When Grace Went Away Page 9

  Kate was older than her sister by two years. When standing side by side, the family resemblance between the two was striking, but all similarities ended there. Childless, Kate had outlived two husbands and by the sounds of it she hadn’t given up on finding a third.

  ‘I can’t understand why you haven’t divorced that hayseed you married, Sarah,’ she’d said at dinner. ‘You could have found yourself another husband by now. One with money. You wouldn’t be living like a pauper.’

  Midway through her pannacotta, Grace had sprung to her feet, napkin flying from her lap, ready to go on the offensive for her mother. But Sarah had caught Grace’s eye and winked, and Grace had sunk back into her chair. A passing waiter scooped up the napkin from the floor and placed it back on her lap.

  When it came time to pay, Aunty Kate had excused herself and disappeared into the ladies.

  ‘You know what?’ Grace had whispered to her mother. ‘I reckon both her husbands died to get away from her. Are you sure she’s your sister?’

  The chapel at the crematorium was small, and all the pews were full. Grace sat in the front row, beside her mother, who’d cast many furtive glances behind her to see if her other children had shown. Grace felt her blood pressure rise as her mother’s shoulders drooped even further.

  The civil ceremony was short and to the point. Just like Nanna, Grace thought. A riot of colourful flowers cascading over the cask was a bright spot in an otherwise sad scenario.

  Nanna had been adamant that she would be cremated, so here they all were, eyes glued to the cask gliding away through the curtains. What happened on the other side, Grace didn’t know, and she had no desire to find out.

  Grace’s mother sat rigidly beside her, fingers firmly entwined with her daughter’s, while Aunty Kate sobbed theatrically. Even sitting down Grace’s feet hurt in her heels, and not for the first time she wished she’d gone with sense rather than style.

  The funeral director, a pleasant woman in a white suit, directed the attendees to the light refreshments being served in one of the reception rooms. Grace read on the board outside the chapel that there was another service in ten minutes. Already, there were people waiting to enter to farewell their loved one. A bit like a production line, she thought.

  One of the carers from the nursing home was there, and she hugged Grace with feeling. ‘Glad you flew back,’ she said. ‘Sarah needs someone to lean on, although she pretends she doesn’t.’

  ‘I’m pleased I’m here too, because you’re so right. Thanks for everything you did for Nanna. Mum always spoke highly of you.’

  Grace recognised only a few of the other people at the reception, balancing cups of tea and coffee while making subdued conversation. A handful were as old as Nanna had been. One elderly man was being pushed around in a wheelchair by a woman in a nurse’s uniform. Her mother seemed to know who he was, greeting him with affection.

  Aunty Kate stood off to one side, looking tragic. Grace resisted rolling her eyes.

  They’d requested donations to the nursing home in lieu of flowers, and Grace was making her way towards the table to look at the cards when Tim walked in. She blew out a relieved breath. Her mother had had more than her fair share of disappointments. She’d be overjoyed to see Tim.

  Then she did a double take when Aaron Halliday, barely recognisable in a jacket and tie, appeared behind him. They both made a beeline for Grace the moment they spotted her.

  ‘Howdy, Grace.’ Tim grazed her cheek with his lips, his attention on the room. ‘We caught the last bit of the service. Where’s Mum? Oh, I see her,’ he said, and headed over to where she was chatting with another stranger.

  A lump formed in Grace’s throat when she saw her mother notice Tim. They stood and stared at each other, and then Sarah took his hand and her brother’s shoulders softened.

  Grace sniffed, rummaging in her shoulder bag for tissues. She blew her nose, noisily, and then remembered Aaron was standing beside her.

  ‘Hello, Grace,’ Aaron said, blue eyes twinkling.

  ‘Hi there,’ she said, returning his smile with a watery one of her own.

  ‘Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon. I’m sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Thanks. Nanna hadn’t been with us for a long time before she actually died. In a way it’s a relief. Takes some pressure off Mum. Although—’

  ‘Although?’ Aaron said when she paused. ‘It’ll leave a significant gap in her life?’ he suggested when the silence lengthened.

