When Grace Went Away

by Meredith Appleyard

  ‘No, Faith, I’m not. That window of opportunity closed years ago,’ I said, because it had slammed shut when Doug made it obvious that he didn’t want me back. She didn’t look surprised.

  ‘Does he realise that? Does Tim?’

  ‘Oh yes, Tim realises, and your father, it was his choice not to meet halfway,’ I said. Surreal, this conversation we were having in the fresh fruit and veg aisle.

  We went our separate ways, me up the tea and coffee aisle and Faith to the dairy section, meeting up again at the checkout.

  ‘I’ll see you Wednesday morning, just before eight,’ she said, when our respective groceries had been packed and paid for. ‘They’ll have eaten breakfast.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, and we headed outside to our vehicles. ‘Should I drive them to school or walk with them?’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ she said over her shoulder.

  When I’d loaded my two shopping bags into the back I sat and stared out the window, watching as she drove off out of the car park. Excitement fizzed through me: I was going to spend time with my grandchildren! But would I ever understand my youngest daughter?

  Feeling sated and righteous after cooking myself a decent meal, with enough leftovers for the next two days, Tim arrived and burst my fragile bubble of contentment.

  ‘You went out to the farm,’ he accused, when I opened the front door to his pounding.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, taken aback. ‘I needed to talk to your father, and I grabbed a few more things while I was there. Why? What did he say?’

  ‘He didn’t say anything. Faith rang me. I could have brought in anything you wanted.’

  ‘I know, Tim, but I had to do it. Better for our first meeting to happen with me in control than for us to run into each other in the street.’

  He deflated. ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I never thought of it that way.’

  We went into the kitchen and I pointed to one of the plated meals cooling on the bench.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, nodding his head. I zapped the meal in the microwave, setting a place at the table while it reheated.

  Sausages, mashed potatoes and veg had always been one of our favourites. He’d drown the snags in tomato sauce.

  ‘It would have been odd,’ he said, on his way to the fridge to help himself to a glass of milk. ‘So what did you talk about?’

  ‘This and that, and you.’

  Glass halfway to his mouth he paused. ‘What about me?’ he said, his voice taking on a hard edge.

  The microwave binged. I took out the meal and put it on the table, on a placemat.

  ‘What about me, Mum?’ Tim repeated, the milk forgotten.

  Taking a deep breath, I said, ‘I told him I was concerned about how unhappy you were.’

  ‘And what was his response to that?’

  Taking the glass from his rigid fingers I placed it on the table, gesturing for him to sit and eat. He sat but his expression didn’t soften. Steam drifted up from the food.

  ‘I’m sure he’d already worked it out for himself. I promise I didn’t say anything about the amount you’re drinking and your other reckless behaviour.’

  He glared. I held my ground.

  ‘Eat,’ I said. ‘Before it gets cold,’ and he started in on the food.

  Watching him, I wondered if I should have warned him I was going out to the farm to talk to his father. And then I thought, damn it, I’m nearly seventy and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.

  ‘You’re still my son,’ I said, sitting down opposite him, ‘no matter how old you are. And it grieves me to see you so unhappy.’

  He kept shovelling in the food, so I ploughed on.

  ‘If there’s anything in my power that I can do to alter the circumstances that I helped create, so you can be happier and follow your dreams, I’ll do it. The same as I would for Faith, Grace, and Luke if he were alive.’

  He raised his gaze and met mine, and his eyes were glistening.

  ‘I bet he said I wasn’t man enough to ever confront him myself.’

  ‘Oh, Tim,’ I said, dropping my face into my hands.

  ‘Thought so,’ he muttered, and I heard the fork scrape against the plate again.

  ‘Tim, that farm, the land, is everything to him. He doesn’t understand and never will that you and Grace—I can’t speak for Faith because I have no idea what she thinks—but you two don’t have that same sense of ownership and commitment to it that he does. And that Luke did.’

