Maudie

"y Grandaughter will be adopted over my dead body!" declared Nanna Bet with a tone to her voice I had not heard in my entire five years and seven months. I was sitting cross-legged just inside the doorway to my bedroom straining to hear the conversation in the lounge room further along the hallway. In those days, I didn't understand what adopted meant but the "my dead body" bit had me a little concerned. My Nanna Bet was my world and the thought of her dead body was enough to give me goose bumps.

The discussion grew louder and I was becoming more and more concerned when the lounge room door flew open. A rather large lady in a grey felt cape, with a grey felt hat complete with a large grey feather strode up the hall towards the front door, grabbed her walking stick from the hall stand and fairly bustled out the front door.

"Don!" she demanded "take me home."

Don came out of the lounge room, shrugging his shoulders and looking very uncomfortable, he followed her outside and quietly shut the door.

"Oh, that Maudie is impossible," cried Nanna Bett and again the tone in her voice made me scurry back to bed and hide under the blankets, where I should have been all along.

Agatha Maude; fancy being christened with a name like that. Perhaps in 1892 the name Agatha was considered cute or pleasant, or perhaps her parents had a sick sense of humour. No one ever called her Agatha though, except the taxation and the Probate Offices. It was always Maud or Maudie.

Maudie was my maternal Grandmother and the total opposite to my precious Nanna Bet. She was a well built woman, taller than most, pear shaped with thinning grey hair often disguised by a blue rinse and her very presence felt threatening to me.

The day of my mother's funeral she took me to the pictures to see The King and I. Now at the time I was happy to be going to town on the tram in a nice new outfit complete with hat and gloves and I thoroughly enjoyed the King and I. It wasn't until years later that I realised how unusual this event was.

Maudie hated funerals, she felt that they were no place for little girls and so the pictures solved it all. I didn't see her again until that night some three weeks after my mother had died and I was not supposed to see her anyway I was supposed to be asleep.

The purpose for the gathering was to discuss my future and the options were few. My Dad had arranged a meeting with both sets of grandparents and it obviously didn't go too well. Maudie in her usual domineering manner had told everyone that she had a dear friend who would love to adopt me. After all, Nanna Bet was getting on and had done her bit looking after my mother during her long illness as well as raising me from a new baby. She felt I would be better off with a younger family. That's when Nanna, knowing that my father was not in a state to think properly stood up for herself and all the commotion began.

Shortly after this incident Maude and Don took off for a trip to England on one of those huge liners that regularly ran between Sydney and Southhampton, in the good old days, before oil prices went through the roof. When they returned some months later all seemed to be patched up and forgotten. She had decided to take on the role of the doting Grandmother and came back with loads of presents for her little girl and insisted that I spend every holiday with her and Poppa Don. I was the only kid in 1st class 1959 with my own portable reel to reel tape recorder, Swiss watch and battery operated dog that walked and barked. I thought I was pretty flash.

Pop suffered badly from arthritis and had his own bedroom, as Maudie couldn't stand the smell of the liniment he used and was very intolerant of his nocturnal habits. When the pain got too bad for him to sleep he would turn the radio to classical and do maths problems.

Maudie's room was cramped and dark. There was a single bed and lots of furniture including two huge wardrobes. This left the master bedroom for me. It was grand, a large bay window fronting the street, silver and blue wallpaper with a picture rail, ceiling rose and a beautiful timber bedroom suite. The bed was very high and I was very small so it was a big effort to get in but once I managed it I was in heaven. There were no bed time curfews either so I stayed up late and got up at noon. Holidays at Maudie's were looking good.

I really don't know how it started but up until I was about eight years old I called her Lady Maude instead of Nanna or Grandma. On one school holiday visit Lady Maude took me to town. As usual she was dressed to the nines in her Harris Tweed coat her hat perched at a jaunty angle atop her permed blue rinsed hair. She had a passion for glasses and a pair to match every outfit. On this trip we went to Mark Foy's - the place to shop in those days . The Harrod's of Sydney she would say with a plumb in her mouth. The sales staff were mostly middle aged overstuffed matrons in black and white uniforms. They looked like old crows.

Somehow we became separated and I ended up wandering around the corsetry department. One of the crows descended on me.

"Little girl, where is your mother?" she cried in a haughty voice.

"My mother's dead," I replied, merely stating the facts. She softened a little at this one.

"Then who are you with?"

"Lady Maude," I sighed " and I can't find her."

"Lady Maude, Lady Maude?!!" her voice took on a rising panic "oh my goodness, wait right here." and she sat me a top a glass counter containing satin bloomers.