  ‘A big hole, really. Caring for Nanna gave her a reason to get out of bed every day.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m sure your mum is an intelligent and resourceful woman.’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘Then she’ll come up with something to fill up her days.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re not. Come and get a coffee with me.’

  They made their way to a large table covered with a snowy-white tablecloth. Cups and saucers, carafes of coffee, hot water and tea-making things, and trays of biscuits and slices covered every available space.

  ‘It’s decent of you to come all the way for Tim,’ Grace said.

  ‘It seemed like he needed someone to drive him,’ he said, dunking a tea bag into hot water, ‘and I needed to pick up some building supplies for a job, catch up with the family …’

  When they returned to their quiet spot, Grace said, ‘Is Tim okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so, but I reckon Doug’s been riding him hard. Your old man—’ Aaron frowned, and then swallowed the brew in a couple of gulps. ‘I don’t know all of what goes on there, and it’s not really my concern, except that Tim is a mate,’ he said.

  The biscuit Grace was chewing turned to chaff in her mouth, the coffee tasted bitter. She put her cup down beside Aaron’s, glancing over to where Tim and her mother looked to be having an intense conversation. Her mother appeared upset.

  ‘Sometimes I think there’s no fixing this family,’ Grace said. ‘If he upsets her … I’d better go and sort them out before things turn ugly.’

  Aaron grabbed her arm. ‘It’s not your job to fix everything, Grace. They’re both adults.’

  Glaring at him, she shook off his hand and started towards her mother and brother.

  Then she stopped mid-stride, Aaron’s words churning over in her head. He was right. It wasn’t her job to fix everything. It was arrogant to think she could. She spun on her heel and retraced her steps to where he was standing.

  ‘I concede. They are both adults,’ she said. And as if to prove that point, she turned to see Tim and her mother laughing together. Aaron pulled her into a side-hug.

  Grace let her shoulders relax. Turning her head his way, she narrowed her eyes. ‘Just who are you, Aaron Halliday?’

  ‘I dare you to find out, Grace Fairley.’ He wiggled his eyebrows, blue eyes challenging. She couldn’t hold back her half-smile, grateful for the light relief. He’d obviously forgotten she was flying back to London in a few days. Now facing her, he said, ‘You know my phone number … Ask me as many questions as you like,’ proving he hadn’t forgotten a thing.

  Grace stared at him.

  ‘Don’t overthink it, Grace.’

  ‘But it might be a year before I’m home again,’ she said. ‘And that’ll only be to visit.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ was all he said.

  13

  Sarah

  When I woke the morning after Mum’s funeral, I expected to feel flat, emotionally drained, but I didn’t. Instead, I felt strangely detached, almost as if someone else was occupying my skin.

  It wasn’t an altogether unfamiliar feeling. After Luke died I remember willing myself not to feel, because the pain had been unbearable. Back when Dad had died, I’d been caught up in Mum’s grief, and I’m embarrassed to admit I’d hardly missed him at all.

  He’d been a quiet, reserved man, overwhelmed I think by a houseful of strong and outspoken women. He was my father, but I didn’t
have a repertoire of fond father–daughter memories to regularly sift through.

  It was seven-thirty, and the covers were pushed back on the side of the bed that Grace had slept in last night. My bedroom door was closed but I could hear voices and bursts of laughter.

  After some persuasion at the funeral reception, I’d convinced Tim and his friend Aaron to stay instead of making the drive home to Miners Ridge. They had moved the furniture so Aaron could spread his swag on the sitting room floor. Tim had slept on the futon and Grace had bunked in with me.

  Aaron Halliday was a surprise. I remembered him vaguely as one of the lads Tim had hung about with at school. He’d been out to the farm a few times over the years.

  But try as I might, I couldn’t recall his parents or where they’d lived and worked. Or what had become of Aaron after he’d finished high school. I did remember that he had two younger brothers, twins, I think, still in primary school when Tim and Aaron had been in high school.

  Last night when I’d asked after his family, Aaron’s response had been generic, leaving me with the impression that he wasn’t keen to talk about them.

