Page 68 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Oh!’ Barb says, getting to her feet. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Everyone’s okay. Cynthia just wanted to help settle them in at home. I think Odette’s boyfriend still hasn’t decided if he wants to be a father so he’s not doing anything. Luckily Pat’s around.’
‘Pat?’ Barb asks.
‘Odette’s dad. Cynthia’s ex.’
‘Right.’ Barb turns away and kneels down in front of the garden.
Kathy has noticed that Barb’s not a gossip – she’ll ask the pertinent questions but not engage further. Shirl, on the otherhand, could gossip for Australia, although it’s well meaning. She doesn’t say nasty things, just likes to know what’s going on – although that can mean asking if anyone knows if So-and-so is really leaving his wife for Whatsername, and does anyone know if it’s true that the real estate agent in Noosaville is expanding to Coolum. Kathy learns more about the goings-on in the local area in one Saturday morning with Shirl than in a whole week at work.
‘Hi, Elizabeth.’ Kathy smiles as the young woman walks up. She’s looking a little better these days, Kathy thinks. Not as sad around the eyes.
‘Hello, all.’ Elizabeth too holds up a plastic bag. ‘Strawberries.’
‘Well, isn’t this a cornucopia,’ says Shirl. ‘Lorraine’s brought pineapple.’ She nods at the trees. ‘Over there in the shade, love.’
Elizabeth smiles and drifts towards the trees.
Lorraine squats next to Kathy. ‘So, what are we doing today?’ she asks. ‘Wait – let me guess. We’re planting natives.’ She glances slyly in Shirl’s direction.
‘You’ll keep,’ Shirl says, but she looks quite pleased. ‘We’re pruning these roses and tidying up these beds – you can see how the weeds are creeping back in. Bit of mulch on top. Althoughyes, Lorraine, planting natives would be a better solution.’ She squints up at the tall eucalyptus close by. ‘I swear those kookaburras just sit there waiting for us to put mulch on because they want to swoop down and mess it up.’
‘But natives don’t go with the roses, right?’ Kathy asks. ‘From an aesthetic point of view, I mean.’
‘Correct.’ Shirl sighs loudly. ‘If I had my way we’d pull out those roses.’
‘The roses have been here for years, Shirley,’ Barb says. ‘They’re staying in.’
‘I know, I know.’ Another loud sigh. ‘Here I go, pruning them, see, Barb? Now they’ll grow back nice and strong.’
Elizabeth moves to the other side of Lorraine and pulls on her gloves.
‘How’s work?’ Lorraine asks her, and Kathy realises that she didn’t even know Elizabeth had a job. She presumed Jon would have left life insurance or something so that Elizabeth didn’t have to work straightaway. What a strain, having a young child and working and trying to manage on your own, all while you’re grieving. Elizabeth is stronger than she looks.
‘It’s good.’ Elizabeth’s smile seems genuine. ‘The days are busy. I like that.’
‘And Charlie’s managing the change in routine?’
‘He is. I’m lucky that my parents can pick him up each day, because he loves spending time with them.’
‘I think it’s amazing that you say you’re lucky,’ Kathy pipes up. Her eyes meet Elizabeth’s and she hopes they show that she’s being serious. ‘With what you’ve gone through … What you’re going through. Not many people would say they’re lucky.’
Elizabeth stares at her then she nods slowly. ‘I guess not. And I haven’t felt that way a lot of the time. But …’ She looks around at their small gathering. ‘Some days are better than others.’
She grins and it’s the first time Kathy has ever seen her really smile. Normally there are quick little expressions that are on the way to a smile. If she’s part of the reason why Elizabeth can smile – if they are, collectively, the reason – that makes her feel she’s done something right.
For the next ten minutes or so they all work in silence. Chitchat is welcome but Kathy has found that some days they all naturally concentrate, and there’s delicate work to be done in this garden. One random wrong prune and the rose may not recover – although from the way Shirl tells it, roses are like triffids and threatening to take over the earth one day because they’re so hardy.
It’s while Kathy is examining a soft pink rose, deciding where to cut the stem, that she notices the sunlight being blocked out and turns to see a sweaty man in a suit and tie whose gut isstraining against his shirt and belt. He’s grinning and rubbing his hands together.
‘What have we here?’ he says, and Kathy is fairly sure that’s a leer he’s throwing in Elizabeth’s direction.
‘Not your harem,’ Shirl barks, holding up her secateurs. ‘Buzz off.’
‘Wow.Unfriendly.’ He chuckles and Kathy is tempted to take her own secateurs to his goolies. What a creep. Why can’t they just be left alone?
The last time they were in a council park there was some nob in running gear who thought they’d enjoy watching him stretch next to where they were working. They didn’t and it was Barb who chased him off, telling him they had no interest in seeing his shrivelled little testes straining to make an impression on his nylon shorts. Those were the exact words she used. Kathy wrote them down afterwards in case she ever needs to use them in another context.
