Cross My Heart

by Pamela Cook

  Her mother was trying to be welcoming. Maybe once she saw how withdrawn Grace was she’d keep a lid on the game-show-host enthusiasm.

  The three of them settled into their seats and her mother flapped a napkin, proceeding to lay it across Grace’s lap. Grace stiffened, pinning herself to the back of her chair. Tess resisted the urge to sigh. It was going to be a long morning. Only the smell of brewing coffee held some glimmer of hope. She waved to the waitress, who frowned but sauntered over, iPad poised as she looked out the window. ‘Anything to drink?’

  A double vodka on the rocks would definitely go down a treat.

  ‘Flat white, please.’ Her mother was taking the more conventional option.

  ‘Skim cap for me, with an extra shot. Would you like a juice or a milkshake, Grace?’

  Grace was looking up, completely stunned.

  What was the problem? Tess followed her gaze to the waitress. Thick black pencilled eyebrows drawn over heavily lined eyes. Electric-blue hair pulled up into a top-knot above the fringe. A battalion of piercings in her ears, lips and nose. Nothing unusual for the inner suburbs, but probably not a common sight in a tiny country town. Still, the overt staring was more than a little awkward. ‘A chocolate milkshake, please. We’ll order some food in a minute. Thanks.’

  The girl scowled as she took their order and left.

  ‘So …’ Her mother beamed at Grace as if nothing had happened. ‘Have you been shopping yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Jumping in to answer would hopefully give her mother the hint not to ask Grace direct questions. ‘We thought we’d have something to eat first and then attack the shops. We’re going to buy Grace some new clothes.’ The idea of the withdrawn child sitting beside her ‘attacking’ anything was completely absurd, but retail therapy had been known to work wonders, so who knew? ‘How’s Dad?’

  ‘Oh you know, out on the golf course trying to improve his handicap, as usual.’

  ‘Mutual retirement not all it’s cracked up to be?’ For years it was all either of her parents had talked about, but like most things, the vision didn’t quite match the reality.

  ‘It’s just as well I still get my casual days, otherwise I’d be sitting at home twiddling my thumbs half the time.’

  ‘Good for you, Mum.’ Why she had retired in the first place was a mystery. She was healthy, good at her job—apparently the kids adored her—and not one to sit around idle.

  ‘Once Ally goes back to work I’ll be busy with Ethan, of course.’

  ‘Are you minding him all week?’

  ‘Five days a fortnight. She’s going back part-time.’

  ‘That’s a big commitment, Mum. Doesn’t leave you much time for yourself.’ Sometimes it seemed her parents had that baby more often than his own parents.

  ‘Well, I don’t mind. The way things are going he could be the only grandchild I get.’ Her mother punctuated her point with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. ‘Of course we do have a new granddaughter now.’ She reached across the table and patted Grace on the shoulder.

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘What? She’s part of our family now, aren’t you, darling?’

  Grace coiled into a ball, shoulders hunched, head hanging. The arrival of drinks was perfectly timed. Food needed to be ordered before Tess said something she might regret. ‘We’ll have a bowl of chips to share and a couple of the toasted ham sandwiches, please.’ Her mother ordered her usual caesar salad, and by the time the menus had been gathered up the air was a little clearer.

  Brunch ticked away with small talk about the family, the weather and the upcoming christening. Her mother did most of the talking, choosing her topics more carefully. Grace picked at the bowl of chips, ate only half the sandwich, but did manage to down the whole milkshake. Working out her food preferences was a process of elimination, based primarily on what was left over. Tess’s mother pursed her lips as she eyed the remnants on the plate. If she mentioned anything about starving children in India, there was going to be one hell of an explosion.

  Time. Patience. Perseverance. Tess’s new mantra was going to be played on repeat all afternoon. And not just because of Grace.

  King Street was an ice box when they stepped outside the cafe. Winter was the pits. Frozen fingers, short days, long nights. The only upside was the fashion: boots, jackets, scarves. Tess pulled her new Burberry plaid scarf a little higher to sit below her chin. Her skin tingled despite the layers. Shopping was her favourite guilty pleasure, and shopping for Grace was more exciting than she would ever have anticipated.

