Joe. Her heart still burst when she thought of Joe, with his lean body and his tattoos. He’d put a tattoo with their names entwined in rose thorns on one wrist. She wondered if he still looked at it and thought of her.
Molly put the gerberas on the hall stand. They would be one of the first things the kids would see. She put sausages on the stove to parboil so they’d cook quicker on the griller. She made raspberry cordial and put it in the fridge to cool. The fridge had spots of rust all over it and the handle was held on with tape, but it still worked.
Molly had scrubbed layers of grease from the kitchen walls and wished she had time to paint them. She wanted new cupboards but had to settle for washing the faded curtains Grandma had made many years before to cover the shelves.
From the kitchen window, she looked at the backyard, which Steve and Nathan had made secure by replacing the old fence planks with pieces of galvanised iron and patching up the side gate with bits of timber and securing it with a chain.
Molly walked through the house, imagining what the kids would see. She went to her favourite rooms first. They were the two kids’ rooms. She’d put as much effort and money as she could into making them cosy. The fresh paint smell had disappeared and she had hung mobiles she’d found in an op shop in the twins’ room, one over each cot.
The bare floorboards, which had been under the wrinkly old carpet in the hall, needed a professional to restore them properly, but Molly had scrubbed and polished them herself. Not too bad a job if you didn’t look too closely.
She opened the freshly painted front door and placed a mat that read ‘Welcome’ on the landing, hoping the kids would feel welcome and loved. The front steps to the veranda were old but clean. She put her foot on the bottom step, the one she’d feared the kids would trip on. It was smooth and solid.
The sound of children’s squeals and their footsteps on the ground made Molly look up to see her two boys racing down the front path towards her.
She knelt to embrace them. ‘Daniel, Matthew, I love youse so much.’
‘Is this our home now?’ asked Matthew.
‘Soon. Lovey, soon.’
The twin girls, Emma and Grace, stood shyly behind, either side of Sophie, holding her hands.
‘Hi, girls! My, how pretty you look. Come an’ give Mum a hug.’ The girls went forward into Molly’s arms while the boys took off into the house.
‘I’ll bring the children to you each time,’ said Sophie. ‘Today I’ll stay here, in the background, and if all goes well, which I’m sure it will, you’ll have ’em all to yourself next time.’
Molly showed the children their rooms. The boys argued over who would have which bed.
‘I’m worried about the double bunk in the boys’ room,’ said Sophie. ‘They aren’t recommended for children under nine years old and that one doesn’t have a railing.’
Joe’s mate Greg had found the double bunk by the side of the road and screwed it together so tight she couldn’t make them into single beds. He’d promised to find a railing, but so far hadn’t.
‘I’ll sort it out for next time,’ said Molly. ‘Come on, let’s see the backyard.’
‘Can we have morn’ tea out here?’ asked Daniel.
‘Yes, we can. How ’bout you all help me?’
They set up a folding table and matching chairs that Claire had sent over. Molly pulled out an embroidered tablecloth and brought out Grandma’s wooden tray with drinks and a birthday cake with pink icing.
Sophie took a cup of tea and sat on an upturned crate at the back of the garden.
Molly lit two candles and placed them on the cake and they sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Grace and Emma.
‘Ouch,’ said Grace. ‘Mattoo pinch.’
‘Matthew, behave yourself,’ said Molly.
‘Don’ hit me,’ cried Matthew.
Molly shuddered, trying to shake away the memory of those awful days when she lashed out at Matthew.
‘Do you want to stay with me?’
‘’Course,’ said Daniel.
Matthew kicked his shoe on the wall.
‘What about you, Matthew?’
‘Dunno if I can be good all the time,’ he said.
Molly’s eyes stung with the glare of the sun on her tears. She swallowed and sighed.
‘It’s all right, Matthew. Whatever happens, I promise you with all my heart I won’t hit you,’ she said. ‘I want you back so much it hurts right here.’
‘Dere?’ Emma touched the spot on her chest that Molly had pointed to.
‘Yes, sweetie, there. Come on now, we still have some cake left and so much to do today.’
*
Two weeks later, Molly stood in the doorway of the girls’ bedroom. She had applied the second coat a few days earlier but there was a lingering smell of paint. She opened the windows and turned on the fan she had bought from the charity shop. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch it went as the blades tapped the wire. It would do for this job. Fortunately, the hot weather was behind them and she’d save to get a proper fan before next summer.
She fingered the curtain she’d made from the material Claire had given her. Grandma would be pleased at how much sewing Molly had been doing. Molly wished she’d paid more attention and let Grandma teach her to sew properly, but Molly was pigheaded. ‘You’ll pay a high price for being so stubborn,’ Grandma had said. Molly had ignored Grandma’s warning time after time until it was too late.
No use crying over spilled milk, she told herself, mimicking her grandma’s voice. At least she had Grandma’s old sewing machine, which still worked. And she realised she’d picked up a lot of skills on her many stays at Grandma’s house when she was growing up.
