When Grace Went Away

by Meredith Appleyard

  Emma’s pixie face scrunched into a frown. ‘What was he like, my dad? Mum never wants to talk about him much. There aren’t many photos, and I was never supposed to tell anyone about him.’

  ‘If you go into my bedroom—that door over there—and open the first wardrobe, you’ll find a green supermarket bag with photo albums in it.’ I blew my nose.

  Emma was already on her feet and darting towards my bedroom.

  ‘Found it,’ she called, and lugged it back into the sitting room. She dumped it on the sofa between us, her eyes bright with anticipation.

  In the kitchen, the voices had dropped. There’d been the opening and closing of cupboards, the hiss of the kitchen tap. I surmised that World War Three had narrowly been averted when all three women agreed on a vase to use for the flowers.

  When they emerged bearing the bouquet I noticed they’d chosen my favourite vase, the frosted glass one that had been Mum’s.

  The Claremont women stayed long enough for me to show Emma through one of the albums. I could see Louise was itching to see, but too reserved to come and sit with us to look through the albums together. There would be plenty of opportunities in the future, I would make certain of that.

  After they’d gone, Grace flopped into the armchair and eyed me with concern. ‘You look beat,’ she said.

  No sooner had she uttered the words, headlights were sweeping up the driveway. Grace hopped up to peer through the window. It was dusk.

  ‘No idea who this is; I don’t recognise the vehicle,’ she said, closing the drapes.

  ‘As long as it’s not Doug,’ I said, because there was no way I could deal with a dose of him right now. My ankle was throbbing, as was my head.

  There was a business-like rap on the door.

  ‘I’ll get rid of whoever it is,’ Grace said.

  But she didn’t. It was Walt Bancroft, bearing a flat, rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper about the size of an A3 poster.

  ‘Sarah,’ he said, not exactly pushing past Grace but making a beeline for me on the couch.

  ‘You didn’t show up for the meeting last night, and then I heard you’d taken a tumble. Carol said you have a concussion. Is there anything I can do?’

  Grace skirted around us and headed for the kitchen. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said, on her way past. Clearly my daughter was giving us space.

  ‘Grace, how are you? Lovely to see you. The stone wall looks spectacular,’ Walt said, taking his focus off me for a moment. ‘I think this belongs to you, Sarah?’ He held out a parcel that had obviously done the rounds with Australia Post.

  Grace retraced her steps into the sitting room. ‘Where did this come from?’ she said, holding out her hand.

  ‘It was returned to me,’ Walt said.

  Grace scanned the address on the front of the parcel. ‘Mum’s name’s right but the address is wrong,’ she said.

  After a nod from me Grace started tearing off the paper, and then ripping away the bubble wrap. ‘Ah, the wisteria photo. I wondered what had happened to it!’

  She came around to my side of the sofa. ‘I bought it for you, Mum. At Walt’s exhibition way back in April. They would have posted it to you at the end of the exhibition. Pity they got the address wrong.’ Grace held it up for me to see.

  ‘It’s gorgeous,’ I said. My gaze shifted to Walt. ‘How lovely.’ He smiled. I tingled. All over.

  ‘It’s taken right alongside where Aaron and I built the stone wall,’ Grace said, beaming. She laid the framed photograph on the sofa beside me. ‘I recognised it straight away!’ She gave her head a little shake, like she almost didn’t believe it, and then rushed off to the kitchen.

  ‘Sit down,’ I said, and Walt folded himself into the armchair. If I was going to keep having so many visitors, I’d need more furniture.

  ‘How are you?’ he said gently. ‘You look exhausted, so I won’t stay long. I just wanted to see for myself that you were all right.’

  ‘Nothing a few days’ rest won’t fix, I hope.’

  He studied me from head to toe, as if he wanted to see for himself.

  ‘I missed you at the meeting,’ he said. ‘I was looking forward to seeing you, and trying to talk you into a game of tennis.’

  I laughed, and glanced at my bruised and swollen ankle. It was still wrapped in a compression bandage, and Grace had propped it on a cushion on a plastic crate. ‘Tennis might have to wait,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll wait,’ he said. ‘But in the meantime, I could take you for a drive? We could have a picnic. Nothing strenuous.’

