The ghastliness of having to share a room again, even for three nights, with irritating little sisters! Heather thought, trying to find space for her clothes. She scooped an armful of unidentifiable cardboard oblongs from the top drawer and hurled them through the door at Cathy, who said indignantly, ‘Watch it—that happens to be my Welcome Home banner for Grace. I was just about to pin it up out the front.’
‘Hypocrite—I seem to remember you wanted to make a Good Riddance one when she left! And you’re only hanging that up because you think she’ll be bringing you back a present from the city,’ Heather scoffed and went stomping out to the kitchen, where Mum, wearing the blouse that made her look like a large floral clock, was basting a roast.
‘I was thinking—maybe I should whip up a batch of Yorkshire pudding just in case,’ Mum said. ‘Men never think a roast is a proper one unless there’s Yorkshire pudding to go with it—but then again, Grace never said anything in her letter about inviting Anthony Robinson in for tea. Just that he’d offered to meet her train and give her a lift home. What a nice, thoughtful young man…’
‘Probably had no choice,’ Heather said indifferently. ‘Grace most likely ordered him to, she always did treat him like something squishy she’d just trodden in. Fancy her having an old flame—even if it’s just Anthony Robinson with his big curly ears. Forget about the Yorkshire pudding, he’ll have picked her up by now and they’ll be on their way.’
‘Oh dear, I wish Grace had said. It’s such a tiny roast, too, barely enough for all you girls, and a wicked extravagance at that. Maybe if I cut all the potatoes in half and made extra gravy…’
‘Mum, stop fussing! He’s not likely to even want to come in, anyhow, after twenty minutes of Grace’s company in the car. Bossy stuck-up hag she is, I can’t understand why he’s still interested. You’d think he’d have found someone else since she went off to the city.’
‘That’s not a very nice way to talk about your own sister, Heather. And another thing—I hope you shifted all your things out of her room like you were told to.’
‘Yes I did—and it’s not even fair! Expecting me to be inconvenienced just because Her Highness decided to come home for a few days! Having to muck in with Cathy and Viv—and muck’s exactly the right word, too! You should see all the apple cores under Cathy’s bed! I can’t believe how revolting it’s got since Aunt Ivy made her clean it out last month. It’s just not fair that Grace…’
‘I don’t want to hear any more of your grizzling, young lady. You’re doing far too much of it lately for my liking. That room’s only been on loan and you’ll have to give it back, anyway, when Grace finishes her dressmaking course and comes home for good…wherever we happen to be living then,’ Mum said, suddenly looking very unfestive in spite of the cheerful blouse.
Heather, too cross to lend a sympathetic ear to that particular problem, took herself off to the veranda, wanting, for devious reasons of her own, to be the first person to see Grace arrive. She planned to nod coolly, say ‘Oh…hello, I forgot it was today you were coming’, then stroll away inside and put her nose in a book for the rest of the evening. But Vivienne and Cathy, perched on the gateposts with the banner held between them, had already set up a wild yell of welcome as Anthony Robinson’s Austin came over the hill. Mum came rushing outside, bright-eyed with emotion, and instantly forgot all about Anthony being invited for tea or not. When she finished hugging Grace and did remember, he’d already put the suitcase on the veranda and taken himself shyly off.
‘Oh, you’ve lost weight, love, you’re thin as a rake! I bet you haven’t been eating properly in the city,’ Mum said, gazing besottedly at Grace as though something might spirit her away before she was safely inside and sitting down at the table. Heather, who had spent much time lately despairing over her own puppy fat, eyed Grace’s trim waistline with jealousy. She’d forgotten how elegant Grace could look, even on limited means, how she could somehow make you feel as though you hadn’t brushed your hair for a week, or had a spot on your chin even though you knew there wasn’t one there at all.
‘What did you bring us?’ Cathy demanded. ‘Can we have our presents right now?’
‘Cathy, that’s very greedy and rude! Leave your poor sister alone until she’s had something to eat,’ scolded Mum, who believed that any train trip was a daunting ordeal and travellers should be nurtured immediately afterwards.
