Fishing for Stars by Bryce Courtenay Read Free Book Online

rushes on, ‘so I got the Yellow Pages and called every hospital in the metropolitan area starting with the letter A and . . . and S for St Vincent’s was near the end of the list.’ She’s forced to catch a breath before continuing. ‘I called the public section and they checked and said you were in private. By the time I got through again it was nearly midnight and they told me you’d been given a sleeping pill and shouldn’t be disturbed.’ She pauses at last. ‘I’m so sorry . . . I’m so sorry,’ she repeats tremulously, fresh tears glistening, looking too beautiful for words.
    ‘Ah, I was pretty zonked from the painkillers; probably a good thing you didn’t see me yesterday, you couldn’t have woken me with a baseball bat,’ I say, comforting her. Then add, ‘But I’m proud of you for trying. For taking Great Auntie Marg’s smack square on the chin then slamming her back with the Yellow Pages . She can be a very formidable old lady. Now, let me see your artwork, darling.’
    Saffron draws back, grabbing at the sleeve of her T-shirt. ‘No, no, Uncle Nick, you’re not allowed to see my tat until it’s finished!’ She rubs self-consciously at the point of her shoulder.
    I laugh. ‘What? Is it bad luck or something?’
    ‘Could be,’ she says, wide-eyed. ‘No, not really,’ she laughs. ‘It’s just that I want you to see when it’s beautiful. In a couple of days it will have scabbed over, but it should have healed in a week or so.’ She winces, indicating my leg and the various bandages. ‘Does it hurt a lot?’
    ‘Nah, probably not as much as your tat did.’ I abbreviate the word as she did, thinking it sounds friendlier.
    Her pretty face grows suddenly distraught. ‘Oh, Uncle Nick, you won’t be there! At my graduation!’ Then her hand flies up to cover her mouth. ‘Ooh, ah, I shouldn’t have said that! It’ll be fine, I promise,’ she cries, attempting to recover.
    While I live in Vanuatu, Joe lives in New Guinea and runs our shipping and transport business there. Joe Junior and our general manager are in America on a buying trip. Fiery Frances, Saffron’s mother and an accountant by profession who worked for Anna, has had her passport temporarily revoked pending an inquiry into alleged bribery, concerning several local politicians and the Ok Tedi mine. While it’s all show-trial stuff and as usual won’t come to anything, it means she too cannot attend. Marg has, of course, been invited, but she has to speak at a protest rally against Gunns, the timber-milling giant logging old-growth forest for woodchips to export to Japan. Saffron will be alone if I don’t attend.
    I laugh and reach for her hand with my good arm, taking it and holding it to my cheek. ‘There’s life in the old boy yet, my sweet. I wouldn’t miss your graduation for quids.’
    ‘No, no, you mustn’t!’ she cries. ‘It’ll be too much for you.’
    ‘Two days is a long time; I’ve always been a fast healer,’ I joke. I release her hand in case it seems mawkish. Joe Popkin’s grandchild is special, has been since she was a small child, bright as a polished button. At last count I am godfather to eighty children, their parents all employed by the company. Many of them are smart kids. All will be or have been educated by the shipping company. If they choose to work, they’ll have sound careers, some in government departments (Anna’s idea), but this one, Saffron, is the jewel in the crown. ‘Princess Saffron,’ I say quietly, then immediately regret my sentimentality, thinking it may embarrass her.
    ‘Would you like a coffee, Uncle Nick? There’s a cafeteria in the foyer. I would have brought you one, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want it.’ Clever girl, she’s moved to keep the ship on an even keel.
    ‘Love one, Saffy, flat white, no sugar, large and strong.’
    Saffron kisses me and hurries towards the door.
    ‘Money!’ I yell.
    ‘Got some!’ she yells back, not turning.
    Marg