In Touch With Grace

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In Touch With Grace Page 3

by Jenny Pattrick


  Thank you for the splendid day last week. I must admit that I look forward greatly to our fortnightly arrangement. You are quite right; we have much in common. Especially the love of a good argument!

  I’ll enclose this note with your book. It was kind of you to lend it to me but I’m afraid I just can’t get up enthusiasm for science fiction. There are so many good books to be read. That Orycx creature was completely unbelievable. Grotesque. If you want to describe human emotions and human dilemmas, why not put them into a human body? I did a lot of skipping I’m afraid.

  Have you read Maurice Gee? I have just finished his latest — Going West — and it is excellent. Now there is something worth reading! I will bring it next time I come out. You should read his Plumb trilogy. You would relate to the deafness!

  By the way, Max, do you think we could try a different arrangement for my next visit? Perhaps I will brave the railway station after all. That gives us more flexibility. To be honest, Les cannot resist teasing at bowls. It’s all quite harmless but I think it upsets Mildred. She is less broad-minded than me and cannot quite approve, I think, of our relationship.

  I did enjoy our walk on the beach last Sunday. Palliser Bay is so wild! Those mountains of driftwood — like careful sculptures formed by some giant artist! I thought of Paul Klee for some reason. Why, I wonder?

  You are quite right, it does me good to get out of this house from time to time. Much though I love it. I know you suggest that it is too large and labour-intensive for a single woman, but I have found my way of dealing with that — keep one or two rooms warm and let the unwanted ones rest behind closed doors. At any rate how could I leave my garden? It’s full of colour these days and my cherry tree a riot of blossom. I could watch the wax-eyes feeding in it all day.

  I read an interesting article in Time last week about ozone. Are you aware that ozone has twice as much oxygen as ordinary air? No wonder we felt exhilarated on the beach.

  I hope you are taking frequent doses of ozone yourself, Max. You have a nasty hack and are perhaps not aware how loud it sounds to others. Have you had it seen to? It is all very well to say you don’t believe in doctors, but there comes a time when good sense overrides principles. Your cough has reached that time.

  Would Tuesday week (October 26th) suit you for a visit? I will park near the station and pick up the car on the way back. I could catch the early train (7.58 am) and return by the 3.15 pm. I don’t enjoy driving at night. May I bring something special for our lunch this time?

  With kind regards,

  Grace

  P.S. I know you suggested Mildred might like to come out too sometime, but I think we’ll leave that for the present. Mildreds daughter is visiting on Tuesday week. She will be too busy to notice my absence.

  Tuesday 19th October 1993

  Dear Grace,

  Tuesday it is! I will be waiting at the station never fear. The 7.58 sometimes comes in a little early so I will drive down in good time.

  Perhaps I will accept your offer of a lunch dish. I must admit I felt a little downhearted after my last effort. You were very kind, but perhaps I should stick to the recipe book. I tell you what — I’ll branch out and make a cake for afters. That will test me.

  Now Grace. About science fiction. You are simply missing the point about the genre. You mustn’t judge it on the same terms as a novel. Science fiction is about imagination and moral dilemmas. Style and character development are secondary. Anyway I thought Orycx was an enormously interesting character. You mustn’t be put off by a few orifices in the wrong place. Orycx’s attitude to social structure was fascinating, I thought. No, I will argue against you on this one. It does us good to puzzle about the future — where the human race is going. I will try you on another book. Perhaps I started you on something too technical.

  You ask whether I have read Maurice Gee? Grace, do you realise that he writes science fiction? Aha … I have caught you out this time!

  I’m beginning to have reservations about the Alliance. They all mumble into their beards and I can’t follow a word of what they say. A naïveté shines like a halo over everything they do. Ideals are important in their place of course, but where is the rigour, Grace? Perhaps the Nats are a safer bet after all.