‘I’ll get changed first,’ Grace said. ‘This jacket took ten years off my life to make and I don’t want to get marks on it. But they can come and watch me unpack if they like.’
Heather hesitated, then followed at a distance, because that invitation was of the patronising variety people were inclined to toss at children. But she wasn’t a child any longer—surely Grace had noticed how mature she’d become in the past five months? She’d experienced things—secretly examined all the illustrations in the Home Medical Journal Mum kept hidden in the sideboard, sneaked off with Isobel to see a travelling-tent performance called ‘Murphy’s Follies’, even though everyone thought she’d gone to a special Guide meeting…And this year she’d been to the Show with a boy—even if it was only that galoot Dennis Stivens whose hobby was still making balsa wood aeroplanes! Five months was a long time, long enough for a considerable shifting of position to have taken place within a family. No one could possibly include her in the same category as Viv and Cathy any longer! She hovered aloofly in the doorway, hoping that Grace would look up from unpacking and say, ‘I can’t really expect you to move back out with the little kids just because of me, Heather. How about bringing a mattress in here, then we can have a good old gossip tonight?’
‘What’s all this arty stuff in your port—sketch-books and paints and pencils?’ Cathy asked. ‘If that’s supposed to be my present, you’re going to get it slung right back at you for Christmas!’
‘Don’t touch! They’re mine, I’ve enrolled in an art class as well as that dressmaking thing,’ Grace said, quickly retrieving the sketch-pad before anyone could look inside, but Cathy’s attention, flighty at the best of times, was already riveted upon something else.
‘Where’d you get that silver charm bracelet?’ she asked. ‘You never had that when you went away…’
‘It was a birthday present. Anthony Robinson sent it to me.’
‘Sent you a real silver charm bracelet with a heart dangling from it?’
‘Why shouldn’t he?’ Grace said equably, and distributed her own gifts brought from the city. Heather felt vaguely dissatisfied with the writing-folder she’d been given, because Grace had bought identical ones for Cathy and Vivienne. It was as though she’d seen a display of them in some shop and thought, ‘Aha, just the thing to take home for the children!’
Mum was delighted with her gift of a new handbag, and kept it by her all through the meal, with a pleasure monumental enough to make Heather feel even more discontented. She wished she could be the one returning from the city with grand presents, that someone had given her a pretty silver bracelet with a heart charm. The only gift she’d ever received from an admirer was a brass statuette Dennis Stivens had won at the hoopla stall, and she suspected he’d given it to her only because he didn’t want to be seen carting it around all afternoon at the Show. Enviable, citified Grace, with her self-confidence and polished table-manners…
‘I notice we’ve still got this dreadful cutlery with the handles gone all yellow,’ Grace said. ‘Cathy, you should put your knife and fork side by side when you finish, it looks uncouth leaving them crossed like that.’
‘Ho hum—just like old times, getting picked on at the table,’ Cathy said, and she and Vivienne, the novelty of Grace’s return now having diminished a little, set up a tiresome argument about whether the cutlery handles were ivory or bone.
Heather didn’t join in their bickering. In the past she’d often been raucous on purpose just to irritate Grace, but now felt oddly subdued in her presence. She remained silent, consoling herself with another helping of steamed pudding and custard.
‘I hope hordes of relations aren’t going to be dropping in while I’m home,’ Grace said, not having any of the steamed pudding at all, but finishing the meal with a pear. ‘I mean…it’s not that I don’t want to see them, but I probably won’t be in all that much, Mum. Margaret Edwards and that crowd I used to go out with have arranged a few things and I couldn’t very well say no.’
‘Well, Aunt Ivy’s bound to want to see you, and so will Cessie, but it’s only natural you’d like to catch up with your own friends first,’ Mum said. ‘It’s such a pity you can’t stay longer, dear. Only three days—and the last one doesn’t really count, because you’ll be going back in the afternoon. I just hope Dad makes it home in time to see you, he’ll be disappointed if…’
‘I explained all that in my letter,’ Grace said patiently. ‘Mr Quiller won’t let anyone take holidays just any old time, you’ve got to wait till you’ve been there a full year. We’ve only got these few days off because the office is getting painted and rewired. No one can move without tripping over things, so that old skinflint asked us all to take time out of our annual holidays now. It’s a nerve, really—you can’t call autumn holiday weather, it’s much too cold to go to the beach or anything. And we’re expected back on Thursday, so that’s all there is to it. That job might not be much, but I can’t afford to be playing ducks and drakes with it.’
