by Pamela Cook
‘Good thanks, Renee. We’re still getting to know each other. Taking things one step at a time.’
‘It’s so sad what happened to her mother. Lucky you and Josh can afford to take her in. Must be freaky when you don’t have your own kids, though. Maybe this will get you going. Ethan would love a little cousin to play with.’ She drew a breath and shot a glance over her shoulder to where her partner was swapping man-stories. ‘Although, he will have one soon. We haven’t really announced it properly yet, thought we’d wait until the christening was over, you know, let Ethie have his fifteen minutes, but Jase and I are pregnant.’
Tess swallowed back a sigh. ‘Congrats, Renee. That’s great news.’
‘What’s great news?’ Her mother joined them, gossip radar on high alert.
‘I’m having a baby.’ Renee, glowing prematurely, dropped a hand to her perfectly flat stomach.
‘Oh, that’s lovely.’ Her mother tipped her head to the side as if she was looking at something in the distance. ‘When are you due?’
‘I’m only eight weeks along. Shouldn’t really be telling anyone yet, but it’s too exciting to keep a secret. I was just saying to Tess how great it’ll be for Ethan to have a new cousin to play with—and maybe another one on your side of the family soon.’
Her mother’s eyes brightened. You could practically hear the squeal echoing around in her skull, as if Renee’s proclamation was a statement of fact.
A diversion was drastically needed. ‘You were right, Mum.’ Saying those four words was like choking on a furball, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Tess waved a hand in Grace’s direction. The poor girl had been ignored long enough. ‘The dress is beautiful.’
Taking a step back and holding a hand to the base of her throat, her mother drew in an exaggerated breath. Way too much, but infinitely preferable to more baby talk. ‘Darling, you look absolutely gorgeous. I knew it would be perfect on you.’ Her gaze dropped to the worn pair of leather sandals strapped to Grace’s feet and her enthusiasm waned. ‘We’ll have to get you some nice black Mary Janes for next time.’
What Beth De Santis giveth with one hand, she taketh away with the other. Admittedly, the shoes didn’t exactly match the outfit, but another shopping trip had been out of the question.
People were starting to leave. Tess extended her arm to the space above Grace’s shoulders, an action so well practised Grace had learned it was the signal to make a move. ‘We’ll see you at the party.’ They walked towards the carpark, leaving Josh behind to cadge a ride. All they had to do was get through the next few hours and then they could go home and pack for Weerilla. Where there’d be another ceremony to attend. And organise. Tess had managed not to think about that for most of the week after ringing the mortician and setting a date, but once today was over that luxury would be gone.
Volunteering the family home for the baptism lunch had been her mother’s idea, even though Rob and Ally had a perfectly good one of their own. But that was Beth, always right in the centre of things. Running the show. Thankfully, there were enough guests for Tess to be able to stay out of the spotlight. Her dad, manning the barbeque, beer in hand, was surrounded by a posse of mates, including Josh. The queen of the kitchen had more than enough help, leaving Tess free to escape the well-wishers and busy bodies.
Word had spread and just about everybody had expressed an opinion on the new family member. All of them positive, of course, although judging by the strained facial expressions accompanying some of the words of welcome, not all of them heartfelt. Ally seemed a little miffed about Ethan’s limelight being stolen. Another good reason for Tess to keep a low profile, but not as crucial as protecting Grace from the mostly well-meaning guests. The more attention she got the more she shut down, like a flower closing its petals at nightfall. It was too much, all the fussing, all the noise. The nook tucked away at the end of the deck was the ideal spot for both of them to hide: Grace reclining in a round garden chair, reading The Hobbit to her bear, and Tess people-watching without being seen.
Down in the man-huddle, Rob handed the star of the day across to Josh, who propped Ethan against his hip as if he was holding a bag of groceries, a sight almost as rare as one of him holding a baby. Tess had agreed to his no-children edict, but seeing him here now, relaxing his posture, the stiffness fading from his jaw, was like watching another version of him. One who might have existed if his fractured family hadn’t left him so emotionally bruised. If he only had the courage to deal with his issues rather than let them determine the whole course of his life.