  Now what is all this about Paul Klee? I have been back to my Visual Dictionary of Art and am still completely in the dark about your connection. Grace, Klee’s work is one-dimensional, linear, almost childlike. I can find no reference to sculpture. How can you possibly relate his work to those piles of driftwood, which I agree are magnificent? Are you perhaps confusing Klee with LeBrun or Le Corbusier? (obviously I became fascinated, in my book, by the L’s!). Or even Picasso — with some reservations. Give me your arguments for Klee at once!

  Oh, I’m loving all this! You are a wonderful woman, Grace and I have completely fallen in love with you. I look forward to your visits enormously and I know you’re happy out here too, so don’t pretend you aren’t!

  I have a plan which I will put to you when you come out, but start thinking about it now: I know you need time to look at all facets of a proposition. It would be unwise, as you have pointed out several times, to make major shifts at our age, but how about spending two or three days with me, say once a fortnight? I could come in and do the same with you in the alternate weeks. We could do things together — go to exhibitions and films.

  Now I know you will be reluctant at first, but just let the idea simmer until next Tuesday. I promise to marshal powerful arguments. We could have such fun!

  I look forward to seeing you next Tuesday.

  With love,

  Max

  P.S. Would I be rushing you to suggest you stayed overnight on Tuesday? The 10.15 am is much less crowded for the trip back. M

  Monday 1st November 1993

  My dear Max,

  Thank you so much for the most enjoyable day, Tuesday last.

  I travelled home safely and the system with the car worked perfectly. The 3.15, by the way, was not crowded at all — almost empty in fact.

  I hope you found that my mushroom quiche did you for another day. For my part, I’ve had a slice of your zucchini and carob cake each day with my lunch. It has lasted well. A most adventurous start! I would suggest that if you try it again, and I think you should, you use baking soda instead of baking powder. One level teaspoon. I think that will do the trick. The flavour is interesting, though; you are very inventive!

  I’m just putting my feet up after a visit to the public library. Usually we go to Karori but this week Mildred and I decided to tackle the trip to town. The choice is much better, and Mildred says the books are cleaner there. She may be right. It’s the first time I have been inside the new building and I must say I was shocked. The shelves are metal! So is the furniture. You know me well enough, Max, to know I’m not averse to new ideas, but it seems so wrong to put a wonderful warm thing like a book in a shelf made of white metal mesh. You must have wood for a bookshelf. The whole atmosphere is wrong. Mildred agreed. We nearly turned round and walked out again.

  However we persevered and got out an interesting collection. Well, Mildred’s taste is not mine. Historical romances are her cup of tea. I took out a Maurice Gee science fiction from the young adults. I don’t hold out much hope. I note he wrote them some time ago; he has no doubt matured since then.

  I realise that with all the argument during my visit last week, we never revisited poor old Paul Klee. I fear you are being too literal, Max. Of course the piles of driftwood aren’t visually similar to Klee’s work, but in spirit, don’t you think? The whimsy, the random placement of this and that. I could imagine a giant Klee tossing logs around and having fun with what happened. I must say that when I looked up LeBrun and Le Corbusier in the dictionary, I could see no likeness at all to our airy beach sculptures. Both illustrations show lumpy, cloddish work which I find depressing. You will need to find a more imaginative artist if you are to persuade me away from Klee. I think you just took down the diction
ary and it fell open at L!

  Now, about your plan, Max. I promised to think it over and I certainly have been doing just that. You are very persuasive and kind. You are right, I do enjoy our times together, but I don’t feel I’m ready to commit to a regular arrangement. We should be wary, I feel, of becoming too dependent on each other.

  And have you thought of your son’s feelings? What would Martin feel if he arrived and found me ensconced?

