Page 118 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘Why don’t you tell me which flight you’re on?’ he says softly. ‘And which flight you’re coming back on?’
‘But I’ll have to leave you there,’ she says. ‘You’re going for ages.’
‘It looks like I’ve changed my plans,’ he says. ‘There’s a bit of that going around.’
She smiles into the phone. ‘Yes, there is.’ She keeps smiling even though she knows full well that he can’t see her. ‘I’ll just get my diary. I have everything in that.’
‘I don’t mind waiting,’ he says. And she knows, with absolute certainty, that he has demonstrated this to be true.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
‘How is it possible that he’s grown so much?’ Patricia says as she passes Nicholas to Grace Maud.
‘I suppose I don’t notice as much because I see him all the time,’ Dorothy says.
Her arms feel empty as she watches Grace Maud settle her son into the crook of her arm. She had no precedent for ‘skin hunger’, as she’s come to think of it – the feeling she gets when she’s had Nicholas in her arms, holding him or feeding him or bathing him, and then she doesn’t. When she puts him down for a nap, for instance, she’ll spend several minutes feeling like something is wrong, then she’ll realise it’s because her skin is singing out for him. It’s an odd, overwhelming feeling and one of the best parts of motherhood. So good that it almost offsets the mastitis that has been plaguing her the last few days and makes her flinch each time she moves.
‘How are you feeling?’ Grace Maud asks.
‘Yes.’ Dorothy beams, trying to avoid the question. Her body doesn’t feel like it belongs to her any more, but it’s worth it – she has her son.
‘“Yes” is not an answer to “How are you feeling?”,’ Grace Maud says with a narrowing of her eyes.
‘Honestly, I’m fine. There’s the odd thing. You know what it’s like.’ She smiles quickly, then remembers that while Grace Maud does know what it’s like, Patricia doesn’t, and she doesn’t like being so thoughtless.
‘I do,’ says Grace Maud. ‘And I don’t remember thinking I was fine in the first few weeks. I had terrible mastitis, for one thing.’ She looks pointedly at Dorothy while she jigs Nicholas up and down.
Dorothy opens her mouth, then closes it. She really doesn’t want to bore the others with her niggles.
‘Dorothy, you have a bad poker face,’ Grace Maud says.
‘I have mastitis too,’ she admits. ‘I’ve tried giving him formula to give my nipples a rest, but it seems to be worse.’
‘That’s because the only solution is to keep nursing.’ Grace Maud raises her eyebrows. ‘Perverse, but true.’
‘What?’ Dorothy shudders. ‘How?’
‘You need to clear those milk ducts. That’s the only way to fix it. So just grit your teeth and do it.’
Grace Maud looks towards Patricia. ‘I’m sure you’re thrilled by this conversation.’
‘I just wish I could contribute,’ Patricia says.
‘If you’re going to launch into some I’m-worthless-because-I-don’t-have-a-baby self-pity extravaganza, I’d advise against it,’ Grace Maud says. ‘Babies are lovely but they’re not everything.’ She looks down at Nicholas. ‘Although this little one could just about be everything. Isn’t he a treasure, Dorothy? What a handsome fellow.’
Dorothy feels the flush of maternal pride even though she knows she had no control over how her baby turned out. She also loves the fact that someone else thinks Nicholas is as gorgeous as she does.
‘How’s Frederick going with the new place?’ Patricia asks.
Dorothy’s smile falters. ‘Good. Busy. I barely see him. But we knew that would happen.’
Grace Maud glances up sharply.
‘And how’s the Cairns café going?’ Patricia presses on.
‘Um …’ Dorothy tries on a fake-cheerful smile.
‘Poker face,’ Grace Maud says.
