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“She was up early this morning. Weren’t you Mrs Boney? She had her bath before everyone else. And you look very nice, Mrs Boney.”
    The nurse speaks louder when addressing Granny as though the older woman is hard of hearing. Granny stares out into the paddock ignoring the perky, prim woman. I don’t blame her. Granny is a crumpled, leather-skinned woman with snake-like hands whose presence commands silent respect but she takes this deference with little acknowledgment.
    â€œWell, I’ll leave you to her,” sings the nurse as she retreats, her rubber soles squeaking against the linoleum.
    â€œHi, Granny,” Henry says as he stoops to kiss her.
    â€œWhat took you so long to get here?” she asks testily, staring up at his big frame.
    â€œI had some things to sort out this morning,” he replies, the gaze of his dark eyes lowered to the floor.
    â€œYou were dawdling,” she snaps back.
    Granny turns to look at Dad. “What took you so long?”
    â€œI’ve been busy in Sydney.”
    â€œHuumph,” Granny replies, unimpressed, her gaze levelled steadily at him.
    I didn’t expect such ferocity from the old woman I had heard so much about. I begin to feel intimidated and regret that I have come all this way to meet her.
    â€œSo you’re Bob Boney’s daughter.” Granny eyes me.
    â€œHello, Granny.”
    â€œShe looks like your mother,” Granny remarks to my father and I feel a swell of pride at the connection. Dad has told me of the likeness — around the eyes — but many think I look more like my mother’s family than my father’s.
    â€œShe’s come all the way from Sydney, too. She was the one studying in Paris,” Uncle Henry offers.
    â€œI know that,” Granny snaps at him. She turns to me again, “What did you want to go there for?”
    I don’t know whether Granny is referring to Sydney or Paris so I stand mutely, hoping she will ignore me.
    Granny decides that the trip to Dungalear can’t take place unless we first go to town and fetch Danielle from the Aboriginal Foundation. Danielle is a niece of Henry’s, making her a distant cousin of mine. Dad and Uncle Henry think Granny, given the chance to leave the hospital, just wants an excuse to visit the Foundation, which is the meeting place for the town’s black community.
    It is another hour before Dad and Uncle Henry place Granny and her wheelchair into the car and we arrive at the tin hall, which rests on a slab of concrete. I begin cursing myself for obeying my father and not bringing any work to do, for not even running into my hotel room to grab the Aboriginal Law Bulletin. Dad, Uncle Henry and Granny have wasted time in organising medical supplies and chatting with the nursing staff and other patients before we even leave the hospital. I could have read the journal cover to cover by now and done a significant bit on one of the affidavits that await me on the carpet of my hotel room while all this organising and side-tracking takes place. The side trip to the Foundation only increases my frustration.
    Dad and I follow Uncle Henry into the Foundation to find Danielle. Henry saunters towards two old men sitting on blue plastic chairs beside a battered wooden table. They greet him with enthusiasm as he pulls up a seat. I hover near the doorway.
    â€œReggie. Tom. How are you blokes doin’?” Henry is met with nods and grunts. “You blokes know Bob Boney?”
    They nod at my slightly built, greying father.
    â€œG’day,” Dad returns, taking a place at the table. He shifts his body on the rickety seat to find his balance on a chair that has long ago lost its stability. When he feels safe from falling over he turns to Henry, “Aren’t we here to find Danielle?”
    â€œHaven’t got that far yet,” replies Henry, and turns his attention to the older men. “We’ve got Granny in the car.