If only they both did.
‘Tess. Tessa!’ Her mother’s voice was shrill and perilously close. Red-faced and flustered, she marched around the corner of the house. ‘There you are. Didn’t you hear me calling you? Lunch is being served.’
Such drama. ‘Oh, no I didn’t hear you. Sorry, Mum.’
‘Where’s Grace?’
‘Just over …’ The chair was empty, the closed book sitting on the decking beside the abandoned bear. ‘She was there a minute ago.’ Tess’s stomach twisted itself into a knot. Where could she be? Clusters of people were moving towards the pergola, where multiple platters of food had been laid out. But there was no sign of Grace.
‘She can’t have gone too far.’ Declared as if she knew every move the girl made. ‘Check the bathroom. Bring her out for some lunch.’
Tess gave a mental salute as her mother rushed back down the stairs to join the party and she set off in search of the missing child. Of course Grace would be in the bathroom. It wasn’t as if she would have suddenly got the urge to play with the small group of kids who were here. Not unless there’d been a radical transformation. All the rooms she passed were empty, but the bathroom door was closed. She crooked a finger and rapped on the timber.
‘Just a minute.’ A distinctly adult, male voice. Definitely not Grace.
‘Sorry.’ This was not good. She retraced her steps, checking every room, looking behind doors and under beds, opening wardrobes in case Grace was playing some odd game of hide-and-seek.
No sign of her. Anywhere.
In the backyard, the chatter of voices grew louder, the volume turned up too many decibels. Tess scanned the tables. There were people here she didn’t know. Men she didn’t know. She gripped the railing to steady herself, willed the flapping creatures inside her belly to settle. That was a stupid way to think. They were all friends and family. Grace must be here somewhere. She had to be.
And there was Josh: plate loaded, taking a seat at a table, flashing his poster-boy smile. Totally oblivious. Some ‘father’ he was turning out to be. Taking on Grace might have been her idea, but he had agreed, so would it hurt to help out just a little in the parenting department?
She strode to the end of the deck and down the far steps, searching the courtyard to the side of the house. Bird of paradise plants along the fence line tilted their strange, angular heads of orange and purple. Violets bloomed beneath them, their tiny flowers scattered like stars through the garden. A slight movement caught her eye and she bent lower, peering under the house to where Grace was sitting cross-legged in the dirt, the family tabby planted between her legs. The blank, often haunted expression that seemed to permanently mar her face was gone. Instead she looked peaceful, almost happy as she gently stroked the cat behind his ears.
Tess let out a long-held breath. ‘Hey there, I see you’ve found Wilson.’
Grace looked up, slightly startled, then returned her attention to the cat.
‘Lunch is ready. Want to come get some?’
For a few long seconds Grace sat still, patting the cat. Pensive.
‘You can play with him again afterwards if you want.’
Hands around the cat’s middle, Grace lifted him from her lap. Wilson tipped his head and she gave him one more scratch under the chin before crawling out from under the house on her hands and knees, wriggling through the gap between the posts. As she pushed herself up from the ground, a rippin
g sound made them both freeze. A huge hole had appeared in the dress, the skirt stained with dirty patches matching the ones on Grace’s hands and knees. Smoothing it down only wiped more marks across the plain white skirt, and her face fell.
It didn’t take a genius to work out what was on her mind. Tess was thinking exactly the same thing.
Beth.
They had two options. Front up to lunch with the dress ruined, or retreat out the side gate without a word. Either one was a risk, but disappearing was possibly slightly more dangerous. Anyway, what did it matter? Sweet as it was, Grace would probably never wear the dress again.
