When Grace Went Away

by Meredith Appleyard

  He regarded her expectantly but Grace didn’t laugh, couldn’t even work up a chuckle. He went back to his meal and she let her gaze wander across the other diners while he ate.

  When dessert time came it was easier to say yes to the tiramisu than to argue. Grace managed to pick her way through two-thirds of it and Grant beamed his approval.

  ‘This Aaron,’ Grant said, after they’d paid and were walking to his car. ‘How often do you talk to him?’

  ‘We don’t talk-talk, we email or message. I met him when I was there the last time. He’s lived in Miners Ridge for years, knows all the gossip.’ She snuffed out a dry laugh. ‘I probably know more about my hometown now than when I lived there.’

  ‘What does he do, besides gossip?’

  ‘He has his own business,’ she said, ignoring his snarky tone.

  ‘Oh yeah, what sort of business?’

  ‘Gardening, handyman, small building projects. He says he could probably take on an employee, there’s that much work, which is hard to believe in a place the size of Miners Ridge.’

  ‘So, tell me all about Miners Ridge.’

  ‘Why the sudden interest?’

  ‘I dunno, it’s your hometown … I’ve never been there.’ He sounded put out.

  ‘No, I didn’t ever take you to the farm, did I?’ Grace said slowly, reflecting back on their time together. ‘Nor did I meet your parents in Adelaide. We were always too busy doing other things, weren’t we?’

  Photos were all she’d seen of his children. And Grant had met Sarah simply because she’d stayed with Grace whenever she needed respite from being Nanna’s carer.

  Grace took a deep breath, holding it in for seconds before forcing it out through pursed lips.

  ‘I guess you could say Miners Ridge is a typical small country town. Although, it’s quite picturesque, nestled in the hills like it is. There’re about a thousand people, if you include the outlying farms. There’s a hospital, a couple of pubs, a service station, an area school … Oh, and interestingly enough, I discovered last time I visited that they have an art gallery.’

  ‘Enlightened,’ he said, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

  ‘Don’t be facetious.’

  ‘All right then, not being facetious, what keeps them afloat?’

  ‘Years ago it was mining, now it’s farming mainly. There’s some broadacre cropping, but predominantly it’s sheep because we’re right on Goyder’s Line—you do know what that is?’

  Even in the gloom of the gloaming she couldn’t miss his exaggerated eye roll. ‘Yes, Grace, I did geography at school.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she said, when they reached the car. ‘I always forget that you grew up in South Australia.’

  ‘Until I was ten, then we moved to Sydney. Would you ever go back there to live?’ Grant unlocked the car and they climbed in.

  Pulling on her seatbelt, Grace paused. ‘To Miners Ridge? I don’t know. I can honestly say I’ve never thought about it,’ she said, the answer taking longer than it would have a few months ago. Then she would have fired off a definitive No without a thought. She’d think about that later.

  After a contemplative pause Grant started the car, easing into the traffic. Neither of them spoke and stayed lost in their own thoughts until he pulled up outside her apartment building. There wasn’t an empty parking space. ‘I won’t come up,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, fumbling with her seatbelt.

  ‘I need to go through a few reports before tomorrow’s meetings.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, leaning over and pecking him on the cheek. He smelled so familiar; nostalgia thickened her throat. ‘Thanks for dinner. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘You will.’

  An impatient motorist blasted their horn. She scrambled out, and Grant had the car moving almost the instant she’d closed the passenger-side door. She waved an apology to the irate driver.

  Standing on the kerb watching the blinking taillights, Grace reflected on their conversation. Her mention of Aaron had shifted something between her and Grant. Silly really, because she had no idea what was going on between her and Aaron—most likely nothing, given the current circumstances. It was hard to sustain a relationship of any kind when one person was on the other side of the world.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered, letting herself into the building.

  Grace also had reports to go through before the next day’s round of meetings and presentations, and her throat was vaguely scratchy and sore. A cold was the last thing she needed.