‘I wish you’d just kept on at the daytime dressmaking course, instead of changing to night classes and juggling a job at the same time.’
‘It didn’t work out, Mum, I already told you. I hated having to ask Aunty Elsie for money every time I needed new stockings. Though, mind you, I get sick to death of that warehouse office, too. Everyone there is so stodgy—they’ve all been with R. T. Quiller and Son for about forty years! They’ve all got their own special teacups and have a fit if anyone else dares to touch them. Or even if you accidentally hang your coat up on their pegs in the washroom—though all the pegs are exactly the same. You should see them when young Mr Quiller comes trotting in with a stack of invoices, their necks go pink and mottled—even though he’s about sixty! Oh, those depressing invoices, all I do all day is stuff them in envelopes and put them through a franking machine. Thank goodness I won’t have to be stuck in a job like that for the rest of my life! Soon as I get through that tech. course I’m going to…’
‘Grace…’ Mum said diffidently. ‘You know Miss Tully who makes clothes for all the ladies over in East Wilgawa?’
‘The old dear who made Hilary’s wedding dress?’
‘And Cathy’s bridesmaid one that Vivienne ended up wearing—but we won’t go into that again now…Well, I heard Miss Tully’s thinking of taking on a fulltime assistant. If you were to go and see her while you’re home, I think she’d jump at the chance of getting you.’
It was impossible to tell from Grace’s face if she were enthusiastic about the idea or not. She pushed the pear seeds into a complicated pattern on her plate and didn’t say anything.
‘I know you’re only half-way through that course, but the rest is only practical, isn’t it, making up set garments and having them marked? Perhaps you could come to some arrangement with the college, send them in by mail and still get your certificate. It seems a shame to pass up the chance of a good steady job, when they’re so hard to come by in Wilgawa…’
Mum’s not saying what she really means, Heather thought uncomfortably—that if Grace was home again and paying board, we might be able to hang on to this house for a little while longer. Grace will understand, though, without being actually told. She’s the clever one in this family, never has to have things spelled out for her. If she came home again right now and got a job, Mum wouldn’t have to worry so much. Mightn’t be so bad…It’ll mean I’d be stuck out in the back room with Cathy and Viv for ever, but I could learn a lot having Grace around. Watching her, how she talks and manages to get her hair looking like that, all smooth and shiny as moonlight…
‘Well…’ Grace said. ‘It’s not exactly what I had in mind, sitting in Miss Tully’s little work-room putting white piping in navy-blue yokes all day long. I remember when she used to come to school sometimes to fill in for the regular sewing teacher, the boring ideas she used to come up with—if you could even call them ideas! I bet Hilary had to give her step-by-step directions to get what she wanted for her bridesmaid dresses. I don’t know, Mum. There are other things I’d much…’
‘I’m sure she’d pay you just as much as what you’re getting at that warehouse place. And you wouldn’t even have the expense of bus fares, you could get down there by bike. Your old bike’s still out in the shed. Cathy buckled the wheels a bit riding round the paddocks even though she’s been told not to, but I’m sure Dad will be able to fix them when he comes home.’
‘Er…one of the pedals is down the bottom of the brickworks quarry,’ Cathy said guiltily. ‘It was Danny O’Keefe, anyway, shoving a stick in the spokes. I’ll get it back, Grace, soon as I get the chance to nip down there when the caretaker isn’t around.’
Grace, astonishingly, didn’t make any fuss, even though she’d chained her bike to a post in the shed before she’d left, with ferocious threats for anyone who dared lay a finger on it in her absence. She seemed far more interested in the pattern on her plate. ‘I thought I’d be down at Aunt Elsie’s till November at least,’ she said.
‘But…that’s six months away,’ Mum said slowly.
