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|Title:||London, England||Contributor(s):||James, Wendy (author)||Publication Date:||1997||Handle Link:||https://hdl.handle.net/1959.11/15840||Abstract:||Last night my younger sister called me, reverse charges, from London. 'I'm coming home,' she says. The line crackles a little, then I start to exclaim, but her voice cuts in: 'I need money.' I don't question her need, just take down the necessary details: Five hundred dollars - into this account, at that bank. Tomorrow ... And don't tell Mum and Dad ... Please. She sounds older somehow, though it has only been a few months since our last telephone conversation. She sounds older, my pale will'o'the wisp sister. Perhaps it's just the connection. I ask her if she's okay. She tells me they've been desperately poor - can't get work. Someone is holding their passports, waiting to be paid for something or other. But everything's okay now, everything's fine. Honestly. Don't worry. Be home in two weeks - can't wait. Gotta go.||Publication Type:||Journal Article||Source of Publication:||Imago: New Writing, 9(2), p. 39-43||Publisher:||University of Queensland Press||Place of Publication:||St Lucia, Australia||ISSN:||1321-6481
|Field of Research (FOR):||200502 Australian Literature (excl Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Literature)||HERDC Category Description:||C2 Non-Refereed Article in a Scholarly Journal||Statistics to Oct 2018:||Visitors: 64
|Appears in Collections:||Journal Article|
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