Page 6 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
Grace Maud has long considered it a profound act of bravery that Tom finished school. She’d offered to withdraw him before his final year but he was determined to finish. However, those years left him with no confidence about anything he learnt there, including figures. He didn’t have as big a problem with numbers as he had with letters – by some miracle, he could mostly read numbers straight – but her tender-hearted boy didn’t extend the same kindness to himself that he did to others. Hence Viv doing the books and Tom semi-regularly asking Grace Maud to explain them to him.
Viv comes back to the table. ‘Have I miscounted something, darling?’ she says, laughing softly.
He grins. ‘You know you haven’t. Nah, I just want to ask Mum if she thinks we’re making enough profit.’
‘Enough for what?’ Grace Maud says, and notices Tom and Viv exchanging glances.
Tom shifts in his seat. ‘We’re thinking of diversifying.’
‘Oh?’ Grace Maud sits back in her chair, feeling her spine become rigid. Her father always said only fools don’t stick to what they know best. Cane is what this family knows best, and she has no intention of becoming a fool.
‘Some of the farms around here are putting on cattle. Or more cattle,’ Viv says.
Which suggests that she knew what Tom was going to say to his mother today. Grace Maud isn’t surprised – Tom and Viv are running the business together now – but she can’t help feeling put out. And left out.
‘We think we could spread our risk better if we have something other than cane,’ says Tom.
‘Spread your risk?’ Grace Maud frowns. What a ridiculous phrase. ‘That sounds like you’re dealing in diseases rather than livestock.’
Tom’s face looks pinched then it relaxes. ‘Ha! Good one, Mum.’ He grins.
Grace Maud wants to tell him that she wasn’t joking; she resists the urge. ‘So you’d want to destroy some of the cane to make way for cattle?’ she says instead.
‘That’s the idea.’
‘We worry about something happening to the cane,’ Viv adds. ‘People might stop liking sugar as much as they do now. Or we might lose a crop due to something we can’t control.’
‘In all these decades we never have,’ Grace Maud says firmly. ‘Cane has always been a good crop.’
‘And it still is,’ Tom says.
Another glance between husband and wife.
‘It’s just an idea, Mum.’
Grace Maud breathes slowly. She recalls that saying: the first generation creates the wealth, the second generation keeps it, the third loses it. Although technically Tom is the fourth generation, Grace Maud and her father could probably be counted as one long second generation. She thinks of the family who used to have the property next door and how Angelo, the third-generation farmer, mismanaged the place and ended up selling. He gave Grace Maud the first opportunity to buy, but she couldn’t afford it. Or, rather, she wasn’t willing to take on debt to buy it. She was keeping the wealth, believing she could protect it forever. But she can’t.
Tom is the next generation. Once she’s gone, he can do what he wants with the wealth. Perhaps he’ll lose it all. Perhaps she’s a fool to try to stop him. She doesn’t know if any family has escaped the third-generation curse, and she’s hardly in a position to conduct a survey.
‘I’m not sure, Tom,’ she says, instead of giving him the hard ‘no’ she wants to. ‘You don’t know anything about cattle.’
‘I can learn,’ he says. ‘We can learn.’
Grace Maud looks at Viv, who is smiling reassuringly. ‘It could be interesting,’ Viv says. ‘I like animals.’
They’re not animals, Grace Maud thinks.They’re cattle. And not knowing the difference is a problem.She’s not going to debate this now, though. Tom is her son, Viv is his wife, and she doesn’t want to stand in the way of their ambitions. They’re the ones doing all the work.
‘Why don’t you find out more about it?’ she says. ‘How much you’ll need to buy the stock, how much land is required. That sort of thing.’ She tries to sound encouraging. The way a mother should when her son shows her his dreams.
Tom exhales noisily. ‘Sounds good, Mum.’ He leans over to peck her cheek. ‘Thanks.’
‘Thanks, Grace Maud,’ Viv says, tilting her head and smiling. ‘We really appreciate it.’
Grace Maud gestures to the ledger. ‘Do you still want me to look at the figures?’
‘Um … yeah, if that’s all right.’ Tom looks bashful. ‘I always appreciate you checking our work.’
‘And I never mind doing so,’ she says as she pulls the book towards her, picks up her reading glasses from the table and bends her head over the figures, just as she’s done for decades.
