Page 17 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘And yet when your parents had this same reaction to you, I recall that you were very upset.’
It seems like no time has passed since Cynthia told Von she was pregnant, knowing that of all the adults in her life Von was bound to be the one not to judge. Von had eloped with herhusband when neither of their sets of parents approved of their match; they’d moved to Queensland, far from their entrenched social circles in Melbourne, and pursued a life of art and music. Von was a bohemian before Cynthia even knew what the word was, and she was fierce in her approval of people who did things outside the norm.That’s where the fun is, she’d said to Cynthia once.That’s where life’s rules are tested and changed, and how we create beauty and invoke joy.Cynthia has tried to be as audacious in her own life but she knows she fell back into conventions: marry the man with the good career, have the properly cared-for house, look a certain way, be a certain kind of person. Not that it brought her contentment, or peace. Instead it’s brought her back here.
Yet she named her daughter after a swan princess because she lovedSwan Lakeso much as a child. Her life had once been full of art and music – before she’d decided that to fit in with everyone else it needed to be about the beach and boys – and she had wished that for Odette as well. How can she be so surprised, then, when Odette has decided to live up to her namesake and free herself from what she perceives as restrictions on her life?
‘Still, that was different – that wasme. I should be allowed to have other rules for my daughter.’
Cynthia knows she’s on a losing wicket with this argument, but she also knows she’s applying a double standard to Odette and feels the need to justify it. To herself, if not to anyone else.
Von nods slowly. ‘Yes, I tried that. That’s why Audrey stopped speaking to me. But we’re fine now. And you and Odette will be too.’
‘I can’t imagine you not approving of one of your children.’
Audrey and Bede were grown-ups by the time Cynthia met Von, both strong-willed and making their ways in the world but staying in close contact with their mother even as they flitted around Australia and other countries.
‘It was a silly thing.’ Another wave of the hand. ‘As I said, we’re fine now.’
‘How did you manage it?’ Cynthia says.
‘I realised I needed to focus less on myself and more on everyone and everything around me, which helped to put matters into perspective. My daughter’s life was her business, and it always will be, and my concerns were trifling in the scheme of things.’
Cynthia knows that what Von says is true: Odette’s life is her own business. Yet she can’t help wanting to tell her to think carefully about what she’s doing, to weigh up all the factors. But then what if she decides to do the very thing Cynthia believes is wrong?
No one told her that parenting would involve conundrums. She thought it would be cute smiles and toddler giggles and some parent–teacher nights she didn’t want to attend.
She feels Von patting her hand. ‘I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve wandered off since you arrived,’ Von says.
‘I’m so sorry!’ Cynthia shakes her head, trying to get herself back in the present. ‘It’s just …’
She breathes in, and it sounds ragged because she wants to cry. Here, in the secure presence of a woman who has loved her for decades, she feels something inside her letting go.
Another pat on her hand. ‘Out with it.’
‘I’ve been calling her every day. Several times a day. I saw her once the other day and she was civil to me but now she won’t call me back. All I said was that I don’t even know who she’s pregnanttoand I want to meet him. How did it come to this point, that I don’t know something as important asthat?’
‘Because Odette is a woman,’ Von says firmly. ‘And as much as you may want to know details about her life, she doesn’t have to share them.’
‘But – ’ Cynthia stops, and that ragged breath turns into half a sob.
This time Von takes her hand and squeezes it. ‘Have you stopped to consider that maybe she doesn’t want you to meet him – and that might be more to do with him than you?’
No, Cynthia hasn’t considered this, because even if that were the case shouldn’t Odette tell her anyway?
‘You’re not going to solve this by thinking about it, or even talking about it,’ Von continues. ‘I think you need a distraction. A hobby.’
Cynthia blinks. ‘A hobby?’ She’s not a person given to hobbies, a term which, as far as she’s concerned, denotes crochet, pottery and life-drawing classes, none of which has ever interested her.
‘Yes. Or something more like a project, perhaps. Something you can focus on.’ Von pauses. ‘I know just the thing.’
She takes hold of her cane and pushes herself off the couch.
Cynthia wants to help her but she also doesn’t want to offend her – Von is a proud woman and she may not like Cynthia implying that she is in need of assistance. So Cynthia watches as Von walks over to the dresser placed between two windows and yanks open a drawer. She extracts an old scrapbook and tucks it under her arm before making her way back to the couch and sitting heavily.
‘Here.’ Von proffers the scrapbook and Cynthia takes it, opening it to the first page and some clippings fromThe Noosa Newsdated 1969 and 1975. She turns the next pages over and sees photographs, some with Von in them, all of them showing women wearing gardening gloves and big smiles.
‘What’s this?’ she says.
Von smiles proudly. ‘The Sunshine Gardening Society.’