‘I know, but as well as finishing off that course, there are…well, other things in the city I’ve got involved with. Friends I’ve made there…’
‘You’ve got oodles of friends back here in Wilgawa,’ Mum said. ‘Eleanor Grantby and the two Edwards girls and all those others from when you belonged to the social club. People you went to school with and grew up with. It’s a shame, having to board in the city away from all your old friends and away from…your own family. But if you went to work for Miss Tully…’
Heather, glancing at Mum, suddenly realised just how deeply Grace had been missed, and that any question of helping out with board money was really beside the point.
‘I’ll have a think about it,’ Grace said non-committally. ‘I mean, even if I decided to take it on, I’d still have to go back until Mr Quiller got someone to replace me. That’s if I even…oh, is that cup meant for me? I should have said I don’t drink tea any more.’
‘Not want a cup of tea?’ Mum demanded, flabber-gasted.
‘Isn’t there any coffee?’
‘Only that coffee and chicory syrup Dad has sometimes when he’s home. Coffee’s supposed to be terrible for the complexion, Grace, and you’ve lost enough colour already living down there in the city.’
‘I meant proper coffee, not that foul chicory stuff. I always drink it after dinner now instead of tea. Aunt Elsie’s got these tiny coffee cups with gold rims—I nearly brought a set back for you.’
‘I’m quite happy with my lovely new handbag,’ Mum said. ‘Only you shouldn’t have spent anything on presents, it’s enough to have you back home again. Oh, I wish the train fare wasn’t so expensive and you could come home at weekends sometimes! Letters just aren’t the same. You always seem to write in such a rush, too, not even saying what you’ve been doing half the time.’
‘There never seems to be a spare minute for writing proper letters. I go out a lot, there’s always something on—like the symphony concerts in the Town Hall. They don’t cost much to get in.’
‘Symphony—what’s that when it’s at home?’ Cathy asked.
‘Oh honestly, Cathy, don’t be so ignorant! It’s orchestra music, people playing different instruments all together, violins and flutes and things. Beethoven’s Fifth, they played.’
‘Beethoven’s fifth what?’
‘Symphony, you idiot! Mum, it’s utterly disgraceful what these kids don’t know!’
‘You always were very musical, Gracie, singing in the church choir and everything,’ Mum said. ‘It’s a great pity we never had the money to have you taught piano.’
‘Yes,’ Grace said. ‘Yes, it is a pity about the piano lessons…’
‘You’d probably find you had quite a lot in common with Miss Tully, you know. She’s fond of music, too. She used to sing at people’s weddings when she was younger, all those nice old songs like “Bluebird of Happiness” and “I’ll Walk Beside You”…’
‘Oh Mum, for heaven’s sake! You haven’t got the faintest…’
‘Why don’t we clear up and have a game of cards like we always used to after tea?’ Heather suggested quickly, not quite sure whose feelings she was protecting.
Grace said that she hadn’t really played cards for months, felt tired from the train trip, and preferred to go to bed. ‘But we’ll catch up on all the news in the morning,’ she said enthusiastically enough.
In the morning, however, Anthony Robinson called early to drive her up the river to visit the Grantbys. Heather watched them leave, observing that Anthony, despite his ears, was actually quite handsome, and that Grace smiled at him as though discovering immense improvements. Grace herself looked quite stunning, and Heather felt numb with jealousy at her gift of being able to transform the most ordinary materials into things of beauty. Like her plain leather gloves, a pair discarded long ago by Aunt Ivy—Grace had cut them to wrist-length and added cuffs made from knitted string, fastened with small leather buttons. Her paisley scarf was also old, but the colours were beautiful and glowing, and she’d knotted it in a special way so that the fringed ends trailed artistically over the shoulders of her beige jacket. She’s like the illustration of a heroine in some magazine story, Heather thought enviously, and quite out of kilter with her own mundane plans for the day, she slumped on the veranda and watched Cathy teeter all around the paddock on the top of the rail fence.
