Page 48 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘My knees have other ideas.’
Cynthia laughs. ‘I guess they’re entitled to – they’ve done a lot of good work over the years.’
‘Now, I know whatyou’vebeen up to,’ Von says in a schoolmistressy tone, ‘given you’re a valued member of the Sunshine Gardening Society.’
‘Am I?’
‘So Barb tells me.’ Von arches an eyebrow. ‘I get reports. Don’t ever presume that I’m not keeping tabs on you.’
Cynthia laughs. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’
‘So I’m guessing that’s why we haven’t had a social visit for a while. A person could come to feel neglected.’
Cynthia glances at Von to see if she’s joking but can tell straightaway that she’s not, and she feels immediately contrite. Between Lorraine and Odette and Pat and her father and the society and her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s lawyers negotiating the divorce via fax, it isn’t so much that Von has slipped her mind as that she hadn’t noticed how much time had passed since she visited.
Not that she has a good reason to not visit. After years of separation from these people she loves, she should take greater care – and not take them for granted.
‘I’m sorry, Von. I really am. I don’t have an excuse.’
‘No, you don’t. But I accept your apology.’
Von nudges her and Cynthia knows they’ll be all right.
‘Are you doing anything about those knees?’ she says.
Von shrugs. ‘There’s nothing to do. They’re worn out. I know it’s good to move them, but at the same time it hurts to do so. A slow walk with you is fine, though. As long as we amble rather than trot.’
‘No trotting, I promise.’
Cynthia turns her face towards the water, which is glistening with sunlight. There are houses behind them but none ahead and hardly any across the water. She can’t see the ocean beyond the opposite shore but she knows it’s there. Right here, though, a small boat putt-putts past and birds are wading in the shallows.
‘That’s a black-winged stilt,’ Von says, pointing to a black-and-white bird with long legs. ‘And there are some terns there too.’
‘I didn’t know you like birds.’
‘Likeis a strong word.’ Von presses her lips together. ‘I’m aware of birds. As they are aware of me. We have an uneasy truce.’
‘That makes it sound like you’ve had a bad experience!’ Cynthia says, laughing.
‘Pooed on the head twice, and those terrible cockatoos keep stripping my trees.’ Von shakes her head slowly.
‘You can’t blame all birds for that.’
‘I can and I will.’ Von’s face softens. ‘My son was a bird-watcher when he was a teenager. His father or I would go with him just to make sure he didn’t get lost. He had a tendency to become wrapped up in what he was doing and lose track of time and his surroundings.’
‘So no birdwatching now?’
‘I don’t think so. His children’s sporting activities keep him busy. Saturdays, Sundays, after school … I can’t recall his life being so hectic when he was young.’
Von looks ahead and her eyes narrow. ‘Well, this is interesting timing.’
‘What?’
Cynthia sees a woman around Von’s age, a little bit rounder and shorter than Von, with a blue rinse and perm, a cardigansporting a brooch, and shoes with a heel high enough to be at odds with the walking stick she’s using.
‘Tilly,’ Von says flatly, although loudly enough for the woman to hear.
‘Vonnie!’ Tilly leans heavily on the cane as she walks towards them. ‘Vonnie! How have you been?’
