Page 60 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Our garden is meant to be Mike’s job,’ Lorraine says, clipping off a frond and chucking it over her shoulder. ‘But he’s not going to get to do anything around here for a while, so I thought I’d do it. Good excuse to put you to work.’ She nudges Cynthia, who smiles.
‘How’s your mum?’ Cynthia asks.
When they were teenagers Cynthia would tell Lorraine that she wished Rose was her mother because she was kind and interested and Cynthia thought her own mother couldn’t care less about what she was up to. When Cynthia got pregnant Lorraine wondered – for a disloyal second – if Cynthia did it partly to get her mother’s attention. Although it did seem like a drastic manoeuvre if that was the case.
‘She’s well. Really well, I think.’ Lorraine keeps pruning and chucking. ‘I asked her a while ago if she wanted to move closer to a beach and she said she loves the hinterland, so she’s staying. Although she mentioned some bloke was sniffing around, saying he was from a …’ She screws up her face, trying to remember the term. ‘Golf club consortium – does that sound right?’
‘You’re asking me? I wasn’t there.’
‘Butconsortium– is that a word?’
‘It is.’
‘Right. So some golf consortium bloke said they’re looking at buying up all these properties and making a big golf resort. Would have thought it was too hilly for that but he told Mum no problem, they’d just level the hills.’
‘Can they do that?’
Lorraine shrugs. ‘I guess. If they have enough money.’
‘I mean can they just do what they want to the land?’
‘Mike says some owners just take the money from those sorts of fellows and close their eyes.’
‘They lie back and think of England, you mean?’
‘How rude!’ Lorraine tosses a clod of earth at Cynthia, who laughs. ‘I had no idea you had such a dirty mind.’
Then she stops and thinks about what it really means if people don’t care about who does what to the land. ‘But I guess that’s bad, isn’t it? If people can just do what they want to a hill.’
She remembers something Barb mentioned the other day – about how there’d been this plan to turn the whole of Noosa Heads into a giant resort, and it almost happened because the state government was going to give money for it. Then the government changed and Hastings Street didn’t get bulldozed. Lorraine felt so relieved when Barb told her that, she wondered if she was turning into some kind of vegetarian person who likes incense and hugs trees.
These aren’t issues that used to trouble Lorraine’s mind. She’s married to a man who likes his Holden Commodore to be the latest, and has a son who whinges when his friends get better Walkmans than he has. She thought that’s just how it works: you get the best, most up-to-date thing you can. So if someone wants to build a shiny new resort, isn’t that the best and most up-to-date? But after what Barb told her she’s been thinking about how new isn’t always good. New isn’t always right. Old bush is bush that has hung on for a lot longer than Lorraine’s been here, and digging it up to make a golf course or a resort or what have you would ruin something that is timeless and beautiful.
Because that’s what she’s realised these scrubby, oddly shaped, khaki and brown and golden and sometimes green bushes and shrubs and trees are: beautiful. All these weekends Shirl’s been banging on about natives and Lorraine thought she was a bit touched, and now here Lorraine is, believing Shirl may be onto something. You wouldn’t read about it.
‘When it comes to development,’ Cynthia is saying, ‘it’s generally not a good idea to let people do what they want. There has to be some oversight.’ She turns her attention to a lavender that isn’t as healthy as it should be, frowns, then starts making small cuts here and there. ‘In Los Angeles some people seem to do what they want,’ she says, her attention still on the lavender. ‘Theybuild these ugly office towers and apartment blocks. No one says anything. I guess because the city isn’t that old and there’s not much in the way of natural land left.’
She lifts her head and looks seriously at Lorraine. ‘But we have a lot left here. So I hope your mother doesn’t sell to that person.’
Lorraine grins. ‘She told him to buzz off. Although I guess if he comes back with more money she might be tempted. Except she’d probably just buy somewhere else in the hinterland then complain about the golf course once they build it.’
‘Papa’s had offers,’ Cynthia says. ‘There are so few lots in Little Cove that I suppose they’re appealing to certain types. But it’s his home.’
‘Your home too,’ Lorraine murmurs.
Cynthia stops what she’s doing and turns to face Lorraine. ‘I guess it is, now,’ she says, then she sighs. ‘Am I home?’
Her face crumples a little and Lorraine reaches across and takes her gardening-gloved hand.
‘Your daughter is here, your father is here. Von is here. Handsome Pat is here.’ She winks. ‘And I’m here. Plus I think Shirl and Barb are quite partial to you. To me that sounds like you’re home.’
Cynthia sniffs and nods quickly, ducking her head, and Lorraine wonders if she’s crying. She can’t remember seeing Cynthia cry. It wasn’t her thing when they were young.
‘I think you’re right,’ Cynthia says when she lifts her head.
‘It actually doesn’t matter whatIthink, though.’ Lorraine lets go of Cynthia’s hand. ‘It matters how you feel.’
Cynthia sits back and looks around the garden. ‘My father gave me something the other day,’ she says.
