Trust (12 page)

‘Really? That sounds … unbelievable,’ said Amy, the MA student.

‘Nevertheless, it’s true,’ Miriam confirmed. ‘A lot’s changed. You know, the only reason I was able to study medicine was because the Whitlam government abolished university fees in the early seventies. My family would never have paid for a
girl
to go to uni.’

There was a stunned silence. Jean looked around at the quietened faces. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture. I just thought I could add to the context. Of the novel, I mean.’

‘So, you agree that she was right, Jean?’ said Andrea confidently. ‘The mother was right to leave.’

Jean frowned. ‘No – not at all. Duty trumps pleasure, especially when it comes to family. She was selfish and immature. She had no stickability.’

‘But creative self-fulfillment isn’t just pleasure! It’s hard work,’ said Andrea, with anguish in her voice, and Susanna thought of her handsome pots and what was required to make them, the time and energy squirreled away from the endless duties of domestic life.

‘But no one suffers if you don’t express your creativity, whereas if you neglect your family, they
do
suffer,’ said Jean firmly.

No one but Susanna seemed to hear Andrea mutter, ‘But if you can’t be creative,
you
suffer. Or doesn’t that count?’

‘That’s what I believe, at any rate,’ concluded Jean.

‘I agree!’ said Jo. ‘That woman was so selfish, my god! And at the end, the way all her kids just forgave her – it made me want to throw the book across the room. She didn’t deserve one
shred
of forgiveness.’

‘Ah,’ said Jean. ‘Forgiveness.’

‘And what do we all think of forgiveness, as an issue?’ asked Denise in that bright teacher’s voice.

There was a silence.

‘Well, it’s a good thing, of course, isn’t it?’ said Amy. ‘It’s what you’re supposed to do.’

‘It’s healthy,’ said Andrea.

‘Yes, not forgiving people gives you cancer,’ said Fiona, who’d been quiet, as she often was, all evening. ‘Or is it stress that does that?’

‘But in the book, they made it out to be so
easy
,’ Jo griped. ‘I don’t see how those kids could possibly have forgiven their mother so easily, not after all that.’

‘What do you think, Mum?’ asked Susanna curiously.

Jean took a sip from her glass, and put it down. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know much about forgiveness,’ she said quietly.

Jean was so quiet in the car on the way home that Susanna wondered if she might have fallen asleep. About halfway back to the retirement village, however, her mother said suddenly, ‘Actually, the marriage bar for female public servants was lifted a year earlier, in 1966. I’m afraid I misled you all, for dramatic effect.’

‘Uh-huh,’ said Susanna, amused at this confession. ‘I think that’s permissible, under the circumstances.’

‘You know, when I first I got a prescription for the pill, our local chemist wouldn’t fill it unless Neville came in and said I had his permission.’

‘Good heavens!’ Susanna shook her head. ‘Mum, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know half of what you told us. It makes me think, if
my
generation doesn’t know about how things really were for women, and so recently, then what about the next one? It’s scary. A lot of my students think feminism’s a dirty word, or at least hopelessly old-fashioned.’

‘Except for Miriam, those women tonight have all grown up being able to
assume
their right to an education, a career.’

‘Yes. None of my students, girls or boys —’

‘They couldn’t even
imagine
what it was like!’ Jean interrupted her, the vehemence and hurt in her voice shocking Susanna. ‘Having to watch both my brothers – and neither of them
half
as bright as me – go off to university. While I had to go to secretarial school, and learn shorthand and typing.’

Susanna glanced quickly at her mother’s familiar profile, backlit intermittently by the streetlights. ‘I know, Mum. That’s part of what’s changed,’ she said cautiously.

‘
I
should have been a lawyer!’ cried Jean. ‘Not a legal secretary. I would’ve been twice the lawyer Bob was!’ Bob was her older brother, dead now, in whose law firm she’d worked for more than forty years. ‘Do you know, Susie, even Bob thought I shouldn’t keep working after I got married. And especially after you and Angela were born. It was only because of your father’s health, and that we were so short of money.’

‘Mum, that’s not the only reason,’ said Susanna firmly. ‘It’s because you were a really
good
legal secretary. The best! You know that, and Uncle Bob knew that too.’

