‘Oh. Good. That’s my favourite meal, you know.’
It looked like Sylvia now had Nancy’s stamp of approval. ‘Well in that case, I’ll be sure to drop some over to you, next time I cook it.’
A sudden glow lit up Nancy’s face. ‘Please do. That would be delightful.’
‘How long have you lived next door, Nancy?’ Sylvia asked, after she’d swallowed the last mouthful of her scone.
‘Thirty-six years and four months.’
Sylvia smiled. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who liked to be specific with things. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, was there a Mr Dillinger?’ Sylvia covered her chin with her teacup, blowing the surface of the liquid into tiny ripples as gentle steam circled above the cup.
‘Oh yes. But I divorced him,’ Nancy stated.
‘Sorry about that. So, how long have you lived alone here?’
‘Thirty-six years and four months.’
‘Oh.’ Sylvia realised that amount of time was more than the whole time she’d been alive. Such a long time to be alone.
‘I’m not lonely you know,’ Nancy piped up, seemingly reading Sylvia’s thoughts. ‘I like living alone. I get to watch the shows I want to watch. Don’t have any dirty towels or smelly socks to pick up from the floor. And besides, I have eight hundred and fifty-seven Facebook friends to keep me company.’
Sylvia almost inhaled the mouthful of tea she’d just sipped. Nancy Dillinger was on Facebook?
‘Don’t look so shocked. I did a seniors computer course at the community college a while back, so I’m pretty nifty with the internet. Although I don’t use that tweeter garbage or whatever it’s called. How anyone can have anything useful to say in one hundred and forty characters or less, I have no idea.’ Nancy sculled the last of her tea and placed the cup back on the saucer.
Sylvia held in a snort of laughter. Nancy was probably more technologically savvy than many teenagers. Certainly more than her. Sylvia had a Facebook account but never checked it. ‘And did you and Mr Dillinger have any children?’
Nancy softened a little and nodded her head. ‘One daughter,’ she said, staring into her empty teacup. ‘But she died when she was twelve.’
‘Oh, Nancy. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’
Nancy flicked her leathery hand towards Sylvia. ‘Don’t apologise. It was a lifetime ago. All water under the bridge now.’ Nancy lifted the teapot and poured the black liquid into her cup, adding a splash of milk and two heaped teaspoons of sugar. ‘What will be, will be,’ she added.
As a doctor, Sylvia’s curiosity couldn’t be detained. ‘Had she been sick, your daughter?’
‘No. Fit as a fiddle. It was a wretched accident that took her life. Bert…Mr Dillinger, was adamant that our young Rose attend boarding school, as he and I did when we were young. And despite my reluctance—I wanted to have her near, you see—he talked me round. So she packed her bags, and caught a bus with a couple of girls from town who were going to the same school. An hour later two police officers came to the door. The bus Rose was on had been in an accident, thanks to some hooligan who’d been speeding around a corner. They said the bus had swerved to miss the car but toppled sideways. The other people on the bus were only injured, but my Rose wasn’t so lucky.’ Nancy seemed composed in her recall, although her teacup was shaking a little.
‘Oh, Nancy. I…I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you.’ Sylvia placed a hand on Nancy’s forearm, if only to steady her shaky teacup.
‘It was a very difficult time, to say the least,’ Nancy said. ‘And Bert and I, well, we just couldn’t get past it. I couldn’t help but blame him. If he hadn’t demanded Rose attend boarding school it wouldn’t have happened. I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, hence our divorce four years later.’ Nancy’s voice cracked a little and she took a sip of tea. ‘But after I moved here, I realised that maybe it had just been her time. If Rose hadn’t caught that bus, perhaps she would have gone some other way. Maybe she would have ended up dating a hooligan herself and getting into another accident. Who knows? But I thank my lucky stars I at least had twelve good years with her. Bert and I weren’t able to have any more children you see, Rose was my one and only.’
