Page 75 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
Cynthia feels the way she always has when her daughter is in pain: she wants to simultaneously cry and attack whatever the cause of the pain is.
‘Darling,’ she says, putting her hand on Odette’s knee.
‘Don’t, Mum,’ Odette says, but it doesn’t sound like she means it. In fact, it sounds like she wants nothing more than for Cynthia to comfort her.
‘What is it?’ Cynthia urges gently. ‘I mean, apart from the fact that becoming a mother can be quite overwhelming.’
‘It’s not Jordan,’ Odette says quickly, but now tears are rolling down her cheeks. ‘I love him. He’s the best.’ Her smile shows that she means it, but then her face falls again.
‘Then … ?’ Cynthia says. She looks up at her father, who is frowning, his arms folded across his chest. He’s never been that comfortable around emotional women and she’s not sure how he’s taking this.
‘Is it Ash?’ Another prod, and a fairly safe guess.
Odette blinks away some tears just as Jordan squawks. She picks him up and holds him against her chest.
‘It’s not just Ash,’ she says, then sighs, and sighs again. ‘It’s going to sound bad,’ she continues, and glances at Wilfred.
‘We can handle it,’ says Cynthia, although she’s now wondering what’s been going on to make her daughter feel this way. She’s living with Pat – hasn’t he noticed that she’s so upset?
‘That we can,’ Wilfred affirms.
‘I don’t want to live with just men,’ Odette says quickly. ‘Dad’s been great but …’ Her eyes meet Cynthia’s and Cynthia can see what’s there: the desire to not betray her father coupled with a desire to not betray herself.
‘But he’s never given birth,’ Cynthia finishes for her. ‘And neither has Ash.’
She can guess what Odette wants to say and looks up at her father, whose face is now passive.
‘And neither has your grandfather, but I suppose having raised two children to adulthood he understands a thing or two.’
Wilfred nods slowly.
There’s a comfort, Cynthia thinks, in reaching a stage in life and in your connection to another human being that means you can communicate wordlessly. It makes moments like these a lot easier.
‘You want to move in here, don’t you?’ Cynthia says and is rewarded with relief on Odette’s face.
‘Is that all right?’ Odette says quickly.
‘You’re not even going to pretend to not like the idea?’ Cynthia teases, because part of her can’t believe it was so recently that Odette was acting as if she was the worst person in the world.
She’d think it was funny, except she well knows how profoundly motherhood can change a person and how things you thought were all fine and lovely beforehand become unacceptable, and vice versa. There is no preparation for the bomb of hormones and sleeplessness and need and pure, unselfish love that motherhood drops into your life and, therefore, no way of knowing how you’ll feel once it happens.
Odette starts to laugh then it turns into crying. ‘I need my mummy,’ she whispers, and once again she is the baby Cynthia would cradle in the wee hours, just the two of them on the couch watching the sun rise, Cynthia feeling like she could never love anyone the way she loved Odette and resolving to never say it out loud, because Pat, for one, would wonder if that meant shedidn’t love him as much. And she didn’t. Not in the same way. That was her secret, though; hers and her baby’s.
‘Of course you do,’ Cynthia responds, and she reaches over to wipe away Odette’s tears with her thumb.
‘I’ll go and talk to Pat,’ Wilfred says. ‘Collect your things.’
‘No, Pa, that’s okay,’ Odette protests.
‘Let us look after you, pet,’ he says, then he bends down and kisses the top of her head. ‘You have a big job to do.’
‘What about Ash?’ Cynthia says.
‘What about him?’
The steely pre-motherhood Odette is back and Cynthia feels pleased to see that she hasn’t lost that aspect of her personality. She’s going to need it once she has to deal with parent–teacher nights and birthday party negotiations.
‘You need to tell him.’
