Page 63 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
He turns to look to the west, across the expanse of their land, and she remembers the little boy who used to follow her around as she gave instructions to the workers and saddled up a horse to go and inspect the crops. This place is in his blood as much as her own blood is in him.
‘It’s not your fault, Tom,’ she says. ‘We’ve been lucky all these years not to have something like this happen. Wind changes …’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s just luck.’
‘Are you trying to make me feel better, Mum?’ he says, glancing in her direction.
‘Are you going to tell me that would be a first?’
He turns completely towards her and smiles. Probably the first smile he’s made in days. ‘Is that you making a joke?’
‘Perhaps. Enjoy it while you can.’
Out of the corner of her eye she sees Luca and Cecilia standing together, their body language betraying their affection for each other. She has no idea if Tom knows about the relationship, and wasn’t intending to say anything. Now she doesn’t think she’ll have to.
‘Hi, Grace Maud.’ It’s Viv, her face puffy, her hair flying everywhere.
She pulls Grace Maud into a hug and Grace Maud pats her twice on the back.
‘I’m so sorry that you don’t have a home,’ Grace Maud says once they’ve separated.
‘I’m sorryyoudon’t.’ Viv sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
Grace Maud almost smiles: when Viv first arrived she was quite the lady, and now she’s become a bushie.
‘The neighbours have been great,’ Viv continues. ‘They have workers’ quarters that are empty so we’ve been staying there.’ She pulls at her shirt. ‘I just wish I had some other clothes to wear. I stink of smoke. Sorry.’
‘Why are you apologising?’ Grace Maud says. ‘You haven’t done anything to hurt me.’
Viv’s eyes meet hers and widen. If Grace Maud were more suspicious by nature, she might think Viv had something to confess. But she’s not, and she’s never been a fan of whodunnits, so she doesn’t want to know if Viv is trying to admit to something nefarious.
As much as she’s not a fan of lying – it has a habit of complicating matters – Grace Maud has never been interested in rigour around the truth. Some people insist on it – live by it – but in her experience the truth is rarely what it’s cracked up to be. The stories we tell ourselves are of more interest; and in time, of course, those stories can become the truth. So Grace Maud knows that the truth of what has happened to this farm is already changing, and if she were to insist on knowing it she may discover that it’s both far more damaging and far less interesting than a story.
‘I presume the insurance payments are up to date?’ she murmurs to Tom. That’s one of the jobs that now falls to him.
‘Yes, but I don’t expect to get anything from them.’ His voice is hard. ‘They’ll find a way to make sure the cause of the fire is nothing we can claim on. Don’t know why we pay those bloody premiums.’
‘Just see how you go,’ Grace Maud says.
She glances at the paddock opposite the house, then shuts her eyes. She doesn’t want that image, that wreckage, in her mind. She wants to remember the lush, tall green plants she grew up with; the plants she used to hide in so her brothers had to come looking for her. The plants that sustained her financially throughout her adult life.
‘It’s hard to look at,’ Tom says softly. ‘I try to make myself, but I can’t.’
‘I understand,’ Grace Maud says. ‘I had to come, but …’
‘Now you want to leave?’ He puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘We’ll make it right, Mum, I promise.’
Grace Maud nods. ‘We still have that other matter to resolve.’
‘Not now, Mum,’ he says, sounding irritated.
‘Why not now? You have a blank slate.’ She gestures to the burnt fields.
As soon as she says it, she knows she shouldn’t have. It was a mean thing to do. But she couldn’t not mention the issue that has been between them these past few weeks. She doesn’t want to be in that limbo again, even if it was one of her own creation. It doesn’t make sense to wait for everything to be rebuilt before they confront the fact that Tom’s wishes for the future don’t match her own.
‘Grace Maud,’ Viv says, looking shocked. ‘It’s too soon.’
‘I’m sorry to upset you, Viv, but this is no time to stall over sentiment. This is still our family property. There’s still a business here. And while you and Tom are rebuilding, it will surely factor into your thinking that you want to rebuild the way you want it to be. Just you. Not me.’ Grace Maud looks at the stilts. ‘But they were my family photos in that house. My memories. My brothers, gone. My parents, gone. My sister, gone. So you might appreciate that I have some interest in sorting out exactly what is to be done here.’
Viv makes a noise that suggests she’s almost crying.
