Page 34 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Sherry and I work together – she’ll be in later. I open up and she closes up. So I’m going to cut back on my days – once you’re ready, I mean. For a little while we’ll all be on top of each other, but Marco’ll enjoy that.’ She shoots a glance at the closed door. ‘More attention for him. And for Doctor Blakeney. She’ll be in later. Doctor Simpson too. And we have a nurse who does vaccinations for kids – that kind of thing. Lots going on!’
Elizabeth half-smiles and tries to process what the job will entail: looking after three doctors as well as a nurse and all their patients. She’s spent months talking to hardly anyone, and in the space of a few weeks she’s had strangers in her garden and now she’ll be meeting strangers in her work. Hopefully her brain doesn’t crumple in on itself with the sensory overload.
‘It’ll be a fair bit to take on,’ Olive says, patting her hand. ‘But I’ll help you. You’ll be right, duck.’ She gives her the most genuine smile Elizabeth has seen since she arrived. ‘Now, let’s start.’
Olive picks up a sheaf of papers and swivels in Elizabeth’s direction, and Elizabeth takes a deep breath as this new part of her life without Jon properly begins.
JUNE 1987
PRIMROSE BALL WATTLE
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Whyoh why oh why did she drink so much last night? Hangovers really should be banned. They take all the fun out of drinking. Not that Kathy is having that much fun, because at the rate she’s going it’s less like drinking and more like gulping. She really needs to slow down.
Or not. Who cares if she drinks too much? Quite clearly she doesn’t or she’d do something about it.
Although she did see her neighbour – Boris or Barry, she can’t remember his name – frowning in her direction when she clink-clinked out with the empty bottles this morning. What did he expect? It’s a Saturday. Of course she’s going to put out the empties after a week spent doing whatever-she-pleases-thanks-Boris-or-Barry. Because she’s an adult and she can.
An adult who’s acting like a teenager trying to get away with as much bad behaviour as possible.
She puts a hand over her face as she remembers cracking onto the woman working at the bottle-o last night. She was three sheets to the wind by then and the woman was trying to suggest that perhaps she didn’t need to take home more grog, so Kathy asked if she could take the woman home instead. Luckily the woman had laughed. Probably because she’s heard it before. What she didn’t know is that Kathy hasn’t tried it before.
Since Jemima left her she hasn’t even drunkenly attempted to pick up anyone, male or female. She’s almost felt cloistered within herself; not asexual so much as scared of what may happen if she gives permission to that part of herself to roam free in the world. So she’s a little shocked by her own actions last night. What is she, a sleaze? She used to hate it when men tried something like that on her, and she’d be mortified to think her son is doing it. If he is. She doesn’t know, because she’d never discuss it with him. Yet here she is, well past ripeness, trying to pluck an innocent party from the vine.
It makes her wonder what’s lurking within. Perhaps she’s been lying to herself about what sort of human being she is. All these years of believing she’s polite and considerate, when the first chance she gets she’s …loose.
But at least she is out trying to get healthy this morning. Again. Trying to reinstate the fitness regime that hasn’t quite established itself. That’s positive. That’s something a responsible adult person does. A person who respects herself and is trying really hard to respect others when she’s not too blotto to be in control of what comes out of her mouth.
A big walk is what’s in order. Up the hill from Noosa Junction, past the holiday rentals and time-share apartments, and down towards Noosa Heads, along Main Beach up to the breakwater, then around the river’s edge on dirt tracks until she reaches a small beach she has to cross, stepping carefully across sand that’s being swallowed by the incoming tide.
She emerges onto a patch of grass that looks like it could do with a mow. There’s a sign sayingRiverside Park– well, yeah, what else? – and some trees with branches lopped off, clearly some time ago given the wounds don’t look fresh. In fact, they look like vandalism, although she’s no expert.
Ahead of her is a couple with a dog that’s off leash. A kelpie, by the looks. Now the kelpie’s heading in her direction, probably to round her up. People should really keep their dogs on leads.
‘Oi! Lorraine!’ calls the male of the couple over his shoulder, and the dog stops and lifts its head.
So does a woman who, Kathy can see now, is part of a small group bent over a garden bed, gardening tools next to their knees. The woman seems to work out that the man is talking to the dog, because she laughs and says something to the smaller blonde woman next to her.
Then she glances in Kathy’s direction and smiles. It’s such a nice smile. Welcoming. Almost like she knows Kathy.
Now she’s nodding and waving like shedoesknow Kathy. But Kathy doesn’t know her. Or doesn’t think she does. She really needs to cut down on the booze if her memory is this bad.
‘Hello!’ the woman – Lorraine, presumably – calls.
‘Hi?’ Kathy calls back but she doesn’t walk any closer.
‘You work at that restaurant on the river!’ Lorraine shields her face with her hand, just as Kathy feels the warmth of the sun on her neck.
‘Oh. Yeah,’ she says.
‘I’m Lorraine! My husband and I had dinner there a week or so ago. Anniversary.’
Kathy briefly closes her eyes to try to find the memory, and there it is: a pleasantly rowdy couple who seemed to enjoy each other’s company, and the food and the wine. They were in the last sitting and Kathy left before they finished their meal because her shift was over.
‘Right,’ she says. ‘Hi. I’m Kathy.’
Then she wonders what comes next: having made the acknowledgement, should she leave? No. Lorraine is being friendly. Kathy needs to be friendlier to people like Lorraine or she’s going to be stuck at home alone for the rest of her life.