Molly checked the biscuits she had in the oven. They smelt wonderful, just like Grandma’s had. The recipe was on a piece of paper Molly had found when she cleaned behind the pine dresser looking for the source of an awful stink. After much searching, she found a dead mouse in the back of the old dresser. In the process, she had pulled out all the drawers and there, in the second drawer, a bit tattered and torn, was the recipe.
She could just read Grandma’s writing. Anzac Biscuits, it read, and Molly’s mind went right back to the days when she had watched in amazement as the butter mixture frothed up to the top of the pan when the bicarbonate of soda was put in. Now she had to make sure she didn’t overcook them. Nothing worse than burnt biscuits, Grandma used to say.
She would like to keep the dresser, even though it could be worth a lot of money; she couldn’t imagine the kitchen without it. The kitchen was a large room, with a worn electric stove in the place where the fuel stove would have been.
Molly placed the biscuits on the kitchen bench to cool. She tried to breathe regularly to calm the fluttering in her chest. She imagined putting her fears into the little box in her head, as Grandma used to suggest. Molly wondered what would happen when the box was filled up with all the things she didn’t want to think about. Grandma hadn’t explained that.
No time to worry about it now though, not right before the first unsupervised visit from her children. A whole day alone with the four of them. The doorbell rang and Molly raced to the front door.
It was Greg. Molly’s face fell.
‘Got the railin’ for ya, Molly,’ he said, holding the object and stroking it suggestively. ‘But ya might have t’ put out for it.’
‘Ya must be dreamin’. I’d never sleep with you.’
‘No skin off my nose,’ he said, walking away with the railing in his hand. ‘I’m not that interested in fuckin’ a fat cow.’
‘Good riddance,’ said Molly under her breath.
She was putting the biscuits into a container when the doorbell rang again. This time four kids pounced on Molly – one on each leg, one hanging onto her arm and the other with his arms around her neck. After a hug and kiss, the older two raced inside.
‘Here’s my card if you need to contact me during the day,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ll be back at three. Good luck.
’
*
After the children left with Sophie, Molly busied herself doing the washing. The breeze was up. A good washing day, Grandma would’ve said. Just as well, Molly thought. She had tons of washing to do. The kids had managed to wet or dirty the sheets on their beds and had left clothes behind which needed washing and mending. She took the clothes from the washing machine and put another load on.
When she finished, Molly wandered through the empty rooms. She missed the children when they were gone but had to admit that sometimes when they were here, she wished she was alone – just for a little while. The four of them were exhausting and she’d forgotten how hard it had been to manage them on her own. They had no rhythm together, and they had to learn how to relate to each other. They were four separate bundles of energy, activity, temper tantrums and sullenness. Matthew had wanted to stay in his room. Daniel and Emma had wanted to be outside, to run and play and make towns in the garden beds. Grace had wanted Molly to hold her, and she’d clung onto Molly’s legs.
Molly longed to have someone safe to talk to about her conflicting feelings, to download her guilt, her relief and her sense of loss. At least she had two weeks to prepare for the next visit. It would be overnight, and she was determined it would be pleasant for the kids and for herself.
Late that afternoon, Anna rang. ‘Claire had to go to the doctors and is having tests for her back but wanted to know how the visit went and whether you need anything,’ she said.
‘It went well. I’m okay for now.’
‘Good. Umm. I was also wondering whether you could help me.’
Molly braced herself for another one of those, ‘can you do me a favour by taking one of these expensive things which I no longer need; I have so much clutter in my own house from all my recent overseas trips’ offers.
‘How on earth could I help you?’
‘Well, you see, the place Suitability is renting is being sold and we need to find somewhere else.’
‘I don’t see how I can be of use with that.’
‘We’ll be going to a number of agencies to seek assistance,’ Anna paused. ‘And to do that, we need to have convincing arguments about the value of Suitability. So, I thought it would help if we had some testimonies from our clients.’
Oh, here we go, thought Molly, who was sick of telling her story to strangers.
‘Did Claire ask you to do this?’
‘Not really. I thought of it and wanted to get one or two stories to show Claire and see if it works.’
‘And you want my story?’
‘Yes. I’d make sure you weren’t able to be identified.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re doing so well. And you were not only helped by Suitability, but you are also helping others.’
Molly had felt special doing the makeup class and she’d also helped with ironing and sorting clothes, but she’d baulked at styling. All that running around trying to find something to fit and listening to clients who were fussy. She’d overheard one client go on and on about how she used to wear designer clothes when she was in her former job and how she’d never stoop to wearing second-hand clothes when she got back on her feet. It was all Molly could do not to remark on how the mighty had fallen.
‘Molly, everything you have done so far has been great.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course. Can you help me out? I can talk to you, type it up and you can look at it and make any changes.’
‘Okay. Where would we meet?’ Molly wasn’t sure she knew exactly which one of the Suitability women Anna was, and didn’t want someone else coming to her house and prying.
‘We could meet at Suitability and go to the coffee shop nearby. I could buy you a coffee or tea in return.’
‘I can afford my own coffee, you know.’
