Sunny shoved water bottles and muesli bars into her denim handbag, checked her phone was in there, and fetched some more tissues as the kids still had runny noses from their mad cow disease. At least the blisters in their mouths and on their hands and feet had dried up. She paused mid packing to watch her mother.
Eliza laid out the lace tablecloth with care, then placed on it the blue vase containing the cascade of fragrant jasmine she’d just clipped from the front porch, where it wound its way along the balustrade. The mahjong women would start arriving any moment. She was nervous, Sunny could tell. Right on cue, Eliza wiped her hands down her dress, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.
Her mother had only retired at the end of last year from her role as an executive assistant in the state parliamentary chambers. She’d been there for thirty years. They’d sent her off with a huge bouquet of flowers and a gold watch, as well as throwing her a lavish morning tea. The Minister for Agriculture, for whom she’d worked most recently, reportedly gave a flattering speech about how they simply didn’t make public servants like her anymore. Eliza had said she’d seen a few eye rolls between the younger staff members at that. Sunny bet it was true, though. She’d been sorry she hadn’t been there at that morning tea. Her mother had worked so hard to hold the family together.
Eliza laid out the teacups and saucers, while Sunny hunted for matching shoes for the kids. She was sure they had at least eight pairs of shoes between them, but she could never seem to find a complete pair.
Her mother’s scones were in the oven and the mouth-watering scent wafted through to the lounge room where Sunny was on her knees peering under the couch. She’d told Eliza she would take the kids out to give her some uninterrupted time with her mahjong group, but the aroma of those scones was enticing and the missing shoes almost weakened her into changing her plans. There was a cold wind blowing, and she’d much rather be drinking tea and eating scones than out with the wild mini-people.
At last she found Hudson’s missing shoe and hauled herself upright again.
‘The place looks beautiful,’ she said, gesturing to the peach-coloured napkins on the table.
‘Not too much?’ Eliza asked.
‘No, it’s perfect.’
Eliza touched her hair. ‘I know it’s silly to be nervous about something like this at my age, but I hadn’t realised how much I’d miss work and the chats with others in the tearoom. Jenny and I always dissected Madam Secretary the next day, and Helen and I always ran the Melbourne Cup sweep. The younger girls even asked my advice on relationships.’ She scoffed. ‘If only they knew!’
Sunny grimaced, thinking of how much Leonard had put her mother through.
‘But it was like incidental exercise, except it was incidental socialising. It all disappeared overnight.’ Eliza’s face fell. ‘I didn’t realise I’d given so much of myself to the chambers that I’d failed to cultivate a social life outside of it.’
Sunny went to her and hugged her tightly. ‘You had good reason to want to escape into something else.’
Eliza patted her back and pulled away. She looked Sunny up and down. ‘You look lovely. A bit harassed…’ she touched Sunny’s forehead, ‘but still beautiful. You have such a knack for layering clothes.’ She adjusted the teal silk scarf around Sunny’s neck. ‘I spent so much time worrying about you when you were a teenager, and now look at you! A strong, loving and capable mother.’
‘Some days,’ Sunny said, going back to her handbag. ‘Daisy! Hudson! It’s time to go!’ she called.
‘Really, you don’t have to go,’ Eliza said. ‘The kids will check everyone out and then leave us alone. We’ll be terribly uninteresting to them.’
‘No, Hudson’s in a mood,’ Sunny said. ‘I don’t want to ruin your morning tea with a screaming meltdown.’
Just then, Hudson rolled across the floorboards on his skateboard, lying on its deck. ‘I’m hungry,’ he grumbled.
‘You just ate,’ Sunny said.
‘But I’m hungry,’ he whined, jumping up from the skateboard and launching it so it ran into the wall.
‘Hudson!’
‘It’s okay,’ Eliza said, picking up the board and handing it to Sunny.
‘Sorry,’ Hudson muttered.
‘We’re going. Where’s Daisy?’ Sunny said.
‘Here I am,’ Daisy answered, wearing yellow and black tights, a pink tutu, a Snoopy t-shirt and blue gumboots. Eliza smiled at Sunny in an isn’t she adorable? way and Sunny felt her forehead relax.
‘Okay, let’s go. Hudson, you need shoes,’ Sunny said, getting her keys.
‘I hate shoes.’
‘I know. But it’s the rule. If you want to go to the fete, you need shoes.’
Hudson groaned and flopped down on the ground.
‘Bye,’ Sunny said, waving to Eliza. ‘Say bye to Grandma,’ she said to the kids.
‘Bye,’ Hudson mumbled, his face still planted into the floor.
‘Bye, darling,’ Eliza said, kissing Daisy, and then Daisy and Sunny walked out the door.
‘Wait for me,’ Hudson called, jumping up and running after them.
‘Bye, Hudson,’ Eliza called.
Sunny bustled the kids towards the car. She slung her handbag into the front and opened Hudson’s door, then headed around to the other side to open Daisy’s.
Out on the street, she could hear the gentle whir of a slow-moving car. She glanced up briefly, but kept instructing the kids. ‘Sit up straight, Daisy, or your seatbelt won’t reach. Hudson, leave the bee alone and get into your seat, please.’ Daisy opened a kids magazine on her lap.
The car in the street slowed right down and hovered just before their driveway. Sunny looked up. It was a blue sedan she didn’t recognise. It wasn’t a neighbour, she was sure. It was probably one of the mahjong women. The car’s windows were tinted, but she smiled congenially, welcoming her mother’s visitor.
But the engine didn’t cut. It continued to hiss quietly, and suddenly the roots of Sunny’s hair tingled. She straightened, staring at the car, trying to see through the window. The moment seemed to stretch out forever.
Sunny deliberately closed the door on Hudson, then walked around the front of the car and closed the door on Daisy. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at the car, mad now, despite the nerves that flickered beneath her skin.
The car’s wheels began to roll again, and it drifted past them and out of sight.