‘Don’t worry.’ Tess forced a cheery tone. ‘We can wash it later and get it mended. Let’s go eat.’ She took a chance and held out her hand. Poised midair, it was a silent, hopeful invitation. The clamour of voices dimmed, replaced by the frantic hammering of her heart. Millimetre by wonderful millimetre, Grace stretched out her arm, and for a few joyous moments after their palms kissed neither of them moved. Together they walked towards the tables, although for Tess it was more like floating. A tiny but significant miracle had occurred. Grace was holding her hand.
Plates piled high, they wound their way through the maze of tables looking for a place to sit. The guests were too busy eating and talking to pay them any attention. Tess bounced along the path like a moonwalker, her hand still warm from Grace’s touch. Who would have thought such a small thing could make a person so happy? She started towards a couple of empty seats when her mother’s shrill voice stopped her in her tracks.
‘Oh, Grace, what have you done to your dress?’
If she’d known her mother was in the vicinity, she would have taken a different route. Twisted around with one hand on the back of the garden chair, the other resting against her sternum as if she was having trouble breathing, the woman looked ready to blow a gasket.
Chatter died, heads turned.
‘Mum.’ Her warning was almost a bark.
‘Well, really, Tessa, look at the stains.’ She reached out and picked at the flap of material torn by the nail. ‘And this. What on earth was she doing?’
Chasing the cat. Having fun. Stuff normal kids do. The words stuck in Tess’s throat, but her glare would be answer enough.
Anyone who had still been talking now stopped. Her father, seated to her left, rose to his feet. She needed to defuse the situation as quickly and as quietly as possible.
‘Mum, it’s fine. I’ll get it cleaned and repaired. It’s just a dress.’
‘A dress I paid good money for.’ The volume of her mother’s voice was rising in inverse proportion to her own. This wasn’t just about the dress.
‘Leave it, Mum. Come on, Grace.’ She reached out to take the girl’s hand again but left her move too late. A growl burst from deep down in Grace’s throat. She threw her plate on the ground, sending meat, pastry and hundreds and thousands swirling through the air like confetti, before she turned and ran down the aisle between the two rows of tables, up the steps and into the house.
Silence devoured any remaining scraps of conversation.
Her mother’s chair dropped to the concrete paving as she stood. ‘You need to do something about that child. Get some professional help.’
And you need to mind your own fucking business and learn some compassion. She wanted to scream it out loud, but the stunned faces in her peripheral vision rendered her speechless. What she needed was a mother who supported what she was doing rather than trying to shoot her down at every turn. What she needed was help instead of criticism. But why should she expect that now when it had been absent her entire life?
‘For your information, I have had professional help, which is why I’m leaving tomorrow to take Grace home.’ She took a step forward, zeroing in like a hawk about to dive on its prey. ‘And I can’t wait to get her as far away from you as possible.’ With a jerk of her wrist, she tipped her plate over and slammed it down, mimicking Grace’s action, scattering the contents all over her mother’s black suede pumps.
Nine
A flash of lightning ignited the darkness of the living room. Tess stopped on the bottom stair, unclenching her teeth as she waited for the inevitable clap of thunder. Pale light shone from the computer in the corner of the room. Sunday afternoon and there he was poring over an Excel spreadsheet. How could he concentrate on work after all the crap that had gone on today?
A low rumble shook the glass on the sliding doors. The sky was a solemn shade of slate, and rain had turned the balcony into a wading pool. Drawing the blinds, she made a mental note to call the body corporate about the drainage.
‘Is she okay?’ Josh, finally, lifted his head from the screen.
Grace hadn’t said a word since their hurried departure from the christening. Not unusual for her, of course, but everything about her body language said misery. A state Tess could totally relate to right now. So much for the hand-holding euphoria. ‘She’s reading.’
‘You should eat something.’
Memories of the afternoon—her lunch strewn across the pavers, her mother’s new shoes smothered in tabouli, the embarrassed buzzing of the guests swelling behind her as she stormed off—were doing little to induce her appetite. As much as she liked to think she and Beth were so very different, they shared the same quick temper, and were both too fond of using it when it came to each other.