‘Oh yes,’ her mother conceded. ‘A good secretary.’ She crossed her arms and sighed. ‘Fat lot Bob’s partners cared: once I turned forty they started pressuring him to hire some pretty young girl, like they had. But Bob wouldn’t. He trusted my opinion on a lot of things more than theirs.’

‘I’ll bet. And with good reason.’

‘This is why I wanted you to have a proper career, Susanna,’ said her mother, placing a hand briefly on her forearm. ‘To have security, and not be dependent on favours. And to be given a bit more respect, for heaven’s sake, than a secretary.’

‘And all those paid holidays, don’t forget,’ said Susanna, attempting to cheer her mother up with a bit of flippancy.

‘
And
all the holidays!’ Jean agreed. Some lightness returned to her voice. Complaining was not, after all, something she approved of. ‘You wouldn’t have got any paid holidays as an artist, darling, would you?’

‘Oh Mum, I would never have made it as an artist, it was just a teenage fantasy. You knew that. You got me to see what good sense it made to be a teacher, otherwise I could’ve just drifted off into —’

‘
You
would never have drifted,’ said Jean sharply. Angie; Angie was the one who’d drifted. ‘The artist’s life wouldn’t have suited you; you were always too responsible.’

And now I only know how to be a teacher; I’ve completely forgotten how to be an artist
. That awful clutch of panic started to wring Susanna’s insides. Her breath came shallowly.
I’m responsible for this exhibition and I just have the one idea, and I still don’t how to get started.

‘Oh, Susie, I had another thought,’ Jean said, turning toward her. ‘About your exhibition. This might sound odd, but what if you were to attend a life drawing class? It would give you impetus, don’t you think? And … confidence.’

Instantly, Susanna’s tension ebbed. It was uncanny how well her mother knew her.
Better than anyone else.

‘I think you’re right,’ she said. ‘Maybe I need to
not
be a teacher for a few hours a week, at least. Focus on
my
creative flow.’ She drove in through the pillared entrance of the retirement village, past the quiet rows of units with their tailored gardens, and swung smoothly into the parking space beside Jean’s small car. ‘Mum?’

‘Yes, dear?’

‘Thank you. For everything.’

They looked at each other, not needing to smile.

‘You’re more than welcome,’ said Jean softly. ‘I always enjoy my evenings with you, Susie.’

‘Me too,’ Susanna said as her mother opened the door of the car. ‘Because I’m with my best friend.’

Jean turned back to her. ‘What a lovely thing to say! A very big compliment.’

‘I mean it.’

They kissed each other’s cheek. ‘Bye-bye,’ they told each other. Once Jean had unlocked the door of her unit, she gave a little last wave, and only then did Susanna reverse the car and drive slowly away.

TEN

Standing up there in front of the congregation in his usual fawn pants and chirpy-chirp smile, Pastor Tim seemed today about as charismatic as a sparrow. Every eye was on the man beside him, with his cowboy shirt and long wavy hair and sea-green eyes, guitar resting beside him. Angie barely heard the pastor’s cheeping about auditions for the band, she was transfixed by Gabriel.
He shines
, she thought,
like the beam of a lighthouse. If I’m ever lost again I need only look for him
.

It occurred to her, daringly, that this is how it must have been when Jesus walked among us.
The way people were so drawn to him
. And just as she was thinking this, those amazing eyes turned to
her
. Gabriel was beckoning her to come up to the stage, to join him! People were turning to look, they were nudging each other. Angie put a surprised hand to her throat. She almost tripped over someone’s feet. Helen, standing at the side of the stage, caught her hand as she went past and flashed her an encouraging smile.

Pastor Tim gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘Girls, ladies: our own dear Angie will show you that you needn’t be nervous. Come and audition next weekend, join your voice with hers, singing with the Faith Rise Band!’ and then he was stepping to the side as Gabriel played the first few bars of ‘Hold On to You’. Gabriel’s lovely eyes held hers, like he was reaching out and steadying her, and he was smiling at her as he sang. She came in at just the right moment, she hit and held every note, and everyone was listening, everyone was watching her.

After the service, Helen said – loud and clear, making sure everyone standing nearby heard too – ‘Pastor Tim wants to start a new coffee-and-Christ chat club for our young mums, Angie, and we’d like you to lead it.’ She took Angie’s hand, smiling, and swung it a couple of times. ‘With me, of course. You’re just the girl we need!’

