Our gazes met and held. I’d just celebrated my sixty-ninth birthday. I’d had a brush with cancer.
‘Fair enough,’ he said, and we bade each other good night for the second, or was it the third, time.
26
Grace
‘Mum! Happy birthday to you and many happy returns. Have you had a nice day? Did you get my flowers? Sorry to ring so late but I’ve been frantically busy. You sound like you’re half asleep.’ Grace spun her chair around so she could look out of the multi-storey office window. All she could see were other high-rise buildings and a strip of murky sky.
‘Probably because I am half asleep. It’s nearly midnight here. And yes, the flowers are lovely—with daffodils. How did you know where to send them?’
‘Ah,’ Grace said. ‘You’ve been very vague about what you’ve been up to lately, and that’s when you’ve answered your phone. And then there were the random sightings of my SUV in Miners Ridge. I began to worry. I rang Mary.’
‘Mary? In the unit next door back in Adelaide? She’s been spying on me?’
‘Yep, that Mary, and I wouldn’t call it spying, Mum. More like keeping an eye out.’
‘That was a bit cheeky.’
‘Wasn’t meant to be. After Nanna’s funeral I was extremely worried about leaving you on your own. Mary told me you’d moved for a while, and gave me your address.’
‘How did she know my address?’
‘You gave it to her in case she needed to forward on anything.’
‘Ah, yes, so I did. I was going to tell you.’
‘I knew you’d get around to telling me eventually, Mum. It wouldn’t have been an easy decision.’
‘It wasn’t.’
‘So, how is it being back there? I bet Tim’s pleased you’re there, and Faith won’t have made up her mind yet and is probably being a bitch in the meantime. Have you run into Doug yet? Has Faith let you—’
‘Whoa, one question at a time!’
Grace laughed, inspecting her chipped nail varnish while imagining her sleepy mother trying to get her head around the unexpected inquisition.
‘Mum, I really only rang to wish you happy birthday on your actual birthday. And I wanted to make sure the flowers arrived, and that you’re okay. We can talk about all the other stuff some other time.’
‘I am okay. If you’d asked me earlier today my answer might have been different, but Tim dropped in and we talked. He brought a bottle of wine. He’s sleeping in the spare room.’
‘That’s terrific news, Mum.’
‘It’s a start, at least.’ Grace heard her mother clear her throat, and knew there was more coming. ‘You must understand that I had to do this, Grace. I had to come back to Miners Ridge and try and repair some of the damage I did all those years ago—’
‘Mum!’ Grace said. Pushing herself up in the chair, she prepared to launch into how it hadn’t been her mother’s fault, that she shouldn’t be blaming herself, because how Doug had treated her had been unforgivable. A familiar soundtrack.
But then Grace caught sight of her own reflection in the office window, all pumped up with self-righteousness, and it suddenly hit her—this was why her mother hadn’t shared her plans in the first place. Why she’d wanted to do things her own way. And at nearly seventy, wasn’t she entitled to that concession? Grace deflated like a punctured balloon.
‘I think Faith’s going to be a challenge,’ her mother was saying, rambling on as if Grace hadn’t interrupted. ‘But she did pop in one day and the children have walked past, so she must have told them where I live.’
‘Mum, it’s okay, I get it. Maybe at first I didn’t, and I was a bit hurt that you hadn’t told me what your plans were, but I do understand why you’re there. And you don’t have to tell me everything. Just tell me enough that I won’t worry too much.’ Grace paused, her voice thick with emotion, and swallowed against the lump in her throat.
‘I will tell you enough to stop you worrying, sweetie, I promise,’ her mother said. ‘Now before we say goodnight, how are you?’
How was she? ‘Better,’ Grace said, because she was much better than she had been. ‘I’ve put on half a kilo since I started having these protein shakes. If I’m not careful I’ll put on too much weight and have to diet.’
