Page 121 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
He steps closer. ‘Please, let me help you. You don’t have to manage everything on your own.’
She knows it’s true – and also knows she hasn’t been managing on her own. Her parents have always helped her, and the ladies of the Sunshine Gardening Society have made sure that the biggest project of her life – other than motherhood – wasn’t conducted alone. Not that she’s going to rebut what Doctor Lopes has said because that would be churlish. Besides, there is still so much that she is managing alone, including this move. And there’s so much relief bound up in the idea of letting someone else assist her that she feels like handing over the whole project.
‘All right,’ she says at last. ‘Thank you, I’d appreciate it.’
The sound of something like a whoop comes from the front desk and Doctor Lopes grins.
‘Of course she’s listening to every word,’ he says. ‘We’ll work out a time before you leave today, all right?’
Elizabeth nods quickly.
Just as Doctor Lopes heads back to his room, her stomach grumbles once more. Except this time she takes a big bite of her sandwich and tries to swallow it while smiling.
JUNE 1988
WEDDING BUSH
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Nowthat Kathy has signed a new lease for twelve months and Hans has confirmed her promotion, she’s been looking at getting a cat – an animal Owen loathed but one Kathy’s always wanted. She’s also decided to fully embrace the Sunshine Coast lifestyle and become one of the swimmers she sees off Noosa’s Main Beach each time she’s there. They go up and down the length of the beach, way out beyond the breakers, obviously unafraid of sharks.
Occasionally Kathy’s had a dip right when they set off, so she’s seen a group of them go out together and noticed the same faces. And she saw a sign at the surf club saying there’s a Sunday morning group that meets at 5.30 a.m. in summer and 6.30 a.m. in winter. When the Sunshine Gardening Society convenes on Sundays – which isn’t every weekend, but often enough for it to be a consideration – it’s usually not until ten o’clock, because Shirl likes to sleep in. So that gives Kathy time to hop in the water and become one of those people who can pretend she’s going to be Shane Gould one day.
Never too late – Kathy’s come to realise that this appears to be her new motto. Never too late to leave her husband, move cities, try a new activity, make new friends … and be a fantastic swimmer. Along with the cat, the swimming is something she’s wanted for a while but there just never seemed to be enough timeto fit it all in, nor was Melbourne the epicentre of ocean swimming. Now she has time and freedom. It’s a heady mix.
So she has a new Speedo costume and cap, and new goggles that the helpful young man in the surf shop on Hastings Street told her should do the trick. ‘These ones don’t leak,’ he said, which made her wonder how many do. And she’s standing in front of the surf club, feeling about as nervous as she used to be before school dances, wondering if any boy would like her. Ha! She needn’t have bothered.
Her nervousness today, though, isn’t about whether the swimmers will like her so much as whether she’ll be allowed to join the group at all, because despite the ‘all welcome’ on the sign, she’s lived in this area just long enough to realise there are cliques – she’s in one or two herself. A gardening one and an art one. Which may mean she’s not welcome in a swimming one. Because for sure someone will know Shirl or Barb – or Cynthia or Lorraine or Elizabeth – and if it’s not a pleasant association Kathy will be cut before she even has a chance to get wet. Hence the nerves. She really wants to swim with this group. Swimming on her own will, she is sure, make her shark bait. Swimming in a group means there are other potential baits. Harsh, but true.
There’s a group of three women slowly walking towards where she’s waiting in front of the surf boats on their racks. It’s too early for the lifesavers because the flags are hours away from going up, which means they must be swimmers. The fact they’re in swimming costumes also suggests this.
One of them catches Kathy’s eye and gives her a curious smile. Her eyes are bright and blue, and her hair is a shade of grey Kathy wishes hers would go but instead she’s stuck with dun mixed with the occasional whitish stripe.
‘Hi,’ Kathy says, deciding to be brave. ‘Are you in the swimming group?’
‘Yep.’ The woman smiles. ‘I’m Sharon. This is Doreen and Kaye.’
Introductions seem like an invitation. Kathy feels slightly relieved.
‘I’m Kathy,’ she says. ‘I, uh, I saw the sign.’ She nods in its direction. ‘Thought I’d see if I can join you.’
‘In winter?’ Sharon says. ‘Not many people start then!’ She laughs.
‘Yeah, well … I hadn’t thought about it earlier.’ The truth is always easier than a lie.
‘Of course you’re welcome,’ Sharon says. ‘Have you done much ocean swimming?’
‘No. Lots of pool swimming – I was a state swimmer at school. But I’m, uh, from Melbourne. Not a lot of ocean unless you live on the peninsula.’
‘Really? Me too.’
Doreen mutters something Kathy doesn’t hear.
‘Sure, go ahead,’ Sharon says. ‘That looks like Davo already on the sand.’ She squints. ‘Maybe Gazza too. I won’t be long.’
She turns back to Kathy. ‘You can leave your stuff here, or on the sand. No one’ll nick it. We’ve been doing it for years.’
Kathy nods and watches as Sharon swiftly takes off her tracksuit pants and folds them up, puts her towel on top and tucks them both beside a tree trunk. She looks fit – no surprise, of course. Her body is lean and toned and …
