A good winter, p.3
A Good Winter, page 3
I wished that I’d known them then. That I’d been there for Lara when Howard died. When she fell apart. I felt bad that I wasn’t there when she was falling apart and casting around for someone to hold her. For someone to hold her and say, I’m here. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I’m here.
I wasn’t there when Howard died, but I was there that winter. I was there to develop a battle plan for Lara.
I thought about those things, and I didn’t let myself worry about how Sophie could be snippy sometimes. Or about what would happen in three weeks if Sophie wanted the psychologist.
Three weeks was long enough to make a plan. A plan to protect Sophie from some quack who was rushing her to get better. Who didn’t want her to take things at her own pace.
If Sophie didn’t want a quack psychologist, I’d make sure she didn’t get one. I’d honour her wishes.
4
As it happened, Sophie got out of bed. Two weeks after we drew up our battle plan, she got up and got dressed in the morning and started pottering about the house. As if she knew that she had to do something if she wanted to avoid the quacks.
She still wasn’t leaving the house. There were still a lot of tissues about, but she got out of bed, and I could say to Lara, You see. There’s no need for a psychologist. I could say, She’s healing. If we bring in a psychologist, she’ll think we don’t trust her. She’ll think her own mother considers her crazy. She’ll think she’s not allowed to grieve.
Let the child grieve, I said to Lara. Let her grieve at her own pace. No need to rush things, I said.
Lara listened to me. She took my advice. She knew I was right.
I discussed it with Sophie just to be sure.
The thing is, psychologists tend to blame the mother. Sophie knew this, but I reminded her—gently, of course, that Lara might feel exposed if Sophie saw a psychologist. That Lara had given up her job to be with Sophie. That she also needed looking after.
I reminded Sophie that she was getting better on her own. That she’d already improved dramatically.
I guess I was so tied up in protecting Sophie from the psychologist that I didn’t think through all the implications of the improvement. I underestimated how readily Lara would rely on Sophie’s improvement, how a little improvement could mean a lot of change.
That little improvement meant a lot of change. No sooner did Sophie start dressing herself in the mornings and putting Michael to bed on her own. No sooner did she start doing that than Lara told me she wouldn’t be going to Sophie’s for a whole weekend because—I couldn’t believe my ears—because that Glynis was going to be sleeping over for two nights. Glynis and Sophie were going to have the house to themselves for two nights.
I was shocked.
I asked Lara, What about Michael? They can’t look after him on their own.
I could picture what would happen. It would start off well enough. Two little girls playing house with their little doll. But then Michael would need a nappy change, and then what? Not such a cute little doll anymore, is he? Or when he realises that his routine has gone to hell and he starts crying. Not such fun playing housie when there’s a screaming baby involved, is there?
I said to Lara, He knows his routine. And what about the feeding? What about when he’s hungry? I said.
Lara laughed at me. Actually laughed. And she said, Oh, Olga, you’re a bit of a fussbudget aren’t you?
I managed to smile even though I was upset by that. I was upset because I am not a fussbudget and it’s not funny to call someone a fussbudget. I knew she was only joking, I told myself she was only joking, but still.
I managed to smile even though I was upset. I managed to smile, but I did say, It’s not for nothing I’m worrying. I mean, let’s face it, Sophie’s not exactly up to looking after him, and Glynis is…well, Glynis is silly.
It’s good that I managed to smile because Lara said I was right—Sophie hadn’t been at her best for ages, and Glynis was a bit silly. But then she said that Sophie was doing much better, that she was feeding Michael fine and that Glynis, silly as she is, is really good with Michael. She said, It’s about time Sophie took more responsibility. She said, I’m so pleased they’ve made this plan. It’s the best thing that’s happened in ages.
Then she said, You need a break from my demanding family and I…I’ve arranged to see some of the friends I’ve been neglecting lately.
