Page 31 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘Sometimes babies just don’t stick,’ Grace Maud says. ‘You’re not doing anything wrong. You just haven’t had one that’s stuck yet. I’m an old duck, so you can believe me.’
Dorothy isn’t sure whether Grace Maud is right, but she doesn’t want to offend her by disagreeing.
‘They can do all sorts of things these days, can’t they?’ Grace Maud continues. ‘Test-tube babies and so on. Perhaps your doctor can tell you more about that?’
‘Perhaps,’ Dorothy agrees quietly. She’s not ready to admit that she’s talked about IVF with her doctor.
‘I don’t think the crying is a bad thing,’ Patricia says. ‘And it doesn’t bother me. Just in case, you know, it happens again – don’t worry about it.’
‘Thank you.’ Dorothy smiles quickly but still wishes she hadn’t disturbed the others. It’s one thing to talk to these two about why she’s upset; it’s another to cry so that everyone can hear it.
‘I’m sorry, I have to go,’ Patricia says, looking at her watch. ‘Sorry to rush off.’ She picks up her mat and handbag. ‘See you next week?’
Dorothy and Grace Maud both nod and Patricia heads for the door.
‘I’ll walk you out,’ Grace Maud says, taking Dorothy’s arm.
It feels reassuring, almost grandmotherly – not that Dorothy remembers what that feels like. Her grandparents never voyaged from Germany to visit them. Letters were all she knew, and the occasional Christmas package of stollen and her mother’s favourite marzipan carefully wrapped inside a sturdy box.
As they step out into the night, Dorothy feels her body let go of something and she sighs involuntarily.
‘It’s better to talk about things like that,’ Grace Maud says. ‘There’s no benefit in keeping it to yourself. Other people have experiences that can help you.’
‘No one I’ve asked has had a miscarriage,’ Dorothy says glumly.
Grace Maud stops. ‘Of course they have,’ she says, sounding indignant. ‘They’re just not telling you. But miscarriages aren’t at all uncommon.’ She pauses. ‘It was my sister who had two. She was upset, but she got through it. As you will.’
Her tone is so reassuring that Dorothy almost believes her.
‘Now, I’ll walk you to your car. Where is it?’ Grace Maud seems to pull her a little closer, and their arms remain entwined until she’s tucked Dorothy inside her car like she’s tucking her into bed.
By the time Dorothy is driving up the hill towards Kuranda, she has forgotten her tears.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Patricia hears the television go on in the living room as she puts on rubber gloves and starts the washing up. She knows it will beSale of the Century: her father tries not to miss it. That’s why dinner is usually on the table early in the evening, except for the night she goes to yoga. What a rebel she is.
‘How does Mum seem to you?’ Annette says as she picks up a tea towel.
Patricia’s sister has deigned to fly up from Newcastle for exactly two days to see their parents. Thankfully she’s staying at a hotel.
Patricia wants to flick dishwater at her and point out that it’s a ridiculous question. She’s the one who lives here so their mother doesn’tseemanything – sheismany things. Annette visits rarely and when she calls to say hello she never wants to talk to their parents. Just wants an update. ‘Give me an update, Patricia,’ she says each time. As if their parents are a weather report.
‘What do you mean?’ is what Patricia chooses to say, although she knows the answer.
‘You know … is she a bit …vague?’
Annette picks up a plate and wipes it before looking around as if she has no idea where the plates go, except she used to live here and the crockery arrangements have never changed.
‘Do you mean is she losing her marbles?’ Patricia says, out of patience.
Annette laughs nervously. ‘That’s a bit much.’
‘Is it?’
‘Come on, Patricia, don’t be short with me. I was just asking a question.’
‘A rhetorical question.’