Molly wondered where this woman was coming from. She must be old-fashioned, the way she talks, and so officious. Unlike Claire, who was kind even with a plum in her mouth.
‘I know you can. I didn’t mean … I’m sorry.’
‘Well, just so you know. I’m helping in the stockroom tomorrow, so we could do it afterwards.’
She’d have to think about how much of her story she’d tell this Anna. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see her story written down in black and white for all to see.
Molly didn’t know how her story would end. She imagined a happy ending, with the house finished, inside and out. The weatherboard needed a lot of work. It hadn’t been painted since Molly’s grandad died due to the wounds he’d suffered in the Vietnam War, when Molly’s mum was a child.
There’d been three generations of single mums. That’s what they said in the hearing when they talked about Molly’s case, using a fancy term – ‘intergenerational welfare’. Except Grandma wasn’t on welfare, not really. She’d had a war widow’s pension, and constantly reminded everyone she’d earned her right to it.
Molly went out onto the front veranda. The floorboards rattled. She imagined them being replaced and revarnished. The front path also needed redoing. The old mosaics were broken and scattered around the lawn. She grabbed a cardboard box and gathered them up, finding a pile under the overgrown privet. The privet hedge along the front yard used to be neat and even, but now was straggly, and there were empty spaces where some of the bushes had died. A camellia hedge is what Molly really wanted, with deep pink flowers.
The fence also needed fixing. It had been a solid, white picket fence once. Now it was held together by odd unpainted wooden planks. At least there weren’t bike parts strewn all over the yard. Molly tugged out a dandelion. She blew on the puffball and made three wishes. She wished Grandma was happy wherever she was, she wished she could have the kids back full-time and she wished Joe would return soon.
14
ANNA
Once Anna had created space for Rufus in the laundry and filled it with things to keep him occupied, the rest of the house stayed as she had left it. She looked around and was satisfied. There was no dust to wipe, the floors shone and the fridge was full of precooked meals, all labelled and waiting to be taken out and defrosted for dinner.
She went into the courtyard to do some gardening. Rufus rummaged in the foliage. Anna couldn’t believe she’d already had the dog for two months. She’d become used to his presence and learnt enough about his nature to know he’d be content for a short time before insisting she take him for his walk.
Content. She wondered if she’d ever be content again. She was restless and saw how she’d put her life on hold because of her affair with William. She’d helped his career by being a sounding board for him when he had to make difficult decisions and smoothing over ruffled feathers when he was tough on staff. And all the time she’d denied herself opportunities for promotions, for deeper friendships, and for travel. Anna realised how much she’d deluded herself with the promise of a future life and was ashamed of her complicity.
Getting involved with Suitability had given her a reason to get up in the morning and another way of looking at her life and her options. Maybe she could start up a business or travel back to France as her mother had wanted to. Of course, she’d have to decide what to do about the pesky dog.
Anna’s thoughts were interrupted by the pwee-pwee-pwee of noisy miners, followed by Rufus yapping and racing from one side of the courtyard to the other. She would have to take him for a walk soon or he would topple her pot plants over the recently swept pavers. Anna rose, went to the laundry, put her gardening tools away and took the dog lead off its hook. Rufus ran up and down the corridor.
‘Down, boy. Settle down.’ He sat still long enough for her to put on the lead and then dragged her out the door and up the street.
It was a fine Sydney mid-autumn afternoon. Gold and orange leaves hung onto the deciduous trees. The chill in the air brushed against her pale skin. Anna bore no signs of the past summer. No suntan or sun-bleached hair. She seldom went to the beach, even though Sydney was the city of beaches. It was too
far, too hot and too much sand. Anna’s family had preferred the still waters of bays and the banks of rivers to the pounding surf. Her mother couldn’t swim and her father could only dog paddle. They had made Anna learn at the local swimming pool, but she hated the chlorine in the water. If she ever did visit the beach, she preferred to stay under the shade reading.
Rufus pulled Anna towards the canal, where he had smelt something of great interest. The tide was out and the bottom of the canal was silty and full of city debris.
‘I wish people wouldn’t throw their rubbish in the canal,’ a voice behind her said.
Anna turned and saw Ted.
‘How are you today?’ he asked Rufus. His dog, Penny, raced back and forth along the canal edge. ‘If you fall in, I’m not coming in after you,’ he joked. ‘And how are you, m’lady, this fine afternoon?’
Anna felt her face heat up. She hated that she blushed now. She used to be able to maintain a calm face whatever anyone said. Now her emotions slid all over her face and she could feel them from the base of her neck up to her cheeks. Even her nose tingled. She felt ridiculous.
They followed the dogs, who had become best friends in their frenzy to find a way down to the canal.
‘I’m not sure which one is the leader,’ Ted laughed. ‘Your dog seems very single-minded.’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Anna.
‘Ah, finally got a word out of you. So, what have you been up to lately?’
Anna told him about Suitability. He seemed interested and talked about his friend’s daughter who needed help getting a job.
The Changing Room Page 12