Page 47 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘Hi.’
Luca looks genuinely delighted to see Cecilia, and Grace Maud is glad that he’s not in the ‘treat ’em mean’ camp. As opposed to the man walking in behind him.
‘Tom,’ Grace Maud says tersely, standing.
She may be shorter than her son but she wants to at least attempt to be on eye level. They haven’t seen each other since she was at the farm, and she’s been ignoring most phone calls in case it’s him. She knew a lot of them would be, because he wants her to agree to his idea and he won’t let it go. That’s his personality.
‘Mum,’ he says, holding his hat in his hand.
They stare at each other.
Grace Maud is barely aware of Luca and Cecilia chatting away together, but aware enough that she doesn’t want them to witness whatever she and Tom have to say.
‘Cecilia, why don’t you and Luca go into the sitting room?’ she says. At least that room has a door that can be closed so no one can hear anything.
Luca looks from Grace Maud to Tom and back again. ‘Or maybe we could go for a walk?’ he says.
Grace Maud hadn’t realised he was so astute but she’s grateful for it now. ‘Lovely,’ she says, and barely notices them leaving.
‘Mum— ’
‘If you say “We need to talk”, I’m going to ask your school to pay back all that money I spent on your education,’ she says, her voice cold. ‘Don’t be so lazy.’
Tom blanches momentarily, then he looks steely, and she feels almost proud because he gets that steel from her.
She can’t recall ever being angry at Tom before. Frustrated, of course – she’s a mother and he’s a son. Annoyed – yes, that’s a given too. Confused, ignored, irritated – all of them. But never angry the way she is now. The way she has been ever since they last spoke.
They’ve always had a fairly good relationship, as much as any mother and son can when they work together as well as live together. It was just the two of them for a while, before he went to the city, before Viv arrived. They had their disagreements. They resolved them. Now, though, because Tom’s been acting as if she’s no longer relevant – as if the farm is no longer her concern – that is an altogether different sensation. It makes her feel like he’s a stranger – and she can get mad at strangers. Enraged, actually.
The people Grace Maud loves have never been the objects of the blowtorch she has been known to turn on underperforming workers or sleazy passers-by. She knows what people used to say about her in town, before she became too old to be noticed. The word most commonly used was bitch, and she didn’t mind that at all. If people were calling her a bitch it saved her some effort, because all she had to do was meet their expectations. But she has never been a bitch to Tom – she’s never needed to be. Now she thinks bitchiness would be too mild for what she’s feeling.
‘I was going to say I’m sorry,’ Tom tells her, although he could have made that up on the spot.
How strange, she thinks, to be so distrustful of her son all of a sudden. To find herself unable to believe a word he says. The only person she could ever trust completely was Ellie Maud; perhaps she should never have believed there would be anyone else.
‘Sorry for upsetting me,’ she says. ‘Rather than sorry for going behind my back in the first place.’
Tom sighs, looks down and shakes his head. ‘Mum, we have to think about the future.’
‘And by “the future”, I presume you mean what happens once I’m dead? Given that you’re acting as if I already am.’
He doesn’t disagree.
‘I can’t imagine,’ Grace Maud goes on, ‘that you have any idea what it’s like to work your whole life, then have your only child attempt to disconnect you from that work and all it has brought simply to feather his own nest.’ She tries hard not to let her voice grow louder, but doesn’t believe she succeeded.
He stares at her, still silent.
‘So let me tell you how it feels, Thomas – it’s awful.’ Her breath catches as she inhales and she has the horrible suspicion that she may cry.
‘Mum, we never meant to hurt you.’
‘Yet you didn’t consider that you might.’
‘When are you going to let this go?’
He sounds more amused than cross, which makes her even more furious. Does he think she’s not allowed to have an opinion? Or that she’s so close to death she no longer has an interest in the place that has been her lifelong home?
She grips the back of her chair. ‘Why would you think I have any intention of doing that?’