They laughed together and after her mother had disconnected Grace kicked herself for not mentioning the empty unit in Adelaide. There was no need for her mum to pay rent if she wasn’t living there. Grace figured she wouldn’t re-let the unit until Sarah was certain she didn’t need it anymore. Grace doubted she would need it, but knowing there was a place to go back to if things in Miners Ridge didn’t work out would be reassuring for her mother.
Pushing all that to the back of her mind, Grace shifted her attention back to the job at hand: finishing off the financial statements she’d been working on.
The day had been long and particularly gruelling. There’d been back-to-back meetings, and the hubris and incessant politicking of her male counterparts had been incredibly wearing.
She wondered at that because generally she laughed and let it wash right over her. That she ignored their games and got on with the job was one of Grace’s strengths. Today, she’d let it get to her.
It would have been a relief to sound off to a female colleague, but long ago Grace had learned that not all women were allies, about half of them were as competitive as the men. And often the women were harder on their counterparts than the men were. Grace experienced a moment’s remorse when she reflected on how she’d been towards Lucy.
Now the office was quiet. Everyone had left for the night. As she packed up, her stomach rumbled. Lunch, a shared sandwich platter, had been gobbled down in the boardroom between meetings.
And of course there’d been too much coffee over the day. Really, the only healthy-ish food she’d ingested that day was the protein shake.
‘Tomorrow’s another day,’ she said to the empty room, wedging the empty shake container into her laptop bag, ‘and I will try harder to eat healthily.’ It was becoming her mantra.
The sun had long set when she stepped out of the office and onto the street. The evening was mild, there was traffic people were still on the streets hustling and bustling to get wherever they were going. Grace drew in an exhaust-saturated breath, hankering briefly for the sharp air of a Miners Ridge morning.
She shivered, although it wasn’t cold, then merged with the pedestrian traffic moving towards the Underground station.
Grace disembarked at North Greenwich with a handful of others. But they soon dispersed, flowing in the opposite direction towards the O2 Arena. Tonight she craved the open air—even if it was polluted and tainted with the briny miasma from the River Thames that looped around Greenwich Peninsula. If it was dark her habit was to grab a taxi for the short trip from the tube to home. Tonight she bypassed the taxi rank, and set off on foot.
It felt good to walk off some of the day’s frustrations, and think about her mum and wonder about the move to Miners Ridge.
When they’d talked earlier, Grace had thought her mum sounded more upbeat than she had at any time since Nanna had died. Should she ring Faith and give her a gentle nudge about letting Mum see Liam and Amelia? And find out if her sister had told Doug that Sarah was back in town? Then she could warn her mother.
Grace’s steps quickened in time with her thoughts. That’s what she’d do, she’d ring Faith. Maybe she’d call Tim as well, tell him how vulnerable their mum was right now, and remind him he needed to look out for her.
Grace took out her mobile phone to check the time, shifting the laptop bag from one hand to the other. It was too early to call Miners Ridge. Even Aaron would still be in bed at this time. She smiled as she imagined that.
Although nighttime in London didn’t have the same dense darkness as an Australian country town, up until now Grace hadn’t noticed how eerie the shifting shadows of the trees in the parklands were.
She picked up her pace again, glad she�
��d changed her heels for sneakers, and contemplated crossing the road. But there was a deserted construction site on the other side and it was downright spooky at night.
Then she heard footsteps, and glanced over her shoulder to see two bulky shapes steadily gaining on her. She gripped her bag tighter, her feet pounding the pavement, and wished she’d taken a cab from the station like she usually did when it was dark.
By the time Grace reached the apartment entrance she’d upped her speed to a steady jog, and each breath was a red-hot slice through her lungs.
I am so unfit, she thought as she whipped out her keycard. She was through the door in seconds, glaring at it with frustration when it took forever to close behind her.
Wide-eyed and breathless she waited, out of sight. Sure enough, moments later two men in hoodies walked past the entrance. They didn’t even slow down or glance her way.
Grace’s heart rate slowed, her breathing deepened. With the back of her hand she swiped at the sweat on her top lip.