The sobering thought struck her that although she’d done that herself yesterday, madly whirling her arms to balance, such juvenile pastimes should now be discarded. If she wanted to sit in a car next to a personable young man one day and talk knowledgeably about symphony concerts, she’d have to start changing her ways. Yesterday, she thought, with a panicky sensation as though something had been wrenched from her, she’d most likely played her very last game in the paddock with Cathy and Vivienne! But there was no reason to feel melancholy about it, childhood had to come to an end for everyone sooner or later. Grace had made the transition so easily, all she had to do was follow that stylish example, perhaps even catch up and overtake her.
Heather Melling, she thought dreamily, listening to conversations in her head. The belle of Wilgawa…The eldest girl had such class, it was only natural her sister should turn out the same. Inseparable, they are, those two lovely charming girls strolling around town arm in arm, more like girlfriends than sisters…
Cathy tumbled heavily off the last rail, pretended it had been a calculated victory leap, and came rollicking up to the veranda steps. Heather said distantly, ‘You’re so rowdy—must you always charge about like a drunken sailor?’
‘That reminds me, I’m going to make a little jetty thingamyjig down by the river,’ Cathy said. ‘Want to lend a hand? Maybe we could pinch some of the loose planks out of the shed wall—Dad mightn’t notice if we shoved junk across the gap.’
‘You leave everything in the shed alone. Dad’s going to be in a lousy mood when he gets back, trailing all the way up North and still not landing that fencing contract.’
‘Mum reckons he’s not coming home straight off.’
‘I knew that,’ Heather snapped, even though she didn’t.
‘I don’t see how you could have,’ Cathy said smugly. ‘Seeing it was me told to run and fetch Mum because there was a call for her on the brickworks phone. Only fifteen minutes ago, so you couldn’t have known. I don’t know what’s up with you lately, Heather, the way you bite people’s heads off and never want to do anything any more…’
‘I certainly don’t want to muck around building stupid little jetties that just get washed away! Go away and stop pestering me, go away and play with Vivienne.’
‘Don’t you want to hear the rest about Dad? He’s gone off to look at some cheap land he heard about, and he won’t be back till some time next week. Grace’ll be pleased. I know someone who most likely wouldn’t even be hanging around our place if Dad was home—all Grace’s boyfriends have been petrified of Dad! Isobel and me were talking about Anthony Robinson yesterday—want to hear what she thinks?’
‘Not particularly,’ Heather said, examining her outstretched legs critically and deciding to go on a rigorous diet starting from today. Even though Mum was planning to make golden syrup dumplings for tea, she’d just have a pear instead. There were so many things she should do—borrow a book about music from the library, refine her table-manners, never again use vulgar expressions like ‘drongo’, learn how to tie a scarf in that smart way girls who’d lived in the city seemed to know by instinct…
‘Grace came home on purpose to get engaged to him, that’s what Isobel reckons!’ Cathy said. ‘And Isobel should know with all those True Romance magazines she’s got in the carton under her bed. Anthony Robinson hasn’t taken any other girl out since Grace left—Isobel said so, and she can always rattle off just who’s going out with who in Wilgawa.’
‘Rot. Grace only came home because that place where she works has the painters in, she already told us…’
‘You just wait and see. Isobel says Anthony’s the best catch in town, with that furniture store he got when his dad died. And property all over the district, too, so if he and Grace get married, he might let us live in one of those houses and not pay rent! Those Robinsons are posh and he wouldn’t want his in-laws making him feel embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Cathy, and don’t talk like that, either! It sounds awful, like you’re making out Grace is chasing him for his money. She doesn’t even like him that much, anyhow, he’s just someone she used to go to dances and tennis and things with. But there was always a whole lot of them together in a crowd…’
‘Maybe he’ll give us new furniture for free, too,’ Cathy said, unsquashed. ‘Just think—he might be popping the question right this very minute while they’re out on their drive! Grace Robinson—doesn’t that sound weird?’
‘Nick off, you prattling little drongo, you’re just as bad as Isobel spreading gossip around,’ Heather said, but was intrigued enough to take a sudden interest in tidying the front garden. To her disappointment, Grace just got out of Anthony Robinson’s car when she came back and waved a casual goodbye, not looking at all transformed. Heather knew that a person who’d had a romantic question popped at them surely wouldn’t come barging up the front path muttering about the bumpiness of the river road and what a crashing bore Eleanor Grantby was. Feeling cheated, Heather looked bitterly at the huge pile of fallen leaves she’d raked up and the weed-free garden beds, but reminded herself that Grace’s visit home wasn’t over yet.