  22

  Sarah

  The idea had come to me when I was putting out the rubbish at the unit. The sky was darkening, the evening star visible. Traffic sounded in the distance. Mary, the woman in the unit next door, called for her wayward cat.

  Straightening the wheelie bin so that it aligned with the kerb, the thought began to take shape. Perhaps it had been bubbling away in my subconscious for days, ever since my recent, and fraught, foray to Miners Ridge.

  To rebuild bridges with my daughter and son, I needed to be closer to them. I needed to be accessible to them if and when they needed me. If I was there, on the ground, it would be harder for them to ignore me. And easier for me to learn what was happening in their lives. Without Grace as a go-between, I felt like an outcast.

  Liam had been a toddler, barely two years old, and Amelia was heavy in her mother’s womb when I’d left the farm. Now Liam was ten and Amelia almost eight. I didn’t know Amelia at all.

  When I’d left I’d expected to be away for a few weeks, a month or two at the most, enough time for Doug to come to his senses and realise that it would take both of us to make the marriage work.

  But he hadn’t reached out. Only days after I’d gone he’d cut off my access to our joint bank account. That had been a sharp slap in the face. He’d called my bluff.

  Each letter I wrote to him pouring out my heart was returned unopened, and my phone calls ignored. It took several months for me to accept that my husband didn’t want me back. By then my mental health was on a knife’s edge.

  When I didn’t make it for Amelia’s birth, I’d hoped Faith would understand. I’d tried to explain over the phone. But she hadn’t wanted to listen.

  My intention had been to visit my new granddaughter at the earliest opportunity, but then I’d landed in hospital after an accidental overdose and Grace had gone into full-on protection mode.

  By the time I was back on track, Faith wouldn’t answer my phone calls. The biggest blow came when Ben, my son-in-law, rang me and asked that I stop trying to contact Faith. ‘She has her hands full with a baby and a toddler and your calls upset her,’ he’d said. Although, he had reassured me that they were all well.

  Thoughts buzzing, I went inside and flicked on the electric kettle, promptly turning it off and pouring myself a glass of wine instead.

  Could I do it? Could I move back to Miners Ridge? What I was certain of was that I couldn’t go on existing in the vacuum I’d been in. It wasn’t living. With far less time in front of me than behind, I didn’t want to spend any more of it watching the sparrows have a better go at life than I was.

  What would I do with the unit? Grace had invested in it so I had a place to live; I paid her a peppercorn rent. Finding accommodation in Miners Ridge and keeping up my commitment to Grace would stretch my meagre finances.

  That was if I could find a suitable place, without forgetting the expenses associated with moving house. My stomach began to churn.

  Finding a pen and paper, I started making lists: nutting out the pros and cons, and everything I’d need to do if I was serious about turning the idea into reality.

  While I hadn’t written running into Doug in either the pro or con column, it was there at the forefront of my mind the whole time.

  Doug might as well have been standing behind me, looking over my shoulder, noting everything I jotted down. His virtual presence was pervasive. The only thing that stopped me screwing up the list and chuc
king it, along with it the idea, was Carol Claremont’s comment that Doug rarely ventured far from the farm.

  When the time came for Doug and I to meet, as I knew it would, I needed to have some control over our meeting. I admitted to myself that by returning to Miners Ridge I would bring on that encounter. If I stayed away, we might never see each other again. There was no way he would come to me after all this time.

  I couldn’t care how Doug might feel about it. For my peace of mind I needed to reconcile with him in some way, and reconcile with the events of the past. If there was to be any joy and contentment in the years to come, I had to move things forward.

  That night I prepared for bed feeling not exactly discouraged but cognisant of the emotional, physical and financial enormity of what I was contemplating.

  And now here I was. Weeks later, head spinning, I was standing in the empty sitting room of Number 12 Fourth Avenue, Miners Ridge. It was a two-bedroom weatherboard house way past its prime but still solid and with a weekly rent I could afford.

