About six months have passed since I took the apartment, and nearly one hundred and twenty volunteers pass each week through my door. Scott shows great improvement from his six-hour days of therapy. I'm content with my life, enriched by our friends and much laughter. But suddenly I am rudely reminded of reality. Once again the system, like a wolf lurking in the woods, comes knocking. A letter arrives from Immigration informing me that I am in Australia illegally and I must check in, answer questions on Scott's health, and fill out new forms.
It turns into a lengthy process. Trusting Scott to my volunteers, I wait at Immigration for hours before a case officer tells me to return in two weeks with the new information. After visiting Immigration several times only to be interviewed by the same man who asks the same questions, I blow a fuse and complain bitterly to the poor man, who can say little more than, 'I'm sorry, love, but we have to have some sort of procedures.' When I return home, I tell my volunteers of my frustration. I am sure I will have to leave the country.
That night, after Scott slips into sleep, I step out the back door to breathe the dark air. It is a clear and lovely night. The moon has not yet risen, and the stars dance above me, twinkling specks of diamonds in a charcoal-black sky. My mind is drawn back to that little girl in Marble Hall who trusted her stars. And I can hear Ted, my wayward sea-captain Dad, say as he did so often, 'Trust in your stars, Glennie. Those stars have saved many a drifting man.' Whenever I have faltered from life's course and my future seems uncertain, I think back to Dad's advice and turn skyward for guidance. What do my stars tell me tonight? What course shall I follow?
What I do not know is at this very moment my dear friend Shirley is launching a campaign of rescue. Across Sydney, hundreds of phones are beginning to ring.
From Hold My Hand: A Mother's Journey by Glenys Carl. Pan Books, Pan Macmillan LTD, England, 2005. All rights reserved.