Page 25 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Don’t worry about the holidays,’ her mother says. ‘We can put Charlie to work. Your father needs help with the renovations.’
Elizabeth laughs. ‘I think he’d love that.’
‘He probably won’t once he’s been painting all day,’ her father says with a wink, ‘but I’ll go easy on him.’
‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth says and she feels tears in her eyes. Their kindness often makes her weepy. Or maybe she’s just generally weepy. Most days that to-do list in her head is accompanied by a low tide of tears sitting in the rims of her eyes. ‘I’m lucky to have you.’
‘Nonsense,’ her mother says. ‘We’relucky to haveyou.’
At that moment their Maltese terrier, Snowball, trots into the room. He always takes his time arriving, like he wants to make Elizabeth wait for his affection.
‘Snowball will be happy to have Charlie here more too, won’t you, boy?’ Her father bends down and picks up the dog, tucking him under one arm. ‘Come on, let’s head for the garden,’ he says to Elizabeth. ‘I’ve got a nice clivia to show you that I just planted.’
Elizabeth stands and follows him. Her father loves his garden as much as Jon loved theirs. Elizabeth is yet to tell him about the Sunshine Gardening Society, because he’s been hinting for a while that he’d like to work on Jon’s garden. It’s not that Elizabeth doesn’t want him there but that she feels he’s done more than enough to help her. Now she hopes he won’t be upset that Shirley and Barbara see more of the garden than he does.
She’ll have to tell him about it one day. Maybe when it’s ready to be seen again. For now, though, she’ll enjoy her father’s enthusiasm for his clivia, and maybe take some mental notes about the plants, just to add something else to that eternal, infernal list.
MAY 1987
COAST HONEYSUCKLE
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cynthialeans against her car outside Elizabeth’s house on a clear and mild Saturday morning. As she looks towards the house she can vaguely make out Elizabeth near the windows on the street side, her head bowed slightly along with her shoulders. She’s a little mystery, that one. Cynthia has tried to draw her into conversation a couple of times, not about anything too serious – she’s mindful that she doesn’t know anyone in the Sunshine Gardening Society well yet and doesn’t wish to be intrusive. However, the very fact of them working in Elizabeth’s late husband’s garden begs enquiry. It also seems like the polite thing to do: while the man may no longer be on this earth his presence is felt, if only because Elizabeth says Charlie looks so much like him.
So last weekend Cynthia asked, gently, if Elizabeth could tell her something about Jon. She could almost hear Shirl and Barb hold their breath as they waited for an answer.
Elizabeth sat back on her haunches in front of the petunias and smiled vaguely. ‘He was thoughtful,’ she said. ‘And considerate.’ She frowned. ‘Maybe they’re the same thing. Are they?’
Cynthia, recognising it for the stalling tactic it was, shrugged and smiled and said nothing. If Elizabeth didn’t want to continue, she wasn’t going to force her.
‘We met at high school,’ Elizabeth said softly, not looking at any of them. ‘And we were in fellowship group together at church.’ Then she laughed. ‘My friends thought he was boring because he took his Bible study seriously and he was really well mannered.’
She paused and glanced briefly at Cynthia, almost as if looking for permission to go on.
‘I don’t think manners are boring,’ Cynthia said. ‘Imagine the world without them?’
Elizabeth nodded slowly. ‘That’s what I always thought too. I liked his manners.’ She smiled. ‘I loved them, actually. He was kind to people. To me. I know not every husband is kind to his wife.’
Cynthia knew that too, but said nothing because this wasn’t her story.
‘And he took his responsibilities towards me and Charlie seriously. He used to say he had to provide for us and protect us. My friends thought that was old-fashioned but …’ She paused. ‘It made everything easier. For me, having a baby, knowing he was going to look after us – I could just focus on Charlie and not have to worry about other things.’
She stopped and Cynthia heard her breath catch. Because, of course, as time went on and Charlie grew, Jon wasn’t able to provide and protect. Instead it was Elizabeth having to do that. Or someone else. Cynthia doesn’t know enough about her family and friends to speculate.
‘He sounds like just the sort of man you deserve,’ was what she said in response. Then Charlie came running up to his mother holding a snail and the reminiscence was over.
Elizabeth has gone from the window now, and Cynthia hears a car pull into the street, the engine stop and the door slam.
‘Sorry, sorry! I’m here!’ Lorraine bustles towards her, running one hand through her hair and flapping the other. ‘Sorry, got caught up.’
Just then the gate to the garden opens and Shirl steps out. ‘G’day, Cyn,’ she says. ‘Didn’t know you were here.’ She looks Lorraine up and down.
‘I was waiting for Lorraine,’ Cynthia replies. ‘And this is Lorraine.’
‘Right.’ Shirl raises her eyebrows. ‘Got some gloves?’
‘Cynthia has them.’