  A passing bunch of schoolkids crowded the pavement and one dropped the f-bomb loudly as they passed, setting her teeth on edge. Normally, it wouldn’t bother her—she had a potty mouth herself at times—but Grace didn’t need to hear it.

  Her mother tutted, sending the boys into a chorus of riotous laughter. ‘I really don’t know what happens once they get to high school. No discipline.’

  Not far down the street Tess found the shop she was looking for. Girlzone. Headless mannequins ranging in size from babies to teens, wearing dresses, jeans and T-shirts crowded the window. Bright, funky patterns. Flamingoes. Hawaiian prints. Paisley. The sort of thing she would have loved to wear when she was ten—had her mother not insisted on dressing her almost permanently in pale-pink frills. ‘This is it.’

  ‘I’m not sure there’ll be anything suitable in here.’ Her mum looked like she’d just swallowed a fly.

  ‘Let’s go in and find out, shall we?’

  Taylor Swift was warbling through the speakers. All that whining about yet another heartbreak, but at least she had the guts to send them packing when they didn’t measure up. Did that make her a good role model for tweens?

  ‘Take your time, Grace. Look around. Tell me if you see anything you like.’

  Grace squinted, taking in the racks, jam-packed with stock.

  For Tess, one outfit stood out from all the rest: a hounds-tooth checked pinafore over a black turtleneck, something T. Swizzle herself might wear. Perfect with a pair of ribbed tights and boots. Maybe Grace would go for it without any prompting.

  ‘Oh, look at this.’ Her mother pulled a dress from its hanger: a rosebud-print bodice over a white satin skirt. Cute if you were going for the princess look. But was that Grace’s thing? All there’d been in her suitcase was jeans, jumpers and a few old tees and skivvies. ‘Grace, this would be gorgeous for the christening. And it’s a size ten. Why don’t you try it on?’

  Grace stood in the centre of the shop, as inert as one of the dummies in the window.

  ‘I don’t think it’s her style, Mum.’

  ‘But it’s beautiful. What little girl wouldn’t love it? Come on, let’s try it on and see, shall we?’ She grabbed at Grace’s hand.

  ‘Mum. Don’t.’ The warning came too late.

  Grace ripped her arm away, lashing out like a feral cat. She backed up against the nearest rack, turning a starker shade of white than the skirt of the chosen dress.

  Beth recoiled, clutching at the offending garment.

  Tess stepped into the space between the two of them. ‘Let’s just take a minute here.’

  ‘Is everything alright?’ The shop assistant joined them, looking completely flummoxed. Grace crept out from her hiding place and Beth gave them all a defiant smile. ‘Yes.’ She pulled at a strand of hair caught in the hinge of her glasses. ‘Everything is fine.’

  The girl shifted her attention from the dress to Grace. ‘Would you like to try that on?’

  Grace stared at the floor.

  ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’ There was no way Tess was going to let her mother bully Grace into following orders.

  ‘Tessa, let the child make up her own mind for heaven’s sake. It will only take a minute to try it on.’ The look Beth was fixing on her new ‘granddaughter’ would have made even the toughest opponent wither.

  Without looking up, Grace nodded.

  ‘The fitting rooms are right over here.’ The shop as
sistant took the dress and smiled sweetly at Grace. Taylor had moved on to a song about having the best day ever with her mother. The situation would have been hysterically funny if it wasn’t so fucking horrible.

  Tess’s mum perched herself on a lounge chair outside the change room like a queen on her throne. For Tess, it was a toss-up between staying as far away as possible and keeping close to maintain damage control. Close was the safest option.

  ‘I see what you mean about her being withdrawn.’

  Only a couple of metres of carpet separated them from the flimsy curtain of the change room. Hardly an effective sound barrier. ‘She’s not deaf, Mum.’ Tess made sure she kept her own voice to a whisper.

  ‘Can she even speak?’ Her mother continued, not bothering to lower the volume. ‘I mean, maybe she has a proper disability, something she’s had since birth.’

  ‘We’ve been through this.’ Did she ever listen? ‘The FACS people had a doctor take a look at her and as far as they can tell there’s nothing physically wrong.’