Lara is a good mother. Far be it from me to criticise her mothering. But to leave Sophie and Michael because she wanted to see her friends, to neglect her own daughter so that she could go gallivanting, did not seem like good mothering to me. That did not sound like a good idea to me. That plan did not seem like the best thing that had happened in ages. That plan was trouble.
I tried to tell Lara why it wouldn’t work, why it was a mistake to leave them on their own. I wanted to tell her that Sophie still needed us. I tried to tell her, but they’re hard messages to give and I got all tongue-tied and flustered and I let Lara distract me because then she said, Olga, do you know what?
I was relieved to be interrupted in my flustered gabbling. Relieved and grateful. Because Lara could see I was struggling to say the right thing. She could see that the moment needed to be interrupted. So she said, Olga, do you know what we should do? We should go and see a movie.
That stopped me in my tracks, I can tell you. A movie.
I’ve always liked going to movies. Movies are my thing. You’d think I’d like television too, but I don’t. I only like movies. I’m funny that way. I like books and I like movies, but I don’t like television. Funny.
Lara watches television sometimes. And sometimes she watches television series on Netflix. She used to go to that friend of hers, Maxine, and watch Netflix before Sophie got sick. She told me all about it. She said they’d watch a whole series. On the trot. Nonstop. Hours and hours of watching television for days at a stretch.
What a waste of time. Sitting for hours in some friend’s living room watching some stupid American series. A waste of time that stopped when Sophie took to her bed.
Maxine came to Sophie’s house to whine about it. Within days of Sophie getting up and getting dressed, there Maxine was whining about Netflix. She said she was visiting the baby, but actually she was whining in Lara’s ear about how they hadn’t watched their series in ages.
She put ideas into Sophie’s head, that Maxine, ideas about Netflix. She told Sophie about some series and next thing you know, Sophie’s telling Lara about the series, and suggesting that she ask Maxine to come over so they can all watch it together.
I looked at Lara when Sophie said that. I expected her to say, No, it’s too much for you. I expected her to say, You’ve only just started getting out of bed. Those series can go on for hours. You know how difficult Maxine can be. I expected her to remind Sophie that Maxine is a smoker and, really, Sophie needed to take it easy.
Lara said, That’s a good idea.
I didn’t hear anything more about it until a week later when I arrived at Sophie’s and there were pizza boxes in the kitchen and the house smelled of microwave popcorn.
They’d stayed up late watching. Sophie was shameless about it. Proud even, saying, I haven’t stayed up that late in ages.
Lara was exhausted. Michael was cranky and Sophie had a headache. She said she felt fine, but I could see that she wasn’t well. I suggested that she take some Panadol, but she said she didn’t need any, that she didn’t have a headache. I reminded her that you have to keep on top of the pain, that you might need to take a painkiller before the pain kicks in, and she said that, anyway, they’d run out of Panadol. I gave Lara a look then—a look that said, This girl is going through a lot of Panadol. But I said nothing. Far be it from me to criticise how much Panadol a person takes. I offered to go to the chemist to pick up some more—to show that I wasn’t criticising. Sophie said, It’s not necessary. Honestly, I feel fine. I don’t need Panadol. She said she’d add it to the list for the next time someone went to the shops.
I could see the rings under her eyes. When I was alone with Lara, I said to her, Did you see the rings under her eyes? That child is exhausted. I said, I haven’t seen her look that exhausted since those weeks when you were working. I’d come in some mornings and see her with rings under her eyes. Just like this. I said, I’d better go and get her some Panadol.
So I went to the chemist and that gossip Sally was working and I had to make it clear to her that the Panadol wasn’t for me. So I told her how Lara’s friend had kept Sophie up half the night. Sally’s gossiping mouth got twitchier and twitchier when I told her how Lara’s friends had made Sophie sit up all night watching Netflix and now she was sick. Sally said that watching too much TV is not good for people. It can definitely give you headaches. She said she had a patient who had a migraine for two full weeks. I said, Did that woman watch TV? and Sally said, Yes, that’s the thing. The migraine woman watched a lot of television.