  However, I do have a suggestion to make. What about your coming in to me in a fortnight’s time (Tuesday 16th) and staying overnight? There is a very well-reviewed film on at the Penthouse, in Spanish, with subtitles. I always enjoy subtitles — much easier to follow the plot. And for you, of course, it would be ideal. We will be in good company: I’ve noticed that the hearing-aid brigade turn out in force when there are subtitles! There’s a pleasant restaurant in Brooklyn and we could have dinner there first. I would like you to be my guest.

  Mildred will be down south, visiting her Christ-church daughter so I will be quite free. I think, if this arrangement suits you, we will keep it to ourselves. Mildred might find it difficult to cope with.

  Max, you have brought pleasure into my life. I hope my caution over the visits does not hurt you.

  Yours,

  Grace

  P.S. You may not bring your wretched politics with you!

  Sunday 7th November 1993

  My dear,

  What did I tell you! What a triumph for the Alliance! I was at Martin and Sheila’s last night — both true blue, wouldn’t you know — and by the end of the evening they could scarcely bear to talk to me. Next election we will have twenty seats in Parliament. That’ll shake things up a bit.

  About Tuesday week — of course you haven’t hurt me. I’m overjoyed at your invitation! I know I tend to rush things and will keep on dripping away at the stone, never fear!

  What a splendid idea to go to the Spanish film. We never have subtitles out here. And the restaurant sounds a real treat. But only if I pay my share. I know you are a woman of means, my dear, but I can afford the odd fling. We must start as we intend to go on.

  I will bring in a zucchini and carob Mark II for you — with baking soda, don’t worry!

  My son thinks I’m coming in to see the ear specialist and staying in town with a friend. He assumes the friend is Hamish!

  You, my dear Grace, are the best possible specialist for me. I always hear you. We understand each other, that’s why.

  However I must take you to task over the bookshelves. Have you any idea what wooden shelves cost these days? If metal ones keep down the rates let’s have them, I say. I believe all materials have their charm. There is a solid dignity about good steel that is worthy of any book.

  Now, how about my staying over for the Wednesday night too, and then I can make up my own mind about the library? If Mildred is away who is there to be offended? We could take a picnic lunch onto the wharf if it is fine. I read about Para Matchitt’s controversial new bridge sculpture and I want to see for myself.

  But only if you are happy about that, Grace. I must be patient.

  I certainly will not leave my politics behind. They are the spice of life! Especially now.

  Bless you my dear,

  your loving Max

  Monday December 6th

  My dear Max,

  Perhaps we should postpone any more overnight visits till things settle down a bit. Your stay with me worked so easily, and I just assumed staying with you would be the same. I’m not used, you see, to remembering about family. Martin is your son after all and I’m sure he has many fine qualities.

  I do hope, my dear, that you have not been too hurt by the incident. And how is your health? I am most anxious but know ringing will get me nowhere. Perhaps you could phone me and give a bulletin? I will not try to talk; I know how frustrating that is to you.

  You are probably rather in the dark over the whole business. Martin and his wife do not try to include you in conversation, and I noticed that several times they deliberately lowered their voices. I find that utterly inexcusable.

  To be fair, I expect it was rather a shock for them to find me there. But I couldn’t leave you all night with a high temperature — you needed nursing. And I was perfectly respectable in your pyjamas and old dressing gown.

  Martin and that wife of his came in at the back door while I was preparing your breakfast. They were all dressed up. On their way to church they said. They looked down their noses at me, there’s no other word for it — stood in the doorway in complete silence, like censorious teachers waiting for an explanation from a badly behaved pupil I wish I had taken the time to get dressed properly. But I was anxious about you, Max. Martin said something under his breath to his wife about ‘Dad’s new girlfriend’.

  Then the wife — Sheila, is it? — screwed up her mouth as if she’d tasted something nasty, and proceeded to give me a lecture on how their religion didn’t approve of what I was doing; that marriage was sacred; that ‘Dad’s’ place was with his family; and that they could look after you perfectly well themselves.

