Forty
I’ve only met Jed’s big sister Saffron once before, at a family barbecue. While the rest of the family were nibbling on gourmet sausages topped with homemade sauce and wrapped in homemade olive bread, trying with all their might not to let anything fall on Jed’s mum’s freshly scrubbed patio, Saffron was tucking into a lentil burger, flicking gobs of tahini and chunks of eggplant carelessly all over the place. She offered palm and tarot card readings to any willing takers, and free spontaneous renditions of Xavier Rudd songs as well. All the while, her two sons—Miracle and Gift—danced naked around Jed’s mum’s bemused corgi, chanting Buddhist mantras.
The only time I saw her stop smiling the whole time was when her mum called her “Caroline”. “It may be on my birth certificate, Mauree
