by Liz Byrski
‘Here you are,’ she says, handing round the copies. ‘The book is Unless, by Carol Shields, a Canadian writer who I think is brilliant. Perhaps you’ve read some of her others . . . ?’
They shake their heads, study the cover, read the back cover blurb, fan the pages. Then Ros looks up.
‘Actually I have read one of hers,’ she says. ‘The Stone Diaries. I really loved that.’
‘My daughter, Jenna, sent me this some years ago after I had fled . . . yes, I actually did physically run away . . . from a terrifying therapist called Astrid who wore very heavy make-up and a turban, and smoked cheroots all the time. I excused myself to go to the bathroom in the middle of a session, ran downstairs, out to my car and drove away.’
‘Sounds like she was a good one to run from,’ Ros says, amid the laughter. ‘Have you regretted it since?’
Adele shakes her head. ‘Not for a moment. I mean, I think a therapist might have helped me, but not Astrid. How can you talk to a counsellor about being uptight, intimidated and feeble when it’s a person who seems so judgemental and intimidating that you can barely open your mouth?’
‘Impossible,’ Simone says. ‘This looks interesting.’
‘Jenna sent me this after I told her about Astrid; she said she thought it might help. So I read the book and really enjoyed it, and then read it again. Then I thought I understood what it was saying but I couldn’t see how I could take that understanding and make it work for me.’
‘So what did you say to Jenna?’ Ros asks. ‘Did she ask you what you thought about it?’
‘She asked me if I enjoyed it, and I said I had, and that I’d read it a couple of times.’
‘You didn’t ask her anything else?’
‘No.’ Adele shakes her head, pulls a pitiful face. ‘I didn’t want her to think I was a complete idiot.’
‘That makes it sound like a tough read,’ Judy says.
‘That’s the odd thing, it’s not hard at all, because you can enjoy it for the story and the characters very easily. I suppose for me it all made sense but I couldn’t quite articulate why. I mean, I enjoyed it and was really moved and a bit disturbed by it. Normally when I’ve read a book I like to sum up in one clear sentence what it’s about, but when I try to do this with Unless, I feel it’s about so many things, all linked, that I can’t quite draw them all together.’
‘We could try to do that,’ Simone says, ‘if you’d like? Each write a sentence.’
‘Oh yes! That would be really good,’ Adele says. ‘We could nut it out a bit first and then everyone say how they had summed it up.’
‘Stone the crows,’ Ros says. ‘ Homework! What a bunch of girlie swats we are!’
Chapter Thirteen
‘Judy, there you are!’ Adele says. ‘I was looking all over for you. Are you sure you’re warm enough out here?’
Judy is sitting on the front verandah in a patch of sunlight wearing a thick hand-knitted jumper, a beanie and knitted gloves, and reading Unless.
‘I’m fine thanks, Adele. I promise to come in if I get cold, but the air is lovely this morning, and I’m wearing several layers of pure wool!’
‘So I see,’ Adele says. ‘I just wondered if you’re feeling well enough to come for a drive with me?’
Yesterday, Adele had spent some more time exploring Judy’s laptop, which appears to be her dumping ground for stuff she simply hasn’t had time to deal with. It’s a pretty straightforward business – the mess Judy mentioned is extensive but not serious, so it will be simple if tedious to fix.
‘A drive?’ Judy says. ‘Does it include coffee and croissants?’
‘Oh you are feeling better! Well yes, it certainly could involve that.’
‘Let’s do it,’ Judy says. ‘How’s the plan going?’
‘Pretty good. I’ll talk you through it either tomorrow or the day after,’ Adele says. ‘In the meantime there’s something I want to show you.’
‘Okay,’ Judy says. ‘When do you want to go?’
‘What about now?’
Judy hesitates, closes her book, and gets to her feet. ‘Sure, why not? Where are the others?’
‘Simone’s taken Ros to get her hair cut. I won’t keep you out long.’
Judy laughs. ‘I feel a bit like the ancient demented relative being taken out for an airing.’