Sylvia was no stranger to the subject of death, but found herself blinking away tears. For years she’d seen Nancy as a quiet but nosy old lady, and now in a matter of minutes she was seeing Nancy for who she was. A grieving mother who’d toughened up over the years to cope with a tragedy, a woman who’d experienced something so awful and unexpected that she’d shoved it aside and replaced it with a life of predictability and routine. Nancy drew comfort from her controlled life. She knew what was going to happen and when. She knew that if she kept things the same something bad was less likely to happen, and by distracting herself with the lives of others, and keeping focus on what was ‘next’ in her day, she never allowed herself time to think. Or feel. Sylvia wondered if Nancy knew how alike they both were.
‘I’ve been wondering,’ Nancy said, a curious glint in her eye. ‘Who’s that pretty girl that’s been visiting a lot lately?’
‘Grace? She’s ah…actually my daughter.’ She might as well bare her soul too. No point being vague with the usual ‘We’re related’ speech.
‘Oh, really?’ Nancy asked, but Sylvia knew that Nancy already guessed that.
‘Yes. I had her when I was young, so she was adopted out.’
Nancy swivelled in the chair to face Sylvia, her eyes widening. ‘And you’ve recently been reunited?’
Sylvia nodded.
‘Tell me all about it, love,’ Nancy said, settling comfortably in the chair with a scone in one hand and teacup in the other.
* * *
‘Good luck tonight, Grace!’ Olivia called out as Grace walked out of Mrs May’s Bookstore, having finished her Saturday shift. They’d offered to give her the day off in preparation for the concert, but Grace said she’d rather keep busy to settle her nerves. She’d practised and practised already and could probably do the composition in her sleep by now, and she was more nervous about meeting her grandparents tonight than anything. She’d thought long and hard about whether to try getting in contact with Max Reeves, her father, but decided to wait a while. She didn’t want to interrupt this special time in his life, preparing for a baby, by turning up and announcing, ‘Hey, I’m your illegitimate daughter!’ After the baby was due to be born she’d reconsider, but for now, Grace was happy having met Sylvia, and now, about to meet her grandparents. What should she call them, Grandma and Grandpa? That would seem weird. First names might be best, or maybe Mr and Mrs Greene.
Grace ached to see Jonah, and hopefully score a quick ‘good luck kiss’, so she walked in the direction of Café Lagoon where he was working till six, having promised to be at the concert in time. She’d pick up a quick hot chocolate and drink it on the walk to Sylvia’s house, as she was due there soon to get ready for tonight. Her dress was packed in the bag she had hanging from her shoulder, along with shoes, hair clips, jewellery, and make-up.
The café was packed when she arrived, and she waited in line behind a middle-aged couple at the counter. Jonah was serving them, but hadn’t seen her yet.
‘Thanks Jonah,’ the man said, taking one large cardboard cup and handing it to the woman, before picking up his own. ‘I saw your mum the other day, said she was very proud of you, working extra hard to save money for the big trip,’ the man said. ‘When do you leave, next month isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, 6th of July,’ Jonah replied.
The man nodded. ‘She said you might be gone a whole year. Do you think you’ll stay in the UK for most of it, or spend more time backpacking around Europe?’
‘Not totally sure yet, I’m just going to see…’ Jonah began his reply but trailed off when he saw Grace, staring at him in disbelief. ‘Grace, hi I didn’t see you there, I was just—‘
‘Europe? The UK? You’re going away for a year and didn’t
think to tell me?’ Her blood boiling, Grace stormed out of the café.
‘Grace, wait!’ Jonah rushed out after her. ‘Let me explain, please!’
Grace turned around momentarily, wanting to ask ‘why?’ but she couldn’t face him. The truth was clear. He’d deceived her, led her on. And next month he’d be gone.
Jonah, looking torn between having to man the café and wanting to catch up to Grace and ‘explain’ his deception, hung awkwardly at the perimeter of the café, several patrons watching and probably wondering what the fuss was about. ‘Let’s talk about this, don’t run off,’ he pleaded.
But Grace turned and walked further away, her footsteps almost burning holes in the footpath. How dare he? I knew he was too good to be true! Just when things were going right for her, Grace was dealt a hard hit. Right in the heart. It hurt like hell and she wanted to curl up and cry, but anger kept her walking towards Sylvia’s house. She wondered if Sylvia knew about this. Surely she would have told her if she did.