Next day, despite Mum’s insistence on a round of visits to all the Wilgawa and district relatives, Grace managed to vanish for quite a long time on business of her own.
‘Not really on her own,’ Cathy gloated, coming back from the shops. ‘I spotted her having a peach sundae in the café with you-know-who, and—how about this—she scooped the cherry off the top and popped it into his mouth! I checked up with Isobel on my way home, she reckons that’s a romantic thing to do, even though I think it’s pretty unhygienic myself…’
‘Grace doesn’t like cherries. She probably just didn’t want to waste it.’
‘Well, there’s that party she’s going to tonight. Grace hates parties, but you notice she’s not making excuses to back out of this one. Anthony and her are most likely going to stand up and make an announcement at it—Isobel said so. Betcha she comes home tonight wearing an engagement ring!’
‘That party was arranged ages ago, before anyone even knew Grace was coming home for a few days. And it happens to be for Margaret Edwards’ birthday, so it’s not very likely they’d use it for announcing their engagement,’ Heather jeered, but before going to bed, she secretly snibbed the front door to have an excuse to get up later and let Grace in. Somehow it seemed immensely important that she should be the first to receive any romantic confidences, not Cathy or Vivienne. But Grace, coming home much earlier than expected, just marched in full of indignation about being locked out and having to bang on the door.
After lunch next day Mum cut a great pile of sandwiches for the train trip, even though Grace said she didn’t want them. Mum prepared them all the same, looking so downcast that Heather waited until Grace went off to pack her suitcase and then said, ‘Grace is being a bit selfish really, though that’s nothing new. It’s a pity she didn’t show more interest in that job with Miss Tully. She knows how things are at home right now, this bad patch we’re going through. She’s the eldest, and she should…’
‘It’s Grace’s decision to finish that course, and I won’t stand in her way,’ Mum said loyally. ‘I want all you girls to have something better in life, not have to battle along. And I won’t have you sticking your nose in, either, Heather, and making her feel guilty about it—you’re not to say one word! We’ll manage somehow, we always do. If that land Dad’s gone off to look at is half-way decent, he’ll get stuck into clearing it and eventually build some kind of house. Depends if we can get the bank loan, of course, depends on a lot of things. But I don’t want you spoiling Grace’s last afternoon at home by harping on family troubles! You go and help her pack, it will be nice for the two of you to have a bit of a chat…’
‘It’s just…you look so sad about her going away again…’
‘Rubbish,’ Mum said fiercely. ‘Can’t keep you all tied to my apron strings for the rest of your lives, can I? Got to spread your wings…’
Heather, unsure of her welcome, went to watch Grace pack her suitcase, but when it was finished, received a flattering surprise. Grace glanced at her watch and whispered, ‘Listen, there’s hours yet before that wretched train leaves. Can you dream up some tactful way to get me out of here? I want to buy poor old Mum a box of chocolates to cheer her up—anyone would think I was off to the North Pole the way she carries on. You can come down to the shops with me if you like, but for heaven’s sake don’t let on to Vivienne and Cathy! They’ll only want to tag along, and I’ve had about as much as I can stand of their chatter!’
Heather, elated at the thought of Grace wanting her company and hers alone, went back to the kitchen. She suggested, in a voice as smooth as ribbon, a surprise afternoon tea of freshly made raisin scones before Grace left to catch the train. Mum said delightedly, ‘What a good idea! How about taking Grace out for a walk while I get it ready? You could take her over to see the new Assembly Hall at the high school for half an hour—perhaps make it one hour, then I’d have time to make a nice cinnamon cake, too.’
