Page 49 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Unbelievably well,’ says Von, and Cynthia has to stop herself laughing at what is clearly a show of bravado. She’s quite sure she’s never heard of a Tilly but there’s some story here.
‘You?’ Von asks.
Tilly holds up the cane. ‘Getting used to this.’ Her gaze turns to Cynthia.
‘This is my friend Cynthia,’ Von says. ‘You may remember her mother, Diane. From the society.’
Now Cynthia feels a jolt of something like shock at meeting another person who knew her mother through an activity that she was ignorant about. These are people who knew her mother in a way she never did, and never can. People with whom Diane wished to share something that she didn’t wish to share with her husband and children.
‘Oh, Diane,’ Tilly says in a slightly condescending tone. ‘Poor Diane.’
Poor Diane?
‘Why …’ Cynthia clears her throat, trying to work out if she really wants to ask this question. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘She was so unhappy,’ Tilly says with a sigh.
‘Not all the time,’ Von says tersely.
‘But Cynthia would know that!’ Tilly smiles as if she’s delivering good news.
Now Cynthia hears herself gasping, almost as if a space has opened up in her chest and let air out. No, she didn’t know that. There’s so much she didn’t know about her mother – which her mother didn’t want her to know.
‘I didn’t even know she was in the society,’ Cynthia says softly.
‘She just needed some time to herself,’ Tilly says. ‘We all did! Husbands, children …’ She closes her eyes and presses her lips together like she’s trying to wish away a bad fairy. Then she opens her eyes. ‘You get sick of them, don’t you? Always wanting something!’
Then her smile drops; possibly she’s realised that Cynthia is one of the children she’s talking about.
‘Anyway, we loved our husbands and children,’ she goes on. ‘We just needed to feel like we were doing something good – for ourselves and for others. And we did enjoy it, didn’t we, Von?’
‘We did,’ Von agrees.
‘And we made some lovely gardens. I sometimes wonder what happened to them after we finished – but it wasn’t our job to keep going back. We just had to provide enough help for people to try to help themselves. You know?’ Tilly nods quickly, her eyes drifting away towards the water.
‘Did my mother help herself?’ Cynthia says quietly.
‘She did,’ Von says firmly. ‘And the time she needed to spend with us was never about not wanting to be with you.’
‘Oh, never!’ Tilly says. ‘I didn’t mean that!’
But she did, of course. It’s not as if Cynthia doesn’t understand, either, only that she wishes she could talk to her mother about it, to understandherbetter. Even though she knows that regret is a road one should never travel down too long. It ends nowhere good, as her father says.
‘I think we’ll keep walking, Matilda,’ Von says sternly. ‘Nice to see you.’
Tilly looks slightly crestfallen, but Cynthia imagines she’ll bounce back. Rather than saying anything to her, however, she offers a wave.
She and Von continue along the path in silence.
After a few minutes Von says, ‘Perhaps I should start to educate you in the plants of the local area. Although I hear Shirl may be trying to impress that knowledge upon you already.’
Cynthia relaxes and laughs. ‘She doesn’t always use names, and I don’t always remember them anyway.’
‘Very well. If you would like to come and visit me again next week we can begin your education.’
Cynthia thinks about the week ahead and almost says she won’t have time to visit – but of course she will. Her brain may be crowded with wondering about her mother and thinking about Odette becoming a mother herself, mixed in with occasional fretting about her father growing older, but she has time to see Von. And it would be of benefit to her – and, if she flatters herself, to Von as well.
‘That would be a pleasure and a privilege for me,’ Cynthia says, then she and Von keep on their merry way.
