Saving Jazz by Kate McCaffrey Page A

con. It was pretty and tidy. ‘Once you’re settled we can get stuff to personalise it — make it yours.’
    I sat on the bed. ‘Thank you so much,’ I said. She waved my gratitude away.
    â€˜Did you build this as a guest room?’ I asked.
    â€˜Amongst other things.’ Aunty Jane wheeled my suitcase to the wardrobe.
    â€˜Was this going to be your workroom?’ I asked as it suddenly occurred to me.
    â€˜Yes,’ Aunty Jane put her hand up to stop my protestations. ‘Don’t even,’ she warned me. ‘This is a perfect space for you. You can’t live in the house surrounded by the brat pack. You’re a girl. You need space. You need privacy.’
    â€˜But your work?’ I felt guilty. She had built this to create her pot hangers and tea trials. She hadn’t even got to use it before she gave it to me.
    â€˜Honey, I’ve run my business out of the back room for this long. I’m so used to it. Don’t. Promise me you’ll let me do this for you. Don’t take away the thrill I get out of giving you this room. That would be rude.’
    I snapped my mouth shut and nodded.
    â€˜Now have a shower — I even got this thing plumbed. Through there,’ she pointed to a timber panelled door that blended in perfectly with the wall. ‘It’s little, but it has a shower, basin and loo.’
    â€˜Thank you so much,’ I said meekly.
    â€˜And enough of that too. Get sorted and we’ll talk later.’
    I didn’t know whether to kiss her — that wasn’t part of my family’s repertoire — but I had to hug her.
    â€˜One last time,’ I said, hugging her. ‘Thank you.’
    â€˜One last time,’ she agreed, returning my hug.
    Aunty Jane provided me with a sanctuary, but more importantly she gave me support and love. I know I would have made it — but if it hadn’t been for her, I’m not sure how.

Post 26: A new day
    The night I arrived, after the boys were in bed, we had a council of war meeting in the lounge room. Aunty Jane and Uncle Rob shared a bottle of red. I drank tea — one of Aunty Jane’s relaxing brews. We discussed my options.
    â€˜First, school,’ Uncle Rob said. He pushed his hair back with one hand, a gesture I learnt was his trademark. ‘What do you want to do?’
    I shook my head. I never got to make decisions with my parents — I was always told where I was going, what I was doing, what I should look like, what my future would be. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. The idea of going back into a school environment filled me with dread.
    â€˜I don’t think a standard school is suitable rightnow,’ Uncle Rob said, as if reading my mind. ‘You’ve got all the other stuff to deal with and I think the last thing you need is being around kids who are following the action.’ He was right. I knew that when the video went viral, kids in the city had commented on it. If I attended a normal school I’d be
that
girl — the one who did
those
things. I’d never be free of it.
    â€˜Distance Ed,’ Aunty Jane said. She looked at Rob, who nodded in agreement.
    â€˜Great idea, babe,’ he said, ‘you’re not just a pretty face.’
    â€˜That’s why he married me,’ Aunty Jane tapped her head, ‘up here for thinking, down there for dancing. Do you know intelligence is inherited on the X chromosome? So all boys get their intelligence from their mothers.’
    â€˜I got lucky,’ Rob said, ‘the boys will be clever like their mother and not as dumb as me.’
    â€˜You’re not
that
dumb,’ Aunty Jane said. They shared a smile and I watched in wonder. I had never seen my parents engage with each other like that. There was always aloofness between them. I could almost imagine them referring to each other as Mr Lovely and Mrs Lovely in conversation. Until now, I’dnever