The Whole of My World by Nicole Hayes

Author:Nicole Hayes [Name, Hayes]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia
Published: 2013-03-11T04:00:00+00:00

I lie on my bed, counting the Falcons posters that line my walls, to soothe my racing heart. I look at the photos I’ve begun to collect around my mirror – Mick with his sheepish grin, outside the gym entrance; Mick and Chris Jury passing short kicks between each other in the grey twilight of a training session a few weeks ago; Mick with a footy thrust in front of him, his face a little weary with having to pose yet again for the camera.

I turn away, unable to look another moment. I reach up to take My Brilliant Career off the bookshelf and carefully, reverently, open it. I can’t always face this story. But I’m desperate now and I can’t think of a single other thing that will make me feel better, short of a trip to Fernlee Park – now forbidden and impossible. For the first time since I made that trek down Leafy Crescent, I’m not sure it would help anyway.

The first page is a handwritten inscription from Mum, with a picture of her when she was young sandwiched between the pages. She’s staring straight at the camera. I trace her mouth with my finger, then her chin. Her beautiful dark eyes smile up at me and her rich black hair is curled into soft ringlets that look like they’ve come out of a hairdresser’s salon, except they haven’t. I don’t know how I managed to miss out on Mum’s beautiful curls or even her silky raven-black hair. Dad used to say I looked like her when I smiled but I don’t see it.

I pull myself up from my bed and stand in front of the mirror. I draw back the black felt and force a smile at my reflection to see if I can uncover those dimples that used to mimic Mum’s. I study the image, twisting and turning my head to catch the right angle, to find her. But it doesn’t work. The face in the mirror is all Shelley.

Disappointed, I shove the mirror back in place and return to my book. I read the inscription for the thousandth time, still able to extract from it the small thrill it gave me that very first time.

To my darling Shelley,

May this story of strength, love and hope inspire

you like it did me when I was a girl.

Always, your loving Mum.

She put two kisses and two hugs after her name and, underneath, in that perfect script, the date: 11 June, 1979. My tenth birthday.

I think long and hard about turning the page, taking a minute to consider the idea of the next page and whether I’m ready to see it. Breathing slowly, I take the thin paper between my fingers. One. Two. Three . . .

A harsh knock at the door startles me and I stop. I think I’m relieved. I look at the time: 1.45. It’ll be Josh wanting to leave. ‘Come in,’ I croak.

Dad is standing there, his jaw set firm and hard.

I slam the book shut and push it under my doona, burying the evidence of my weakness.

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