Page 13 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘Dale and Peta – they’re saying hello.’
‘Oh.’
Her mother’s face transforms into the mask Patricia recognises: the beatific smile that tells the world all is well, regardless of the truth. The smile they never saw at home but which, amidst other people, covered for her parents’ loud arguments, her brother killing the neighbour’s dog, her sister running away from home for a month, the money troubles that never went away. For normal family life, because that’s what it was. Just like Tolstoy wrote: all happy families are the same, but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.Anna Karenina. A book Patricia knows she’s meant to love but which she finds unbearably, overwhelmingly sad.
They head for the end of the street and Patricia puts on the blinker to turn left towards town.
Her father grunts.
‘What’s that, Dad?’ she says. She can hear the newspaper crumpling. Her father is probably going to do the crossword in the car too.
‘John called yesterday. Forgot to tell you.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Says he can’t come next weekend.’
Patricia feels a sag of disappointment in her shoulders. Her brother John was supposed to come up from Innisfail and take her parents to Chillagoe to stay overnight with their brother Peter and his family. Peter never comes to Cairns. He says it’s because he’s ‘flat out’ running his service station. John is usually ‘flat out’ too, being a solicitor in Innisfail, but Innisfail is closer so it’s harder to make excuses not to drive an hour up the road. Patricia had asked John to take their parents to visit Peter as she has no interest in seeing her oldest brother – at family gatherings he likes to refer to her as ‘the one we can’t get rid of’ because she’s unmarried. But her parents think he’s the bee’s knees.
‘Did he say when he might be able to come instead?’
‘No.’ The newspaper rustles. ‘Says he’s— ’
‘Flat out. Right. Yeah. I get it.’ She sighs and doesn’t care that her father can hear it.
‘Did he call Peter and say you aren’t coming?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know.’
Patricia knows: John won’t have done it. He’ll leave that up to her, which means she and Peter will get into a sniping session about her being too lazy to drive their parents to Chillagoe and not understanding why he’s too important to visit them in Cairns. It isn’t that she’s lazy, of course. Laziness has never been Patricia’s problem. It’s because she doesn’t want to see him. Somewhat astonishingly, given that in their adulthood she’s never been warm towards him, Peter doesn’t appear to have figured that out.
She’s not going to drive their parents to Chillagoe, though. Peter’s their child too and he can make an effort. That’s the righteous position she’s taking for today and she’s going to stick to it.
‘Where are we going, Patricia?’ her mother says, sounding worried.
‘To the doctor’s, Mum.’
Patricia used to say ‘remember’:To the doctor’s, Mum – remember?But she stopped when she realised it sounded like a taunt. Her mother remembers sometimes, and oftentimes not. That’s just the way things are now and there’s no need to point it out.
‘It’s a lovely day,’ her mother says, her head turning towards the window.
Patricia is glad that they ride the rest of the trip in silence. She can use the time to silently fume at her brothers. It’s a grudge she developed a while ago, and one that she treats like a hardy indoor plant that needs only occasional watering. Given she can never outwardly express her frustration with them, the silent fume is all she has. And it’s enough to keep her going all the way to the doctor’s surgery.
CHAPTER TEN
The little house in Kuranda had so charmed Dorothy and Frederick when they first inspected it that they’d decided the thirty-kilometre drive into town each day was worth it to live amongst so many trees. They like to tell people they live in the rainforest, because it’s almost true: the village is in the rainforest, even if their house is on a street with other dwellings.
Towards the end of the year the greenery can feel oppressive, as the humidity rises and they begin to long for rain to break it. But in the winter, as it is now, it’s perfect. Bright and alive. Each tree reminds Dorothy that life goes on: she is here now, but these trees have been here longer, and will go on longer than her, no doubt. On the days when she feels things are hopeless, she finds that reassuring.
She daydreams about those trees while she’s at work. Not often; just when her brain needs to take a little break. It’s the weirdest sensation of being homesick for a place she’ll be returning to very soon. This morning she’s been homesick for it since she arrived at the café. Saturday mornings are usually fine – lots of customers, the time goes quickly. Frederick likes being busy; so does she. This morning, though, she’s feeling agitated, like she doesn’t want to be here. And maybe she doesn’t, if only her sense of responsibility would step aside and let her indulge in such a desire.
‘Table two,’ Frederick calls from the kitchen and she sees the new waitress, Tina, pick up the food from the pass.
That’s when she remembers why she possibly-maybe doesn’t want to be here: she and Frederick had a disagreement on the drive in. Not a fight. They don’t fight. They agreed early in their marriage that they don’t like fighting. Frederick’s parents liked to fight and he has no wish to live like that again.
‘I went to see my doctor,’ Dorothy informed him as they started down the road to town.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