  ‘Has she said anything at all since you picked her up?’

  Tess shook her head. ‘Yes and no a few times, but that’s about it.’

  ‘Well, she has lost her mother, the poor little mite.’ She heaved out an overly loud sigh. ‘Who knows what’s going through that head of hers?’ She turned her own head and exhaled noisily, a sure sign that whatever she was about to say was terribly important. ‘Tessa, I know I told you to go ahead with this adoption thing, but now I’m not so sure. I mean, she’s obviously troubled and you and Josh aren’t experienced parents.’

  This was so typical of her mother. Changing her mind whenever something—or someone—didn’t exactly fit inside the perfect little box she’d packaged it in.

  ‘Mum …’

  Her mother rose to her feet. ‘I don’t think you understand what you’re doing here. This isn’t a game, Tessa. This is a child’s life. Not to mention your life—and your husband’s. You have no idea what you’re taking on.’

  ‘And you have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Tess pushed herself upright from where she was leaning on the wall. With her heeled boots on, her mother was a good eight centimetres shorter and she was going to take full advantage of that difference. ‘So you’d rather she went into some random foster home where she could be neglected or abused?’

  ‘Oh, Tessa. That’s such a cliché. I just don’t understand why you’re breaking your neck to do this? Wouldn’t you rather have a child of your own? A baby of your own?’

  ‘Is that what this is about? Me not having a baby?’ Her volume was rising now, her decorum vanishing.

  ‘Not entirely, but since you mention it …’

  ‘I didn’t mention it, Mum, you did.’

  ‘So what if I did?’ The woman was on a roll. All five feet and three inches of her puffed up like a bullfrog. And croaking just as loudly. ‘It’s perfectly normal for a mother to want her only daughter to have a child. I do want you to have a baby before it’s too late, not a ten-year-old girl who clearly has problems that are only going to get worse.’

  ‘Ah, ladies.’ They both turned at once to see the sales assistant glowering in their direction. She’d obviously overheard their conversation. Which meant Grace, out of the fitting room and standing beside her, had too.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Sweetheart. You look so pretty.’ Ever the expert chameleon, her mother changed her tone in an instant. ‘Doesn’t she, Tessa?’

  It took one very long, deep breath for Tess to pull herself back from the brink. ‘You look lovely, Grace. But it’s your choice. Do you like it?’

  Grace’s chin quivered, probably nothing to do with the dress.

  ‘It’ll be perfect. My treat.’ Beth showered them all with a victory smile. ‘Pop it off and I’ll buy it for you.’

  A rush of heat spread up Tess’s neck into her cheeks. If matricide wasn’t illegal she could gladly strangle her own mother right now. What started as a potentially enjoyable day had turned into a total disaster. The sooner they could cut and run the better.

  Grace scuttled back into the change room while Tess’s mum rummaged around in her bag for her wallet.

  Tess took a few steps away, waving at her mother to follow. Even though the damage was already done, Grace didn’t need to hear any more.

  Her mother held up a hand. ‘I know. I shouldn’t have said what I did.’ Her voice was low, her tone hardly apologetic. ‘Tessa, this young girl isn’t a project you can fix with a management plan. She’s a troubled little thing. You need to be prepared for a bumpy ride.’

  Like the bumpy ride she’d had as a teenager while her own mother was completely clueless? She wanted to scream at Beth, regale her with a list of good old home truths, tell her how if she’d been a different kind of mother maybe Tess could have talked to her about more important things than the nightly dinner menu or what time she needed to be home. Maybe things between them might have been different.

  The curtain shifted and Grace emerged, eyes brimming. If only she would be comforted with a hug, if only she would let Tess in.

  Patience. Perseverance. Time.

  Her mother was right, she didn’t have any experience with kids. All she had were her instincts, and right now she was letting them lead her in what she hoped was the right direction. She kneeled down and inched as close as possible without scaring Grace away, creating a space just for the two of them.

  ‘I’m sorry you overheard that. This is a big change for all of us …’ She glanced over to the counter where her mother was paying for the dress. ‘Remember, I am on your side no matter what. Okay?’

