Page 125 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Hi, Charlie!’ Lorraine calls, and Elizabeth hears her son’s muffled response. She deposited him with a book in his new room.
‘Hi, Elizabeth,’ Cynthia says, smiling. ‘Is it all right I’m here? I don’t want it to be strange since … you know.’
‘It’s wonderful,’ Elizabeth says, and means it. Cynthia provided her with an easy escape route from the maze she was in. Shewants to tell her that she’s grateful but Elizabeth knows her well enough to believe that Cynthia might think it flowery.
‘I found you,’ Kathy says triumphantly as she appears proffering a pot plant. ‘Here – foryournew garden.’
It’s a maidenhair fern – a plant that even Elizabeth would find hard to kill, which Kathy likely knows.
‘Thank you,’ she says, taking it. ‘I’ll find just the right spot for it.’
‘Hello, Cyn,’ Kathy says, kissing Cynthia on the cheek. ‘Loz,’ and Lorraine gets a kiss too.
‘Aren’t you being affectionate?’ Lorraine teases.
Kathy shrugs. ‘We don’t have gardening gloves on so I’m treating it like a social gathering.’
She opens her arms to Elizabeth. ‘Andyouget a hug.’
As Kathy embraces her Elizabeth relaxes into it, and it feels like a hug from her mother, which Kathy is probably old enough to be: reassuring, not smothering, and over fairly quickly.
‘Congratulations,’ Kathy says proudly. ‘You did it.’
‘I did,’ Elizabeth acknowledges.
‘And in case you’re wondering, Barb and Shirl aren’t coming,’ Lorraine says. ‘Barb is reading tarot at some party, and Shirl says she has a gig to go to. I’ve brought dinner.’ She holds up a heavy plastic bag. ‘We’re going to get you unpacked then we’ll have a roast chook and some salads. Sound good?’
She doesn’t wait for a response before heading off, presumably in search of a place to leave the food.
Kathy bears the pot plant towards the back deck as Elizabeth hears Lorraine opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen.
‘Love the bench space!’ Lorraine calls. ‘Can I take some with me?’
‘One day she’ll get a bigger kitchen bench,’ Cynthia says quietly as she kneels next to the box markedBooks.
‘May I?’ she asks, and Elizabeth nods.
Cynthia gestures to the empty bookcase next to the stereo. ‘If you’d like them in any particular order let me know.’
Jon used to have fiction and non-fiction separate, then categories within those, because he was often looking for something – a fact or a phrase that he was trying to remember. There was no order in the box, though. Elizabeth had put them in any way they’d fit, and she didn’t think Jon would mind.
‘No, there’s none,’ she says.
Cynthia takes out history books and an atlas, some big literary novels and slender crime stories.
‘There are some serious books here,’ she says with a curious glance in Elizabeth’s direction.
‘Jon liked knowledge,’ Elizabeth says.
‘And you?’
Elizabeth looks at the silver jug in her hands, a wedding present from Jon’s sister. So much of what she’s unpacking in this house comes from other people; they’re not things she’s chosen for herself. Perhaps that’s why it started to feel important that she chose this new house – or, rather, that she chose to leave the house Jon chose for them. If she’s to walk this path alone, with only Charlie for company, she has to decide how the path is paved – and where it goes. That can only happen one step at a time.
‘I don’t know,’ she replies honestly. ‘I read what Jon suggested. I suppose the books are good.’
‘They are,’ Cynthia says, ‘but you don’t have to keep them if you don’t want them. This may sound tough but … he’s not here, Elizabeth. You make the decisions now.’
Her tone is pointed and Elizabeth is taken aback, mainly because she feels exposed. As if Cynthia knows what she’s been thinking, even though she’s hidden it because she thinks she’ll appear disloyal.
