Page 76 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘He can come here,’ Odette says defiantly. ‘I’ll talk to him then.’
Cynthia and Wilfred exchange glances because they both know it’s unlikely to be that simple. But Cynthia also knows that her father feels as she does: Odette is their priority, and Jordan too, and Ash isn’t really even running in that race.
‘I’ll get going,’ Wilfred says, and within seconds Cynthia hears his keys being picked up from the kitchen bench and the back door closing.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Odette says, holding Jordan out in front of her and wriggling her nose at him. ‘Isn’t he the best?’
‘Close to it,’ Cynthia says. ‘I’ve always thoughtyou’rethe best.’
They sit and smile at each other, and it seems so simple, right then, to be a mother: to love your child and support them and offer them help when they need it.
And maybe that’s all it is. Maybe they complicate things by trying to score points against each other about who said what and did what when. Although Cynthia knows she needs to stand up for herself from time to time, to do what’s right for her evenif Odette doesn’t like it – that’s how she has shown Odette to do the same for herself. That’s what has led Odette to be here today.
So it is simple and not. It is love, but self-love has to be there too. This is the back-and-forth of being human, and now, in this house she grew up in, in this small town with its beaches and palms and bush, Cynthia finally feels like she knows how to live.
CHAPTER FORTY
Kathyhasn’t spent much time on Hastings Street since she moved to Noosa. It’s over the hill from the junction and she usually doesn’t have a reason to go – it doesn’t have a supermarket or a fruit shop or anything else she needs. Like a grog shop. Although she hasn’t been visiting her local as much lately. A psychologist – if she were to visit one, which she wouldn’t, because she thinks they put ideas in people’s heads and not usually good ones, just the kind that make you question your childhood and your adulthood and your whole identity – might say it’s because she’s a little more content than she was. That’s because she’s no longer worrying about her relationship with Michelle: by the time her daughter left they were as chummy as they ever were, and Kathy felt like she had her friend back, not just her child. They’ve been speaking every couple of days since, the chatty sort of conversations they always used to have.
So Kathy is feeling better about life and she’s also busier. Distracted by activities. Certainly work is keeping her occupied, and she has the occasional outing with colleagues, even though she feels like their spinster aunt.
However, the Sunshine Gardening Society is what really keeps her brain whirring. She started thinking about what to do with the garden at home, then she moved on to thinking about gardens in general, and now when she walks past houses she looks atthe gardens and considers how she might change them if she had time and pots of dough. Would she put aspidistras in that nook? What about a bromeliad here or there? She likes callistemons – what about those?
Sometimes when she’s thinking about plants and gardens and what she’d do with them, it feels like her brain is expanding, although she knows that’s rubbish. But it really does – as if her awareness is reaching far beyond her cranium. It’s odd, and she likes it. It’s becoming a hobby, almost.
She’s never been a creative type – at school one of her teachers said Kathy was the least creative child she’d ever encountered and ever hoped to – but this feels a little like being creative. Like daydreaming, which is something she did a lot before teachers started telling her to stop looking out the window.
So today she’s walked from the junction, up over the hill and down towards the beach, stickybeaking at gardens as she goes. Walking has become a new pastime too, and while she tells herself it’s because exercise is good for you, mostly she likes it because she can stickybeak. And today she’s also going to have a swim. That’s another thing she wants to do more of – she’s living in this beautiful place with all these beaches and she’s barely been to them. So, towel over one shoulder, string bag over the other containing hat and some money and keys, and a book to read if she decides to stay a while, she’s arrived on Hastings Street feeling smug about walking up that hill and quite content about her plans for the next few hours.
There aren’t any gardens on this street, but there are some shops and some restaurants, so she decides to take a look at those just so she knows what’s what. Maybe she’d like to eat out every now and again at a restaurant that isn’t her workplace. It could happen. She’s starting to have friends.
In fact, here’s one of them now, walking towards her and smiling – and pushing a pram.
Kathy waves. ‘Hi, Cynthia!’
Cynthia stops, looks surprised for a second then smiles.
‘Hi,’ she says, pushing the pram to one side so it’s not between them. ‘Have you come for a swim?’
Kathy nods. ‘Thought I’d give it a go. So this is your daughter’s baby?’
She peers into the pram to see a little scrunched-up face below a definite outline of hair.
‘This is Jordan.’ Cynthia smiles proudly. ‘I just got him off to sleep – he likes to be moved. And Odette can’t walk around jiggling him all day. I suggested she have a sleep too.’ She bends down and peers in, then straightens up. ‘Cute, isn’t he?’
Kathy smiles and nods, although she rarely thinks babies are cute. Even her own didn’t earn the epithet.
‘How have the past weekends been?’ Cynthia asks. ‘I’ll be back this Saturday.’
‘They’ve been fun,’ Kathy says, and means it. ‘And I was going to call you about something – I just wasn’t sure when you’d have time to chat.’
Cynthia narrows her eyes. ‘Oh?’
‘This bloke came up to us at the riverside park and said he’d bought the land and was going to develop it.’
‘That … doesn’t seem right.’ Cynthia glances down and Kathy hears Jordan squawk. Maybe it’s not a good time to talk to her – she’s distracted.
‘It’s not right and I was going to ask your advice about it,’ Kathy says in a hurry, ‘but it can wait. You have enough to think about.’