  A solitary tear slid down Grace’s cheek and it was all Tess could do not to sit on the floor and weep. She held herself together and waited.

  The nod was small but clear.

  Tess gave Grace a hopeful smile as she ever so slowly reached out her hand and curled it around the girl’s shoulder. There was no smile in return, but for the very first time Grace didn’t pull away.

  Eight

  ‘Remind me why we said yes to this.’ Josh’s hushed voice cut through the drone of the sermon.

  ‘If I remember rightly, you were the one who jumped at the offer.’ He’d answered as soon as the question had been asked: We’d be so honoured, thank you so much for asking. ‘That’s what you get for being a yes-man.’

  ‘What else could I say? We were cornered. And you didn’t exactly veto the idea.’

  It was true. Rob and Ally had ambushed them and they’d taken the path of least resistance. Now they were paying for their cowardice. The church reeked of burning wax and someone had been far too zealous with the pew polishing, making sitting still quite the challenge. Her mother was seated further down the row, on the other side of Josh and Grace. Tess hadn’t spoken to her since the shopping fiasco and, of course, Beth was acting as if nothing had happened.

  Admittedly ‘the dress’ was very pretty, the faint greens and lavender tint of the leaves setting off the blue tones in Grace’s eyes and the pink rosebuds brightening her pale complexion. What must she be making of the man in the floor-length gown, the candles, the strange hymns? Skye had been an atheist for years, so there was no way she would have exposed her daughter to any form of religion, especially Catholicism. And who could blame her? Despite her quasi-religious upbringing, Tess wasn’t exactly a fan. They just needed to get through this christening ceremony, make a brief appearance at the after-party and then get the hell out. The whole godparent thing was purely a formality. Ally’s entire family would knock both Josh and her senseless to get their hands on Ethan if anything ever happened to his parents.

  God forbid.

  A shiver ran across her scalp. It wasn’t a joke. People did die and their children did become orphans. She above all people needed to take this whole thing a lot more seriously.

  ‘We’re on.’ Josh grabbed her hand and started moving up to the dais, but Tess pulled back and leaned down to speak quietly to Grace. ‘W
e won’t be long.’

  ‘Tess. Come on.’ Josh squeezed harder, motioning towards the front of the church with his free hand.

  Ally, dressed to impress in crimson silk, held a squirming Ethan in her arms. Rob and the second set of godparents stood on the opposite side of the font, glowing like a trio of angels. They all repeated the pledges they were promising to make as the baby’s guardians. While Josh went particularly quiet at the ‘I believe in God the Father almighty’ part, Tess glanced across to the front pew. Grace hadn’t bothered to fill the gap between herself and her new nonna—if anything she’d shuffled further away, but her head was angled, her eyes glued to the baby. Ethan let out a high-pitched cry as the priest poured a full cup of water over the poor kid’s head, the crowd clapping and cheering as if they were at a rock concert—things certainly had changed since Tess had spent a Sunday morning at mass. They all smiled dutifully through what seemed like a thousand photos as her mother watched, eyes glistening, from the front row.

  ‘You looked lovely up there,’ she murmured as they swapped places on the altar. It most definitely wasn’t a reference to Tess’s pant suit or the darker shade of her newly cut hair, but best to let it go.

  The organ started grinding out ‘Oh, Happy Day’, and the ceremony, thank the Lord, was over. As they joined the throng of people heading outdoors, it was impossible not to notice the looks and whispers directed their way. Word was out about Tess’s own new addition and it looked like she was going to have to smile and wave her way through the entire event.

  Small clusters of people gathered to chat. Josh joined a group of Rob’s mates, removing any chance of a quick exit. If she hovered around the gate long enough, maybe he’d get the message. At least at the after-party there’d be places to hide.

  ‘Tess.’ Ally’s sister, Renee, zoomed in, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘How are you? Al told me about your news and I think it’s so great what you’re doing.’ Words bubbled out of her like champagne fizzing from a shaken bottle. ‘And this must be Grace?’ Renee bent down, hands on her spray-tanned knees. ‘Welcome to the family. I mean, we’re not exactly family, but almost, right?’ She stood again, redirecting her questions to Tess. ‘How is she settling in?’