  Too tired to cook, we’d eaten takeaway Chinese for dinner and the four of us had shared two bottles of wine. Tim hadn’t said much, and it hadn’t escaped me how much of the wine had gone into his glass. He would have easily knocked back a bottle on his own. And it came out in conversation that they’d stopped off at a hotel between the funeral and their arrival at my place. Thank God Aaron had been driving.

  Dressing quickly in woollen slacks and a soft, lemon-coloured cashmere jumper Grace had given me for my birthday, I combed my hair and slipped on shoes. Pinching colour into my cheeks, I practised cheerfulness and then went out to face the day.

  Aaron’s swag had disappeared, and order was restored in the sitting room. Tim had his back to the room. He was standing at the front window, still as a statue, coffee mug in hand. Grace and Aaron were at the table, talking quietly.

  ‘Morning all,’ I said.

  Grace stood up. ‘Mum, good morning, I’ll make you tea. Hope my snoring didn’t keep you awake.’

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Fairley,’ Aaron said, making me wince. It was a long time since anyone had called me Mrs Fairley. Tim lifted a hand in greeting but didn’t turn around.

  I wanted so badly to go to him, put my arms around him and hold him, coax him to tell me what was bothering him. In my mind I imagined doing it, like I had when he was a boy; but I restrained myself. Instinct warned that if I rushed in I’d destroy the new and fledgling connection we’d made.

  It was a huge step that he was here at all. I wouldn’t comment or criticise, I would just enjoy his presence. If I couldn’t touch him, I’d look—and silently thank Mum, because she’d done in death what none of us had been able to manage while she was alive.

  But the air of sadness and defeat about him was painfully obvious. More so because I suspected it wasn’t primarily about him losing his Nanna. The possibility that the probable cause of his unhappiness could be equally apportioned between me and his father weighed heavily upon me.

  Toast was all they wanted for breakfast, and more tea and coffee. Tim’s eyes were bloodshot, his conversation monosyllabic. Grace ribbed him about being hungover, but there was concern beneath her teasing.

  Tim and Aaron were ready to go by nine. We milled about awkwardly on the footpath out the front of my home unit. Aaron’s 4WD was parked on the kerb, their gear stowed in the back alongside a large, padlocked metal toolbox.

  ‘My condolences, Mrs Fairley, and thanks for your hospitality,’ he said. ‘It would have been a long day if we’d driven back last night.’

  ‘Thank you, Aaron, you’re welcome anytime,’ I said, shaking his outstretched hand.

  ‘Yeah Mum, thanks, and sorry about Nanna.’ Tim fidgeted, moving from one foot to another. Without giving myself time to overthink it and talk myself out of it, I gathered my son into my arms. Too much time had been wasted, too many opportunities missed.

  ‘I’m so glad you came,’ I said, the words mixed with tears and muffled against his shirt front.

  Then his arms came around me, tentatively at first, and them firmer, surer. Resting his chin on the top of my head he said, ‘So am I.’

  ‘Let’s not leave it so long next time.’

  I felt him nod into my hair. ‘Can’t believe how quick the time goes.’

  Tim hugged Grace and I dabbed at my eyes and blew my nose.

  When Grace extended her hand to Aaron, he pulled her into an embrace that even I could see was more than platonic. She didn’t seem to mind. I narrowed my eyes to study my daughter, and then searched out Tim to gauge his reaction, but he was already heading to the vehicle, eyes glued to his mobile phone.

  ‘Ask your questions,’ I heard Aaron say to Grace. ‘I might even shoot a few your way,’ he added.

  After they left, Grace stood on the kerb staring after the 4WD, her expression thoughtful. I tossed up whether to say anything about what I’d observed, and decided not to.

  Over the years there’d been the occasional man show up in my daughter’s life. None of them had ever lasted very long. Grant Hughes had been around the longest.

  I’d always had my suspicions about him and how single he actually was, but he’d made her happy, for a while. Grace hadn’t talked about why it had ended, saying only, ‘He had to go back to Sydney.’

