‘I noticed your book posters. And all the books, of course.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Gretchen turned to look fondly at the books lining her wall. There were also piles of them on the floor in front of the shelves, and all of the shelves held two rows of books.
‘Yes. Books and my daughter were my world.’ Gretchen sighed. ‘I worked in publishing all of my career. It was wonderful, for the most part.’
‘Do you get to see much of your daughter now?’ Deb asked.
‘No. She died a few years ago.’ Gretchen looked back at Deb. ‘Accident. Luckily I have my grandson, and he visits. Not all that often, but enough. I wouldn’t want him to be here all the time, anyway. He’s a young man. He’s got a life to lead.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Gretchen. About your daughter.’ Deb instinctively reached for the older woman’s hand. What Gretchen had said about her grandson had reminded her of Janice – it was exactly what she would have said.
‘Thank you, dear. It’s a difficult thing. You never think you’ll outlive your child,’ Gretchen sighed. ‘Still, I had her in my life for a good amount of time. I was blessed to have her at all.’
‘I’m still sorry. I can only imagine how awful that must be to live with.’
‘Ah, bless you.’ Gretchen patted her hand, and withdrew hers. ‘So, tell me about you. What brings you to Loch Cameron?’
‘Oh, goodness. Where to start?’ Deb laughed and picked up her cards again.
‘Wherever you like, dear. I’m not going anywhere.’ Gretchen sipped her tea. ‘Tell me everything.’
TEN
‘So, that’s my story,’ Deb finished. They were still playing cards, and Gretchen had laid down another canasta. Deb had never played before, so they were treating it as a practice game. She thought that was just as well, because she was definitely losing.
‘If you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think you’re missing much if you’re not with this Dan.’ Gretchen picked up a card from the centre stack, frowned and returned it to the throwaway pile. ‘Tell me if it’s none of my business, of course. But I always found that being alone was better than being with someone you didn’t truly love.’
‘I know that, intellectually. I understand that. But I guess in the past I was too scared to be alone.’ Deb played an eight, and then realised she shouldn’t have as Gretchen picked it up immediately and added it to a row of eights she already had on the table. ‘Did you… did you ever find love? Real love?’
Deb knew it was a very personal question, but she felt like she could ask Gretchen. There was something about the woman which gave Deb a sense of being in a safe place.
‘I did. More than once.’
‘Did you ever get married? I know you said you had a daughter…’
‘No. Marriage wasn’t for me. I adopted my daughter and raised her on my own. That was how I wanted to do it.’ Gretchen played a three of clubs. ‘You can’t pick up the pack with that one, by the way. But if you have a red three you put it to one side on the table. A hundred points each, five hundred if you get all four.’
‘Right.’ Deb frowned, trying to remember all the rules of the game. ‘But you had relationships.’
‘Of course. I wasn’t a nun.’ Gretchen laughed. ‘Nor should you be, dear. Life is for living.’
‘I don’t feel like I’ve been very lucky in love so far,’ Deb confessed. ‘And with the hysterectomy I just feel like I’m less of a good prospect now. I can’t have children, and I don’t feel very confident. In bed.’ She blushed. Why was she telling Gretchen this? Yet she felt that she trusted the woman.
‘So? Dear, we aren’t just baby-making machines, you know. We burned our bras for more than one reason.’ Gretchen gave her a stern look. ‘Now, you listen to me. There has been a huge change to your body, and you have to give yourself time to heal. Believe me, there’s plenty of time for all that, and your body will let you know when it’s ready for a new lover. Until then, see the world as full of possibility, not restriction.’
‘You’re right. I keep thinking about the Little Mermaid. How she sacrificed her tail for legs but then she was tortured by the pain forever. All for love.’ Deb studied her cards. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing in the game, and Gretchen now only had two cards in her hand, which she suspected was a bad sign. ‘That’s how I felt after the operation. I put myself in this painful position to be able to get my freedom back. It worked, but damn, it was painful.’
What would you do for a baby?The headline of the magazine article Deb had read popped back into her head. There was such sacrifice implied in that question. Give up your independence, your health, your money, in some cases? Yourtime? Possibly, your career – or, at least, a chunk of time at work, and probably change your working hours for a few years after that. Not that sacrifice was wrong for something that was worth it.
‘Well, if you will allow me to interject,The Little Mermaidis a stupid, anti-woman story.’ The old woman adjusted her headscarf haughtily. ‘She gives up all her sovereignty – being a mermaid, a wonderful, magical creature – for a man, and we’re supposed to think that the pain is worth it. As my friend Zelda would say: what a crock.’ Gretchen got up, went to her bookshelf and scanned it for a moment, and then came back, holding a book. ‘Here. If you want fairy tales, this is better.’
‘What is it?’ Deb turned the book over in her hands.
‘Angela Carter. Rewritten fairy tales that are not all about suffering for someman.’ Gretchen raised her eyebrow. ‘You’ll like it.’
‘Thank you.’ Deb opened the paperback curiously and flicked through the pages.
‘You’re welcome, dear.’ Gretchen sat back down, looked at her cards and smiled. ‘And that, as they say, is that. I’m out,’ she said, laying her final cards on the table. ‘Good game, Deb. Not bad for a beginner.’