‘I am so unfit,’ she said, out loud this time.
‘You all right, love,’ a cigarette-scarred voice said from behind. She spun around, almost dropping her bag.
‘Jeez, Phil,’ she said, hand to her heart. ‘Don’t creep up on me like that.’
Phil, the security guard, scratched his head. ‘Sorry mate, didn’t mean to.’ He was in his mid-sixties, with bushy-white eyebrows and hair to match. Grace had chatted with him often, and discovered he had a son living in Perth who he’d visited several times.
Her head swivelled from Phil to the entrance and back again. ‘I thought I was being followed. It turns out I wasn’t, but it gave me one hell of a scare.’
Phil tutted. ‘You shouldn’t be wandering around on your own at night,’ he said, and strolled over to the lift, pressing the up button for her. ‘Doesn’t that fancy bank you work for give you a car and a driver?’
‘There is one available,’ she said. ‘But I seem to live in the opposite direction to everyone else, and the driver usually wants to drop me off last.’ She stepped into the lift. ‘Plus, I sit on my backside all day. I was missing the fresh air.’
‘Fresh air? That’s a good one,’ he said and laughed, a booming sound that had Grace smiling as the lift doors closed.
But her amusement faded, and by the time she’d travelled the seven floors to her apartment she felt downright despondent. True, no one had been following her, but they could easily have been. She’d been warned, and read every day in the paper, about the escalation of violent crime in London.
Reliving the terror of those few minutes when she’d thought she was being pursued had her fingers shaking.
Grace unlocked her door and let herself into the safety of the apartment. She leaned against the deadlocked door, caught her breath and reassured herself it was okay.
Back home in Adelaide after a scare like that, Grace would have phoned her mum, and then poured herself a large glass of wine. And if the couple in the townhouse next to hers had been home, she would have taken the wine in and shared the experience and bottle with them. They would have hugged her, joked about her vivid imagination and told her not to walk around on her own in the dark.
But there was no one here to give her a hug, not even a neighbour. Sure, she could ring her mum or Aaron or even Tim. They’d say the right things and their care and compassion would be genuine.
But they weren’t there to put their arms around her and tell her she wasn’t over-reacting. Standing in her tiny sitting room, the distance separating Grace from her family and friends had never felt greater.
After eyeing the bottles in the wine rack for several seconds, she turned her back on them and filled the electric kettle. She foraged in the fridge for something to eat while the water boiled for tea. Cheese on toast and a chocolate Hobnob, or two, for dessert. Tomorrow she would eat healthier.
Later, snuggled up in bed, Grace resolved to never again walk home from the tube station after dark. And if she was late, she’d use the company car and driver provided, even if it did double the time of her commute.
But more than anything, she reminded herself how lucky she was to be in London with the bank in the first place. Opportunities like this didn’t come up often in anyone’s career.
She was recovering from the glandular fever, and feeling better and stronger by the day. She could do this for another nine months, or even a year and nine months if she decided to stay on. Not only could but Grace would do this, because it was what she’d always wanted. Or so she told herself as she drifted off to sleep.
27
Sarah
Several days after my birthday, Carol Claremont came calling. Since moving back to Miners Ridge, I hadn’t been in touch with her and I’d been meaning to. She had been kind to me when I had been in a very difficult place. I must have come across as a crazy, flaky old woman to her.
‘I’ve brought a yeast scroll, fresh from the bakery. Put the kettle on,’ she said, when I opened the door mid-morning.
‘Carol! I’ve been meaning to—’
‘I know, love,’ she said, laying a hand on my arm. ‘Don’t stress. I finished cleaning the pub and didn’t feel like going home to an empty house. Kitchen through there?’ She whisked past me and all I could do was follow. She was wearing navy culottes and a matching T-shirt sporting the hotel’s logo.
Carol had the yeast bun out of its paper bag and onto the breadboard before I’d filled the kettle, and was cluttering around in the cutlery drawer looking for a sharp knife.
