Martha was bereft. There had been too many departures from her life. Susie had gone and Tilly had moved out, and she missed how it had been. She didn’t even realise she had liked how it was, until it wasn’t anymore. Tilly’s absence had unhinged them. The family was like a loose shutter, flapping about in the open air. Even worse was the sense that it would all keep going. Ben would leave next. Ada felt it too—Martha could see that something had seeped from her. She had lost her plump cheeks, her strident little moves, her Ada-shaped plans and intentions. She lay on her bed and read books. The house was quiet, motionless. It was Tilly’s fault.
Something had ended for Martha when Tilly left. Her child had gone from her and all that had grown in her to accommodate that child, leaving her empty, like a seashell. She was obsolete in Tilly’s life. Cast off. Her indignation rose. After all that she had given. Martha didn’t even have the satisfaction of feeling that the job was well done. She felt a very secret sense of shame, so secret that, even to her, it had always manifested not as a secret but as an irritation. She was ashamed of the friction there was between her and Tilly—it always rose up, despite promising herself not to let it. She had failed at motherhood, just like she had failed in all those other ways.
Martha had behaved badly—she knew it. When Tilly’s final-year results arrived, Martha had been out shopping. When she arrived home, Tilly was sitting at one end of the kitchen table. Ada was slouched next to her, but she stood up, grinning and watched Martha dump the shopping on the kitchen bench.
‘Guess what?’ Ada said, beaming.
Martha began to unpack the groceries. No one offered to help of course. ‘What?’ she said, turning her back to put the rice in the cupboard.
‘Tilly got her results today—in the post. Guess what she got?’
Martha tightened. She had forgotten that results were due. The jars of nuts weren’t on the right shelf. No one ever put anything back where it was meant to go. She began to rearrange them.
‘All A’s,’ shouted Ada. ‘Straight A’s. She’s going to university.’
Martha’s heart twisted. She kept at her task in the cupboard. She couldn’t bear to look at Tilly now.
‘That’s good,’ she said firmly.
There was a silence. Then Ada began to move again. Her voice rose up a register. ‘Mum? Tilly got straight A’s,’ Ada repeated it as if Martha hadn’t understood.
But Martha had understood. All those lingering disappointments surged forward. That old pain. Tilly would get the life that Martha didn’t get. She turned slowly and bent her head over the shopping basket. ‘Is that what you want, Tilly? To go to university?’ Her voice came out with its cool edge. Martha finally raised her eyes to meet Tilly’s.
Tilly’s face shone. She stared back at Martha inquisitively, and this angered Martha even more. Tilly could never understand what Martha felt.
‘Yes, I’m going to move to Melbourne.’ She instantly looked down at the table, as if this declaration had sapped her of all her courage.
‘Well, don’t expect your father and me to pay your rent. You’ll have to make your own way.’
‘I know, Mum,’ Tilly said, laughing like she didn’t care.
When Mike came home, Ada rushed up and told him too. Martha watched his reaction. He grinned instantly. He hugged Tilly.
‘Well done, poppet,’ he said, calling her that baby name. He was proud. His face showed that plain, unaffected happiness that he was able to feel. Martha was relieved to see it. He had taken Joe Layton’s death so badly. But here he was, grinning.
‘Well, let’s get out the champagne,’ he shouted, rubbing his hands together. Tilly leaned like a swan against the table, smiling. Mike did everything a parent was meant to do. It was easy for him. Martha felt the first pricking of shame, but she hurried away from it and found the champagne glasses instead. She wasn’t going to be left out of this. She made sure to give the first glass to Tilly, and as Tilly stood there, suddenly shy, suddenly overwhelmed, tears welling at her eyes, Martha caught a glimpse of the young girl who had been so much easier to love, and she had to turn away and blink back her own tears.