  The real estate people had agreed to a six-month lease. They’d wanted twelve and I’d wanted three, so we’d settled in the middle. They wouldn’t say how long the house had been vacant but the owners had recently slapped on a coat of paint inside and out, gravelled the driveway and poisoned the weeds.

  If my neighbour Syd, a crusty old bloke in saggy trackpants and several days’ worth of whiskery stubble, was to be believed the previous tenants had left the house in a hurry and without bothering to collect the bond.

  I was yet to glimpse the neighbours on the other side, or the ones over the back fence. Their places were neat with well-maintained sheds, neat gardens and lines of fruit trees along the boundary fences.

  Mine wasn’t the worst looking house in the street. That was Syd’s place.

  Surprisingly, when I’d told Tim what I was planning, he’d sounded pleased, in a guarded sort of way. He’d offered to help me shift and on the Saturday just past I’d hired a trailer and he and Aaron had moved my bed, fridge and washing machine from the unit in Adelaide. I’d decided they were the essential items, and I’d make do with what I could pick up second-hand, locally.

  Today, I’d driven up with the last load of clothes, linen and household goods. Tonight would be the first night in my new, although temporary, home. Gazing out onto the barren front yard, Grace’s SUV parked in the garage, my whole body contracted with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

  Miners Ridge was achingly familiar but at the same time terrifyingly alien.

  Not much about the streetscape had changed, and I’m sure it was still the same woman stacking shelves at the supermarket as when I’d been living here all that time ago. There were familiar faces and some stared with blatant curiosity. Others smiled a tentative welcome. It all felt very strange.

  Faith hadn’t been in contact at all. Tim might have told her already, but regardless, knowing how town gossip worked, I was confident she would have heard that I’d moved back to town. Fourth Avenue was only two streets away from her house. Close enough and safe enough for Liam and Amelia to walk.

  What I hadn’t dwelled on, purposefully and doggedly, was Doug’s reaction when he discovered I was living nearby. Strategising in the sitting room of my Adelaide unit could not have prepared me for how I felt now, with the reality of his proximity dawning on me.

  However, Doug’s reaction didn’t bother me quite as much as what Grace’s response would be when she found out. No, I hadn’t told her yet. The reason I hadn’t I didn’t even understand fully myself, except that I’d been dependent on my eldest daughter for too long. Did I have something to prove? Perhaps, even if it was only to myself.

  The previous weekend when he’d been helping Tim move the furniture in, I’d asked Aaron if he’d been in contact with Grace since she’d returned to London.

  ‘Yes, we do message each other occasionally,’ he’d replied cautiously. And when I’d asked him if he’d mind not mentioning to her that I’d moved, his mouth had flattened.

  ‘I did mention that I thought I’d seen her car in town a while ago.’

  ‘Oh,’ I’d replied.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you didn’t want her to know.’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want her to know, I just want to tell her in my own way, and in my own time.’ Whenever that might be.

  ‘Okay, I won’t say anything more to her. She hasn’t asked,’ he’d said, and I’d sensed that his opinion of me had shifted. I was sorry about that.

  Up until then I hadn’t felt as if I was deceiving Grace, just waiting for the right time to tell her.

  And now, standing alone in a bare and unfamiliar room smelling of paint, it struck me that if Grace suspected anything, she’d have been on the phone before now, demanding answers.

  After an awful first night spent lying awake, startling at every unfamiliar sound, I was in no mood for visitors when at eight-thirty there was a loud and insistent knocking on the front door. Ignoring it wasn’t going to work so I crawled out of bed, dragged on my dressing gown and went to see who it was.

  ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Faith spat, stalking past me into the sitting room, which was a misnomer really because as yet there was nowhere to sit.

  ‘Come in,’ I said, lifting my hands and then letting them drop to my sides.

  ‘It’s freezing in here.’ Scowling, she took in the sorry space. ‘When’s the rest of your furniture arriving?’

  I blinked, waved my hands about a bit more and said, ‘There’re a couple of chairs in the kitchen. Come through and I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Myriad expressions flashed across her face as she grappled with my invitation.