We were sitting at the kitchen table on my newly restored chairs, cuppas in hand, when Carol asked, ‘So Sarah, how are you really? Big step coming back here after being away for so long.’
‘Yep, you’re right about that. Some days I’ve wondered why I didn’t just stay put in Adelaide. But Faith wouldn’t let me see the children, and I needed to do something.’
Carol was nodding slowly and I knew she understood. She sipped the coffee, her orange lipstick leaving half-moons on the rim of the cup.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘We’d do anything for our kids and our grandkids.’
‘We would.’
The yeast bun was doughy-fresh, the pink icing gooey and sickly sweet. It’d sit like a lump in my stomach for hours and I enjoyed every mouthful.
‘Have you seen Liam and Amelia?’ Carol said, licking icing from her fingertips.
‘I have. They’ve walked by a few times after school, and yesterday I was out the front when they came past. Amelia told me very matter-of-factly that her mum said it was okay for them to talk to me but they weren’t allowed to come into the house, not even the yard.’
‘Gotta love ’em.’
‘Yeah, but at this rate my lease will be up and all we’ll be doing is chatting over the fence. Faith can be so damn stubborn.’
‘How’s her baby bump?’
‘I have no idea, except that she doesn’t appear to be blooming. I’ve only seen her once up close and she looked tired—and none too happy about me being here.’
‘She’ll get over it, or not,’ Carol said, turning her attention to the small kitchen. ‘Old Mrs Grainger lived here until she nearly burned the place down and they moved her into the aged-care section at the hospital.’
‘That’s right, now I remember. Her son was killed in that accident at the silos. He was her carer.’
‘I worked as a home-helper and after he died I used to do her cleaning. Batty as hell, the place was always a pigsty. Dementia, I reckon. She died last year.’
‘Did she,’ I said, wondering who else had died in the past eight years.
‘Then this rough mob moved in. Everyone said they were up to no good. Coppers were always here. They trashed the place and did a midnight flit. Highly suggestive of them being up to something unsavoury.’
Carol picked up her cup and wandered into the sitting room. ‘Place has come up nice though. Coat of paint covers a lot. New floor coverings, I see. Nice flowers,’ she said, strolling bac
k to the kitchen doorway. ‘A welcome home gift from Doug?’ She winked and I had to smile.
‘Grace sent them. She spoils me.’
Carol sat down again and hacked off another piece of bun.
‘I gave up smoking and now I can’t stop eating. I’ve put on four kilos.’ She pinched a barely-there roll of skin at her waist, grimacing. ‘I’ll be the size of a house before I know it.’
‘Sure you will,’ I said, and we chattered on about the town and its inhabitants, passing an hour with ease.
Carol filled me in on the elderly folk who’d died over the years, and the list was longer than I’d imagined. I remembered some of them from my time working at the hospital.
‘You keep the leftovers,’ she said when she stood to leave. ‘If I take it I’ll only eat it. With my luck, after giving up smoking I’ll put on too much weight and end up with diabetes.’ She laughed, shaking her head in bemusement.
‘It’ll be my treat next time,’ I said, walking her to the door. She looked pleased.
‘If you need something to fill in the time, we’re always looking for volunteers at the art gallery,’ she said, as we walked to her car.
Grace had mentioned the gallery and I’d been past several times, never venturing in.
‘What type of volunteering?’
‘Oh, anything from helping set up the exhibitions, to weeding the garden, helping in the kitchen when we have events, the reception desk roster. Whatever it takes.’
‘Sounds like it could be interesting.’
‘It is. We have some bloody good local talent, and then there’s the country arts program.’
The art gallery hadn’t existed in my former life here. The building had been the courthouse, and sat vacant and neglected for years. Who’d had the insight and energy to transform it into an art gallery? Hats off to them.
‘I can’t commit to anything past the new year. I don’t know where I’ll be after that.’
Carol gave me a wry smile, as if she was privy to information I wasn’t. I didn’t know what the next months would bring so how could she?
When Grace Went Away Page 17