Page 100 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
Grace Maud tries to find the words to say what needs to be said next. She thinks of something Sandrine says over and over in class, and laughs to herself.Be open, ladies. Open your hips, open your hearts, open your minds. So many people are closed! It’s no good for the health.
‘This may sound ridiculous,’ Grace Maud says to Cecilia, ‘but could you try being open-minded about your mother’s real motivations? She may mean well and simply not be able to express it in a way you recognise. And it’s also possible that you appear closed-minded to her. She may think you simply don’t care about her.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘I didn’t say it was. I’m merely saying what she may be thinking.’
Cecilia relaxes her arms and shuffles around on the bed.
‘Cecilia, my dear – we are a mystery to our own selves most of the time. How can we possibly know someone else well enough to know exactly what they want or what they feel? Wouldn’t it be better to stay open to all the possibilities of what’s in their minds, and in their hearts, the way we would like them to stay open to us?’
With her eyes wide, Cecilia nods slowly. ‘I think I know what you mean,’ she says.
Grace Maud smiles. ‘That was a longwinded way of saying that I think your mother loves you and misses you, and I think you love her and miss her, and if you were both able to just say that to each other you’d solve a lot of your problems.’ She reaches over and pats Cecilia’s cheek. ‘Go to mass. Kiss your mother hello. Tell her that you love her. You may be surprised by what happens next.’
Yet it is Grace Maud who is surprised when Cecilia suddenly hugs her.
‘Thank you, GM,’ she says, her arms tightening. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Grace Maud slowly pats her back and thinks of the girl who came to help her with the housework, then moved in and stopped her from sitting in this house alone with her memories and ruminations. The girl who became a young woman who cheerfully takes care of things for her and never gets irritated when Grace Maud is being as curmudgeonly as she can be. And who, Grace Maud noticed, started calling her GM after she heard Luca doing it. Not that Grace Maud minds.
Cecilia opened her heart to Grace Maud, and while they have both benefited, Grace Maud knows she’s had the best of the bargain.
‘I feel the same about you,’ she says.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Each year seems to pass more quickly than the last. Patricia is quite sure that before she knows it Christmas will arrive, then 1995 will have begun and she will start the same routine over. And over. And over. Until she retires. Or dies. Whichever happens first. Another year of trying to manage her parents with no help and no change. Stasis. The story of her life. Such a worn-out phrase, but it’s the one that fits. The story of her life is that there is no story. She had nothing new to report when she bumped into her former student Rachel at the supermarket. Absolutely nothing to mark the years since she’d seen her last in Sydney. What sort of adult – what sort of person – doesn’t change in all that time? A boring one. Or one who is stuck against her will.
If it really is against her will.
Rachel looked delighted to see her.
‘I always meant to write to you,’ she says. ‘After I left school.’
‘Really?’ Patricia quickly searched her memory for anything she might have said or done to Rachel to prompt a letter.
‘Yeah. I …’ She looked shy for a second. ‘I wanted to tell you that you changed my life.’
‘I hope in a good way?’ Patricia said, slightly taken aback.
‘Oh, absolutely! You believed in me. You told me I could do better. You said you knew I was really bright and that I was capable of more. At the time I didn’t really want to hear it. Guess I was too young. But when I got to uni I remembered it. And I pushed myself. Did really well too. I wouldn’t have my job without that.’
Patricia felt the warmth of recognition and achievement, and smiled. ‘That’s lovely of you to say, but I think you did that all yourself.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘My parents never thought I’d get anywhere. Mum used to tell me I was never going to get a good job. But I did!’ She gave Patricia a curious look. ‘Are you teaching up here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Lucky for them,’ Rachel said, then looked thoughtful. ‘I just always thought you’d have done something else. I don’t mean that in a bad way! I thought you’d have moved to London or New York or something. Which makes it sound like I don’t like Australia but … You’re so smart, miss. I thought you’d become a professor at some fancy uni.’
Patricia considered what she said. ‘It’s not always easy to leave,’ she replied, then wondered if that was true – or if she’d made it harder for herself to leave.
Since that conversation she’s been wondering if she really has no options in her life or if she’s just telling herself that she doesn’t. It is safer, by far, to never change. Dull, and staid, but safer. And she’s always been sensible.
She had thoughts years ago of travels she could undertake and things she could achieve if her world was broader. Cairns will always be home because it’s baked into her skin, but she would have liked to see more of the world. Partly she’s stopped herself because she didn’t want to travel alone and she spent years waiting for that perfect travelling partner to materialise. Partly it’s because there is safety in what’s familiar and she isn’t as brave as she would like to be.
Although Sandrine often exhorts them to ‘have courage’ on the mat – to attempt things they might not otherwise – and Patricia always takes her up on that. So maybe she’s not so timid as she would have herself believe.
