She spun around to face me. ‘So you’re not planning on staying,’ she snapped. It was an accusation.
‘I’m here,’ I said. ‘It’s a place to start.’
She stared at me for a long minute and left as suddenly as she’d appeared.
After getting dressed and forcing down a slice of toast, I prepared to do the thing I hadn’t gotten around to yet, although I’d desperately wanted to do it since I’d moved in. I was going to take flowers to my son’s grave.
The eleventh anniversary of his death had been earlier that week. I’d been preoccupied, in the middle of moving house, and the actual day had come and gone. Better late than never, I told myself as I drove to the cemetery on the outskirts of town.
It was midday by the time I walked the short distance from the unpaved cemetery car park to Luke’s grave.
Luke had been buried in the Fairley family plot, next to his grandfather, William.
I’d been adamant that Luke wasn’t laid to rest beside Joylene. Doug had remained mute, his grief and anger surrounding him like a force field keeping everyone at bay. He hadn’t participated in any of the arrangements for Luke’s funeral.
Grace had agreed with me. Faith didn’t see why he shouldn’t be next to their grandmother, and Tim couldn’t have cared less.
The grey granite gravestone was surprisingly warm given the mid-winter chill. As with my last visit, the grave was spick-and-span. The gravel around it looked recently raked over. A bunch of native flowers filled the vase by the headstone. It was a dry arrangement but looked freshly done. I wondered who’d put it there, doubting that it would have been Doug or Tim. Faith? Perhaps, but I wasn’t sure she had time to visit the grave regularly. And Grace was too far away.
Reluctant to remove the dried arrangement and replace it with my feeble bunch, purchased from the supermarket, I laid the flowers nearby.
A willy-wagtail flitted from one headstone to the next, whistling cheerfully. I sat down on the granite. It was hard, but the warmth penetrating through my clothes was comforting. I drew my jacket closer around me, and sat for a time with my son.
23
Grace
‘Grace, you did the right thing coming to see me,’ the GP said.
The doctor was gentle and softly spoken, her light brown hair scraped back into an elastic band. She’d examined Grace, asked a lot of questions, and taken blood for a swag of tests.
‘I’ve been taking multivitamins, eating healthier and avoiding alcohol for almost three weeks and I don’t have any more energy. I’ve lost another half a kilo.’
‘You said your mother had bowel cancer. How recently was that?’
Grace swallowed and shifted in the chair. ‘The beginning of last year. She had surgery, followed by chemo. You don’t think I have bowel cancer?’
‘Some bowel cancers are hereditary, but we won’t jump to any conclusions until the blood results are back. Depending on what they show, you might need more tests.’
‘All right,’ Grace said.
‘You said that your maternal grandmother had passed away recently?’
‘Yes, in the middle of May. From old age and dementia, her doctor said, not cancer. Mum had been her carer, up until Mum was diagnosed with cancer. Then we put Nanna into care.’
‘And you went home for the funeral?’
‘Yes. I’d barely unpacked here, and I had to fly home again. But there’s no way I wouldn’t have gone.’
The doctor looked up from her notes, her expression compassionate. ‘There have been some big changes in your life over the last year and a half. Some good, some not so good, but all stressful in their own way.’
‘I suppose so,’ Grace agreed, embarrassed by the prickle of tears. She sniffed and the doctor passed the tissue box.
‘And the job? How’s that working out for you?’
‘Okay,’ she said.
‘Just okay?’
Grace tried for a smile but her lips felt stiff. The doctor’s steadfast gaze didn’t waver.
‘It’s hectic. Expectations are high when it comes to performance outcomes, but that goes with the job. You don’t get an overseas posting unless they think you’re up for it.’
‘And?’
‘Oh, I was up for it.’ She lifted her shoulders, breaking eye contact. She had been up for it, was over the moon about the adventure. But Grace had an inkling that the idea and the anticipation of an overseas posting was way more exciting than the actual experience was panning out to be.
‘But?’