I was very worried when I left the chemist. Because Sally knows about illness. She’s worked in that chemist for years.
I told Lara that the chemist said Sophie could get a two-week migraine if she watched television. I felt a bit sad for Lara, hearing such a difficult thing, but it was her own fault. Well, hers and that Maxine’s.
Maxine is a selfish woman. A smoker. They had to pause at the end of each episode so she could go outside and have a cigarette. Lara told me that, and I was shocked.
That migraine scare should have been a wake-up call for Sophie. It should have taught her that she needs to take things easy, that she can’t be socialising and staying up late. I thought she would have learned something from that scare. But apparently it takes more than a scare to teach that girl how to look after herself. She clearly didn’t learn a thing because, just a few days later, there she was, organising for Glynis to spend the weekend, and telling her mother that our services were not needed. And getting me all tongue-tied with trying to explain to Lara that our services most certainly were needed.
I didn’t like having to do that. I don’t like being made to feel tongue-tied.
So when Lara suggested that we go to a movie I jumped at the suggestion. I admit it, I jumped at it. The thing is, Lara and I hadn’t gone out much together. Not in public. I know that it sounds silly, but until then it was mainly at Sophie’s that we saw each other. People hadn’t seen us out together much. I was excited that Lara and I were going to be walking around in public together. There’s nothing wrong with being excited about that.
Of course I was still a bit worried about Sophie and that silly Glynis alone in the house with Michael. I was still worried, but I told myself, Enough worrying. Enough worrying, Olga. It’s not your problem.
Sophie and that silly Glynis were not my problem. My primary concern was for Lara. And if Lara needed to go to the movies, then I would go with her.
5
I bought a pair of beige pants. And a top with leaves on it. Autumn colours. I look good in autumn colours. I bought them at the change-of-season sales, and I got a bit of a jolt when the adverts in the shop shouted that summer was coming. But then I reminded myself that the shops always start doing that in the middle of winter. They’ll say anything to part you from your money.
The beige pants were nice. And so was the top. Lara commented on it. She said, Those colours suit you.
I already knew those were my colours. I am an autumncolour person. I always have been.
When I was younger, my mother used to dress me in oranges and browns. Once, when I was about eight years old, we were all in town together, looking at clothes and my brother started pulling at my mother’s skirt saying, Dress for Olga. Dress for Olga. He was leading her to the girls’ clothes, and she was saying, Aren’t you just the nicest brother? Aren’t you the sweetest, most loving, adorable boy? To be thinking of your sister. He was pulling her and she got into a conversation with the shop girl, saying how cute he was and how adorable to be thinking of his sister. The shop girl said, He’s an angel. Look at his curls. And my mother picked him up and said, Who’s mummy’s little angel? Who’s a little angel? And my brother pointed, like Adam on the Sistine Chapel.
I went to where my brother was pointing and there was a mannequin wearing a bright blue dress with puffed sleeves and a frill round the bottom of the skirt.
My brother said, Dress for Olga. Dress for Olga.
The shop girl came over then, and said, Isn’t it gorgeous, and my mother said, No it is not. She said, Even Olga can see that colour’s not right for her. It’s too garish and bright. Olga looks best in browns and oranges. She said, Like the leaves in autumn. Those are the colours that are best for my Olga. Then she handed my brother to the shop girl and she bent down and picked me up. She put her face to my face so I could smell her breath and feel her skin. She stroked her own face with my hair and said, Look at this golden-brown hair. Look how it crackles like autumn leaves.
The shop girl looked at my hair. She nodded when my mother said, Honestly, you can’t expect such a golden-brown girl to dress in that garish blue, can you?
My brother was reaching towards my mother, wanting her to take him, and, even at that age, I thought, Honestly, Brian, can’t you see that she’s got her hands full? I thought, Honestly, can’t you see that garish colours don’t suit me?
Lara could see it. She knew that autumn colours suit me. She said so.
