Page 77 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
‘Did you spent much time in Cairns, Grace Maud, when you were living on the farm?’ Patricia asks as she sits down and pours them glasses of water.
Grace Maud gazes across the water and sees a small sailboat bobbing by. She remembers the one occasion her husband took her sailing, while they were still courting. He couldn’t sail but told her he could. She was lucky that there was so little wind that day they barely made it out from shore. She was also lucky that she realised Clark probably lied about other things, such as how much he cared about her. All these years she has protected him. Or maybe it’s herself she’s been protecting, because she doesn’t want anyone to know that she was unloved. The story she told everyone, including Tom, was that Clark missed his homeland so much he had to go back. It’s a fiction she no longer has to maintain because no one cares. And she owes her friends the truth, if they are to really know her and her them.
‘During the war, my sister and I came to Cairns quite a bit,’ she says. ‘There were American soldiers here. Protecting the north. As you may imagine, this was a romantic notion for us. We thought we might, you know, meet some dashing young men in uniform.’
She glances at the others. Dorothy looks like she’s being told the most fascinating story ever.
‘We had a friend whose family lived near the harbour and we stayed with them. We seemed to have so much time.’ She smiles, thinking of Ellie Maud’s arm looped through hers and how hopeless they were at playing coquettes. They only knew how to relate to men as they would their brothers; they had no idea how to charm and beguile. Not that it stopped them trying whenever they met a likely candidate.
‘Our friend’s parents invited us to a dance. All the officers in town were going to be there. Of course, Ellie Maud and I had to be there, although our father insisted on attending as well.’
‘That must have been strange,’ Patricia says. ‘Wanting to meet men while your dad was watching!’
‘It was the done thing to have a chaperone,’ Grace Maud explains. ‘And my father didn’t think our mother should be subjected to Americans.’ She makes a face. ‘He wasn’t a fan. Thought they had no business being here.’
‘My parents love Americans,’ Dorothy says. ‘Without them, we don’t know what would have happened. You know, at the end.’
Yes, Grace Maud knows. The end of the war. The liberation of Europe and the remaking that followed.
‘Fair enough,’ she says. ‘Well, I met an American. Clark Clifford. From a farming family in the Midwest.’
‘Was he handsome?’ Dorothy asks breathlessly.
‘He had a strong nose and a strong jaw, and when my mother met him she said they were indicators of good character.’ Grace Maud raises her eyebrows. ‘Just goes to show you that reading faces wasn’t her strong suit.’
‘Why?’ Patricia frowns. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing, at first.’ Grace Maud remembers Clark telling her how much he loved the landscape around Cairns. She loved the fact that he appreciated her home region and never wondered if he was telling the truth. ‘We had fun at the start. There were dances then – they were such a good way to interact with young men without pressure. It’s a pity they don’t happen any more.’
She can picture Ellie Maud laughing giddily the night she met her future husband and Grace Maud and Clark dancing next to them. The dances were something the twins shared; they couldn’t know that this one dance, this one night, would eventually separate them.
‘But then …’ She closes her eyes, considering how much to tell them. What she considered cruelty, some women would simply call marriage. Perhaps Dorothy puts up with things that Grace Maud refused to tolerate. However, she doesn’t want to lie. Her truth is hers; and if it’s not acceptable to the others, she can’t do anything about that.
‘Clark changed after we married,’ she says quietly. ‘He wanted me to stop working the cane. My father had given him a job, and Clark wanted me to stay home and keep the house tidy for him.’ She laughs caustically. ‘He didn’t like my argument that I could do both because I’d been doing both for years. Looking after the family home. Cooking. Doing the washing. And working. I was very capable. But he didn’t care.
‘After Tom was born, Clark said he wanted to move home. To the United States. He wanted Tom to grow up where he had, and farm the way his family farmed. None of this “cane nonsense”, he said. Then he started refusing to cut cane, but wouldn’t find other work off the farm. He said we had to go to the US and we could come back after my parents died.’
‘Grace Maud, that’s awful.’ Patricia reaches over to place her hand on Grace Maud’s. ‘What did you do?’
Grace Maud feels the emotions of those times as if they’re still happening to her. Everything is written on the body, Sandrine says, and Grace Maud’s anger and pain have been stuffed down inside her for years. Waiting. Simmering. All because she wasn’t allowed to say she was angry. Wasn’t allowed to tell her husband she didn’t want what he wanted. Dutiful wives didn’t do that. Instead, she had to be devious.
‘I knew Clark thought he could take whatever share of the farm I inherited, because as my husband what was mine would be his. My brother Frank was meant to take over, but Dad always said he wouldn’t leave us girls out. Frank died later, so if I hadn’t …’ She swallows. ‘I couldn’t let that happen.
‘I told my parents what Clark wanted to do. Mum said I had to stay with him; I’d made my bed, and so on. Dad was furious. He asked what I needed. I said I thought Clark was greedy and lazy, and if I could give him enough to make him go away he’d take it. Dad said he could give me the money but it would go against my inheritance. I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to make sure the farm stayed in the family.’
There is a sensation in her chest as if her bones and ligaments are moving, separating. She’s never talked about Clark to anyone outside of the family, which means it’s been many years since she’s talked about this.
‘It worked,’ she says. ‘He took the money and went. We never divorced. It was so hard to do back then. Clark died in his forties – his sister sent me a letter with the news. So that was that.’
Dorothy sighs, and Patricia turns her head away to look at the water.
‘You’re very brave, Grace Maud,’ she mutters, and when she turns back her eyes are bright with admiration.
Grace Maud smiles sadly. ‘Only if you consider it brave that I valued what I wanted more than I valued what he wanted. There were several people who thought I was appalling.’
‘They were idiots!’ Dorothy declares.
Grace Maud laughs. ‘I can’t disagree.’ She peers at Patricia. ‘Have you ever found yourself in that sort of situation, Patricia?’