  My heart gave a little leap, only this time I knew it wasn’t a palpitation. He watched me, waiting for an answer.

  ‘All right,’ I said.

  He smiled and sank back into the chair.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ Grace called from the kitchen, and suddenly I knew everything was going to be all right.

  60

  Grace

  It was midnight. Five minutes had passed since Grace last checked the time. If she closed her eyes, they popped open again. And tonight there was moonlight enough to cast shadows.

  The single bed was narrow and uncomfortable. The sheets were new and scratchy. The pillow was too fat. Not to mention how much she missed Aaron’s warm body spooned in behind her.

  Cool, dewy air puffed in the window, the lacy confection that was the curtain billowed inwards. Both bedroom doors were wide open. If her mother needed help during the night she’d call out and Grace would wake up. If she ever went to sleep, that was.

  Her mother had gone to bed dead on her feet, but delirious with happiness. Since Tuesday she’d acquired two new grandchildren and an admirer. Who knew?

  Grace had to applaud her mother’s partiality to this particular man.

  When Emma, Louise and Carol had visited earlier in the night, they’d all briefly video-chatted with Faith at the hospital. She’d put Christopher in front of the camera and Emma had been filled with awe.

  ‘Another cousin!’ she exclaimed.

  Huddled in beside his mum at the hospital, the other end of the line, Liam had waved and shouted, ‘Hello, Emma.’

  Grace had found herself caught up in the joy of it all; Louise, not so much. Grace observed that she’d hung back, choosing to sit on a chair that she’d carried in from the kitchen and placed just outside the circle.

  When Grace analysed her own feelings, which she hadn’t done up until now, she found she had compassion for Louise. It wouldn’t have been easy for her to sit amongst people who, up until very recently, she’d considered the enemy. And in Grace’s opinion, it could take Louise a while to embrace the Fairley family.

  But Louise had come with her mother and daughter. She had let Sarah hug her when they were leaving. And she’d returned the hug. Grace hadn’t heard what her mother had said to Louise, but it’d put a pleased expression on the younger woman’s face.

  Too hot, Grace kicked off the sheet and cotton blanket. Minutes later she was too cold and dragged the covers up again.

  A mopoke started with its distinctive boo-book call. Grace groaned and put her head under the pillow. It dampened the plaintive birdcall, but it’d also dampen her mother’s voice if she happened to call. She put her head back on top of the pillow.

  Eventually she slipped into a light slumber, and snapped back to wakefulness when she heard her name. Grace was out of bed and at her mother’s bedroom door in seconds, only to hear the rhythmic breathing of someone sleeping soundly.

  She tiptoed to the spare room and went back to bed, but hadn’t closed her eyes when she heard it again. She wasn’t dreaming.

  ‘Grace! I’m at the window.’

  She scrambled out of bed, and bunched up the curtain to peer through the open window. ‘Aaron?’

  ‘Come outside,’ he said in what barely passed for a whisper.

  ‘Don’t you dare wake Mum.’

  ‘We won’t if you come outside.’

  Grace snatched up her robe and tiptoed through the k
itchen and out the back door.

  ‘It’s almost one am,’ she whispered, when Aaron grabbed her arm. ‘Come this way, it’s the furthest from Sara’s window,’ he said, propelling her along the verandah to the opposite end of the house.

  He pulled her against him and kissed her, hard.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she said, when he let her up for air.

  ‘I missed you.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, nodding slowly. ‘I didn’t hear your ute.’

  ‘I walked.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No, and I haven’t been since I clapped eyes on you in the bar at the hotel, that night you were so drunk you could hardly stand up.’

  ‘Not my most stellar moment. I hope I’ve thanked you often enough for saving me from the scary policewoman …’

  He laughed, a low rumble, and Grace felt the familiar awareness zing through her. She grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt, pulled him towards her and she kissed him this time around.