  ‘It’s only a cup of tea, Faith,’ I said, trudging into the kitchen. Brain befuddled with tiredness and too much excitement, I didn’t much care if she followed me or not.

  ‘Still milk and two sugars?’ I said, my back to her but feeling her presence in the room.

  ‘No sugar,’ she replied.

  When I turned around to hand her the steaming mug, I nearly dropped the tea.

  ‘You’re pregnant,’ I said.

  ‘I am. Twenty weeks today and before you ask, I’m fine.’ Reaching for the mug she added, ‘You can close your mouth now.’

  I clamped my jaw shut, nearly biting my tongue. By the look on her face I knew she knew I was busting to ask more questions, so I didn’t give her the satisfaction.

  Cradling the mug, Faith leaned against the kitchen counter.

  ‘You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,’ she said, her tone cool.

  As much as I’d yearned for this, and what better opening could I want, I really wasn’t up for this conversation right now. I was beyond tired, my emotions were scrambled and in the bright light of day I was filled with doubts about my decisions.

  Moving a half-unpacked carton of kitchen stuff off the card table, which I was using in lieu of a proper table, I put down my drink and sank into one of the two sagging directors chairs that completed the dining suite.

  ‘Why am I here? The million-dollar question,’ I said, dismayed to feel tears welling in my eyes. ‘All I can say is that Grace left and Nanna died, and then there was no reason for me to be in Adelaide any longer. And there was nowhere else to go.’

  Faith blew on her tea and then sipped. Blow, sip, it’s how she drank all her hot drinks. Once upon a time it irritated the hell out of me. Now I found it endearing.

  ‘Does Dad know?’

  Shaking my head I reached for the tea, embarrassed to see my hand was unsteady. ‘Tim wasn’t going to tell him, and unless someone else has told him already—’

  ‘I haven’t told him, and it’s unlikely Grace would have.’

  ‘She doesn’t know.’

  Faith froze. ‘How come?’

  ‘I’m going to tell her, I just haven’t yet.’

  Faith snorted. ‘I know why you haven’t. She would have tried to talk you out
of it.’

  ‘I thought about that, but it’s not the reason. I don’t think she would have tried to talk me out of it. I know Grace can come across as bossy, but she’s only ever had all our best interests at heart.’

  My frankness had surprised Faith. I put down the tea and cleared my throat.

  ‘You have to understand the state I was in when I lobbed onto Grace’s doorstep eight years ago. She looked after me. I thought I’d only be there for a few weeks at the most … I thought my going would finally snap your father out of the funk he’d been in since Luke’s death. Nothing else I’d tried had worked.’

  ‘Dad took it hard.’

  ‘We all took it hard, Faith. But he wouldn’t talk about it. In the end, he wouldn’t talk about anything. He wouldn’t even look at me. It was like I wasn’t there, so I went.’

  ‘You nagged at him. That social worker nagged at him. The minister would have nagged at him if he’d gotten the chance. No wonder he was fed up.’

  Faith could be blunt. I don’t think she meant to be cruel. I hoped not, but sometimes it felt like that. I swallowed the hurt.

  ‘Is that what he told you?’ I said.

  She straightened up. ‘No,’ she said defensively. ‘Not in so many words. But he was entitled to deal with it in his own way.’

  I let that comment slide. Yes, Doug was entitled to grieve in his own way. We all were. But he’d also had obligations as a father and a husband.

  ‘Did your dad ever talk to you about it? Or to Tim?’

  She ignored my questions and went to the sink and rinsed her cup.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said.

  I tracked after her, through the empty sitting room to the front door.

  ‘So, when does the rest of your furniture arrive?’

  ‘This is it,’ I said. ‘My lease is for six months so I was only going to get a couple of armchairs and a coffee table. Maybe a better table for the kitchen. I’m going to check out the second-hand place, and keep an eye on the noticeboard at the supermarket.’