  Knowing my daughter for the pragmatist she was, I couldn’t imagine her giving Aaron Halliday and a long-distance relationship more than a fleeting thought. After all, it’d been out of sight, out of mind with Grant, and he’d been twelve hundred kilometres away, not the best part of seventeen thousand.

  Though in Grant’s case, I suspected that a wife and children lurking in the background might have had more to do with Grace’s decision than the distance.

  Draping an arm around her shoulders I said, ‘What shall we do today?’

  Two days was all I had left with her, and my chest tightened at the reality of it.

  She yawned, and we walked back inside, arm in arm. ‘You look great in that jumper, Mum.’ She puffed out her chest. ‘I have such amazing taste in clothes.’

  I laughed, because she did.

  ‘Didn’t we say we’d drop Aunty Kate at the airport? What time was that?’

  ‘She rang last night when you went out for the food, said she’d changed to an earlier flight and would take a taxi. I reckon she’s halfway home by now.’

  ‘But weren’t you going to go through Nanna’s things together before she left?’

  That had been the plan, but last night when Kate called I’d been too weary and heartsore to argue with her. Just go, I’d been tempted to say. Who knew when we’d see each other again? But if I’d said that thought bothered me, I would have been lying.

  ‘Really, there’s not much to go through. All the paperwork’s been done, and Kate knows what share of the nursing home bond will come her way eventually. She made sure of that.’ I couldn’t stop the sharp laugh that punctuated the statement.

  All that remained of Mum were the memories—and a suitcase and a cardboard box, both sitting in the back of Grace’s SUV. How sad was that? All that was left of her life fit into the back of my daughter’s car.

  The nursing home had been happy to keep Mum’s recliner chair. The few clothes she’d had that were in good condition would go to the op shop, as would the books and knick-knacks. That was about the sum of it.

  When we’d packed up Mum’s home unit before moving her into the care facility, Grace and I had chosen what keepsakes we’d both wanted. Kate had laughed when I’d asked if there was anything she wanted saved for her.

  Grace had packed a box of her grandmother’s things for Faith, taking them on one of her visits to the farm. I hadn’t heard a word from Faith about the keepsakes. Grace relayed that her sister hadn’t even glanced in the box at the time. I sincerely hoped something we’d sent struck a chord, reminding Faith of her nanna, and of happier
times.

  ‘We can sort through the stuff together,’ Grace said. ‘And then we’ll go out for lunch, my treat. Let’s go to that boathouse place, the one by the river. I’ll book.’

  ‘That’ll cost a bomb!’

  ‘We’re worth it,’ she laughed, tossing her mane of glossy hair. ‘And you can’t take the money with you. Just ask Nanna.’

  Several hours later, replete after working my way through a 350-gram fillet steak, accompanied by the best kipfler potatoes I’d ever eaten, the waiter drifted by with the dessert menus.

  Grace held up her hand. ‘Only coffee for me,’ she said. ‘But you go ahead, Mum, have dessert if you can fit it in.’

  The smashed pavlova was tempting, but I’d burst if I ate another thing. ‘I think I’d better settle for a cup of tea.’

  Once the finer details of our beverages were sorted out, the waiter left, menus tucked under his arm. Grace caught my eye and she had that look on her face, the one that said she was going to pin me down about something. It’d be about when I was coming to visit her in London. And I’d been expecting it.

  ‘What are you going to do with yourself now, Mum, now that you haven’t got Nanna to focus on? I gather coming to visit me isn’t at the top of your list of things to do, and I’m okay with that. But I need to know you have a plan for how you’re going to fill in your days. You know I’ll worry.’

  That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Shifting in my seat, I gazed out at the sluggish Torrens River, tuning out the clink of cutlery on crockery and the tinkle of laughter.

  Grace was right. The day after tomorrow I’d be on my own in this familiar, yet at the same time foreign, city. I’d lived here half my life but this time around it didn’t feel like home.

  How was I going to fill in my days? I’d been fooling myself thinking that something would present itself when the time came.

  Now the time had come and I was clueless. With Mum gone and my health improving daily, the future gaped in front of me. I hadn’t thought past the moment when Grace would be once again swallowed up by International Departures.