A few minutes later she arrived, out of breath, at Sylvia’s front yard. She went to walk up the steps but heard voices around the back, so she went around to the side gate. Sylvia was probably on the deck enjoying the final moments of sunshine. Grace heard an elderly woman’s voice, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. It must be Nancy from next door, Grace thought. Sylvia had finally become neighbourly and invited her over. As she unlatched the hook on the side gate and pushed it open, she heard Sylvia’s voice. Could only hear fragments of what she was saying, but enough to have the words send shockwaves through her heart, still raw from Jonah’s revelation.
‘…Too young to be a mother…a mistake to have her…if I could turn back time…’
A mistake? Yes, that’s what she was. She wasn’t supposed to have been born. That’s probably why she got cancer—a cruel trick by the universe trying to send her back to where she came from. These thoughts rushed through Grace’s mind as tears rushed to her eyes. She took her hand away from the gate and turned away, the gate falling closed behind her with a loud clang.
She was at the end of the driveway when Sylvia called out. ‘Grace, where are you going?’
Grace turned around. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’
‘Grace, if you’re nervous about the concert you needn’t be, everything’s going to be fine.’ Sylvia rushed to meet her, but Grace took a few steps backwards.
‘I mean, I shouldn’t have come here. To Tarrin’s Bay. It was a mistake, just like me—a mistake!’ Grace stormed off.
‘Oh Grace, wait! Come back!’
‘Leave me alone!’ Grace yelled, before turning back briefly. ‘That’s what you always wanted, isn’t it?’
She trudged down the hill quickly, then sped up to a run, knowing Sylvia wouldn’t be able to chase her with a bad ankle. And it was for the best. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, just wanted to get out of there.
* * *
Sylvia’s chest rose and fell rapidly in short sharp bursts. Grace had run off too fast for her to catch up. She wouldn’t have cared if her ankle hurt but if she tripped and fell she’d be no good to anyone tonight. The car. She’d get in the car and drive after her. Sylvia went to rush inside to get her keys, when Nancy stopped her.
‘Let her be for a while,’ she said.
‘I have to talk to her! She must have overheard us talking and took things thing the wrong way. I have to make it right,’ Sylvia said, walking up the steps.
‘Sylvia. Give her some time to calm down, you don’t want to talk to her while she’s so upset.’
Hesitating, Sylvia looked at her watch, and not having registered the time, looked at it again. ‘She’s performing tonight. We don’t have a lot of time.’
Nancy placed her hand on Sylvia’s arm. ‘She’ll come round, love. Why don’t you wait a half hour and then call her. If she doesn’t answer, then drive over to her. Whenever my daughter was upset with me, she’d run into her bedroom and lie on her stomach on the bed until the tears dried up. Then we’d talk and everything would go back to normal.’
Sylvia allowed Nancy to lead her inside. She sat at the kitchen table, and Nancy brought in the tea and scones from outside. ‘Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a mother,’ Sylvia said.
‘Now, don’t go talking like that, love. You can’t give up at the first argument. Motherhood is a rollercoaster ride, you have to take the ups with the downs.’
‘But did you see the way she looked at me? She didn’t want to be anywhere near me!’
‘Look love, as many mothers will tell you, that’s normal. And she’s at a vulnerable age, finding her independence in the world. It can be scary. Somehow she only heard what she was fearing, and assumed the worst.’
Sylvia had never experienced anything like this before. An unfamiliar and very uncomfortable sensation sat in her stomach. To see Grace hurting hurt her too. She sat there listening to Nancy’s advice, and after a while she tried calling Grace. No answer. ‘I’m going now. I can’t sit here and do nothing.’ Sylvia thanked Nancy and told her she could let herself out when she was ready, and grabbed her car keys and handbag. A few minutes later she pulled up at the caravan park to find Grace carrying a couple of large bags and about to get into a taxi. Leaving the engine running, Sylvia lurched from the car. ‘Grace!’ She rushed up alongside her. ‘Don’t go! What about the concert?’
‘Tell Mr Randleman I’m very sorry,’ Grace said, opening the taxi door.
