The Mother-in-Law(57)

“What about the kids?” he says.

“I’ll handle the kids. Go.”

Finally he does, catching a ride with an old friend of Tom’s.

I am standing there, with Edie hanging off one leg, when another mourner approaches me. She’s young, perhaps five or ten years younger than me, and her skin a beige-brown color. The man beside her looks vaguely familiar.

“You are Lucy,” the woman says.

“Yes,” I say. My gaze moves back to the woman. I don’t think I’ve seen her before, but then again, there have been a lot of people here today that I haven’t recognized. “Have we met?”

She smiles. “I have seen your picture at Diana’s house.” She’s wearing a black long-sleeved dress and black boots with an emerald green headscarf. “I am Ghezala. This is my husband, Hakem.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. How did you know Diana?”

“I was pregnant when I came to Australia,” Ghezala says. “Diana was wonderful to me. She was there when I gave birth to my son Aarash on my kitchen floor.”

“That was you?” I exclaim. “I remember hearing about that.” It’s hard to forget the image of Diana on the floor, let alone delivering a baby.

Ghezala smiles. “She was a very good woman.”

“And what do you do, Lucy?” Hakem asks.

“I’m a stay-at-home mum at present,” I tell him. I’ve been asked this a lot today. (What are you up to these days, Lucy? What are you doing with yourself now that you’ve finished having babies?) I don’t usually especially care what other people think, but with our new bankrupt status, and the extent of our debt, I can’t help but wonder . . . What am I doing with myself? I’d been so determined to be a stay-at-home mum, so keen to do as my own mother did, that I’d never questioned it. Now, suddenly, I was questioning it.

“I was a recruiter in a past life—” I start, but Hakem cuts me off.

“It must be in the family. Diana found me my job, several years ago when I couldn’t get an interview in this country. Now I am an engineer again, because of Diana.”

That’s when I realize where I know him from. That day, at Diana’s house. I remember the way he thanked her, the extent of his gratitude. I remember the way Diana had brushed it off like it was no big deal.

“Actually, just yesterday Hakem and I were invited to have seats on the board of Diana’s charity,” Ghezala says. “It was her wish that the board have representation from refugees.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say. “Diana was passionate about that charity.”

“We will make sure her legacy is carried on. We will make her proud.”

I pause, thinking about how that was all I wanted for the longest time, to make Diana proud.

Ghezala takes my hand. “Diana was in the business of giving people chances,” she says. “But maybe, she was so busy looking at the problems in the world, she forgot to give chances to those right under her nose.”

I smile at Ghezala and just like that, after her death, I understand Diana a little better.





36: DIANA


THE PAST . . .

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Tom says to me, as I slide out of my hospital gown.

“I’m fine. It was a small knock to the head. It was a lot of fussing about nothing. The hospital only kept me overnight in case I sued them for a slippery floor or something.” I step into the trousers Tom brought for me.

“I still can’t believe Lucy pushed you.”

“She was worried about Harriet, Tom. As we all are. That should be our focus right now, not this silly bump to my head.”

I slip on my blouse and start matching up the buttons.

“Are we going to pop up to the ward to see Harriet before we go?” Tom asks.

I hesitate. “I don’t think I should.”

“Nonsense. You’re her grandmother.”

“Lucy made it very clear—”

“Lucy was emotional. She didn’t mean what she said or did. She’ll probably apologize when she sees you.”

Tom is the eternal optimist but I don’t share his confidence. He didn’t see the emotion behind Lucy’s words. Since yesterday, the only news I’ve had was a text from Ollie, saying: Harriet awake. MRI looked good. I’d heard nothing at all from Lucy, despite calling three times. “I’m not sure about that, Tom.”

“We’ll stop by on our way to the car,” he says firmly. “It will all be fine, you’ll see.”

When we arrive at Harriet’s room, Lucy is sitting on a chair that has been pushed up to Harriet’s bedside. Her back is to us. From the doorway, I can hear her humming “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” even though Harriet appears to be sound asleep. She’s a good mother, I have to admit. It occurs to me that I’ve never told her that.

Tom lifts his hand to knock on the door, but I grab it before it connects. “I just want to watch them,” I whisper. “Let’s just watch for a moment.”

And so, we watch. And for the first time, I really see Lucy. Not a girl who was handed everything. A girl who knew what she wanted. A family. A girl who has stood by my son and her children, and even me, in spite of hardship. A girl a lot tougher than I gave her credit for.