  Tim pushed away the empty plate. ‘I can’t believe that you’re defending him, Mum.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m doing, Tim. I’m trying to put things into context.’

  ‘Sometimes it feels like he’s punishing me for not being Luke.’

  ‘I can understand why you might feel like that. It wasn’t until after I’d left and he’d cut me off without a cent that I fully understood how nothing would ever come between him and that place.’

  Tim leaned back and folded his arms. ‘So where does that leave us?’ he said.

  ‘I’m not sure. Just give me a little more time. I’ll talk to him again.’

  ‘I don’t want anything from him, although some back pay wouldn’t go astray. I just want him to let me walk away, and to never expect me to step foot on the bloody place ever again.’

  He opened his eyes, sat up straighter and scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘You know, Mum, I don’t understand why you’ve never laid a claim to your share of that place. You friggin’ earned it. You’re entitled to a share.’

  I laughed, short and bitter. ‘Don’t worry, I thought about it, Tim. In the early days when I didn’t have anything and Grace was supporting me. I even talked to a lawyer about it, a friend of Grace’s. But Doug would have fought tooth and nail, the lawyers would have made a fortune and it would have been you, Faith and Grace who would have lost out in the end. We’d have all ended up with nothing.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re probably right, but it just doesn’t seem fair,’ he said, and stood up. He stretched and took his plate to the sink.

  ‘Anything for dessert?’ he said, and when I laughed this time it was with genuine humour.

  On Wednesday morning I was up at six, showered and breakfasted by seven, and then peering impatiently out the front window whenever a car drove up the street. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. My grandchildren would be in my care for all of an hour, maximum.

  When Liam had been a baby I’d looked after him regularly when Faith returned to work. He’d been a handful, colicky and unsettled. At the time I’d thought that Faith had been more than happy to hand him over to me.

  Doug hadn’t been hugely interested in his first grandchild as a baby. He’d been that way with his own kids: not really interested in them until they could walk and talk.

  But of course Liam had been a baby then, and I couldn’t fool myself into thinking we’d have any special bond after all these years. Amelia was a totally unknown quantity, but from the little I’d had to do with her she seemed intelligent and sensible, if a little reserved.

  Ben brought them to the front door at twenty to eight. I hadn’t seen my son-in-law for years and he had aged. His light-brown hair had thinned to almost nothing, and his face had weathered from the hours spent working in the harsh outback sun of the oil and gas fields up north.

  ‘Sarah,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘Long time no see.’

  ‘Hasn’t it been! How are you?’

  Liam and Amelia each hung off one of his hands, watching our exchange with interest. ‘Can’t complain,’ he said.

  ‘I guess congratulations are in order, with number three on the way.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, his cheerful expression faltering. Faith beeped the horn and his eyes turned heavenward. ‘Better go,’ he said. ‘Come around for a barbie next time I’m home. It’d be good to hear what Grace has been up to, and what you’ve been doing. Oh, and I’m sorry about your mum. Faith told me that she passed on a few months ago.’

  �
�Thanks Ben. We’ll catch up the next time you’re home.’ We stood awkwardly for a moment and then Faith, bless her, blasted the horn again. Ben leaned down to cuddle and kiss his children goodbye. ‘You be good for Mum, and for Grandma,’ he said, and then we three waved as they drove off.

  There was another moment of awkwardness when I herded the children inside. I didn’t know whether to offer them hot drinks, cold drinks, the toilet, the TV or what. Then, Liam turned to me, eyes bright with anticipation.

  ‘Are you going to take us to school in Aunty Grace’s BMW? That car is cool,’ he said, and the tension dissipated.

  We dived headlong and with relish into our respective roles. I didn’t know how much they had to do with Ben’s parents, but they seemed quite accomplished at being grandchildren.

  The hour went by in a flash and I was back home before nine, the day stretching out in front of me. I wasn’t going to Aaron’s to start on his books until after lunch.

