Letters from the Inside by John Marsden

Author:John Marsden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan Australia

Oct 3

Mandy, something fantastic’s happened. It’s so good I’m pinching myself. I can’t even write it down in case it goes away. I’ll write to you tomorrow.

Love,

Tracey

PS: Thanks for the letter.

Oct 5

Dear Mandy,

Well, you better keep all our letters kiddo, and get ready to sell them for a fortune in a few years ’cos I’m gonna be famous! (And not like I was before, either.) You remember that essay? ‘Keep on Goin’ till it all stops Flowin’?’ Well, our English tutor, Mrs McKinnon, put it in a competition, like she said she would. And it won! She told me Wednesday, but I wouldn’t believe it till the letter came today. You get $500 (not that that’s much good to me in here), and a set of books (not much good either) and the best of all, the story gets published in a book that’s coming out next year. Can you believe it? I can’t. And what I like is they don’t know I’m in Garrett — Mrs McKinnon used the post-office box — so it’s no charity deal. They would have thought I was just anyone.

So, guess I’d better let you read it now, after all that. Here goes:

KEEP ON GOIN’TILL IT ALL STOPS FLOWIN’

‘Where are we today, Nanna?’ I asked.

She looked at me with her tired, confused eyes. ‘Don’t be silly Jan,’ she said, ‘And don’t you go running off. I’ve got a lot of shopping to do, and I want to catch the four o’clock bus. You can help carry the bags.’

The only trouble was, we weren’t at the shops and my name isn’t Jan. Jan was my aunt, and she died years ago.

I visited Nanna every day and sat by her bed for hours, talking to her. I don’t think she understood much of it. One minute, according to her, we were watching TV at home; the next minute she’d be getting me ready for school (only she thought I was my mother); then a bit later we’d be at next door’s having coffee.

Nanna wasn’t really in any of these places. She was in hospital. She’d been knocked over by a kid on a bike and had broken her hip. She’d had an operation, but when she woke up it was like her mind had gone away. Every day was the same: she never seemed to improve.

One afternoon I was sitting there when the doctor came to look at her. He talked to me while he was doing it.

‘She could go on like this for a long time,’ he said. ‘It’s like everything’s gone from her, but her body’s still alive. Her heart’s beating on. The machine’s running but the factory’s closed.’

I thought it was cruel of him to talk about Nanna like that in front of her, but I guess she didn’t understand.

When Nanna stopped eating, I started making deals with God. ‘If you get her to eat again, I’ll give up smoking,’ I said. The next day I checked with the nurse when I got there.

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