  ‘But you haven’t said why you’re here,’ she said, breathlessly. He went back in for another kiss, and she ducked under his arm and gathered the front of her robe together. ‘Not here,’ she hissed. ‘Now what’s so urgent? Besides the obvious.’ Her gaze dropped quickly. She giggled. Then her attention returned to his face. He folded his arms and stared down at her.

  ‘I’ll come to London with you if that’s what you want. Robert, my biological father, has contacts there and he could more than likely help me get a job.’

  Grace blinked. ‘But why? You have a life and a business here. Your family is in Adelaide. You’ve just lost your father.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’ve thought it all through.’

  ‘And this couldn’t wait until the morning?’

  ‘No, it couldn’t. My brother Dom is between jobs and he could babysit the business for as long as you wanted to work in London. I know he’d jump at the opportunity. And I know he’d look after the house, and feed Bob.’

  ‘Aaron—’

  He pressed warm, callused fingertips to her lips, cutting off the words.

  ‘Let me finish,’ he said. ‘I love you, Grace. When I came home from work yesterday afternoon and your suitcase was gone, and the only evidence you’d even been there was a faint waft of your perfume, I had a meltdown. I realised how empty my world was without you in it—physically in it, not at the other end of a video chat.’

  All Grace could manage was to stare at him.

  Everything that had happened since she came home this time flashed through her mind. Aaron had been there, with her and for her, the whole time, and it had been wonderful.

  The few times she’d thought about her life in London, it’d been with angst.

  Had she subconsciously made her choice already, when she’d rushed home to be with Aaron in the aftermath of his father’s death? Had she known, deep down, that this was the sliding door she was meant to take? The one she wanted to take?

  ‘I’m not getting any younger,’ she murmured. ‘But if I quit now, what will I do for a job? The older you get, the harder it gets. Nobody wants to employ middle-aged women.’

  ‘No one’s asking you to quit,’ Aaron said, and she jumped. She’d been lost in her own thoughts. ‘And you’re not middle-aged,’ he added.

  ‘Aaron, it’d be much more sensible if I quit. It’s ridiculous you even thinking about giving up what you have here! My London life could be shut down in a month. That’s all the notice I need to give, and you’ve seen my apartment—there’s not much there to pack up.’

  ‘What about your career? I know how important it is to you.’

  Grace turned away and looked fixedly out at the backyard, awash with moonlight. ‘My career was important to me, once upon a time. But I was over it, and it took the move to London to make me see it. That on top of the stuff you said when you were over there, and then Grant—’

  ‘What’s he got to do with any of this?’

  ‘Oh, he quit his job to care for his brain injured son and it got me thinking about life, and what it’s really all about.’

  ‘And what did you come up with?’

  She took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and then turned to face him. In the light of the full moon his features were clear, and so very dear. She loved him from the bottom of her heart.

  ‘What did I come up with? That I love you. That I don’t ever want to be apart from you. That I love my Mum, and she’s nearly seventy, and she’s already had cancer. That I’d like to get to know my nieces and nephews, all of them, and maybe Faith and I will learn to more than just tolerate each other.

  ‘I have a feeling Tim’s met the woman of his dreams, and I’m thrilled for him. I think he’ll come home, eventually. And Dad? Who knows? I just hope he doesn’t die a lonely old man. But I accept that I have no control over that.’ Grace took a breath. ‘How’s that for an answer?’

  ‘Awesome,’ he said. ‘You’ve obviously given it a lot of thought.’

  ‘I have. And you know the other thing I’ve thought about?’

  ‘What?’ he said, and she moved closer.

  ‘Grace and Aaron’s Landscaping, Building and Home Maintenance … I have so many ideas about what we can do to expand the business. If Mum stays in Miners Ridge, which I think she will, I’ll keep renting the townhouse and sell the unit and that’ll give us some income and some capital. With two of us, we could—’

  Grace didn’t get any further because she couldn’t move her lips. Not with Aaron’s mouth devouring hers the way it was.

  ‘You up for sharing a single bed?’ she said a few minutes later.

  ‘To sleep?’

  ‘What else? Mum is only a wall away! Speaking of which, I’d better get back inside in case she needs me. Oh, and would you believe Walt Bancroft came calling? Like a couple of teenagers they were.’