  After prevaricating for a few minutes I set to unpacking the boxes I’d brought in from the farm, finding spots for some of the knick-knacks and storing the others in cupboards. Ridiculous really, because I’d probably be packing them up again in five months’ time.

  There were several Royal Doulton figurines that Mum had given me over the years, for special milestone birthdays. And crystal bud vases I’d collected. Wrapped in faded newspaper was a water set that had belonged to a great aunt. It’d had only ever come out for special occasions.

  I’d left behind the china and glassware that had been handed on from Joylene. It was garish and not my taste, and I was certain she wouldn’t have wanted me to have it anyway.

  The only china of my mother-in-law’s I’d been briefly tempted to take was a willow-patterned dinner set for eight. It had been Doug’s grandmother’s and truthfully, I had no claim to it. But I’d always admired it.

  It should go to Faith, not Grace. Faith would appreciate that it had been her great-grandmother’s. I’d mention that to Doug sometime. He might have other ideas, although I doubted he’d ever given it a thought. He probably didn’t remember that the dinner set had been his mother’s.

  As I stowed the things in cupboards I thought about the other things I’d left behind. Books. An old suitcase containing my wedding dress. Pieces of fabric from my days as a seamstress—an imagined one, that is. With four children, making children’s clothes and mending had been the limit of my creativity and energy. But I’d dreamed of haute couture and the things I’d sew when I had more time. Only I hadn’t.

  Would the suitcase with my wedding dress still be on top of the wardrobe in Grace and Faith’s old room? I’d ask Tim to have a look, and grab it if it was.

  After an early lunch of tinned tomato soup and toast, I munched on an apple and walked over to Aaron’s place, several streets away. I was looking forward to starting my new job.

  31

  Grace

  ‘I can’t believe how quickly Sarah tidied up my books, and emailed out the invoices,’ Aaron said. The connection was particularly clear today. He could have been down the road, not thousands of kilometres away.

  Grace smothered a yawn and propped her heels on the edge of the coffee table. She hadn’t been home long, after dinner with a client. Aaron had called the minute she’d walked through the door.

  ‘I reckon an hour or two a week will be all she needs to keep up with everything.’

  ‘I knew she’d jump at the opportunity. She hates being idle.’

  ‘She won’t have time to be idle. The gallery committee has asked her to fill in as treasurer, and then nominate after their annual general meeting in September. The person who was doing the books left.’

  ‘What?’ Grace’s feet dropped to the floor. It was late and she needed to go to bed and sleep. Tomorrow would be another full-on day. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I’d mentioned to Carol what a great job she’d done cleaning up my mess, and—’

  ‘I hope Mum’s not taking on too much. You know she had cancer not that long ago? Surgery followed by chemo.’

  ‘I know that, Grace. But she looks well and she’s busy, and from what I can see she’s enjoying every minute of it.’

  He didn’t say, So butt out, but Grace knew him well enough by now to know it’d be what he was thinking.

  ‘So, where to this weekend? Paris? Amsterdam?’

  She laughed. ‘Not quite. I’m working Saturday, but then a few of us are taking the train to Bath on Sunday to visit the Jane Austen Centre.’

  ‘Are you a fan?’

  ‘Not as obsessed as some, but I have read Pride and Prejudice, and watched Colin Firth as Mr Darcy. It’ll be a day out and I’m looking forward to seeing some English countryside.’

  ‘You know, I still have trouble imagining you there in London, Grace. Living and working in such a rat-race. I hated the place.’

  ‘Ah, so you have been here. I thought you had, by some of the comments you made about the place in your emails. When were you here?’

  ‘I had a gap year before I went to uni. I backpacked around Europe, England, Scotland, Ireland, then went to the States.’

  ‘You went to university? How come I didn’t know this?’ Grace pushed herself upright on the couch, tiredness shoved aside.

  ‘You’ve never asked. And anyhow, what difference does it make? Did you think I’d never left Miners Ridge?’

