Page 114 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Huh?’ Pat frowns.
‘Don’t worry about it, Patrick,’ Cynthia says. ‘Don’t worry about anything.’
Jordan makes some of his cute baby noises and Pat’s face relaxes into a smile.
‘I was an idiot,’ he says as he tickles the tiny tummy, ‘to think surfing was more fun than this.’
As he looks up she can see sadness in his eyes. Her first inclination is to tell him to grow up; her second is to realise that maybe that’s what he’s doing. And her third is to wonder how long she can hold on to this resentment she’s been carrying for two decades, given it’s already propelled her away from this place and to another hemisphere, from one marriage to a silly love affair to a badly chosen second marriage.
At least that second marriage has now been officially dissolved. The settlement has come through and Cynthia can – without letting on to anyone else, because it’s none of their business – not worry about money for the foreseeable future. Her latest ex, Max – or, rather, his lawyer – had the good sense to realise that Cynthia had, as her lawyer said, contributed considerably to his business and that was worth something. She was worth something.
Maybe that’s what Cynthia has been trying to establish all along. Becoming a mother so young locked her into one definitionof being – bestowed on her by others – and she has struggled ever since to find out who she is. That could be a large part of her resistance to being called a grandmother. Because she is many other things: a friend and a daughter, a gardener now, a woman with dreams of creating beauty who is still searching for the right outlet for them. A reader, a crossword solver, a cook, a dancer. All those things and, yes, a grandmother too. It may be all right, she thinks, to allow herself to be called that if she can feel she truly embodies all those other titles too.
And that’s part of why she’s here, in the place she loves more than any other: to rediscover who she was before it all changed. That may be the work of a lifetime, but at least she’s started on it.
‘Surfing is fun too,’ she says, because it is – she used to surf as a teenager, but deemed it too risky once Odette arrived, even if Pat never did. ‘But once responsibilities turn up, fun has to be managed around them. They’re not managed around it. That’s boring, I know, but that’s adulthood. I didn’t get a choice in that and you shouldn’t have had one either.’ She pauses to consider how to phrase what she needs to say. ‘You let us both down.’
‘I did,’ he concedes quickly. ‘And I paid for it.’
That gets her colour up. ‘Do you expect me to feel sorry for you? I gave it a few years – and I loved you, Pat. I never stopped. But I had to do something for me. I had to be with someone who couldsee me. You treated me as your servant and Odette as an afterthought. I was still a person.A woman.’
There. That’s the concise version of what she’s always wanted to say to him. At the time she left she didn’t bother because she knew he wouldn’t understand.
His cheeks are red and he’s pressing his lips together; whether from anger or sadness she doesn’t know.
‘I don’t expect that,’ he says after a minute or so has passed. ‘I felt sorry enough for myself. But I didn’t deserve to.’
Jordan starts to cry and Pat picks him up, cradling him in the crook of his elbow the way the baby likes.
‘I wish we could start again,’ he says, and as his eyes meet hers she sees the kind young man she fell in love with. ‘I would do things so differently.’
‘And maybe I would too,’ she replies, but she doesn’t mean it in the way he probably thinks she does.
‘Is there … ?’ He glances away.
She can guess what he was going to ask:Is there any chance for us?So she decides to answer him.
‘I don’t know, Pat,’ she says softly. ‘Why don’t we just try getting along first?’
He nods and looks down at the baby, his face transforming as he shows himself to be as besotted with Jordan as Cynthia is.
If she and Pat are to find a way back to each other, it will be because of this baby, and the paradox is not lost on her because it was their own baby who sent them off in different directions. That’s life, though, full of bad timing and good, missed chances and opportunities taken, coincidences and deliberation. It can all seem like it was meant to be when we try to make sense of it, but maybe none of it is. Maybe it’s just humans floundering away in confusion, making the best of each day. Which in itself is worthy of recognition.
‘Would you like to come for a walk?’ Pat asks her. ‘I think Jordan’s getting restless. And you know how he likes the pram.’
She smiles. ‘Sure. Let’s promenade.’
He walks over and offers her his hand to help her up from the grass. She takes it.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
WhenCynthia suggested that they walk into the national park as far as Alexandria Bay, Lorraine was tempted to tell her to get stuffed. What is she, a marathon runner? It’s hard enough doing all the squatting for the gardening let alone going on a walk that will take themat leastan hour return to Cynthia’s place. And that’s walking at a Cynthia pace. Lorraine is going to need to stop for a rest every now and again. Not that she thinks she’s too unfit, because she runs around after the kids and does the housework – she read somewhere that vacuuming can really burn off the calories. There’s a difference, though, between folding washing and going on a long walk.
‘Can’t we just walk on the beach?’ she countered.
‘No,’ came the answer, and long experience has taught her that Cynthia’s word is final.
Which is usually okay because Cynthia tends to have good ideas – like joining the Sunshine Gardening Society. Lorraine doesn’t know what she’d have done without it, especially lately with all the worrying she’s been doing. At least when she’s there on a weekend she can focus on their work and have a bit of chitchat with the others, and she doesn’t have to be anywhere else or do anything else. It’s great. She has a few hours of not wondering if she’ll ever forgive Mike, or if her mother and Cora are going to suddenly remember that they don’t like each othervery much and stop their cosy games of gin rummy and taking their turns with issues ofThe Australian Women’s Weekly. Last week she caught them comparing cake recipes.
