Page 73 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘What?’ Patricia asks.
Dorothy looks up. ‘The hormones.’ She sniffs. ‘First it was the ones I had to inject. Now I guess it’s the ones that are happening naturally. And I … And I …’ She hiccups back more tears.
Grace Maud shifts and puts an arm around her. ‘Menopause was the best thing that ever happened to me,’ she mutters.
‘Hm?’ Dorothy rests her head on Grace Maud’s shoulder. It feels like a shelter from a storm.
‘Menopause,’ Grace Maud says more loudly. ‘It’s a blessing. People carry on about “the change” like it’s more of a curse than the curse, but believe you me, my dear, not having to deal with all those hormones and all that … mess every month was an incredible relief. Still is.’ She takes Dorothy’s face in her hands. ‘What happens every month to women is cruel, in my opinion. And you’ve had a huge dose of it all at once. Pregnancy is making things seem harder because it’s all swirling inside you.’
Grace Maud pats Dorothy’s cheek, removes her hands and smiles kindly, which makes Dorothy want to start wailing again. Sometimes – at the worst times in your life, usually – people being nice to you is really difficult to cope with.
‘You’re not crazy,’ Grace Maud continues. ‘It’s the experience that’s crazy. And the stress you’re putting on yourself about whether or not this pregnancy will last is, in my non-medical opinion, exacerbating matters.’ She pauses and looks intently into Dorothy’s eyes. ‘I’m old and I know a few more things than you. So please know I am saying this from experience, and with love. If you lose this baby, it will be terrible. But you will survive it. If you have this baby, that too may be terrible – as only children can be, because you love them so much – but you will survive it. And you will survive it because you are stronger than you believe you are.’
She sits back and Dorothy feels her eyes tighten with more tears.
‘Also because I believe you have friends here.’ Grace Maud looks at Patricia, who smiles. ‘And if you have a problem, you can talk to us. It may not help. Or it may. But the offer is there.’
‘Thank you,’ Dorothy whispers.
‘Would you consider talking about yourself more than you do, Grace Maud?’ Patricia asks, her head to one side, her gaze frank, and Dorothy wonders what this is about.
‘What do you mean?’ The imperious version of Grace Maud has returned.
‘You’ve told us about the farm. But you haven’t said anything about that other matter with your son. About him wanting to buy more land. Or did the fire resolve that?’
Grace Maud blanches.
‘Sorry, that was a clumsy way to put it,’ Patricia says, sounding chastened. ‘But I do really want to know. I think Dorothy does too.’
Dorothy nods vigorously.
Grace Maud presses her lips together. Her forehead furrows, then smooths. She has remarkably unlined skin for her age, and Dorothy has always wanted to know if she has a secret. Or maybe it’s just her high forehead, her curved brow.
‘It’s not resolved,’ Grace Maud says, so softly that Dorothy almost doesn’t hear her. ‘I tried to discuss it. My timing wasn’t very good but I don’t know when it would be. If we all waited for timing to be right for something we’d be waiting forever.’
‘Do you miss him?’ Patricia asks gently.
‘Yes,’ Grace Maud says quickly. ‘But I’m also still cross at him. Perhaps that makes me a bad mother. I should feel only compassion for him at such a time.’
‘I think that makes you normal,’ Dorothy says. ‘Sometimes I was so upset with my parents for making me look after my sister and then I’d think I was being a bad sister.’ She shrugs. ‘But I wasn’t. I think it was just normal.’
‘Does your sister need looking after?’ Patricia is peering at her.
‘Um …’ Dorothy looks from Patricia to Grace Maud. She hasn’t told them much about her family because it’s never really come up. Mainly because all they ever seem to talk about is her trying to get pregnant and, now, actually being pregnant. But there’s no reason not to talk about Cornelia. Or anything. She feels bonded to these two in a way that is different although no less close than the way she feels about Ruth.
‘She’s deaf,’ Dorothy starts. ‘I learnt sign language with her. My parents didn’t learn as much. So I’m Cornelia’s translator, I guess you’d call it.’
‘How did you feel about that?’ says Patricia.
‘It was all right.’ That was Dorothy’s automatic response but she stops and considers whether it’s her real response. That line protects her parents; it does nothing to acknowledge what things were like for her or for Cornelia.
‘Really?’ Grace Maud prompts.
Dorothy looks down at her hands and thinks of how often she used them when she was still living with her sister. There’s a whole language in them that she’s always been glad she knows but which she does not miss when she’s not using it.
‘No,’ she says. ‘Actually it wasn’t. I loved being able to talk to Cornelia but it meant she had trouble talking to anyone else if I wasn’t there.’
‘Did she go to school?’ asks Patricia and Dorothy shakes her head.