  ‘No, I knew you’d left after high school because Tim told me. I just didn’t know it was to go to uni. What happened?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You don’t need a university degree to do what you’re doing now.’

  ‘True. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you think it’s going to, the way you’d planned. But I love what I do now, tertiary qualifications notwithstanding.’

  Grace wondered at the way his voice had cooled. She didn’t let it stop her asking, ‘What did you study?’

  ‘Law,’ he said.

  ‘Get out of here!’

  ‘Yes, really, Grace, with honours. Hard to believe, I know.’

  ‘And you didn’t want to pursue a career in law?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I didn’t.’

  His tone had the ring of finality but Grace couldn’t resist pressing.

  ‘There’s more to this story than you’re going to tell me, isn’t there?’

  ‘Maybe. I’ll tell you one day, but it’s the kind of story that needs to be told face-to-face, after a couple of drinks and definitely not over the phone.’

  ‘Now I’ll just wonder about it.’

  ‘Wonder away. I’d better go, get to work’ he said. ‘And you’d better hit the sack. You sound beat.’

  As if to confirm that, she yawned. ‘Yeah, I’d be in bed asleep already if I wasn’t talking to you.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said.

  ‘Bye,’ she said, staring at the phone in her hand long after they’d disconnected.

  Through her twenties and into her early thirties, Grace had had boyfriends, though none had lasted long and she’d never set up house and home with any of them. Watching friends marry and start families hadn’t given her any angst. She was happy for them but had no desire to do it herself.

  The year she’d spent with Grant Hughes had been the most time she’d ever had in a relationship. They hadn’t actually lived together, but Grant had spent a lot of time at her place.

  It had been fun, but she was the first to admit she hadn’t been devastated when it hadn’t worked out, although she’d had her moments. Maybe, if it hadn’t turned out that Grant had a wife and children he temporarily and conveniently forgot about, they might have still been together. Who knew?

  Being on her own had never bothered Grace one iota. Her mum, her career, and a handful of good friends had always fulfilled her, and she argued that why would you bother partnering up if you had no intention of having children? And as far as biological clocks went, Grace had never paid any attention to hers.

  So why now
did she miss Aaron? Why then did she hunger for the sound of his voice when she could count on one hand the actual number of hours they’d physically spent in each other’s company?

  Their first meeting had been far from memorable as far as she was concerned. Yet she could picture clearly his sun-streaked hair, how blue his eyes were, and the way the right side of his mouth tipped up more than the left when he was amused.

  Every time she talked to him she tried to imagine what it would be like when they met up again. Their situation was curious to say the least.

  It brought to Grace’s mind the wartime stories of couples who’d met and married while they were on leave, and then actually gotten to know each other through letters sent to and from war zones.

  Grace contemplated her sister’s courtship and marriage. Ben had been away working for at least half of the time they’d been together, and they seemed to be making the relationship work.

  Grace plugged her phone in to charge, changed into her pyjamas, washed her face and cleaned her teeth and fell into bed. Her last thought before she drifted off was that next time they talked, she’d suggest to Aaron that they Skype or video chat. It would be good to actually see him when they were talking. And she’d like to see what the inside of his house looked like.

  32

  Sarah

  A week after I’d visited the farm and talked to Doug, I came home from seeing my grandkids to find a shabby but familiar 4WD ute parked on the kerb in front of the house. To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

  Faith had had a doctor’s appointment and I’d been given permission to collect the children from school and entertain them until she was home again. We’d had another hour of rollicking fun. Luckily, my daughter was beginning to realise what an untapped and free source of childcare her mother was.

  When I’d parked the SUV in the garage I sat for a few moments and tried to collect and corral my emotions. Which was no mean feat, but if I wanted to do something for Tim I couldn’t let anger derail my dealings with Doug. Early in the marriage I’d learned that losing my temper was futile. When Doug’s long fuse finally burned through, his anger always dwarfed mine.