  The fundamentalists have a lot to answer for. I cannot bear that sort of narrow-minded bigotry. It gives Christianity a bad name. But I was upset to be found standing there in your pyjamas, and didn’t feel I could argue. Or that it was my place to.

  I’m sorry, my dear. Have I made it difficult for you with your own family?

  Martin seemed embarrassed by the whole thing. By me. It should be laughable but at the time I was not able to face him. Clearly he wanted to tidy me away and out of sight as quickly as possible. He said that Sheila would stay and look after you and suggested that he ran me to the station. It’s very demoralising to be treated like that. They made me feel like some naughty child caught with her hand in the cake tin. I know you would have liked me to stay, Max, but I felt out of place. I could not stop my tears.

  Did you understand why I left? I have a feeling that perhaps you didn’t. Your hearing aids were out I noticed.

  Perhaps we have been unwise to let our friendship develop this far.

  Do, please, let me know how you are.

  With love,

  Grace

  P.S. What a curse intolerance is!

  Thursday Dec 9th 1993

  Dear Grace,

  Thank you, thank you for your explanation. I was completely in the dark. In fact I wondered whether my kiss, that night, had offended you.

  Now you must absolutely disregard anything Martin and Sheila say. They are not bad people, just limited, and I’ve told Martin so in no uncertain terms!

  Why, if they care so much about my well-being, weren’t they nursing me themselves, I said! I pointed out that I’m a perfectly rational adult with a right to make my own friendships; that they should be happy that I’m enjoying life, which is more than they seem to do in their colourless little world. Then I threw in a few home truths about the dangers of their narrow brand of Christianity.

  My health is improving.

  I have put down my foot about your visits. How arrogant our children are, to think that they know what’s best for us! But Grace, what’s the use in ranting on? I doubt if I will ever open their minds. Their religion blinkers them. Or is it some other fear? I’ve made it clear to them that our friendship will not alter my will.

  However they have been quite kind these last few days, bringing in meals. I must try to be understanding, I suppose.

  Sometimes I fear for the world. What makes this fundamentalism so popular? Your daughter would not have embraced it, I’m sure. If she had lived. Now there was a free spirit! And a talented one. My best pupil by far. We must talk about Gillian sometime, Grace, you mustn’t shut it out.

  I’m a bit down today. Please come. I’m not up to travelling in to you yet. We mustn’t let the limitations of other people destroy our friendship. It is wholesome and good.

  Your loving

  Max

  P.S. Did you vote for MMP in the end? I did of course but
am having a few qualms about the future. Already MPs are jumping boat and talking about new parties. A bunch of chameleons worried about their pay packets. Consensus and coalition make sense in theory; if only politicians had the intelligence and maturity of you and me! Now we would make a coalition of some style, my dear, and have the country back on track in no time. M

  Sunday Dec 12th, 1993

  Dear Grace,

  Why don’t you write? You mustn’t let Martin and Sheila’s attitude influence you. They will get used to things. They are middle-aged adults, with their own lives. I will not let them push me into some stifling mould of their own making. My wishes are more important than theirs, Grace, when it comes to us.

  Or have I upset you myself? Please let me know. Curse my ears, that I can’t ring you up and find out!

  With warm regards,

  Max

  Tuesday Dec 14th 1993

  Dear Grace,

  Was it what I said about Gillian? I can’t believe that you would let Martin and Sheila keep us apart. If you don’t want to talk about Gillian, we won’t.

  Grace, Grace, what is happening?

  Yours,

  Max

  P.S. I’ve just had a terrible thought. Did my smoked eel and pickled walnut pâté give you food poisoning? Perhaps I had left it out of the fridge too long. I know I’m sometimes forgetful over fish. M

  Thursday Dec 16th 1993

  Dear Mildred,

  Do you remember me? Max Friedmann from over the other side of the park? Perhaps Grace has told you about our friendship.

  I am worried about Grace — have not heard from her all week. Could you check she’s all right? It’s not like her to leave mail unanswered.

 

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