Hello from the Gillespies by Monica McInerney Read Free Book Online

husband and daughter.
    Nick and Lindy watched as the car moved out of sight, away from the homestead, onto the long straight dirt road.
    Four hours later, alone in the kitchen, Nick hung up the phone after talking to Angela.
    Ig was going to be fine. Everything was under control. The drive to Hawker had gone quickly, she told him. She and Ig had sung Christmas carols all the way, a good distraction. There’d been a group waiting for them at the hospital, alerted by Nick’s call, including the doctor on duty, an intern from Adelaide doing her bush experience. According to Angela, the doctor had taken one look at Ig’s blood-soaked bandage and the contents of the freezer bag, paled, and then immediately called for an ambulance to take Angela and Ig to the bigger hospital in Port Augusta, another hour away. Angela was calling from there now. Ig had already had emergency surgery to reattach his finger. There hadn’t been serious blood loss, despite how it looked from the mess in the kitchen. He might lose some movement, but the doctors were optimistic. The ice, the pressure bandage, it had all helped. She’d just come from his room. He was sleeping peacefully. The only thing wrong was that in the hurry to get Ig to the hospital, she’d left her mobile phone behind. She’d use payphones while she was in the hospital, and the UHF radio in the car once they were on their way home.
    ‘And you? Are you okay?’ Nick had asked.
    ‘I’m fine.’ She’d sounded so calm. Almost too calm.
    There was a long silence before she spoke again.
    ‘I’d better go. I’ll call again tomorrow as soon as I can.’
    It wasn’t until he’d returned the phone to the cradle that Nick realised he hadn’t asked her where she would be staying. In Ig’s hospital ward? A nearby motel? He went to call her back, but stopped. She didn’t have her mobile. If she was still in the ward, the nurses wouldn’t appreciate a ringing phone this late at night.
    ‘I’m fine,’ she’d said. But how could she be? He should have said more to her. Asked her a dozen more questions:
Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to drive over to you? I can be there in a few hours. Lindy can look after the delivery tomorrow. You need me there. I need to be there with you.
But the moment had passed, as it always seemed to between them these days.
    It was his fault, he knew that. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he never seemed able to find the words. Not just tonight. It had been that way for months now.
    ‘Have you told Angela yet?’ his doctor had asked during his last session. ‘She needs to know. You need to tell her.’
    ‘I don’t want to worry her.’
    ‘She’s your wife, Nick. She’s probably already worried.’
    But how could he even begin to tell her? It was hard enough facing himself in the mirror each day, knowing how much he’d let her down, let his whole family down. He couldn’t bear to see more disappointment in her eyes. He’d seen how shocked she was when he told her about the mining deal. He’d heard the worry in her voice. That night had confirmed it for him. It was better for her, for the kids too, if he kept the rest to himself. If he tried to keep himself busy with his family research. If he stayed out of their way. Angela’s way, especially.
    He went down the hall and checked on Lindy again. She was fast asleep. He’d sent her to her room, as if she were a child again, as soon as Angela and Ig had driven off. He’d assured her everything was going to be okay with Ig, that he was happy to do all the cleaning up. It had taken him more than an hour. There had been blood everywhere.
    It was now nearly midnight. He should go to bed. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept properly for months. He turned on the TV but there was nothing he wanted to watch. He checked the time, making the calculation. It was the middle of the day in Ireland. A good time to email Carol. Emailing Carol would take his mind off