It's three days before Maya can speak again.

That time goes past her in a blur. She remembers her mother running barefoot into the lane, holding her skirts up so that she could move faster. She remembers George's voice, panicky and distant and then she remembers very little more.

She has only snatched images of the hospital, glad to submit unconsciously to being examined and scanned and stitched, all the while a fierce burning through her head. That was a necessary trauma in itself, and she is happy not to remember most of it.

When she finally comes around, she is lying in her own bed under her own quilt, and Honora is sitting beside her humming quietly, and running her hands slowly up and down in the air above Maya's body. She is working with energy.

Maya has a sense of certainty that her mother has been here the whole time. Every fragment of consciousness she emerged to over these days held Honora sitting in the chair beside her, knitting, humming, burning incense, spellcasting. She was even sleeping there, Maya thinks.

There was one time she had woken briefly to find her grandmother in the room in her mother's place. Felicity was set up in the corner by the window, painting something that might have been a picture of Michaelangelo's David, Maya's not really sure. She was kind of groggy, so she just closed her eyes again.

There was also one time when she found Carmen slumped in the chair beside the bed too. She was making a cat's cradle with some red string stretched across her splayed fingers and when she saw Maya's eyes open she had staggered to standing, looking around wildly.

"Mrs. Double-U!'' she yelled, "She's awake, she is!''

Maya is relieved it's her mum on duty when she comes around for good. Honora stops her energy healing and strokes the hair away from Maya's forehead.

''Oh, my sweetheart!'' she says. "I am so sorry! I knew I should have done the regular Cho Ku Rei to protect you. It was just... the exam... I didn't think!''

"Mum,'' Maya warns her, blearily, pushing herself up to a sitting position in the bed. ''It's not your fault. You can't control or fix everything.''

''I know it's not the time,'' the voice of George emerges from the bedroom walls. "But there are some things that she could fix – like the leaking pipes in my basement for example.'' When no one answers, he adds quietly, ''Sorry. It's good to see you awake, Maya. We were worried about you.''

Maya reaches her hand to the back of her head. Her hair feels matted and oily, and a medical dressing is taped over a shaved area at the back of her skull. Beneath it, she can still feel a dull ache and the pull of sutures healing.

''Am I... ok?'' Her eyes search her mother's face, noticing how tired and sad Honora is looking.

''You are going to be fine. You lost a lot of blood, and you went into shock, but those wounds on your head are not that deep. He....'' She inhales sharply like it is painful for the words to come out. ''He hit you with the base of an empty gin bottle. You have some deep cuts and some bruising, but nothing permanent.''

Maya remembers the moment, the unexpected crack against her head, the slow-motion feeling of falling, threaded through with so much fear and confusion.

''What... what happened to Reese?'' she asks.

Honora is silent for a moment and looks down at her hands.

''The police picked him up not long after I found you, he was injured rather badly himself. They said it doesn't really make sense – but what do they know? He was on a cocktail of medications, and he had been abusing them further: snorting Ritalin and drinking along with it. A recipe for disaster. It doesn't excuse what he did. He could have... no. It doesn't bear thinking about.''

Tears start slipping down Maya's face as the memories from that evening flood back and Honora moves to sit on the bed beside her, holding her daughter and rocking her as they both cry.

''I hate him, Mum,'' Maya confesses through gritted teeth. ''I hate him so much. I wish he had died out there. I want him to feel the fear that I felt out there. I want him to feel the pain.''

Honora sits back, holding her daughter's face with her hands and giving her a look of such deep sadness.

''I know you do, my love. It's such a natural reaction.'' She rubs at the streams of saltwater on Maya's cheek with the pad of her thumb. ''But it is not up to us to mete out justice or take revenge. The police have him now, and I am certain he is going through hell in his own way. There is no need for you to dish out more. All that would achieve is to make your heart hard and angry, and that is a punishment for you more than it would be for him.''

