Molly banging her right heel into the dirt, waiting for her Mum to respond.
And Violet seems lost in that sky. Then she closes her eyes and reaches her right arm out to her daughter and Molly watches that hand come all the way across to rest upon her left shoulder. Her mother’s fingers are shaking. And Molly can see now that her mother’s arms are thinner than she’s ever seen them. Her skin, paler.
‘Why are your fingers doing that, Mum?’
And Violet opens her eyes and studies her shaking right hand, close up, then hides it once more behind her back. She turns her eyes again to the sky. ‘I’m going up there, Molly,’ Violet says. ‘I’m going up there to be with your grandfather.’
Molly smiles. Turns her head back to the sky. Eyes alight. ‘Can I come, too?’
‘No, Molly, you can’t come, too.’
And Molly feels thirsty now and her belly turns inside her and the toes of her right foot dig into the red earth beneath her and she makes nervous fists with her hands and the longest nails on her fingers dig so deep into her palms that they dig through the skin. Turn again to the sky. Turn again to Mum.
‘I’m not coming back down again, Molly.’
Molly shakes her head. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I can’t stay down here anymore.’
Molly raises her eyes to the sky again. She searches for a town up there. She searches for the house her mum will stay in up there. She searches for streets in the sky and lolly shops and liquor stores. The town beyond the clouds. The town beyond the sky.
‘This is the last time you will see me, Molly.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m going away.’
Molly drops her head. Toes digging deeper in the dirt. And she wants to know how her mother pulls this magic trick, how she turns so quickly from the light and into the dark. She’s daylight switching straight into night-time, Molly tells herself. Day sky to night sky, with no living done in between. No time in between. No chores. No afternoon tea. Day sky blue with dolphin clouds to a night sky only black.
‘What are you feeling inside, Molly?’ Violet asks.
‘I feel like I want to cry.’
Violet nods her head.
‘Then cry, Molly,’ Violet says. ‘Cry.’
And the gravedigger girl’s eyes squint and her body shudders like it wants to vomit and her neck jolts forward and she sobs. Two brief sobs and her eyes have to open wide for a river of tears that turn to tributaries that split through the dry dirt and dust on the girl’s face, and these new water lines on Molly’s cheeks look to Violet like the creek systems she would see on her father’s gold fossicking maps as a girl.
‘Keep going,’ Violet says. And the girl cries harder and she puts her hands to her face and fluid runs from her nose and saliva drips from her lips and her mother does not touch her. Does not hold her. Does not reach for her.
‘Cry, Molly, cry,’ Violet says, softly.
The gravedigger girl howls so loud that Violet turns her head, instinctively, towards the cemetery house beyond a cluster of trees, just in case that sound is loud enough to wake her husband from a long daylight liquor sleep.
‘Good,’ Violet says. ‘Good, Molly.’
And Molly cries for a full minute more and then she swallows hard and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. She grips a fistful of her dress and lowers her face to wipe it clean.
Violet stands in front of her child now, hands still behind her back.
‘Are you finished?’
Molly nods, snorting fluid back up through her nose.
‘Did you get it all out?’
Molly nods.
‘Now look at me, Molly,’ Violet says.
Molly looks up at her mother.
‘You will never weep for me again,’ she says. ‘Not a single tear will you shed for me from this moment on. You will never feel sorrow. You will never be afraid. You will feel no pain. For you are blessed, Molly Hook. Never let a single person tell you any different.’
Molly nods.
‘What is this place?’
‘It’s hard, Mum.’
‘What is rock?’
‘It’s hard, Mum.’
‘What is your heart?’
‘My heart is hard, Mum.’
‘How hard is it?’
‘Hard as rock. So hard it can’t be broken.’
Violet nods.
‘No one can ever break it, Molly,’ Violet says. ‘Not your father. Not your uncle. Not me.’
Molly nods. She watches her mother look back to the cemetery house. There is fear on her face. There is worry.
Violet turns back to her daughter. ‘Now is there anything you want to ask me before I go?’
Molly’s head down, staring at the dirt. Staring at a platoon of ants marching towards her grandfather’s grave.
‘Will I still be able to talk to you?’
‘We can talk any time you want to talk,’ Violet says. ‘All you have to do is look up.’
‘But how will I hear you?’ the girl asks.
‘All you have to do is listen.’
Molly’s head stays down.
‘No, you can’t be doing that,’ Violet says. ‘You can’t be keeping your head down like that, Molly. You must look up. You must always look up.’
Molly looks up. Violet nods, half-smiles.
‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’
Molly scratches her face, twists her left foot in the dirt, something on her mind.
‘What is it, Molly?’
Molly’s screwed-up face.
‘You’re gonna miss my birthday,’ Molly says.
‘I’m gonna miss all of your birthdays, Molly.’
Molly drops her head.
‘I won’t get any more gifts from anyone,’ Molly says.
‘You’ll still get gifts from me.’
‘I will?’
‘Of course you will.’
Molly points to the sky.
‘But you’ll be up there.’
Violet smiles.
‘That’s where the best gifts come from.’
Violet looks at the sky again.
‘The rain, Molly,’ Violet says. ‘The rainbows. The dolphin clouds. Elephant clouds. Unicorn clouds. The great big bolts of lightning. The sky gifts, Molly. I’ll send them all down for you.’
‘The sky gifts,’ Molly says. She likes those words. ‘Just for me?’
‘Just for you, Molly. But you have to keep your eyes on the sky. You have to keep looking up.’ Violet points at the sky.
