Page 83 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
She hacks into a climbing asparagus fern, which Elizabeth knows is a weed because Shirl gave them a lecture about it last week.
‘And now –’hack, hack‘– I have to work out whether I should divorce him and give myself the best chance of starting over before everything completely collapses, or stay for the kids.’ She says this last bit in a tone that indicates how little she thinks of the idea. ‘Because –’hack, hack‘– we always have to think of thekids, don’t we, Elizabeth?’
Lorraine stops, sweat on her forehead and a gleam in her eye. ‘Why does no one stop to think that what’s best for themothermight be what’s best for thekidswhen it’s themotherwho has to look after thekidsbecause thefatherusually won’t do it or he’llstuff it up.’ She huffs out a breath. ‘That’s all I have to say on the matter for now. That and Mike seems to think that dedicating songs to me on the local radio station will make me forgive him.’
Elizabeth knows her mouth is open because she can feel air on her tongue, so she closes it and swallows. ‘Um …’
‘That was probably a bit much, was it?’ Lorraine wipes her forehead with her forearm. ‘Sorry. Had to get it off my chest.’ She snaps the secateurs. ‘Your turn.’
‘Oh …’ Elizabeth isn’t really the confessing kind. Although what would she be risking if she did share something of herself with an almost-stranger? Embarrassment. But she also risks not making this almost-stranger into a friend if she doesn’t share that something. Because she likes Lorraine and for some reason she trusts her. She trusts them all, really. As they work away on the weekends – heads down and bums up, as Shirl says – there’s no competition, no sniping, no one-upping. There’s just care for the tasks at hand and respect for the places they’re in and the people attached to them. Elizabeth thinks that, for many, the attraction of the Sunshine Gardening Society may be that their activities are ideal for people who want to show care for others yet would rather avoid those others if they can. Volunteering for introverts.
Except that doesn’t explain Shirl. Sometimes she thinks Shirl just likes to cut things and that’s why she’s in the society.
Nor does it explain Lorraine, who is clearly no introvert. Lorraine’s here because Cynthia’s here, though – she told Elizabeth that once.
‘See these weeds?’ Lorraine says after Elizabeth has been silent for a while. ‘We have to get them out so the garden can reach its full potential. Andyes, Elizabeth, I’m trying to be really obvious here. It’s a, um, whatsit – meta— meta— …’ She frowns.
‘Metaphor.’
‘Yep. That’s it. A metaphor. Get the weeds out and the garden can grow. Corny, isn’t it? But true!’ She laughs and it sounds genuine enough. ‘So how are you going?’ she asks again.
Elizabeth glances at the pile of asparagus fern at her feet and the secateurs in Lorraine’s hand and thinks about weeds.
‘I’m still very sad,’ she admits. ‘And I don’t know if it will ever end.’
Lorraine nods and keeps cutting. ‘It won’t,’ she says bluntly. ‘But over time you won’t notice it as much.’ She glances back at Elizabeth. ‘That may or may not help you.’
Elizabeth likes the fact Lorraine is so blunt about it.
‘I just want to get up one morning and not feel like the day is going to be hard,’ she says, then pauses. ‘I mean, not every day does end up being hard. But they all start the same way. They feel like they’ll be hard.’
‘But you keep going,’ Lorraine says, now focusing on pulling out the weeds at the root. ‘You havekeptgoing for a while now.’
‘I guess I have.’
‘No guess! It’s been happening. You just haven’t noticed.’
Lorraine stands and holds out the secateurs. ‘Your turn to get stuck into it.’
‘What do I do?’ Elizabeth hasn’t done this kind of work before. She’s been happy to pick up the detritus and do the tidying.
‘Just go for it,’ Lorraine says. ‘They’re weeds. You can’t hurt them.’
‘All right.’ Elizabeth tries the action of the tool.
‘Go on,’ Lorraine urges.
Elizabeth steps forwards and puts some effort into the first big hack and feels the satisfaction of watching the severed plant fall to the ground. So she keeps going, and after a few minutes the exertion has made her blood pump and her temperature rise, and soon she’s lost in the hacking and tossing and clearing, and much happier for it.
DECEMBER 1987
LOLLY BUSH
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Kathyknows she’s going through menopause – who isn’t by fifty-five? – but she’s sure the hot flush she’s experiencing is entirely to do with the weather. December has arrived and brought with it what feels like one hundred and twenty per cent humidity, if that’s even a thing, which it probably isn’t but it should be, because her T-shirt is already sodden and she’s only just out of the car – although given that her version of air conditioning is winding down all the windows and hoping for the best, this should not be a surprise. She’s wearing cotton shorts and she should have picked the navy pair instead of the light green because she’s absolutely sure there’s a sweat patch right across her bum and god knows where else. Ick.
It is at this point that she firmly believes coming to Eumundi Market wasn’t her brightest idea. Except Michelle loved it when she visited, and told Kathy the other day during one of their now-regular phone calls that she’s been wearing the tie-dye T-shirt and pants she bought and she’s hung the small painting she bought too. Kathy isn’t on the hunt for tie-dye. A painting is what she’s looking for, maybe more than one, to add some nice touches to her home.