"Lady Maude, Lady Maude, please come to the corsetry department, we have your grandaughter. Lady Maude to the corsetry department please," her haughty voice called over the PA.

A couple of minutes later I spotted her, gliding between the displays, her eyebrows arched and a serene, almost regal look on her face. As she approached she was swooped on by three of the crows fawning and bowing - yep, actually bowing. I was impressed, though a little confused. After shaking their hands and thanking them she took my hand and led me towards the front doors. I felt her hand shaking a little and as I looked up I thought she was ill as her face looked peculiar.

Outside Mark Foys there was a terrace area with tables and chairs for afternoon and morning teas. Maudie sat down abruptly and exploded, her large frame heaving with laughter. She laughed till she cried, slapping her knees until finally she got up and said "Quick, to Coles cafeteria, I think I'm going to wet myself."

Maudie was tight fisted, a true Yorkshire woman. Appearances counted though, so even in the middle of a heatwave if she went to the local store she would be dressed in her good coat, hat, stockings and top quality lace up old ladies shoes, with a big hole cut out in the side for her bunion. A simple trip to the local shops with Maudie could take all day as every second person stopped and spoke to her.

"Hello Mrs Griffith how are you and who have we here?"

"This is my Grandaughter, Olga's girl."

"Ooh isn't she like her mother, poor little mite," was the eternal reply.

After a while the sympathy and attention became a bore even for a semi -precocious child like me. One day I decided to stay home with Poppa Don while Maude went to the shops. He was a true gentleman and had a fine mind. He loved to travel and hoped that I would as well, some day . He bought me a set of chopsticks when the very first Chinese take away opened in Earlwood and taught me to use them so that I would not be embarrassed if I went to China. He taught me to count in Italian and we were onto about our eighth repetition of Uno, Duo, Tre, Quatro when we heard a crash at the front door. Maudie staggered inside dropped her shopping bag and sagged against the wall.

"Don," she called in a weak voice most unlike her usual demanding manner " help me get this wretched coat off."

He limped down the hall to her assistance with me bouncing along behind. She had just about got the buttons undone when he reached her. Her face was bright red with streams of perspiration running down her neck. As I followed the flow the full picture emerged. Under the coat she wore only a singlet and a pair of pink bloomers with the leg elastic just above her knees and a pair of stockings supported by garters just below her knees. On her feet were the old ladies shoes with the bunion hole. What a sight. Pop was trying not to laugh as no one laughed at Maudie, only with her.

"Oh Maud, " he said "why wear a coat on a 90deg day like today?"

"One has to look respectable, "she snapped and staggered to her bed.

Maudie hated housework and even more she hated cooking.

"What's for tea Lady Maud?" I asked every night

"Look in the wardrobe and see what you'd like," was the usual reply.

The two wardrobes in her bedroom were full to bursting with tin food. Beans and spaghetti, sweet corn, mince mixtures, camp pie, peaches it was like a supermarket in there. When ever the local store offered thruppence off a tin of beans with a limit of 6 per customer, we would be off up the road, I would wait outside until she got 6 then she would send me in for another 6. If it was a really good special she would insist that Poppa Don came too, even though it took longer as every step was agony for him. We would come home with our booty and then she would wait at the gate and ask any of the ladies walking past if they were going to buy the beans on special at Flemings. If they said no, she would ask them to pick her up half a dozen. No one dared to say no.

It seemed that most of the ladies that passed the front gate were elderly like Maude and lots of them were widowed and dressed in black. One old girl called Mrs Howarth called in regularly for a cup of tea. She was a miserable old witch and I didn't like her at all. She'd pull faces at me when Maudie wasn't looking and whinged about anything and everything. One day I overheard Maudie say to Poppa Don that she wished Mrs Howarth would stop calling as she was a whingeing old cow. A couple of days later I was swinging on the gate chatting to anyone who passed when I spotted Mrs Howard rounding the corner. As she approached the gate ignoring me I said "Don't you come in here Mrs Howarth, my Nanna says you are a whingeing old cow and she doesn't want you to come in any more."

She glared at me, huffed a little and stomped purposefully up the driveway. I realised that I had really overdone it this time and knew I was going to be in big trouble. I went and hid in the bushes and a couple of minutes later Mrs Howarth stomped back down the driveway and slammed the gate so hard I thought it would fall off its hinges. I was truly worried and pushed myself even further back into the bushes. After what seemed an eternity Poppa Don limped into the garden. He stopped in front of the bush I was under and started pulling off the dead flowers.

