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Authors: Nicola Moriarty
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about?’
‘It’s just what I do.’
‘Why?’
‘All right, fine. Here’s the “India story”. My parents were junkies. My mum was still shooting up when she was in labour with me. She died just after I was born, and my dad was a drop-kick, took off when he found out my mum died, never even laid eyes on me. But you don’t need to feel sorry for me; I was raised by my grandmother in a tiny town in Perth called Gingin. She was a beautiful woman who loved me like nothing else. The day she found out I had cancer, it absolutely broke her heart. I almost didn’t even tell her. She was getting so old, and she wasn’t well herself; I was afraid the shock would kill her. But in the end it did the opposite. She was so damned determined to get me better. She passed away just days after I gave her the good news that I’d beaten the cancer.’
Hannah interrupted to reach a hand out and touch India. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said quietly.
‘That’s okay. To be honest, it was as though she was waiting, just long enough to make sure I was going to be okay, before she could let go herself. Once she was gone, I had no family, no reason to stay in Perth any longer. But what I did have was money. Turns out my grandmother had been putting aside money for me since the day I came to live with her. She’d made some decent investments as well. She never even told me about it though – I found out when the lawyer came to see me with her will. At first I wasn’t sure what I should do with it, you know, should I be sensible? Invest in real estate? Donate it to charity? But then I realised that I deserved to do something for me. That’s when I started travelling. As it turns out, I haven’t needed to touch much of the money anyway – travelling on a budget is more fun. But it’s nice to know that it’s there . . . if I need it.’
‘Wow, that’s one hell of a story,’ said Hannah. India nodded, as though that was the end of it. But then Hannah spoke. ‘But it doesn’t answer my question. Okay, so you’ve had some difficult times, and maybe you want to see the world, experience life because you get how precious it is – after everything you’ve been through. But why does that mean you have to keep moving, and why does that stop you from forming a lasting relationship with someone you’re clearly hung up on?’
‘Long story. And like I’ve told you before, you’re not the only one with secrets. So unless you’d like to open up about your sordid past, you’re gonna want to lay off, girl.’
‘Fine. Game of pool?’
The conversation returned to lighter topics as India racked up the balls and Hannah chalked a cue and prepared to break. When they started to play, Hannah forgot all about the slight tension that had arisen between them when she had perhaps pushed India a bit too hard in her attempts to figure out exactly what it was that she was hiding from. Instead she relaxed into the game and the comforting sounds of the balls rolling and clinking and the feel of the solid, cool pool cue beneath her hands. Before her parents had divorced and she and her mother had moved into a small apartment, they had lived in a large house with a separate games room off the garage, which housed her father’s pride and joy – his billiards table. When she was small, Hannah had learned to play standing on a small white stool, which she would carry around the table and place wherever she needed to set up her shot. Throughout her life, her billiard skills had often led to guys approaching her in bars and pubs, attempting to pick up the ‘cute little pool shark’. It was funny how certain talents always seemed to turn men on – girls who could surf, girls who could skol a beer or win a game of poker. Although in Hannah’s experience, they usually started to get annoyed when they realised that they were actually never going to beat her.
India, however, seemed delighted to discover Hannah’s hidden talent. ‘Awesome,’ she
‘It’s just what I do.’
‘Why?’
‘All right, fine. Here’s the “India story”. My parents were junkies. My mum was still shooting up when she was in labour with me. She died just after I was born, and my dad was a drop-kick, took off when he found out my mum died, never even laid eyes on me. But you don’t need to feel sorry for me; I was raised by my grandmother in a tiny town in Perth called Gingin. She was a beautiful woman who loved me like nothing else. The day she found out I had cancer, it absolutely broke her heart. I almost didn’t even tell her. She was getting so old, and she wasn’t well herself; I was afraid the shock would kill her. But in the end it did the opposite. She was so damned determined to get me better. She passed away just days after I gave her the good news that I’d beaten the cancer.’
Hannah interrupted to reach a hand out and touch India. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said quietly.
‘That’s okay. To be honest, it was as though she was waiting, just long enough to make sure I was going to be okay, before she could let go herself. Once she was gone, I had no family, no reason to stay in Perth any longer. But what I did have was money. Turns out my grandmother had been putting aside money for me since the day I came to live with her. She’d made some decent investments as well. She never even told me about it though – I found out when the lawyer came to see me with her will. At first I wasn’t sure what I should do with it, you know, should I be sensible? Invest in real estate? Donate it to charity? But then I realised that I deserved to do something for me. That’s when I started travelling. As it turns out, I haven’t needed to touch much of the money anyway – travelling on a budget is more fun. But it’s nice to know that it’s there . . . if I need it.’
‘Wow, that’s one hell of a story,’ said Hannah. India nodded, as though that was the end of it. But then Hannah spoke. ‘But it doesn’t answer my question. Okay, so you’ve had some difficult times, and maybe you want to see the world, experience life because you get how precious it is – after everything you’ve been through. But why does that mean you have to keep moving, and why does that stop you from forming a lasting relationship with someone you’re clearly hung up on?’
‘Long story. And like I’ve told you before, you’re not the only one with secrets. So unless you’d like to open up about your sordid past, you’re gonna want to lay off, girl.’
‘Fine. Game of pool?’
The conversation returned to lighter topics as India racked up the balls and Hannah chalked a cue and prepared to break. When they started to play, Hannah forgot all about the slight tension that had arisen between them when she had perhaps pushed India a bit too hard in her attempts to figure out exactly what it was that she was hiding from. Instead she relaxed into the game and the comforting sounds of the balls rolling and clinking and the feel of the solid, cool pool cue beneath her hands. Before her parents had divorced and she and her mother had moved into a small apartment, they had lived in a large house with a separate games room off the garage, which housed her father’s pride and joy – his billiards table. When she was small, Hannah had learned to play standing on a small white stool, which she would carry around the table and place wherever she needed to set up her shot. Throughout her life, her billiard skills had often led to guys approaching her in bars and pubs, attempting to pick up the ‘cute little pool shark’. It was funny how certain talents always seemed to turn men on – girls who could surf, girls who could skol a beer or win a game of poker. Although in Hannah’s experience, they usually started to get annoyed when they realised that they were actually never going to beat her.
India, however, seemed delighted to discover Hannah’s hidden talent. ‘Awesome,’ she
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