Because Ro had never admitted to the break-up with Gerry, her mother’s enthusiasm had never flagged.
‘How’s that nice Gerry?’ she continued to ask.
And each time Ro made up an evasive answer.
‘Gerry’s well,’ she would say. ‘Busy with the farm. Did you watch The Living Planet?
When Gerry died, Ro had to give up evasion.
‘She’s dead,’ she said baldly. Seeing her mother’s shocked face she realised all over again that it was true. Gerry was dead. She burst into tears.
Elsa had never been one for cuddling her children. There had not been much space in her own dour childhood for such indulgence. And the struggle to support Ro and Murray after their father died took all her energy.
But now she moved over to sit beside Ro and took her hand.
‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said. ‘That lovely girl.’
Ro was past correcting her mother’s use of girl. ‘Woman,’ she would normally have snapped. ‘She’s an adult woman, not a girl.’
But now she put her head on her mother’s knee and cried. Elsa stroked her hair and eventually, when Ro had quietened down, she spoke.
‘What happened?’
‘Her car went off the road. In the mountains. Near where she lived.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘But that’s not all. They think, the police, that she did it on purpose.’
‘On purpose? What do you mean?’
‘Killed herself. They think she killed herself. There were no, you know, skid marks. She didn’t use the brakes.’
‘Oh my goodness.’
Ro sat up, sorry that she’d said so much. Her mother was stricken, shrinking down in the chair.
‘That’s terrible,’ she said.
Ro blew her nose, immediately on the defensive, her highly-developed radar for conservative dogma switched on.
‘It’s not immoral you know. Or wrong. She wasn’t a Catholic or anything.’
Elsa straightened her back.
‘That’s not what I meant. Not that sort of terrible. Just … how awful to feel that bad.’
‘Oh. Yeah.’
Elsa plucked at her fingers. ‘It’s always worried me. You know, the way you all live. I get scared. It’s an awful thing to say. Oh God. But I’m so glad it wasn’t you.’