Sometimes when mum was busy picking up medication or going to the supermarket, I'd sit at the kitchen table with my grandmother and we'd sip tea and she'd tell me stories. 'When I was younger I used to wear a hat to the shops. If I was having a bad hair day it didn't matter. I'd put on a hat and a coat and go to the supermarket and I'd look decent. Of course in those days we didn't have a refrigerator, all we had was an ice box, so I had to go to the store every day. It was hard when I had to drag the three girls along before they were in school. I had one year when they were all at home, can you believe it? Three girls under five. I don't even know how I did it. I had three hats; my every day hat, my good hat for church and my very best hat for weddings. Oh, and a sun hat for the beach. I had four hats, in fact.' She paused. 'Have you got any biscuits? I don't need to watch my weight anymore.'
I stood up and found some Kingston biscuits in a tin. She took two and placed them beside her tea cup. She was still in her navy blue dressing gown, but she'd put pink lipstick on and her thin grey shoulder-length hair was brushed and neat.
'How's your mum and dad going?' she asked.
'I don't know,' I admitted. 'Okay I guess.'
'Don't tell anyone,' she whispered, leaning in, 'I tried to walk out on your grandfather one day. I was working for Mr Wilson at the Commonwealth Bank in town. I'd bought the beach box, I'd saved some money in the bank. The girls had all left home and had husbands, my parents were dead, there was no shame in it anymore. I'd done my job. I had my suitcases packed in the boot of the car and I drove to the station where I used to park to get the train into town. My plan was to not go home that night from work – just to get in the car and drive to a hotel in Oakleigh. I'd made a weekly reservation. You wouldn't believe it. I was on the train that morning and at the next station three nuns got on, wearing habits and everything. You know where they sat? Right beside me. It was like a message sent from God that my job as a good moral citizen was not over yet. I had to return home that night to my husband. So I did.
'Your grandfather was such a bore. He frustrated me so much by then. There was absolutely nothing left between us. After the girls left home, we had no common interests. He didn't feel a single emotion unless his football team lost. But, anyway, after I saw those nuns on the train, I returned home. I was trying to do the "right thing". I've always wondered what if there is no "right thing"? What if the "right thing" is the "wrong thing"? He got sick a few months later and then I had to care for him for the next ten years. You can't leave a sick man, that's definitely the "wrong thing". So I was trapped for another ten years.
'What I guess I'm saying is you can't spend your life trying to please other people, because you end up trapping yourself. And sometimes you can give and give and give and get nothing in return. You need to know when to leave a relationship. That's the most important advice I have. Know when to leave. Repeat after me, know when to leave.'
'Know when to leave,' I repeated.
'Excellent. If you know that, you'll always be fine.' She smiled to herself, the legacy years shining in her eyes – imparting a lifetime of wisdom on her granddaughter. She took a bite of her Kingston biscuit and said, again, 'I don't have to watch my weight anymore.'