We went to the cinema that sometimes shows old classics. We saw Hugo and afterwards we went for a snack. Lara suggested it. She’d cried in the movie. Not loudly or anything but enough for me to notice. I’d patted her arm, and she’d given me a weepy smile. I’d thought of teenage boys who use the scary part in a movie to put an arm around their girlfriends. I’d leaned a bit closer to her. Just so she would know I was there for her.
I was pleased there was a happy ending, so she needn’t be sad anymore.
Afterwards she said, Oh my goodness, I actually cried in that movie. She said, I’m a sucker for a sad movie. Especially if there’s a child in it. Nothing like a sad child to make me cry. She said, Even adverts can make me cry—if there are children in them.
I was surprised to hear Lara say that—it sounded so soppy. But I thought about it and I reminded myself that people are complex. Well, people worth knowing. Interesting people are complex. Like Lara—she comes across all strong and capable, a competent woman who can manage any challenge that life throws at her. But that doesn’t mean she can’t also be moved by an unhappy child. You can be a roll-your-sleeves-up kind of person and still be grateful for an arm around you when you’re crying in a movie.
I was thinking about what an interesting, complex woman she was and, as if to prove me right, she suggested we go for a snack.
We went to a place that had a gas heater designed to look like a big fireplace. It was quite busy and most of the people there were young, but Lara just marched over to a table, like she owned the place. The waitress had a ring through her lip. I couldn’t stop looking at it. It looked awful. When she asked me what I wanted, I hesitated and said, Um, um, um. I was making an idiot of myself but Lara said, Why don’t we have bubbly? Celebrate our first days of freedom with bubbly.
The waitress was standing there with the ring through her lip, so I couldn’t ask Lara what she meant about first days of freedom. I just looked at the lip and nodded.
Lara ordered a snack platter too, which was nice because I was hungry and I wouldn’t want to drink on an empty stomach.
After the waitress had gone, Lara said, My treat. This is my treat.
I wanted to object, but she said, Let me do this, Olga. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for Sophie. She said, Don’t argue, Olga, and she held up her hand in the cutest way and it made me smile and I said, Okay, I won’t argue, and she said, Good girl. Good girl, like a mother would say it. That made me smile again.
Maybe I should have asked about the first days of freedom—what Lara meant by that. But she was saying, Good girl, and holding up her hand in the cutest way, and then she was talking about the movie. So we spoke about the movie, and it was nice sitting there, sipping and snacking, looking at the flames from the gas heater. Even though the flames weren’t real ones. Still, it was nice.
Lara was wearing a lovely jersey woven through with shades of green and blue. It looked soft and handmade. The sort of thing a grandmother would make for you. It brought out the blue of her eyes.
Lara has very blue eyes.
Which is interesting because her hair’s quite dark—black almost. Though her skin is fair. She dyes her hair. I know that she dyes it, because she’s told me. It’s not dishonest of her to dye her hair. It’s not lying to dye your hair the same colour as it would be if you were younger. Not at our age.
That’s what I told Sally from the chemist when she had something to say about me dying my hair. Just because I once told her that I thought it was silly to have long, bright red nails made of resin. Maxine has long, bright red nails made of resin. I told Sally about Maxine’s nails and I told her I thought it was ridiculous. You can’t do anything with long, bright red nails made of resin. You can’t work in the garden or change a nappy. All you can do is smoke cigarettes and watch Netflix. And whine in the ear of your friend. That’s all Maxine was good for, with her long, bright red nails made of resin. That’s what I told Sally who works at the chemist, and what does she do? What does she do but spring to Maxine’s defence. As if she even knows Maxine. As if she’s ever met Maxine. Which she hasn’t. She springs to Maxine’s defence and says, Well, you dye your hair.
As if dying your hair your natural colour is the same as wearing long red nails made of resin.
As if dying your hair your natural colour is garish and common.
There is nothing garish about Lara. Or common, but she dyes her hair and it’s lovely. She has dark hair and fair skin and it’s lovely.
