Free The Healing Party by Micheline Lee

could talk at me like this? I felt sickened. The car entered our driveway and Dad braked. I scrambled out of the car and took a deep breath.
    Inside the house, Mum, Patsy and the ladies were still praying. Mum called from the lounge room for me to join them. Maureen, the formally dressed and perfumed leader of the group, bade me to sit. ‘We will finish up by reading from the words of the evangelist Katherine Kuhlman,’ she said.
    Maureen opened the book and read aloud, ‘“What is in the mind of God? There comes a time when we love Him so completely that we do not say anymore, there is God’s will and there is my will. There comes a time when it will be impossible to miss the will of God. When you do not have a will separate and apart from God. When you have no will of your own. The very son of God had to give up his will … Not my will, but Thy will.” Now repeat the last sentence with me three times.’
    â€˜Not my will, but Thy will. Not my will, but Thy will. Not my will, but Thy will.’
    *
    The ladies had left, Patsy had taken the bus back to her student lodging, Dad was in his studio and Mum had woken up from her nap on the couch. I handed her a cup of tea.
    â€˜Isn’t it great you joined us for prayers?’ she said. ‘The ladies were so happy to see you again.’
    â€˜Can we talk again about your childhood?’ I asked, taking out my notebook.
    â€˜My father was a very good man,’ she began, without any resistance. She seemed to want to talk.
    â€˜Mum, you’ve talked about your father before. How about your mother?’ I said. Her stories of her father seemed to be the only childhood memories she would volunteer.
    â€˜He was so holy,’ she continued. Her brow softened, her eyes lit up and she smiled. ‘You know the first thing he did when he got home from work? He knelt down and prayed. On the staircase landing, we had a little altar and crucifix. He knelt there for at least one hour.’
    â€˜You and your sisters had to kneel there too sometimes for punishment, didn’t you?’
    She did not even pause. ‘You know the war? The Japanese came to Hong Kong. The British ran away. All their houses and shops just empty. Everyone stole from them. But not my father. He tried to stop people from going into their houses. My dad was ARP. You know what that is?’
    â€˜Yes, Air Raid Precaution. You’ve told me. Did you talk much with your father?’
    â€˜He was my father, of course we talked. Some ARP were bad, take bribes. But never my father. Everyone looked up to him.’
    â€˜What was your parents’ relationship like?’
    She sighed. ‘They were husband and wife all their life, why ask silly?’
    â€˜Your sisters said your mother spent too much time playing mahjong for money.’
    The smile stayed on her face. ‘My father liked your dad very much. You know I had too many suitors. It was so hard to choose.’
    I had heard Mum’s relatives tease that every second man in Hong Kong had proposed to her. Her sister Monica’s husband had first proposed to Mum and been rejected. So too her cousin’s husband. Whenever Dad boasted that he had married the belle of the island, she told him to be quiet, sensitive to how it would seem to them.
    â€˜I met your father at church after he became Catholic. He was at every mass, always kneeling. He sang in the choir, so loud and so out of time! He was very funny too. You know what he did? Other boyfriends give me jewellery and flowers – but not your dad. One day the postman came to my house. He is laughing loud. All the neighbours too are laughing. The postman gave me a big picture – this big.’ She stretched her hands out as wide as they would go. ‘It was from your dad. He made a cute picture of himself carrying a big bunch of flowers!’
    Mum laughed and her eyes grew wistful. She loved him. There was no doubt about