Page 119 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
Dorothy sighs. ‘The manager isn’t working out. So, um … I think I have to go back earlier than I thought.’
‘Like when?’ Patricia asks, leaning closer.
Dorothy gestures to her son. ‘As soon as I can figure out what to do with him.’
When she and Frederick discussed the situation, she wanted to rail and rant about how unfair it is: she’s waited years for this baby and now she’s going to have to leave him with someone else while he’s still tiny. She should have known nothing would be easy, because nothing ever has been.
‘Can your mother help?’ Patricia asks.
‘A couple of days a week. But she has other things to do and I don’t want to ask for more time than that.’ Dorothy sighs as she looks at Nicholas. ‘I guess I’ll have to take him with me and park him in the kitchen.’ She hears her voice become high pitched, reflecting her unease with the suggestion. She used to love the idea and now all she can think about is how unsafe it will be.
Her response earns her another sharp glance from Grace Maud. ‘That’s not ideal,’ she says.
‘No. But we can’t afford a babysitter.’ Dorothy squeezes her eyes shut as she thinks of the debt they’ve taken on to buy the new café and Frederick’s confidence that they’ll be able to pay it all back quickly. ‘My friend Ruth said she can take him two days a week, but I don’t know what to do about the rest. The café is open seven days a week.’
The three of them sit and listen as Nicholas burbles.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve held a baby,’ Grace Maud says, her face softening. ‘I’ve missed it. They’re easier when they’re small.’
Dorothy thinks about the middle-of-the-night feeds and the constant churn of washing clothes and nappies, of never finding enough time to take care of herself and the house as well as the baby. If this is the easy part, she isn’t sure she’s prepared for the rest.
Grace Maud looks up and her eyes meet Dorothy’s. ‘I have a fair amount of free time,’ she says.
‘Hm?’ Dorothy is thinking of the muslin wraps hanging on the line.
‘I have time, Dorothy,’ Grace Maud says more firmly. ‘If you’d like help with Nicholas, I have time.’
Dorothy feels a flash of excitement, tempered by a rationalisation that this might be too good to be true. She glances at Patricia, who is beaming.
‘That’s such a good idea,’ Patricia says.
‘I wouldn’t expect …’ Dorothy says quickly. ‘You wouldn’t have to …’
‘We’ll sort it out,’ Grace Maud says. ‘You just let me know when you’re thinking of going back and we’ll come up with a schedule.’ She gazes at Nicholas and chucks him under the chin. ‘He’s such a beauty. I’ll take good care of him.’
‘I know you will,’ Dorothy says, and feels the weeks of tiredness and worry collapse on top of her. She puts her head in her hands and lets out a loud exhalation.
‘Oh, Dorothy!’ Patricia is next to her, a hand on her back.
‘This is relief!’ Dorothy says, lifting her head. ‘I’m relieved! Thank you, Grace Maud.’
‘I think we’re both getting something out of this,’ Grace Maud says, then she turns to Patricia. ‘Why don’t you take him for a little while? I’m going to help Dorothy with lunch.’
Patricia nods and somewhat awkwardly manoeuvres Nicholas into her arms, trying so hard to support his head that she almost fails to extract him completely.
‘Come on,’ Grace Maud says, offering her hands to Dorothy as she stands up. ‘Let’s give Patricia some time to figure out that she’s going to miss a few weeks of that little boy’s life.’
Dorothy leads her into the kitchen and starts pulling out everything they need for sandwiches. Being a mother has taught her that she can never know what each day will bring, and today it has brought her the generosity of others.
Grace Maud will never know how much her offer has meant, but Dorothy will try her very best to tell her.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport is a microcosm of the city: packed with people speaking lots of different languages, all in the process of coming or going, making plans, doing things, talking, laughing,being.
Once Patricia knew her flight to India would leave from Sydney she decided to spend a day in the city, trying to catch up with friends she hasn’t seen since she left, and reminding herself of the beauty of the harbour and how much Sydney has to offer: restaurants, art galleries, so many places to visit. Her time living at home, though, has made this city too busy for her. Or perhaps she’s simply past the point in life of finding bustle exciting. Or Cairns is just the right place for her. So when she returns from her adventure, she will fly back into Sydney and take the first available flight north. She will wave to the harbour as the plane goes overhead, but won’t regret not leaving the airport.
She pushes her luggage trolley past the check-in counters for other airlines, searching for the one she needs. Her suitcase is compact, and new: her father insisted on buying it for her, even though she knows he doesn’t have much spare cash.
