Page 78 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Take your time,’ Cynthia says, her hand on Kathy’s shoulder.
As Kathy sits up she sees that Cynthia is pushing the pram back and forth with the other hand, and she feels embarrassed. Cynthia was having a walk with her grandson and it’s been completely derailed by Kathy’s stupid behaviour. Then she starts to cry – she doesn’t want to, it just happens – and she feels even more embarrassed.
Cynthia stops pushing the pram and sits next to Kathy, putting an arm around her shoulders.
‘I don’t know what that woman means to you,’ she says quietly, ‘but you need to never see her again.’
Kathy cries and nods and sniffs and nods again.
‘I loved her,’ Kathy says, because somehow she knows that Cynthia won’t find that statement strange.
‘Do you still?’
Kathy turns to look at her and blinks her tears away. This isn’t a question she has dared to ask herself for quite a while now, scared of what the answer might be.
‘Maybe a bit,’ she says, because she knows there’s truth in that. ‘I try not to think about her.’
‘I don’t like her,’ Cynthia says. ‘I mean, I can see the appeal – she’s very pretty and she seems quite outgoing. But she’s a little too … hm, what’s the word? Up herself. That’s it.’
She grins and Kathy laughs, feeling her chest release the tension it’s been holding.
‘Maybe,’ she admits.
‘Definitely.’ Cynthia stands up. ‘Come on, let’s walk up to the end of the street and people-watch all the tourists and make comments about their swimwear.’
Kathy laughs again, and they set off for the river end of Hastings Street, where there’s bush and a walking track. As theyamble Cynthia talks about what it was like growing up in the area and how much she loves this beach.
By the time they return to their starting spot Kathy has forgotten about Jemima. And when she finally plunges into the water, having waved Cynthia goodbye, she feels like, just maybe, she is washing away the past, and now she can start her life over again and see where it takes her.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Aroundthe entrance of the national park there are Kombi vans that look like they haven’t been washed in years, their back windows covered from the inside by tatty towels or draped pieces of cloth. The door of one is open and Lorraine can smell the reek from metres away. She spies an old mattress and can only imagine what else is inside the van. Joss sticks, that’s for sure and certain, because she can smell those too. Probably being used to mask the stench of everything else. Well,it’s not working.
‘Yuck!’ she says to Cynthia as they walk past, wrinkling her nose.
‘Not your kind of vehicle?’
‘Not my kind of squalor. How do people live like that?’
‘I think they’re on holidays more than living like that.’ Cynthia peers more closely at the vehicle. ‘On the other hand, you may be right, and they’re living in the van.’
‘I don’t approve!’ Lorraine says grumpily.
‘Clearly.’ Cynthia looks amused and they walk on.
‘Why are we here?’
‘Barb told me the other day that some tidying up is needed in here – not necessarily of the gardening variety. Of the rubbish variety. It would be an extra project, so the whole group wouldn’tbe there. And obviously the park is huge, so we’d only do a section at a time. I thought it would be interesting to have a look and see what the state of it is.’
Lorraine nods slowly. She likes the idea of having a walk – the only exercise she gets is the gardening. Still, this is something Cynthia could have done on her own.
‘But why amIhere?’ she says.
Cynthia stops and angles towards her. ‘Because you’ve been miserable and I think it’ll do you good to get outside for a while.’
About to protest and say she’s not miserable, just angry at Mike, Lorraine then remembers the nights she’s spent crying in the upstairs bathroom, door locked, boys in their beds. Sometimes she calls Cynthia after she cries, sometimes before. So, yeah, she’s miserable.
‘What’s so good aboutoutside?’ she grumbles.
