Free The Scent of Apples by Jacquie McRae Page B

mention Nan leaving. I’ve almost convinced myself that they’ve forgotten their stupid plan. Until I see Dad carrying two suitcases. They’re still dusty from the attic. I recognise the British Airways tags from when Nan and Poppa last went back to England.
    I run down the hallway and into Nan’s room. I climb up on her bed and snuggle into her. I ignore her confused look and kiss her face. ‘I’ll come and get you out, Nan,’ I sob.
    Mum comes in carrying a box of toiletries and a new toilet bag, like Nan’s off on an overseas trip. For once, I’m grateful that the wiring in Nan’s brain has gone funny. Dad comes in with the suitcases. I can’t stand to be in the same room with either of them. I kiss Nan, and leave.
    Up in my room, I wonder if I’ve done the right thing. Maybe I should have helped pack some of her precious things. Maybe I should have explained what was happening. But I just couldn’t be part of it.
    I hear voices in the foyer and then footsteps coming towards my room. A tapping on my door and Dad’s voice.
    â€˜We have to go now, Libby. Do you want to come … or at least say goodbye?’
    I ignore him. I won’t ever say goodbye.
    After a while I hear his footsteps going back down the stairs.
    The crunch of the gravel makes me peek through the curtains, just in time to see the car driving away.
    Toby stands beside the driveway with his hat held in front of him, like I’d seen his grandfather do. We both watch the tail-lights on the car disappear. When he looks up at my window, I quickly step back.

Chapter Five
    As far back as I can remember, Nan was my official story-teller. When she told me stories, real or made up, her hands would fly around, and I learnt to duck and weave like a professional boxer. She would hold onto the end of words for so long I wanted to shake her to get the next one out.
    She must have read Alice in Wonderland to me about forty times. When they drove off with Nan, just like Alice, I jumped down a rabbit hole and spiralled through a tunnel. There was no one to call me back.
    I lie on my bed and pull at my hair. I am Alice: I take myself to a world separate from anyone else.
    I am so absorbed with my hair-pulling that I don’t notice my bedroom door open. Mum’s voice right beside my bed hits me like a thunderbolt. For a moment I straddle both worlds. Mum’s mouth is moving up and down rapidly, but I can’t make sense of the words.
    I sit up so fast that it makes my head spin, and raise my hands to hide my head. The look on Mum’s face tells me that it’s too late.
    â€˜What on earth is going on here? What’s happened to your hair?’ she screams at me. She whips back my duvet cover like I might be hiding something under there too.
    I want to curl into a ball but I can’t move. Shame freezes my limbs.
    Mum’s fingers are on top of my head, pulling and pushing hair aside to inspect my scalp.
    â€˜For God’s sake, Elizabeth! What’s wrong with you?’ I can hear the hysteria rising in her voice.
    I shake my head from side to side.
    â€˜You must have something to say! People don’t just decide to pull their hair out. How long have you been doing this?’
    I don’t answer.
    â€˜Does anyone else know about this?’
    I say nothing.
    She looks down at me.
    â€˜Right. You stay in your room until I can work out what to do with you. Do you understand?’
    I nod.
    She turns from me and I hear footsteps move away and a door slam.
    *
    Dad is on his way to Auckland, where he’ll be for the week. I know Mum won’t phone him until she has a plan. She’ll be hoping to have me all sorted out by the time he gets back.
    I read somewhere that seventy percent of the human body is made up of water. In this moment the only thing that I’m made of is shame.
    A tiny bit of me feels relief at being caught. I’ve been treading water while cradling