"I think you should come inside now love," he said quietly, with a barely concealed smile on his face.

As I skulked into the kitchen Maudie smiled "Come and sit up here," she said patting her knee "Don't worry, you did me a big favour, I was going to tell her the same thing myself." I snuggled in amongst her ample bosom, my security restored.

She didn't have that many friends - any wonder why- but did get on quite well with her immediate neighbours. Next door were the Bowery's. They had two teenage daughters Wendy and Beverley. These girls with their rope petticoats and studded leather belts were my idols, they would sometimes invite me over and I would spend the afternoon watching them go through the rituals of hair rollers and face packs, getting ready for their Saturday night out.

One night Maudie feeling a bit peckish went to the kitchen to get an apple. Her kitchen window looked directly into the Bowery's back room (or family room, as it would be called these days). She didn't turn on the kitchen light and they hadn't closed their blind so Maudie could observe them without being seen. It was around 11pm and Wendy Bowery and her boyfriend were on the sofa engaging in a little funny business. They were fully clothed, just practicing I think.

"Don, come here quick, "she called urgently. My ever dutiful grandfather heaved himself out of his lounge chair and went to see what she wanted this time.

"Look at this, Wendy and the boyfriend are at it and Mr & Mrs B are asleep in the front room, quick, go and ring their number then hang up after a few rings!"

"Oh Maude" he said, with a look of disbelief " don't be silly, leave them alone, please".

"Don, do as I ask," she demanded " ring the number," and as usual he did what he was told. Of course not wanting to miss a trick I was bobbing up and down trying to see what was happening. Suddenly Wendy, looking panic stricken, jumped up and began trying to fix her beehive, lacquered hair do which was all over her face, and the boyfriend was struggling to tuck in his shirt and adjust his clothing.

By this time Maudie was hanging off the sink with tears of laughter running down her face. Poppa Don went off to bed looking disgusted and I was trying to figure out just what was so funny. She had a sick sense of humour.

Maudie suffered from angina and fluid problems that necessitated her taking fluid tablets. These tablets worked over night and every morning she would get out of bed and sit on a commode in her room. Under the commode was a bucket and over breakfast served to her by my long suffering Poppa Don and with the morning serials playing on the radio, she would fill the bucket. Sometimes, later in the morning she would need to go again and the urgency was so great that if she was out in the back garden she would just hitch her skirt, spread her legs and let it go on the ground. The bloomers were left in the draw on these days.

As I grew up, and as is natural, things started to change. My father began taking out a lady ten years his junior, called Margaret and her family lived in the next suburb to Maudie. Dad felt that it was time they were introduced. Margaret had heard all the stories and Nanna Bett had filled her in as regards to Maudie's unique personality. To put it mildly Margaret was terrified, but at the same time determined to see it through. She, like Maudie was born under the sign of Taurus, so they both had a touch of the bull. At their first meeting Maudie was magnificent. The best china was dusted off and salmon and cucumber sandwiches prepared. She was gracious and charming, she was amusing, she was perfectly behaved to the point that Dad took Margaret home totally confused.

By this time I was nine years old and thought that the idea of a new mother was interesting so I, too, put on my best behaviour whenever I was around Margaret. Soon the engagement was announced and wedding preparations were in full swing. I had come to love Maudie and appreciated her as a "character", I knew the rest of the family merely tolerated her but apart from Poppa Don she had no one but me. She lived for my holidays and visits. She was getting older and her angina attacks were getting more frequent and more severe, I was there for one particularly bad one. The whole bed was saturated with her perspiration. She was in so much pain she could not speak. Poppa Don had rung the doctor and we were waiting for him to arrive. I paced up and down the hall, looking in as I passed her door, too scared to go in. Pop was sitting at the end of the bed talking softly to her while rubbing her feet. I was so scared that she would die and I remember praying over and over as I paced. "Please God, please let her be ok."

She got over that one but it shook her up quite a bit. She started to complain that I didn't ring her often enough, that I didn't visit often enough, that I cared more about Nanna Bett than her. That was when the guilt feelings began, an emotion I had not experienced before in my secure and comfortable little world.

Dad and Margaret invited her to the wedding but she sent an inability along with a nice letter and a wedding present. On the day of the wedding I was filled with excitement, I had a wonderful new dress, brand new patent leather shoes and the lady next door to Nanna Bet had curled my hair. I was sitting in the front pew of the Church with Nanna Bet bursting with happiness. When the organ started playing "Here Comes the Bride" I turned to look for Margaret walking up the isle when I spotted Maudie. She was sitting right in the back row on her own. Guilt hit me like a ton of bricks, I felt that I should be sitting with her to keep her company, I felt guilty that I was happy.