‘I can’t afford any buts,’ she said. ‘I’ve made it this far. All I need now is to know what’s wrong with me, then I can fix it.’
The doctor’s scrutiny was relentless. Grace began to feel uncomfortable. But how could she admit to someone she’d just met something that she was only on the verge of admitting to herself—that she was homesick? Grace suspected her yearning for home was making her physically sick.
Grace’s relief was tangible when the GP said, ‘All right then, we’ll leave it for today. Give it a week for the test results to come in and I’ll see you again after that.’
‘Yes, and thank you,’ Grace replied, gathering her scattered thoughts and pushing herself to her feet. ‘I’ll make another appointment for early next week.’
The doctor ushered her towards the door. ‘In the meantime keep eating a well-balanced diet, and no alcohol. I’ll see you again next week.’
‘Okay. Shall I keep taking the vitamins?’
‘Can’t hurt,’ the doctor said.
Grace paid her bill, made another appointment and walked the several blocks back to work.
A lot had happened in the last year and a half, and before that there’d been the split with Grant, which she hadn’t mentioned to the doctor, to say nothing of his reappearance in her life since her touchdown at Heathrow airport.
He called when she was stepping through the front door of the office building. She hadn’t mentioned the doctor’s appointment to him. Now, with his name backlit on her phone screen, she decided not to share any of the details with him yet, not until she had something definite to share.
It would probably turn out to be nothing. After all, homesickness couldn’t be diagnosed by a blood test. The only cure for it was to go home.
Imagine the field day Tim and Faith would have if she quit her job and landed back in Miners Ridge. Grace grimaced. She’d need some quiet time and a glass of red to unpick the reasons why going home wasn’t an option. Here she was in London, everyone thinking she was living the dream, and her life was showing all the signs of turning into a nightmare. She couldn’t share that feeling with Grant—or anyone.
‘Hi,’ she said brightly, answering on the last ring before the call went to message bank. She could hear voices and then what sounded like travel announcements in the background. She tensed. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’m at Heathrow. Jordan’s in ICU at the Royal North Shore. His condition is critical. I’m on my way back to Sydney.’
Grace’s stomach took a nosedive. ‘Bloody hell, Grant. What happened?’
‘Rammed his car into a tree. His mate walked away.’
‘Oh, how awful! Is there anything I can do?’ She found a quieter spot, away from the lifts and the lunchtime traffic. Swapping the phone to the other ear she wiped a clammy palm down her thigh.
‘No, but thanks anyway. My assistant is sorting the car and accommodation. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
‘Grant, you need to be with Jordan.’
‘I can’t believe this is happening … Sorry to be deserting you,’ he said, his voice cracking.
‘Don’t be silly! He’s your son and he needs you. Your family needs you.’
‘But will you be all right?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she said, wincing at his sharply indrawn breath. Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth to apologise, but before she could speak Grant said flatly, ‘I have to go. They’re calling my flight.’
‘Ta
ke care. Call me when—’ was all she managed before he disconnected.
The airport sounds, and something else, echoed in her ear as Grace slid the phone into her pocket and made her way numbly to the lifts.
Grant’s disappointment: that was the silent echo. He’d been hoping for more than she’d been prepared to give. And now he had hours of bone-wearying travel in front of him, and a critically ill teenager in hospital at the other end. What a hopeless friend she’d turned out to be, when he’d been nothing but a pillar of strength for her.
Weaving her way towards the lifts, Grace was almost there when she stopped and retraced her steps across the foyer to the front entrance. Work could wait. The sun was shining and the day was warm.
She’d take a walk, find a sunny spot, preferably with some grass, and spend thirty minutes soaking up the rays. Under the soothing sun, Grace would take the time to contemplate how she was going to survive in London without Grant … And ruminate on what a crappy friend she was.
The blood tests showed her white cell count was elevated, and she was seriously run down.
‘You’ve had infectious mononucleosis, or glandular fever,’ the doctor said. ‘It would fit with how you’ve felt, the weight loss. However, I’d say you’re over the worst of it. You can feel fatigued for several months. There’s no treatment at this stage except rest and a healthy lifestyle.’