Sylvia pushed the door closed. ‘Wait. I don’t know what you overheard back there, but you must have misunderstood what I was saying. I said it would have been a mistake not having you. Please just—‘
‘You said “a mistake having her”. Sounds pretty clear-cut to me.’ Grace opened the door again. ‘I know I’m not wanted here. And Jonah’s going overseas so he obviously doesn’t care about me anymore, so I’m going back to Melbourne, where I belong. Dad will be glad to see me.’
‘Jonah’s going away? And Melbourne? No Grace, please. I do want you here, and…’ Sylvia looked at her watch. ‘…We have to get ready for the concert, you’ve spent so much time preparing, don’t let it go to waste. And, and, my parents are coming! This is your chance to meet them,’ Sylvia urged, her hands waving about relentlessly.
Grace looked Sylvia directly in the eye. ‘If they wanted to meet me they would have by now.’ She got into the taxi and closed the door, and Sylvia was forced to step away when the taxi reversed, its tires crunching on the gravel driveway as though poking tiny holes in her heart.
Sylvia stood in the driveway, hands on her head in disbelief, as she watched her daughter being driven off into the distance, not knowing if she would ever see her again.
Chapter 34
When disbelief and worry had given way to helplessness, Sylvia returned home. She sat slumped in the chair on the back deck, the metallic tingling of the wind chimes hypnotising her. Their sweet sound conjured an image of the ocean on a summer morning, sparkling under the sunshine as though stars were scattered across the rippling surface. For a moment she felt nature’s peace, its reassuring embrace. Amazing how something as simple as a sound could evoke such clear images and feelings. As though different sounds were keys that could unlock every possible emotion in the heart.
Suddenly, she knew what she had to do.
With resolve, Sylvia picked up the phone. ‘Hi William, it’s Sylvia Greene. I’m sorry to tell you this, but Grace Forrester won’t be performing tonight after all. I’m afraid something important came up.’
She listened for a moment to his cries of ‘No! She was going to be the highlight of the show!’ and ‘Everyone’s going to be so disappointed!’ before putting him out of his misery.
‘William, it’s okay, I know someone who can fill in for her.’
‘You’d be hard pressed to find anyone as talented as her, who could possibly take her place?’ William asked.
‘Me,’ Sylvia replied.
She didn’t have long to prepare, and
didn’t even know if she could pull it off, but Sylvia knew she had to do it. People were expecting a piano performance tonight and that’s exactly what they would get. It was time to put the past behind her, stop hiding, and show the world the real Sylvia Greene.
She lifted the lid on the piano. The smell of old timber and varnish wafting up to her nose transported her back to a time when she was younger, more carefree. She could feel her mother’s breath above her as she sang and played with Sylvia’s hair. Her father, sitting in his armchair tapping his feet, sipping whisky.
Sylvia’s fingers touched the smooth white keys, and she pressed lightly, tentatively, getting a feel for it. Then, as though she’d turned on a switch it all came rushing back, and a flood of emotion poured from her heart to her hands. Her fingers danced across the keys in a foxtrot of high and low notes; quick steps from one key to the next, rhythmic and fluid, yet each tap definite and strong. It was as though they had a mind of their own.
She swayed forwards and backwards, putting her whole body into it. A smile found its way to her lips as she lost herself in the music. Or more so, found herself in the music, remembering who she was. It had been over eighteen years since she’d played, but it was as though she’d never stopped. All that skill, stored away, waiting to be used again, had resurfaced.
Surprisingly, Sylvia didn’t feel guilty like she thought she would. Somehow, the thought of playing again after giving up her child had seemed selfish. She’d failed to accept the responsibility presented to her back then, and denying Grace her real mother made her think it only right to deny herself of something too. Concentrating on her studies after Grace was born made it easier somewhat, and soon playing piano was as distant to Sylvia as the memory of her daughter’s eyes.
But now, she’d feel guilty if she didn’t play. How could she encourage Grace to play piano if she wasn’t prepared to make use of her own talent? Apart from being a good doctor, this was her gift. This was her passion. And it was time to share it.
The January Wish Page 23
