the force be with you.
Grace
As I tucked the memo under the ribbon and put all the things I had read back in the box, I wondered why she had kept it.
I walked back into the lounge room to check on Grace. “How would you like a bath?” I said to her.
While I ran a bath for Grace, I opened the bathroom cabinet. It is filled with lotions and creams and bottles and little pots. I work my way along the shelves, turning them around so I can see the labels. There are exfoliating scrubs, mud masks, peeling masks, moisturizers, scented oils, day creams, night creams and bubble baths.
Hmm, is someone a little neurotic about aging, then?
I pull out a whole bunch of bottles I find in there and put them into the basin.
I put some jasmine-scented bath oil in the bathwater, walk back into the living room and open the CD cupboard. I put on Chopin and pull Grace up from the chair. I lead her into the bathroom and take her clothes off and put her in the bath. I sit on the edge of the bath and smear a mud mask on her face. I fold up a hand towel and place it behind her head.
Grace lies there underneath the bubbles, looking straight ahead.
“Are you enjoying yourself, turtledove?”
Grace doesn't answer.
I stand up and smear the mud mask on my own face. I turn the taps off and walk back into the living room, leaving the bathroom door open.
I walk into the study and pick up the spooky box. I bring it into the lounge room and place it on the coffee table.
I take out a postcard. There is a picture of a dolphin jumping out of a pool to catch a piece of fish that a man is holding. Words stamped in gold foil at the bottom of the card say, “Greetings from Coffs Harbor.”
I turn the card over. It is addressed to Grace. The hand is old-fashioned, with flourishes and loops on the g's and f's.
Hello my love
,
We are having a wonderful time up here. Your father has almost made himself sick eating chocolate-coated bananas, like always.
I'm looking forward to seeing Aunty Ida tomorrow. We're going to stop with her for a spell. I'll give her your love.
We had dinner in your favorite seafood restaurant last night, the one near the marina.
I know it's corny to say so on a postcard, but I do wish you'd decided to come with us this year, Gracey. A holiday would do you good. It would keep your mind off things.
All my love
,
Mum
I sat there looking at the postcard, turning it over in my hands.
When my mask was dry I put the postcard back in the box and put the box back in the study.
I went into the bathroom and washed the mud mask off my face. I washed Grace's hair and face. I used a big sponge, squeezing the water out over her head. I helped her out of the bath and wrapped her in a big fluffy bathrobe. I sat her on top of the toilet and rubbed some night cream into her face and neck, and then rubbed some moisturizing cream into my own face.
“There, now we are beautiful!” I said to Grace.
I pulled on her jammy jams and put her to bed. I sat up next to her and read aloud for a while. Prickles jumped onto the bed and curled up in the crook of Grace's knees.
Grace's face was shiny in the light of the bedside lamp.
When Grace was asleep, I walked around the house turning off lights and locking the doors. I hopped into my own bed. I lay there for a while on my back, resting my head on my forearm.
I thought about the postcard from Grace's mother. It was an ordinary postcard, saying all the normal things that people say on postcards.
I started to drift off. There's nothing like a bit of pampering to give you a good, long, relaxing sleep.
I took Grace to the movies this morning. There is one of those huge cinema complexes in the shopping center about ten minutes away. Grace's house is so central! If nothing else, this girl has an eye for real estate.
I dressed her up, put makeup on her face and even blow-dried her hair with a big round brush. I didn't dress her in a tracksuit. I found a long burgundy dress in the wardrobe and put her
Grace
As I tucked the memo under the ribbon and put all the things I had read back in the box, I wondered why she had kept it.
I walked back into the lounge room to check on Grace. “How would you like a bath?” I said to her.
While I ran a bath for Grace, I opened the bathroom cabinet. It is filled with lotions and creams and bottles and little pots. I work my way along the shelves, turning them around so I can see the labels. There are exfoliating scrubs, mud masks, peeling masks, moisturizers, scented oils, day creams, night creams and bubble baths.
Hmm, is someone a little neurotic about aging, then?
I pull out a whole bunch of bottles I find in there and put them into the basin.
I put some jasmine-scented bath oil in the bathwater, walk back into the living room and open the CD cupboard. I put on Chopin and pull Grace up from the chair. I lead her into the bathroom and take her clothes off and put her in the bath. I sit on the edge of the bath and smear a mud mask on her face. I fold up a hand towel and place it behind her head.
Grace lies there underneath the bubbles, looking straight ahead.
“Are you enjoying yourself, turtledove?”
Grace doesn't answer.
I stand up and smear the mud mask on my own face. I turn the taps off and walk back into the living room, leaving the bathroom door open.
I walk into the study and pick up the spooky box. I bring it into the lounge room and place it on the coffee table.
I take out a postcard. There is a picture of a dolphin jumping out of a pool to catch a piece of fish that a man is holding. Words stamped in gold foil at the bottom of the card say, “Greetings from Coffs Harbor.”
I turn the card over. It is addressed to Grace. The hand is old-fashioned, with flourishes and loops on the g's and f's.
Hello my love
,
We are having a wonderful time up here. Your father has almost made himself sick eating chocolate-coated bananas, like always.
I'm looking forward to seeing Aunty Ida tomorrow. We're going to stop with her for a spell. I'll give her your love.
We had dinner in your favorite seafood restaurant last night, the one near the marina.
I know it's corny to say so on a postcard, but I do wish you'd decided to come with us this year, Gracey. A holiday would do you good. It would keep your mind off things.
All my love
,
Mum
I sat there looking at the postcard, turning it over in my hands.
When my mask was dry I put the postcard back in the box and put the box back in the study.
I went into the bathroom and washed the mud mask off my face. I washed Grace's hair and face. I used a big sponge, squeezing the water out over her head. I helped her out of the bath and wrapped her in a big fluffy bathrobe. I sat her on top of the toilet and rubbed some night cream into her face and neck, and then rubbed some moisturizing cream into my own face.
“There, now we are beautiful!” I said to Grace.
I pulled on her jammy jams and put her to bed. I sat up next to her and read aloud for a while. Prickles jumped onto the bed and curled up in the crook of Grace's knees.
Grace's face was shiny in the light of the bedside lamp.
When Grace was asleep, I walked around the house turning off lights and locking the doors. I hopped into my own bed. I lay there for a while on my back, resting my head on my forearm.
I thought about the postcard from Grace's mother. It was an ordinary postcard, saying all the normal things that people say on postcards.
I started to drift off. There's nothing like a bit of pampering to give you a good, long, relaxing sleep.
I took Grace to the movies this morning. There is one of those huge cinema complexes in the shopping center about ten minutes away. Grace's house is so central! If nothing else, this girl has an eye for real estate.
I dressed her up, put makeup on her face and even blow-dried her hair with a big round brush. I didn't dress her in a tracksuit. I found a long burgundy dress in the wardrobe and put her
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