“When we’ve cleared the attic, we’ll be done.” Maggie was pouring coffee as she spoke. “Did Ian get those tea-chests up the stairs?”
“Yes. But there’s only four left.”
“That’ll be plenty.” Maggie sat down gratefully. Clearing out and cleaning up had gone on for days. Helen had insisted on coming over, but with the baby due so soon she was less help than hindrance.
And her mother’s decision to move had so obviously upset her. She burst out with it now. “I don’t see why you’ve got to go. You didn’t do anything.”
Maggie sighed. “We’ve been over this again and again. I want to go. My little cottage in Pukekohe suits me down to the ground. Your father has been generous, you know.”
Helen only scowled the harder. “So he should be. And now he’ll move in here where everybody knows us.”
“Yes.” Maggie got up and went across to the kitchen window.
After twenty years the view of comfortable houses on quarter sections was very familiar. It might have been harder to leave friends and neighbours if she’d been more certain of their understanding. Everyone wanted her to be vindictive, to grab all she could get. To punish David for falling in love. She didn’t need to. Now he’d got what he wanted, he was as hurt and bewildered as she had been when he first told her about Kitty.
“It’s disgusting, Mum. That woman’s only five years older than me.”
“That woman’s your stepmother now.”
“She needn’t think I’ll forgive and forget. Even if you do.”
Maggie said nothing. No need to upset Helen further. She’d worshipped her Dad; hard to discover the idol had feet of clay. Wrong, perhaps, to make an idol of him in the first place.
David had promised not to tell their daughter about Kitty’s pregnancy until after Helen’s own baby was born. Perhaps if the two women met as mothers, they’d discover other things in common.
It would damage Helen too much to hold out against her father for ever. Oh, if only we’d been able to have another child ... Maggie stiffened her shoulders. No ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’. Helen was twenty-six now. Old enough to find her own solutions.
“What time did Ian say he’d be back from golf?”
“About one o’clock.”
“Better get on with it then.”
“Right.” Helen struggled up from the chair and they climbed the narrow stairs together.
Maggie opened the attic door. “Oh, it is dusty. Do you think you’d better stay down?”
But Helen had crossed the uncarpeted floor to stroke the nose of the old rocking horse. “Horsey! I don’t believe it. Oh, and there’s my doll’s house.”
“Yes. Your father said he’d fix them up if you wanted. For the baby.”
“Ian can do it.”
Maggie shrugged. “If that’s what you want.” She reached over and opened the window. “Let’s have some air while we’re working. I had a big clear out a few years back and there’s not as much here as I thought. Take whatever you want, Helen. Use a tea-chest to pack it in.”
“Oh, Mum. The old photograph albums. I thought you’d chucked them.”
“No. And now I can go through them and sort them out. A job for the long winter evenings when I’m all alone ... Hey, don’t cry. I was joking.”
“But you will be all alone, Mum. Do come and live with Ian and me. We can build on a granny flat ...”
“No, thanks.” Maggie spoke more sharply than she’d intended. She reached out to pat Helen’s hand in apology. “Oh, I know I’ll be a granny soon, Helen. Which I’m looking forward to, but on my own terms. I’ll be glad of a bed when I come up to Auckland from my rural retreat. Glad to take charge of Junior when you and Ian need a break. But do stop acting as if I’m going into exile drear.”
“Oh, Mum, you’ve been so brave about it all.” Helen dabbed awkwardly at her eyes. “If it had been Ian, I’d have killed him.”
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