‘No bowel cancer?’
‘No, the test was negative.’
‘That is such a relief. Of course I’ve had myself dead and buried since you ran the tests.’
‘A normal reaction,’ the doctor said. ‘Now, pop up onto the scales.’
Grace kicked off her shoes and climbed on.
‘Mmm,’ the doctor said, tapping the result into the computer. ‘Tell me what you’d eat in an average day.’
Grace thought for a moment before she said reluctantly, ‘Most mornings I don’t have time for breakfast. Lunch is out with clients, and dinner is often something at my desk.’
The doctor gave Grace a look that made her feel like a recalcitrant child.
‘You are an intelligent woman, Grace, and you don’t need me to tell you that you need to take better care of yourself. And that might include reassessing your priorities. You’ve had glandular fever, along with all the other stressors in your life, and you need to give your body time and what it needs to heal.’
Grace looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.
‘Would you like me to refer you to a dietitian?’
‘No, thanks. I know what a healthy diet means.’ And I had to juggle my calendar just to get here today, Grace thought.
‘All right. If you don’t have time for anything else, try a protein shake for breakfast. Stay off the alcohol for at least another month. Eat plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables.’
The doctor stood up and ushered her out, with Grace promising to look after herself better.
‘And think seriously about your priorities, Grace. Sometimes we get where we think we want to be, only to discover it’s not the right place for us after all.’ She softened the statement by adding, ‘Admitting it and then doing something about it isn’t always easy.’
‘Oh, I’ll be okay once I get over this glandular fever.’
‘Sure,’ the doctor said smoothly. ‘Make another appointment if you haven’t put on a kilo in the next month. Or if you have any other worries.’
When Grace was back at her desk, she googled glandular fever: the kissing disease. What a joke. She hadn’t had what she’d call a proper kiss in God knows how long.
Sue, her executive assistant, walked into her office when she was scanning the ingredient lists of the most popular proteins shakes. With a quick click of the mouse she was back to the projections spreadsheet she’d been working on. Sue was kind and caring, and if she got any ideas that Grace was unwell she’d slip into mothermode and Grace didn’t need or want that.
‘What’s the latest on Grant’s son?’ Sue said, hands on her well-rounded hips. She was about Grant’s age with three children of her own.
‘He’s still in intensive care in an induced coma. Grant said that given his injuries, the doctors are satisfied with his progress,’ Grace said. ‘I don’t think Grant’s left the hospital since he arrived there.’
‘It’s just awful. Keep me posted,’ Sue said, and bustled out of Grace’s office.
Grace had talked to Grant twice in the week since he’d flown home. Both times he’d sounded tired and heartsick. She’d apologised for snapping at him when he’d called from Heathrow, and was relieved when he’d said, ‘It’s okay Grace, we’re good.’
Although she missed him, she knew it was the company of someone familiar that she missed more than Grant himself. If anything, the feeling reassured her that she’d made the right decision keeping their relationship platonic.
That night, slouched on the sofa and overwhelmed by loneliness, she messaged Aaron. It would be early in Miners Ridge.
Hello A. Are you up and about? Guess what? I’ve had glandular fever. Here’s me wondering why I couldn’t kick the double dose of jet lag. Doc says I’m over the worst. G xx
Several minutes later her mobile rang and she was unprepared for the spike of delight when Aaron’s name appeared on the screen. He’d never rung before.
‘Who have you been kissing?’ he said with mock severity when she answered.
‘If only,’ she said, laughing, the sound of his voice working like a tonic. ‘It’s work here, and then more work, and there’s no time or energy left for anything else. The doctor said I could have been in the early stages of the infection when I arrived. I remember having a sore throat and thinking it was jet lag. I’ve no idea where I caught it. I’ll have to tell Mum. How are you?’
