Her heart, which Jelly thought would have been about the biggest, healthiest part of her body, stopped working right between the Christmas cake and coffee. By the time Jelly and Gino got home the ambulance had gone, and their mums and dads with it, and only Maureen from next door was there to look after them and put baby Sophia to bed. Pik was crying in the kitchen, where all the coffee cups were half-full on the bench and the dishes still everywhere. ‘Is Nonna okay?’ Jelly asked, out of breath from running up the creek bank faster than she’d ever done. ‘She’ll be fine, honey,’ Maureen said, reaching her hand out to Jelly. But Jelly didn’t take it and Maureen let it drop back into her lap, her long red fingernails clicking against each other like cicada wings. Maureen was wearing Nonna’s special flowery apron. No one was allowed to wear that apron except for Nonna. How do you know? Jelly wanted to ask. How do you know Nonna will be fine? But she didn’t. She didn’t feel like asking something she knew Maureen couldn’t really answer.