  Aaron laughed. ‘Yes, I would believe that. The number of times he’s asked me about Sarah.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’ Aaron slung an arm around her shoulders and together they tiptoed inside.

  EPILOGUE

  Sarah

  It looked a lot like Christmas. Only it wasn’t. It was seven days into the new year. But there was a tree, a real pine tree, wilting in a bucket in the corner of Aaron’s sitting room. Aaron, together with Liam, Amelia and Emma, had redecorated it the day before.

  More prawns had been peeled, ham sliced and fresh salads prepared. The drinks were on ice in a huge Esky in the laundry.

  Sarah’s second Christmas pudding, already cooked in its calico wrap, waited on the bench. There was brandy sauce and ice cream to accompany the pudding.

  Outside, it was thirty-five degrees in the shade and climbing. The cat was flat out under a hibiscus bush.

  Inside, the test cricket was on the television. Sarah, along with Faith and her family, and Carol, Louise and Emma, waited patiently. Faith was breastfeeding baby Christopher. They had all celebrated Christmas once already, but had wanted to make Grace’s homecoming special, so they’d decided to do it all again in January, minus the gifts.

  ‘When can we eat, Grandma? I’m starving.’ This came from Liam, and Amelia and Emma’s heads bobbed vigorously in agreement.

  Sarah glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece for the hundredth time.

  ‘They shouldn’t be too much longer,’ she said. If they were, she’d begin to worry. Grace’s plane had landed hours ago, and Aaron had driven down in plenty of time to bring her home.

  Then a car door slammed. Ben muted the sound on the television. Voices and laughter. Sarah stood up, craning to listen.

  The children raced to the front door, pushing and shoving, Sarah close on their heels. Her ankle had healed and she’d returned the crutches to the hospital weeks ago.

  They all spilled out onto the porch. Aaron and Grace were unloading suitcases from the back of Grace’s SUV. Together they chorused, ‘Welcome home, and a happy Christmas,’ stopping Grace in her tracks.


  ‘Everyone’s here! How fantastic,’ she said to Aaron, who couldn’t stop smiling.

  It took Sarah a moment, then she cried out, ‘Tim,’ and dashed across the yard. He gathered her into his arms, sweeping her off her feet. ‘I wasn’t expecting you home.’

  ‘Thought I’d surprise you,’ he said. Sarah looked him up and down.

  ‘You look terrific, son,’ she said. ‘Are you home for a visit, or longer?’

  ‘We haven’t decided,’ he said, and that’s when Sarah noticed a younger woman hovering nearby.

  ‘And you must be Allie. I recognise you from your pictures on Facebook. Welcome!’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Fairley. Tim’s been going on about you all ever since we met.’

  ‘Sarah, please call me Sarah!’

  Allie laughed. ‘Okay, Sarah, it’s lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Come inside and meet the others,’ Tim said to her. Managing to hold hands and pull suitcases simultaneously, they followed the children and Aaron into the house.

  ‘Mum,’ Grace said, and the two women embraced.

  ‘How are you, sweetie? Bet Aaron was pleased to see you.’

  ‘He was. He is such a sweetheart. We dropped in and said a quick hello to his mum. She’s lovely. And I’m good. Everything went smoothly. Like I said on the phone, they didn’t seem surprised when I handed in my notice, but they said they were sorry to see me go. I’ll miss Lucy, but she might come out for a visit sometime. How’s Walt?’

  ‘He’s well,’ Sarah said. ‘He’ll be along this evening. Faith asked your dad to come and eat lunch with us. A late family Christmas, she told him. But he declined.’

  ‘His loss.’

  ‘Yes, it is, but I still feel sad for him. And cross that he’s being so pig-headed. He hasn’t acknowledged Emma, and he fired Carol! I don’t know who’s cleaning for him now.’

  Grace watched her mother. ‘Has he said anything about your decision to stay on in Miners Ridge?’

  ‘Nope, not to me, but then he probably wouldn’t. The divorce will be through soon. The lease on the house has been extended for a year. I’ve discovered the best way is to take things a day at a time. Who knows what the future holds.’