She stands up and collects an assortment of glasses and mugs from beside Maya's bed. Most are half-full of liquids, evidence of the broth and juices she has been forcing into her daughter in tiny sips.

"We can talk about further in a bit. I want you to try and eat something first though. How about a little lunch then?''

While she is out of the room, Maya leans across to her bedside table and picks up her phone. It's on two percent battery, not surprising since it has lain there untouched for days. The screen only illuminates partially but it is enough for Maya to see a couple of messages from Truman, first teasing and missing her... then expressing concern and confusion that she hasn't replied.

What should she say? In these three days her whole world has tilted on its axis, and he isn't aware of any of it. To explain it to him properly will take so much out of her and she doesn't feel as if she is ready. As if in collusion, the phone shuts down entirely.

She closes her eyes, one last tear squeezing from the corner of her lids at the thought that her relationship with Truman might be one further casualty of this whole nasty affair.

''He will understand, May,'' George says, gently. ''When you are ready to tell him. He will understand.''

''Thanks, my friend,'' she whispers. ''I hope you are right.''

It isn't long before Honora backs into the room, holding a tray against her waist as she pushes the door open with her generous rump. She sets it down on the bed before plumping up the large cushions at her daughter's back. Maya pokes at the food. A cloud of pastry gives way to a steaming lava-flow of creamy chicken and leeks. Maya has always loved chicken pie but chicken in one food that almost never appears on the menu at Bishop's End for obvious reasons. That her mother has cooked it for her speaks volumes and each mouthful tastes like love.

Honora pushes back the curtains to let the sun soak into the room. Through the open window, the joyful trill of a blackcap streams from somewhere in the orchard. Three voices, two female and one male, waft up from the orchard.

''Mum! What are you doing!?'' Honora, still standing by the window, shouts down to Felicity.

''We are just setting up for my art class, dear! Carmen is going to be joining the ladies and I this afternoon.''

''Is this life drawing, mum!? You can't have children in your life drawing class!'' In a gentler tone she adds, ''Good morning Matthew. It's nice to see you again.''

''Stop being such a prude, Honora!'' Felicity sounds delighted. ''Why do you think I have Matthew carrying that gramophone. We are going to place it strategically, so everything is PG-rated.''

From down below Carmen snorts. ''The regular LP record player wouldn't do,'' she giggles, and Maya hears what sounds very much like a high five.

Honora humphs. "Well, I am coming to check up on you in a few minutes to make sure that PG conforms to my guidance criteria, not just yours.''

Honora bustles a little bit more around the bedroom, re-tucking the quilt, reorganizing the medications on the dressing table. She looks distracted, guilty almost.

Maya chews a warming mouthful of chicken pie.

''Why is it I get the feeling there is something else you want to tell me,'' she asks. Honora sighs and sits down at the end of the bed.

''Years ago, I offered to help him, Reese that is.'' Honora's voice is unusually small and choked. ''I saw what a hard time he was giving his mum and I approached her at the school and offered to help. It... it was wrong of me, and it didn't go well. She didn't want to admit there was a problem and was furious with my intrusion. She... they have held it against us ever since.

''I... I realize it hasn't always been easy for you, dealing with the repercussions of my involvement with this community. I'd like to believe that there have been as many benefits as there have been disadvantages. That it has taught you how to stand up for your own individuality, but I know there are times when it has been a burden I have placed on you.''

Maya swallows her pie thoughtfully. It is all she has ever wanted to hear her mother acknowledge how deeply some of their lifestyle choices have impacted on her. And yet, of all the times she has blamed her mother for people's reactions, this is the one her mother chooses to take responsibility for? She can't blame her mother for Reese's hatred. In the same way that her rage at him will be only hers to manage, no one is culpable for Reese's feelings besides himself.

''Mum,'' she asks, the words she has held in for so long without realizing blurting from her mouth. ''Why have you never told me about my father?''

https://youtu.be/XD9YSmE7Ym8