Grace, in gratitude, let Heather choose the chocolates when they reached the shops. Heather couldn’t remember one other time when they’d walked along Main Street with so much camaraderie. Six months—oh, I’m going to miss her! I need her here, she thought, feeling oddly devastated. Overcome by the confusion of regarding Grace as anything but a snooty, opinionated older sister whose comings and goings didn’t matter in the least, she said quickly, ‘Look, you mightn’t have noticed—Osborne’s have a shoe department now. And they’ve started widening the little lane so traffic can get through to Haymarket Street…’
But Grace had halted in front of the jeweller’s shop and was gazing intently at the window display. It couldn’t be the shelf of watches that had caught her attention, Heather thought, for she had a watch already, but…it could be the display of engagement rings! Perhaps Anthony Robinson really had proposed, just as Cathy said he might! The fact that Grace hadn’t said anything about it didn’t mean much, she always had been reserved and apt to keep things to herself. Very likely she’d accepted, but had told him he’d have to wait until she’d finished her dressmaking course. That course—even at school she’d never been one for leaving tasks lying about unfinished, everything in her life always so manicured and orderly…Heather could recall her sitting up late at night to complete detested school projects, staying home from the beach because she had to study for an exam next day. And even when she’d left school and started work, it had been the same—clothes for the next day carefully ironed and laid out in readiness.
‘I’d like a dark red dress one day,’ Grace murmured. ‘Exactly the same colour as that ring…garnet, I think it’s called. A lovely colour, just like wine. I’d design it all by myself…’
A bride’s going-away dress! Heather thought excitedly. Just because she was making Anthony Robinson wait surely wouldn’t prevent her dreaming about the actual wedding! She’d probably be making secret plans already, Grace always liked to have things perfectly done, down to the last small detail. Hilary Melling’s wedding would be nothing compared to it—and most likely Grace had already decided to have just Heather as a bridesmaid! Who would choose to have immature little girls like Cathy and Vivienne follow them, giggling, down the church aisle? They certainly hadn’t been invited by Grace to go shopping on her last morning at home…
‘Diamond rings are really beautiful, too, aren’t they?’ Heather said meaningfully, basking in the wonderful empathy of strolling along Main Street with Grace, looking in shop windows together as though any age difference had shrunk to a negligible barrier. Such empathy should lead to secrets being shared…
‘Yes, but everyone always picks diamond engagement rings,’ Grace said. ‘You can hardly even tell the difference between Margaret Edwards’ one and Eleanor Grantby’s. I’ll be choosing something more unusual when…’
Heather held her breath. At any moment now Grace would confide in her, as though they were best friends, perhaps even ask her not to tell another soul, certainly not Cathy or Vivienne just yet…
‘Goodness, Mr Ulster never seems to change his window display from one year to the next,’ Grace said absently. ‘I swear that’s the same old dusty blue velvet that was there when we had the farm and Mum used to bring us into town once a month on the mail-van. Remember those days?’
‘Not really. I would have been too small, and Cathy and Viv only babies then,’ Heather said, but a hazy image rippled across her mind, a picture of herself instructed to cling to the side of a pram and not let go, trudging along on fat little legs that wobbled with tiredness. The haziness cleared, and she suddenly remembered with startling vividness the pram being wheeled into a park, a checked blanket spread on the ground, the frantic terror of watching Mum in her straw hat with the flowers walking away, walking through a strange little gate that turned mysteriously around instead of opening. But…hadn’t there been someone else there, too, someone surely no more than seven or eight, but exuding confidence and self-possession? That someone had said calmly, ‘Mum’s just gone to ask the shop lady if she can heat up the baby’s bottle. She’ll come back soon. Don’t cry, Heather, people will think you’re a sookie if you cry like that. You sit here on the blanket, stay right here on the blanket. I’m going to look at the pretty flowers…’ Her own short legs stumbling through grass, tripping on things, her own voice wailing in panic, ‘Wait for me, Grace! Oh, wait for me…’
‘Mum always let us look in Ulster’s shop window as a treat, she’d cross the road specially,’ Grace said. ‘Isn’t it funny how you see things as a kid? I always thought this window was like a magic cave, everything so glittery and sparkling—but it’s really just a few trays of cheap rings and marcasite watches. Remember during the war when he had a little model of Hitler in the window, trapped inside a set of shark’s teeth? That’s gone now, he’s taken it out, but it’s about the only thing that’s changed in the whole of Main Street…’
‘Oh, go on, Grace, there’s lots of new things happened since you’ve been away!’
