Heavenly Beverley : Flying Solo On A Rather Bumpy Ride

A week ago, I was preparing to fly to Melbourne on the other side of the country. My niece, Emily, had contacted me. The news was horrible, to say the least. Her mum, Jenny, was dying from small cell tumour that had metastasised. Her dad, my brother Michael, had flown to Melbourne from Cooktown to see her before she died. Emily was concerned about his mental health. Apparently, he wasn't getting along with three other family members and this situation was severely limiting his access to Jenny. She asked if I would come.

Son Nathan was Jenny's carer and lived with Jenny in the rented duplex close to the hospital. Stepdaughter Karlee was visiting from Sydney. Daughter Hannah was a mystery. All I knew about her was that she was divorced with a young son.

Broker a peace deal between Michael and his children and stepdaughter? No problem! I was a master at finding solutions. Conflict was never helpful. Consensus was the way forward. I had battled large organisations for thirty years to ensure the best outcomes for myself and my family. I was confident I could sort out this emotional mess in the two days before Michael flew back to Cooktown.

I had arranged to meet Michael at Melbourne Airport and brave the city's public transport system. I was also travelling to Melbourne on my own. Not an ideal start. I was already weary after a hair-raising drive to Perth dodging sheep and kangaroos in the pre-dawn gloom.

My friend Susan rang me whilst I was in the departure lounge. Offering me a lift and possible accommodation, I was pathetically grateful.

I managed to locate both Michael and Susan once I'd disembarked. We set off for a drive to the duplex in Heidelberg Heights. A long drive. Melbourne was hot. And huge. I couldn't get my bearings. I had no sense of direction or distance.

I met Karlee and Hannah and Nathan. They made no secret of their contempt for Michael. I hoped I could learn some of their history and then organise a ceasefire for the day and a half my brother was still in Melbourne. An encounter between Michael and Nathan was unpleasant and resulted in Michael leaving shortly after we'd arrived.

Jenny was sedated and fairly unresponsive. I stayed for a while and then left with Susan to her home Somewhere Else in Melbourne. That night, I slept.

The following morning disappeared before I woke. A quick breakfast and then off. Susan's daughter, partner and children lived in the next suburb to Heidelberg Heights. En route through Ivanhoe was evidence of a street clearance. Susan scored a washing machine and a stunning wooden dining suite. She dropped me at Michael's digs and returned to transport her haul to her home.

Emily arrived. A jaw-droppingly beautiful young woman. Different from her siblings. Warmth in her eyes. Concern for her father. Some fond memories of Michael and the family. She filled in the gaps. We talked for a few hours. I understood so much more.

Michael was very presentable. He'd showered and washed his hair and cleaned his teeth. A pretty good effort for a man who'd lived most of his life in far north Queensland. We were planning to leave for Heidelberg Heights when Emily received a phone call. We were instructed to collect Jenny's medications from the hospital.

No problem. A short detour, we thought. Emily and Michael waited at the hospital pharmacy for half an hour and were given a manila envelope full of scripts. Twenty-five-minutes drive to one pharmacy in Bulleen. Waited forty-five minutes. They had already informed the hospital they had no morphine. Did Jenny need these drugs that night? We didn't know. Emily made a phone call to inquire about the urgency of the drugs. She was duly given a flea in her ear.

Onward to the next chemist in Bundoora. They were open until nine o'clock. They were able to fill part of the prescription. No morphine there either. The other branch in Bundoora had morphine and they had closed at six o'clock.

By this time, all three of us were nearly beside ourselves. We'd been driving or waiting for over two hours. The pharmacist took pity and phoned a rival chemist in the same shopping centre. They had the morphine, would hold the morphine and were still open. We were saved.

This whole enterprise took three and a half hours on a Sunday evening. We arrived back at Heidelberg Heights. Nathan, thankfully, was absent. A day off for him.

Michael immediately went in to see Jenny. She was awake, alert and being fed her dinner by Karlee. He bent over and kissed Jenny's forehead. Karlee responded forcefully that Michael desist. So, he left. On his last evening in Melbourne, he was unable to spend time with his partner of thirty-eight years, due to an objection by his stepdaughter.

Michael left that unhappy house in Heidelberg Heights. I left soon afterwards. The situation had become untenable.

On my last morning in Melbourne, I was determined to spend time with Jenny and says the goodbyes from Michael and me. I caught an Uber and arrived about noon. Nathan was in the living room, watching television. I asked if I could sit with Jenny.

Her room was light and the windows were open. That was heartening. Her TV was tuned to a pleasant gardening show. She was sleeping so I unpacked my laptop, keeping an eye and ear on a very interesting programme on Renaissance gardens.

My phone rang. I probably should have left the room. But I didn't. That led to battle. Brother David was on the phone, asking about Jenny. I kept my voice low and answered honestly. Jenny remained asleep.

Crashing erupted in the kitchen and suddenly Nathan was in the room with lunch for Jenny, even though she was still asleep. He then berated me for answering my phone. Normally, I would have kept my cool, apologised and that would have been that. This young man, only twenty-seven, was one of the most disagreeable people I'd ever met. He just rubbed me up the wrong way, so an argument ensued and I was ordered from the house.

Hannah arrived as additional support for her brother. I left in an Uber. I couldn't believe that had just happened. This was not how I'd expected events to unfold. I felt I'd failed.

I sat at Rosanna Station and wept for Michael. Out of his six children and stepdaughter, three were openly hostile towards him. Another had drug problems. Another was non-committal. Then I wept for my husband, who had experienced similar trauma. How had these tragedies come to pass?

Melbourne did not impress me. I found the city hot and difficult to navigate. The streets were dirty and graffiti was ever-present. An oasis was the National Gallery of Victoria. The afternoon trains were packed with silent passengers, all just enduring the heat and the crush.

That evening Susan took me to see the Burke and Wills commemoration in Queen's Park, Essendon. The only truly wonderful episode of my visit. As were the cobblestone gutters. She wanted to show me Sydney Road, with its quite interesting and quirky shops. I saw every single one as the traffic was bumper to bumper.

We went to dinner at one of Susan's favourite cafes. The proprietor was rude to Susan. Oh, he's rude to everyone was her airy response. The food was reasonable without being outstanding. And expensive. I paid and we left.

Needless to say, the trip to the airport was not without incident. I had offered to take an Uber. Susan insisted on driving me. At six o'clock in the morning, the city was pitch black due to daylight saving. A couple of wrong turns and heavy traffic saw me arrive at the terminal with fifteen minutes before boarding. Luckily, I'd already checked in and I only had a carry-on bag. I was profoundly relieved to leave Melbourne behind.

So, in hindsight, was the trip worth all the angst? I met a wonderful and compassionate niece, Emily. I was offered accommodation by Susan. I had time with my maddening brother, whom I adore. I discovered that he had honesty and integrity in spades. I also realised that his beautiful hazel eyes are ringed with a vivid blue. I had never noticed before. So. yes.

My brothers were equally incredulous about my experiences in Melbourne. I learnt a hard lesson in family diplomacy. Sometimes, there was no happy ending.