Page 54 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘There’s a right-hand turn coming up,’ Frederick says, bringing her back to the car and the busy Brisbane road.
‘Okay,’ she says, checking her rear-view mirror yet again before putting on the blinker.
One more shot, that’s what she told Frederick this is. One more shot to have a baby and if it doesn’t work she’s giving up. Or maybe she won’t. It’s her prerogative to change her mind. For now, though, she’s committed to the needles and the cold steel instruments and the prodding.
‘We’re almost there,’ says Frederick as she makes the turn into a clearly marked Racecourse Road, which is busier than she’s ever seen one of Cairns’ busiest streets. There are people strolling on the footpaths, sitting in cafés, going in and out of a bottle shop. She can see it all because there are several cars cruising slowly on this road, so she has time to look.
‘That’s it – Kent Street,’ Frederick says, gesturing to the right.
‘Oh!’ Dorothy becomes flustered as she misses the turn. He could have given her more notice – although she reminds herself that he’s as unfamiliar with this place as she is.
‘It’s all right,’ he says, flashing her a smile. ‘We’ll take the next right and go around the block.’
She nods and puts on her blinker.
‘It’s all going to be all right,’ he says soothingly, patting her wrist.
Dorothy hopes that turns out to be true.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
‘This feels a bit strange, doesn’t it? Being here on a Saturday?’ Patricia squints up into the sky. ‘I’m not used to coming out of relaxation into sunshine.’
‘Thank you for changing,’ Dorothy says. ‘I wanted to come to the first class I could.’
‘It’s nice to do something different,’ Grace Maud says, swinging her handbag onto her shoulder. ‘How are you feeling?’
Dorothy’s shoulders sag a little, then she straightens. ‘As though I’ve been in a washing machine. I felt like I was getting into and out of a hospital gown more than I was changing underwear!’ She laughs but it’s the laugh of someone trying to find the good in a situation. ‘The needles aren’t pleasant. The anaesthetic.’ She shakes her head as if trying to ward off a fly. ‘After it was all over I felt like my body didn’t really belong to me any more. Do you know what I mean?’
Grace Maud remembers all too vividly the day Tom was born. The shocking pain of it; her panic at being at the farm with everyone out in the cane. Then her mother arriving just in time to deliver the small human who had occupied her for forty weeks. Grace Maud had felt like her body had been taken away – that Tom was her, and she was a husk without him. It took her several months to feel as though she belonged completely to herself again.
Now she and Tom haven’t spoken for weeks and Grace Maud has no intention of being the first to make contact. How strange, she thinks, that they were once in the same body and now they are so far apart.
‘I do,’ she says to Dorothy. ‘It’s good preparation for what you’ll feel like after you give birth.’
Dorothy looks pleased. ‘You think I’ll give birth?’
‘That’s the point of all of this, isn’t it?’ Grace Maud smiles benignly. ‘Of course you will.’
She knows there’s noof courseabout it, but she also knows that belief is a powerful force, and she wants to encourage Dorothy to believe.
‘How did your friend Ruth go at the café while you were away?’ Patricia asks as they reach the footpath.
‘She was great,’ Dorothy says, still looking pleased. ‘I couldn’t have done it without her. I offered her some permanent shifts but she says her husband isn’t that keen on her doing any more work. Which is funny because he was the one badgering her to work in the first place.’
‘You mean, apart from the work of taking care of him?’ Grace Maud says.
‘Hm.’ Dorothy stops. ‘Do you think …’ She has a funny expression on her face.
Patricia matches it with one of her own. ‘What?’
‘Would you like to come to our café for morning tea?’ Dorothy says nervously. ‘I’d really love for you to see it.’
Grace Maud considers the day full of nothing stretching ahead of her and can’t think of a reason to refuse. Although the humidity is so intense that she’s not sure a hot beverage is in order. It’s around this time of year that she starts to count down towards the wet season and the rains that will break the thickness in the air.
‘Sounds lovely,’ she says, and turns to Patricia.
‘Great. Yes.’ Patricia’s eyes flit from side to side.
