of each other. My name is Amelia."
The two women joined Dr Li in the waiting room outside the ICU. He said, "I am glad you came in when you did. I was about to call you when you came in. Mr Flynn's vital signs had dropped. He was dying. Your singing to him helped. I've just looked at the recent checks. His vital signs have improved. Singing and music are good for unconscious patients. Sing to him as often as you can. Goodnight." Dr Li gave his little bow and left the women in the corridor.