‘Never better. I’ve been laying pavers. It’s a pig of a job but it’s work. Because there’s been no rain people don’t need their lawns mown. Garden maintenance is way down.’
‘Is it cold?’
‘Frosty mornings but most days are fine. Farmers are looking grim.’
‘What’s Tim saying about it all?’
‘He says he couldn’t care less whether it rains or not. Another poor season might force Doug into making some overdue decisions about the farm, and then Tim can go his own way again.’
‘Dad’ll never sell the place, Tim knows that. Is Tim that unhappy?’
‘You know Tim, he’s never been your glass half-full type, but right now the glass is completely empty.’
‘He should tell Dad to stick it and just go. Then Dad would have to make the tough decisions.’ Grace could hear her voice rising. She flopped back on the sofa, closing her eyes. ‘Jeez, listen to me. I know it’s easier said than done or he’d be gone already.’
‘I think part of it is that he’s lonely, and he’ll never meet anyone in this place.’
‘So why do you stay, Aaron?’
He cleared his throat and said, ‘I might have met someone—’ and Grace tensed. ‘She’s a long way away now, but I’m thinking she’ll eventually come home.’ Grace let her shoulders soften. Silly, she told herself.
‘But what if she’s older than you are?’
‘I’m not fazed if she’s not.’
‘What if she’s going to be away for two years—’
‘Maybe she’ll come home before then.’
‘I guess she has holidays—’
‘I can take holidays, and flights go both ways.’
Grace sat forward on the sofa, her elbows on her knees, phone pressed tightly to her ear. She could feel her heart pumping in her chest.
‘Grace?’ he said when the silence lengthened.
‘I’m here,’ she said softly, their banter shifting to the serious.
‘Then speak. Tell me what you think.’
‘Okay, I’ll be totally honest with you. Distance is hard on any relationship, and we’re talking a big distance here. And we don’t have a relationship, so to speak.’
She heard
him draw in a breath. ‘Yeah, I hear you, and I feel as if I have the advantage here. Tim’s always talked about you so I feel as if I know you already.’
‘Tim isn’t exactly my number one fan. His take on me would be biased, and I don’t mean in a good way either.’
Aaron laughed, sending shivers across her skin. ‘That’s what I mean, knowing the worst hasn’t stopped me from wanting to know more.’
Grace licked her lips, at a loss to find the right words, whatever they might be. Aaron laughed again, low and intimate.
‘Let’s keep doing what we’ve been doing, Grace, and see where we end up. What do you say?’
‘I say you’re a smooth talker, Aaron Halliday. You’re wasted in what you do.’
‘No, doing what I do is a perfect fit for me, and as you get to know me better, you’ll understand that.’
Grace opened her mouth to ask what he meant, and then changed her mind. The idea of getting to know him better and finding out for herself was surprisingly appealing.
24
Sarah
Today was my birthday. August the seventh, and I was sixty-nine. Waiting for the kettle to boil, I pondered the scarred laminex counter-top while I massaged the small of my back. Hearing the crunch of shoulder-joint tendons and ligaments as I did, I admitted that today I felt every one of those years.
Mum had seemed ancient at seventy. I’d still been in my forties back then, about where Grace was now. Where had my life gone?
By mid-afternoon, there’d been no birthday call from Grace. I’d watched the postman on his motorbike mosey straight past my battered letterbox. Nothing for me in the mail run.
Kate, my sister, never remembered my birthday, in the same reliable way that Mum had never forgotten. That is up until when she forgot most things, including who I was.
Mum told me once that she’d eventually grown accustomed to her mother not being there, but she’d never stopped missing her. I knew what she meant. At this important time in my life the thing I yearned for the most was the wise advice of my mother. Since returning to Miners Ridge, never a day went past that I didn’t ask myself what mum-advice she would have offered me on my decision. I liked to think that she would have supported me every step of the way. Luke’s death and the impact it had on the entire family had deeply saddened her. And until Mum had started to lose her memory, she’d always made such a fuss about my birthday.
When Grace Went Away Page 15