‘Exactly,’ Adele says, ‘just what I had in mind.’
Fifteen minutes later Adele is parking the car in the centre of town. She snaps off her seatbelt, reaches into her bag and hands Judy a large pair of sunglasses. ‘I need you to keep your beanie on and wear these,’ she says.
‘Whatever for?’
‘Trust me for just a few minutes, you’ll soon see.’
Judy shrugs, and puts on the glasses. ‘Am I in danger of being recognised?’ she jokes.
‘Actually yes, so I want you to have the choice of whether or not you reveal your identity. And I’d like you to hold on to my arm and try to look as though you need my full attention.’
Arm in arm they stroll out of the car park. In the main street, Adele stops and points across the road. ‘Look,’ she says, ‘The Knittery.’
‘So it is.’ Judy reaches up to take off the glasses.
‘No, no, keep them on a bit longer,’ Adele says. ‘I want you to come in there with me.’
‘Is that really necessary?’ Judy asks, taking the sunglasses off and stepping into the road. ‘Let’s go. Are you going to take up knitting, Adele?’
Adele grabs her arm and hauls her back. ‘Wait, Judy. I want you to go into this shop and have a good look around. I know you like reading crime and spy novels, so think of this as an undercover fact-finding mission. I want you to wear the sunglasses in case Linda is there. I called the shop earlier to ask whether she was in and was told she always takes Tuesdays off. That’s why I wanted you to come today. Linda is a big fan of yours; if she sees you she will overwhelm you with enthusiasm, so best to hope she doesn’t unexpectedly turn up. I don’t think you are ready for Linda yet.’
They cross the street arm in arm and Adele pushes open the glass door.
‘Lovely shop,’ Judy murmurs. ‘A bit like mine.’
‘Very much like yours,’ Adele says. ‘Because as I told you earlier, it’s obviously modelled on the online images of your shop on your website, even down to the spinning wheel in the window. Let’s get closer to the screen.’
A group of women at the worktable are following the instructions on a video, checking the commentary and then checking their needles.
‘Oh my goodness,’ Judy hisses, ‘it’s me, how embarrassing, one of my lessons for beginners. It’s called Casting On.’
Adele nods. ‘It is. And look over in that corner.’ She points to the pussy hat patterns on special offer with a large poster of Judy above them. ‘And look around the walls.’
Judy stares open-mouthed. ‘Lots of my patterns. Wow.’
A young woman wanders up behind them. ‘Good morning, ladies. I’m Narelle. Would you like to join the beginners group? I can get some more chairs brought in.’
‘Thanks,’ Adele says, ‘we can’t stay today; we might come back another time. Lovely shop, though.’
‘Yes, it’s always been popular but last year Linda did a big Judy Castle promotion, and it worked so well we’ve kept it going. Made a huge difference to the business.’
‘How often do you show the videos?’ Judy asks.
Adele flinches at the rather plummy English accent Judy is putting on.
‘Oh they run every day – usually we start them around ten and run them on and off until about four.’
‘I see you have the Judy Castle patterns,’ Adele says. ‘Are they going well?’
‘Incredibly well,’ Narelle says. ‘Linda bought a laminator and we print and laminate them on the premises. They’re five dol
lars each or you can get five for twenty dollars.’
Judy makes a choking noise and Adele kicks her sharply on the ankle.
‘Are you both knitters?’
‘Not me,’ Adele says.
‘I do knit a bit,’ Judy says, ‘but I’m having trouble with my eyes at the moment, hence the sunglasses.’
‘Of course, cataracts, is it?’
‘Yes, had them both done a couple of days ago,’ Judy says.
‘I thought they only did one eye at a time,’ Narelle says. ‘But much better to get them done in one go, if you’ve someone to look after you for a couple of weeks.’
Judy smiles, pats Adele’s arm with her free hand. ‘My sister’s looking after me, she’s a saint. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘How lovely! Well, I must get on. Feel free to browse, won’t you? I hope you’ll be back when your eyes are better, Mrs . . . ?’