I’m the girl they need!
A leader! Angie was floating on a glorious, shining cloud. All because Gabriel had seen something in her, something special.
He sees that I am worthy
, she thought with a soaring heart,
and now everyone else does too
.

Finn would have liked to go to Stella-Jean’s place after church, have dinner there like they often did – or used to do. Now that Gabriel was their sharer, they went home, and they ate sitting up straight at the neatly set table. Tonight, Mum was so happy, it was like bits of light were zinging off her, and it was kind of hard for Finn to look at her, and her voice was too shiny too.

Angie always did the dishes straight after dinner now, and Finn had to help.

‘There!’ she said as she put the last dish in the rack. ‘You just dry that one Finnie, and then – it’s our story time!’ Finn glanced at her suspiciously as she said to Gabriel, ‘Before Finn goes to bed, we like to sit together on the couch and read a Bible story.’

No, we don’t. We like to sit together on the couch and watch TV
. But Finn wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that. He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel anything.

‘Beautiful,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’ll come and join you, if I may.’

Angie gave Gabriel a big dimply smile. ‘Of
course
. This is your
home.
’

Finn sat on the couch with his mum and Gabriel sat in a chair close by, holding his guitar, watching them. Finn couldn’t relax with him watching them. He made sure never to look in the man’s eyes; they reminded him of ice cubes, and one time Finn had touched an ice cube that was so freezing cold his fingers got stuck to it. He didn’t want to get stuck to those eyes.

‘You love this special Children’s Bible, don’t you, Finnie?’ Finn nodded; this was true. It was a grand book, with big colour pictures that had a layer of special paper over them you could sort of see through. Angie told Gabriel, ‘It was his daddy’s. Finn’s grandmother sent it from Ireland when he was just a little baby.’ Finn scowled.
Don’t tell him private things like that, about my Daddy.
‘What story shall we read tonight, Finnie?’ she asked, cuddling close beside him.

He shrugged. His thumb wanted to be in his mouth so much, he was scared it was just going to leap in there, but he trapped it under his thigh.
Stay there.

‘You should choose the story, Angie,’ Gabriel said. ‘Read the story of Mary and Martha.’

‘Oh, the two sisters,’ Angie exclaimed brightly. ‘Yes, of course.’

Gabriel strummed his guitar very softly as she read about the two sisters Jesus came to visit, one who worked hard to make Jesus comfortable and cook the meal, the other who sat by his feet listening. And when the hard-working one complained, Jesus told her that what she chose to do was good, but what her sister had chosen was better still.

‘For she has made the better choice, and it shall not be taken from her,’ Gabriel repeated when Angie had finished reading. Still strumming, he said to Finn, ‘You understand what that story is teaching us?’

Finn nodded, and went to slip off the couch, but Gabriel said, ‘Wait until you’re given permission to go,’ and Angie quickly put a soft hand on Finn’s arm and said, ‘Wait’, too.

‘Let’s make sure you
do
understand, Finn,’ said Gabriel in his smooth voice. ‘It’s about making choices, isn’t it? Let’s see if you can pick the right choice to make. Let’s say there’s a boy named … well, we’ll give him your name. Finn. And this boy Finn has a bad temper, and he calls his friend a bad, hurtful name. His uncle hears him and tells him to say that he’s sorry. Finn grits his teeth,’ Gabriel laid his hand flat on the guitar strings and showed what gritted teeth look like, ‘and says to his friend very quickly, “I’m sorry!” His uncle says, “Finn, you didn’t sound sorry. In fact you sounded very angry. If you can’t sincerely apologise for what you did, I’d like you to stop and think about how you caused your friend pain, and pray for God’s help to have a heart of apology.” Now, Finn has a choice, doesn’t he? He can obey and do as he was asked, or he can defy his uncle and walk away, with a bad attitude and a bitter heart.’

Finn sat rigid on the couch, staring at his knees.

‘Which choice is the better one to make, Finn?’ asked Gabriel, so silky. ‘To be obedient and do God’s will, or to be defiant, and not care about how much you hurt people?’

Finn could feel his mother silently urging him to say the right thing.
You’re a tricker. There is no choice
, he wanted to yell at Gabriel – at both of them. But he couldn’t.