‘Such as?’
‘Well…there’s Osborne’s shoe department and the lane being widened. And they might be going ahead with the new bridge over the river,’ Heather said, and then, blessed with a dazzling idea, added craftily, ‘Let’s walk up to the corner and look at the photos in the Gazette window.’
The Gazette office was next to Robinson’s furniture store, and Anthony could very likely be attending to the window display. He’d leave what he was doing, his face lighting up at the unexpected sight of pretty Grace, and come out to the footpath. He’d stand there chatting, Heather thought, only she would hastily remember some little article of shopping she had to do, and leave him alone with Grace. For Grace, she thought with a surge of unhappiness, was going back this afternoon with nothing resolved, no word said, nothing to anchor her here unless…‘Come on, let’s go and look at the Gazette photos,’ she urged, but Grace shook her head.
‘Those photos are always the same—someone’s fat wife wearing a revolting big orchid, or people smirking over potty little awards they’ve won at the Show. I’ve got far more interesting things to think about.’
Anthony Robinson really has proposed to her, that’s what she means! Heather thought, aching with happiness. Oh, he has! She’s only going back to the city to finish that course—and six months isn’t all that long when you think about it. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t take the job with Miss Tully, Mum will get along somehow, she always does. And in the spring Grace will come home to Wilgawa for good, she’ll be busy making her trousseau for the wedding…Mum’s going to be so happy, something nice happening to our family for a change! Grace married to Anthony Robinson and living right here in town, I’ll be able to visit her any time I like, she’ll teach me things, maybe I’ll grow up just as pretty and smart…
‘Even if you don’t want to look at the photos, the Gazette’s got this…this lovely new sunblind over the window. It’s really unusual, sort of like a little canopy…’ she gabbled, desperately wanting all those things to be confirmed. But Grace had turned aside and was walking away, through the little park towards the riverbank. Heather, tripping over a grass tussock, hurried after her. ‘Where are you going?’ she called. ‘Grace! We’ve got to get that two o’clock bus back home so you can…’
‘It’s only half-past one,’ Grace said. ‘And I’m going to have hours and hours of being cooped up on that awful train. Oh, if there’s one thing I just can’t stand, it’s being cooped up! I think I’ll go for a nice long run now while I’ve got the chance…’
‘Hang on a minute, I can’t keep up!’ Heather complained, stumbling over Grace’s shoes, which had been kicked off and left at the top of the steps leading down to the river. Heather bent to retrieve them with faint disapproval, for people of Grace’s age didn’t run about without shoes in Wilgawa, it just wasn’t done…Specially not if they were going to be Mrs Anthony Robinson and live in that lovely big house over on the east bank.
‘Here—catch!’ Grace cried, snatching off her paisley scarf and tossing it back over her shoulder.
‘Your hair’s come down all over the place!’ Heather said.
‘You sound just like Aunty Ivy, and who cares, anyhow? Oh, those ghastly visits to Aunt Ivy and all the others! This is the most boring little place in the whole world, same old shops and same old people and conversations! So bored…having to put up with that dreary Anthony Robinson because I couldn’t be nasty to him when his father’s just died. But now it’s nearly over and I’ll be going back home to the beautiful, beautiful city!’
Back…home.
Grace ran along the riverbank with her long hair adrift. She didn’t stop to pin it up, but tilted her face joyously to the sky and spread her arms like wings. A cold wind blew over the water, scattering leaves from the poplar trees, showering her with golden coins.
Heather stood quite still, watching, feeling so desolate she could hardly bear it. She became aware that the sun had disappeared behind a mass of banked clouds, that the season was drawing to a close and winter coming, that the river suddenly looked bleak. There was a sensation of weight upon her shoulders, of a burden that was perhaps beyond her capabilities.
I’ve become the eldest in the family now, I’m not ready for it, she thought, panicking, and opened her mouth to call out, ‘Wait for me! Oh, Grace, wait for me, I want to come with you…’ But Grace had disappeared around the curve where the willows grew, and Heather made no move to follow, not sure if she’d ever catch up.