‘Grainger,’ Adele says rather too quickly. ‘We’re the Grainger sisters, you may have heard of us?’
‘I . . . I’m not sure . . .’
‘You’re too young, dear,’ Judy says. ‘Forget it. Come along, Adele, time we were getting home.’
‘You were outrageous!’ Adele says, doubling up with laughter once they are out of sight of the shop. ‘“Both eyes done at the same time.” I thought I was going to wet myself!’
‘Excuse me!’ Judy says. ‘You’re the one who started it. I just got a bit carried away with the disguise. And what about “We’re the Grainger sisters”! You made us sound like a cabaret act from the seventies. We were awfully good at it though, weren’t we?’
‘Too good,’ Adele says, steering her into the café. ‘You can take the glasses off now.’
‘You don’t think I’ll be recognised in here?’
‘You’re not that famous. Coffee or tea?’
‘Hot chocolate, please.’
‘Honestly, Adele,’ Judy says once Adele has returned from the counter, ‘that was the best possible medicine.’ She leans back in her chair smiling. ‘I love being with you and Ros and Simone. And you’ve all been so kind to me . . . I’m not going to want to go home when the time comes.’
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ Adele says. ‘I feel like a different person from the one that left Adelaide. I’m afraid the feeling will evaporate when I get home. We could stay longer, you know. Marian and Brian won’t be back until mid-September.’
Judy’s face falls. ‘That would be wonderful but I don’t think I could. I mean, I can’t just not go back.’
‘Well obviously not forever, but maybe a week or two?’ Adele sees the furrows forming on Judy’s forehead. ‘Don’t stress about it, but you could ask Melissa if she and her mum would like to stay on a bit longer. You said yourself that she needs the work, and from what you’ve said she’s doing a really good job. Think about it – we can talk to Ros and Simone too.’
‘And you, Adele,’ Judy says. ‘Could you stay on?’
‘Easily,’ she says. ‘There’s nothing and no one waiting for me at home except a couple of plants that are already half-dead.’
*
Ros is trying to find a comfortable way to read in bed. For most of her life she has had choices about this: lying down propped on pillows, holding the book in both hands or alternating hands, lying on her side with the book in one or both hands, sitting up with plenty of pillows behind her – knees drawn up, or legs outstretched with a pillow to rest the book on. But slowly some of these options have been eliminated from her repertoire. It seems that however she tries to settle herself to read, or sleep, nothing is truly comfortable anymore. Arthritis plus the onset of Parkinson’s is a horrible combination. No one tells you, she thinks, how time consuming and frustrating it is to find new ways of doing the things you’ve done all your life without even having to think about it. And then you have to add in the issue of glasses.
‘If you got a Kindle,’ Simone had said when Ros complained about it in the car earlier today, ‘you’d find it much lighter to hold, and you could enlarge the font – in fact you might not even have to use your glasses to read.’
‘No way! I did try it, I actually bought one, but I hated the measly little screen. And I could never remember how to flip back and forward to re-read bits. I couldn’t get as involved in what I was reading as I usually do. I like a book, a pencil and a nice firm bookmark, so I can underline things, add exclamation marks and asterisks, mark sections or whole paragraphs, write comments in the margins and turn down the corners of pages.’
Simone was aghast. ‘That’s sacrilege,’ she said. ‘I never write in a book or turn down a page.’
‘Then I have to tell you that you are missing one of life’s great pleasures.’
‘The nuns at my school would have sent you to the naughty corner, got the priest in to hear your confession and then assigned the number of Hail Marys required to absolve you of these terrible sins.’
‘Bring it on,’ Ros said, ‘and I’ll tell the priest exactly what I think.’
Simone, who was driving at the time, laughed out loud. ‘Now that sounds like the old Ros,’ she said. ‘Rebellious and awkward, the one I was slightly nervous of meeting, the one who hasn’t been too obvious here.’
‘There was the dog treats crisis.’
Simone shrugged. ‘That was entirely understandable. We all behaved badly.’