After the ceremony I walked outside the Church with Nanna Bett intending to go up and talk to Maudie but by the time we made it outside she was crossing the road to the bus stop. People kept coming up and kissing me and saying how pretty I looked but the fun was gone and my heart was crossing the road with my Grandmother.

After Dad and Margaret had been married for a year I went to live with them. Their new house was on the outskirts of Sydney and fair way from Maudie's. Margaret, who I now called Mum, would drop me at Maudie's when she went to visit her family. I really liked Margaret's family they were a lot of fun and made me feel very welcome. Sometimes I wanted to stay at their house instead, but I never told anyone.

The visits to Maudie's were becoming a chore, every trip found here more and more miserable. Poppa Don, however, never changed and I think he understood what I was going through. One weekend Mum's younger sister was having a birthday party I was decided that I could visit with Maudie for a couple of hours instead of the whole day and Mum would pick me up in time for the party.

I was supposed to tell Maudie about the change in plans but knowing how upset she would be I didn't get around to it. Sure enough when Mum arrived Maudie started on her, telling her how selfish she was, that I was all she had, that Mum's sister had everyone there so why did I have to go. Mum took the tirade for a while, but soon her natural temper took over and she retaliated with all guns firing. Finally, she dragged me out to the car, with Maudie crying and me crying and poor Poppa Don standing at the door looking shattered. We got into the car drove around the block; Mum pulled up and burst into tears as well. I felt truly awful; I had never seen Maudie cry before except when she cried with laughter at her own jokes. Never one to let these things drag on Mum phoned Maudie a couple of days later. She did not apologise, and rightly so, but neither, for my sake, did she want any ill feelings between them.

As I grew into my teenage years I no longer wanted to spend every holiday with Maudie. I had friends and a new life. My visits became less frequent and I must admit my phone calls did too. It just become too much of a drag to hear her complain that I hadn't phoned every time I did. She was now in her late seventies and I used to hope, selfishly, that she would die first reasoning to myself that Pop would be able to enjoy himself for once without her nagging and complaining. Deep down, though, I knew it was because I feared would be saddled with the moral responsibility of her on her own.

By now I was working and one morning, gazing out of the train window I realised that it had been about six weeks since I had phoned her. I decided I would ring that night. My good intentions seemed so hollow, when, that afternoon, Nanna Bet rang to tell me that Maudie had died from one of her angina attacks. She had literally died in Pop's arms. He had apparently sat on the lounge holding her for several hours before ringing someone for help. When Nanna Bet phoned for her weekly chat she felt that Pop sounded strange, after a few pleasantries she'd asked to speak to Maude.

"Oh, um, she's gone Betty," he told Nan calmly " they've just taken her out."

Nanna assumed that friends, although she couldn't imagine who - had taken Maudie for an outing so she said brightly "Well that will be nice for her, I hope she behaves".

"Mmm," said Pop and hung up.

Oh, Maudie would have loved that, it would have given her a good chuckle on her way to heaven.

She hated funerals so much that she'd arranged to donate her body to the university for research.

"Funerals are a total waste of money," she would declare every time she'd read the hatch match and dispatch in the morning paper. "All those fools standing around pretending that they'll miss you".

That may have been fine for her, but there was nothing. A funeral is like a full stop at the end of a sentence.

It was about two weeks before Dad took me to see Poppa Don and I will never forget how he looked. Normally, through all his pain, he was cheerful and optimistic and always clean and tidy. The house seemed to be darker than usual, Pop was in an old dressing gown with stubble on his chin and a lost and desperate look in his eyes. Those eyes did not light up when he saw me as they usually did, he just looked at me sadly and said "She was a domineering old bitch but I loved her so much".

Five weeks later Poppa Don passed away too. I'm not sure what the death certificate stated but I know that he died of a broken heart. Whether he liked it or not she had organised for his body to go for research as well and there was another full stop missing.

Someone should have arranged a memorial service, but who? My excuse to myself in later years was that I was only sixteen, too young to assume that responsibility. To this day I still feel guilty. Is it too late after thirty years? Who would come? Everyone would think me mad, including no doubt Maudie.

These days as middle aged woman I often look in the mirror and see the resemblance. Sometimes I say something and think, gosh that was just like her. Maybe the memorial service will be just in my heart or perhaps this is it. Goodbye Lady Maude, goodbye Nanna darling.