She backed up against the island, the edge of the marble bench cold against her waist. Josh turned back to the desk and resumed his typing, clacking away at the keys as if the conversation was finished. When it hadn’t even started.
‘So, are we going to talk about what happened?’ They hadn’t spoken since leaving the party, had sat in silence all the way home in the car, Tess in the back beside a shell-shocked Grace, not touching her but close enough to hopefully be a comfort. Josh had turned on the radio, some mind-numbing music on Triple J, the sort he knew she couldn’t stand. And then, following their well-worn pattern, they’d gone their separate ways.
She folded her arms tightly as he stood, agitation etched into every line on his face. Probably more to do with his work session being disrupted than anything else.
‘Tessa …’
Her full name. The one he used when she’d done or said something he didn’t like. ‘I’m in trouble am I?’
‘Jesus, don’t start.’
‘Don’t start what? I’m not the one who’s done anything wrong, Josh. In case you hadn’t noticed, it was my mother who picked this fight.’
‘You didn’t have to react the way you did.’
Her rough laugh echoed as she met him in the centre of the room. ‘So you think I’m the bad guy?’
‘You did make quite a scene.’
A scene. An embarrassing scene that might give people the ‘wrong’ impression. She stabbed her fingertip against the solid bone of her diaphragm. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried on about a bit of dirt on a fucking dress. She humiliated Grace in front of all those people.’
‘Tess …’ He lifted his hand to her elbow, let it fall away. ‘I know she was over the top. Grace is a kid, of course she’s going to get dirty.’
There was a ‘but’ coming.
‘But …’
And there it was. Heat flooded her body, rendering her speechless. She shook her head, waiting for it to subside.
Josh ploughed on. ‘I just think it would have been better for Grace if you’d let it go.’
‘Let it go so my mother would think she has permission to belittle her anytime she feels like it? To talk about her like she isn’t even there? You didn’t see Grace’s face in that store, Josh. She heard every single word and she looked totally devastated. And then Mum gives an encore performance today, just in case Grace didn’t get the message the first time that she doesn’t measure up.’
‘That’s not entirely true.’
‘Don’t be so bloody patronising.’
His cheeks reddened and he clenched his jaw. If there was one thing he hated it was bein
g accused of chauvinism, but right now his attitude was doused in a heavy helping of male superiority. A message notification sounded from the desk behind him.
‘Leave it.’
Only the slight turn of his head gave away how much not checking his phone was costing him. Whether or not he liked it, this needed to be discussed. Tess needed to know he was on her side. That she could count on him. Not just today, but next week, next year and for all the years after. For her, and for Grace. Outside, thunder rumbled. In the dull cave of the living room his face was in shadow, but she could still see the rapid darting of his eyes as he weighed up his decision. This was a test: he knew it as well as she did. Another beep from his phone. And then, like a time-lapsed photo, muscle by rigid muscle, his body relaxed as he nodded and let it go.
‘Thank you.’
Annoying though it was, the interruption gave them both time to calm down.
Tess ran the heels of her palms over her hips. ‘You agree with her, don’t you?’
‘Agree with who?’
‘Mum. You agree with her that Grace isn’t normal.’
Josh gave a weak shrug. ‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly.’ His gaze shifted warily. ‘I know she’s been through a lot, but it’s not normal for a kid to not communicate at all.’
He raised a hand as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.
‘Hear me out. Your mother was definitely in the wrong about the dress. That was a whole lot of bullshit.’ He trained his eyes on hers. ‘But I do think she’s right about Grace. There’s something wrong.’
‘It’s called grief, Josh. People shut down when bad things happen. To protect themselves.’ It wasn’t a revelation, wasn’t anything you didn’t learn in Psych 101, but the undeniable reality of the words made her catch her breath. ‘She just needs time. And love.’