‘So did I. It rattled me, you see; Clooney . . . well it seems a stupid thing to say about a dog but he’s sort of – my rock, I suppose. It was about more than just the treats. Feeling physically unstable and vulnerable isn’t confined to the body, it gets into your head as well.’
‘Of course,’ Simone said. ‘What exactly have they told you about looking after yourself with the Parkinson’s?’
‘Very little so far. I got the diagnosis and was supposed to go back to a special clinic the following week, but I decided to pretend it wasn’t happening and postponed it. Now, of course, I realise it would have been better to get advice sooner, so that I could chew it over with the three of you.’
‘That would have made sense.’
‘I’ve only skimmed the material they gave me. Stupid, isn’t it? Obstinate – like a difficult child. I also left it too long before I even went to the doctor. By the time I talked to her I had symptoms on both sides of my body. And I already had arthritis, which doesn’t help. I was going along pretty well until the start of this year.’
Later, once Ros had emerged from the hairdresser and they were on their way home, the subject came up again.
‘So do you think you’ll be able to manage shorter hair more easily?’ Simone had asked.
‘I hope so. It’s too hard to hold the hair dryer and the brush – I often drop one or both. But the shorter cut and this marvellous spray the hairdresser sold me mean that I can just scrunch it into shape and let it dry naturally. I may end up looking like an old witch, although she says I’ll look really cool. Ha! Bet you never thought of me as cool before, Simone, but there you go.’
‘I think you are very cool,’ Simone said, turning her eyes from the road to look at her. ‘Your hair certainly looks very cool now. And I think it would be super cool if you called the clinic today to see if you can go this week.’
‘Nice idea, but I can’t drive that distance, I don’t feel safe.’
‘I’ll drive you. It’s only an hour-and-a-half each way. I could come into the consultation with you too, if you like. Sometimes it’s good to have someone else there, it’s so easy to forget what they tell you. Think about it.’
So now Ros sits on the bed thinking. She has been dreading going to the clinic and particularly going alone. Leah, she knows, would take her, but she would worry and perhaps be overprotective. Besides, Ros is not ready to tell Leah yet, not until she’s got to grips with it herself. She picks up her phone, dials the clinic, and t
o her amazement is told that someone has just cancelled an appointment for Thursday.
Well there’s a thing, she says to James. I did it. I can just imagine what you’re thinking – About effing time, aren’t you? You would’ve had me down there weeks ago. Anyway, it’s done now. Roll on Thursday.
*
‘How’s it going today, Melissa?’ Judy asks. ‘Everything okay?’ She is in her room, calling on video chat that enables her to see not only Melissa but the shop as well.
‘Hi, Judy, we’re doing fine,’ Melissa says. ‘Hope you’re still on the mend.’
Judy hasn’t told Melissa that she’s had pneumonia and been in hospital for several days. She had asked Adele to call her and simply say that she was a bit under the weather with a very sore throat that made it hard to talk, especially on the phone. Appearing vulnerable or weak is not an option; neither is letting her recent lack of interest in what’s happening there leak through to Melissa. After just two days without calling she had totally lost the desire to know what was going on, and her interest in the shop and what might be happening has been draining away ever since.
‘Shall I give you a little iPad tour of what we’ve been doing?’ Melissa asks, and the images on the screen swirl around as she organises herself to do a walk-through. ‘So over here, we’ve created a special baby corner, and Jack is modelling some of your patterns – but he’s doing it in his sleep at the moment!’
Tucked in his pusher in a corner by the window, Jack, looking adorable in blue and white, thumb in mouth, is the centrepiece of a display of baby patterns, and several knitted examples that have been fitted onto some of Judy’s collection of baby mannequins as well as on Jack himself.
‘And over here,’ Melissa says, ‘Mum and I have knitted up some of that big batch of rainbow wool from some other patterns – the gloves and scarves have been very popular. We thought it was a nice theme for winter, cheerful, warm and colourful. We’ve sold lots of the wool and the patterns. By the way, we haven’t seen Maddie for a while, but I guess she’ll be back soon.’