Page 95 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
Cynthia wants to tell them that his cries in the middle of the night are real – and also that she doesn’t mind them. When Odette was a baby she minded very much that her nights were always broken and that the baby seemed to need so much from her. Now she wakes and listens to Odette cooing to her child, sometimes turning on the radio softly, and she waits until she hears them going back to bed before closing her eyes again.
Some nights she thinks she should get up and sit with Odette, but it’s the sort of thing that requires an invitation. Odette may not want Cynthia to witness the night-time feed and it would be awkward if she just started showing up. She wouldn’t havewanted her own mother to watch her feeding Odette – it would have felt like an assessment was taking place.
Of course, Cynthia likes to think she’s not her mother. We all like to think we’re not our mothers, that we will do things differently because we’re not happy with how our childhoods went – until our own child arrives and suddenly it becomes clear that there are so many little decisions to be made every day, so much weighing up of risk and reward, that there’s no such thing as perfect parenting. When each day involves so much change – and that’s just within the child alone – how can there be any template, let alone a measure of success? If the child stays alive that’s a good day. If they smile, even better. If they hit their milestones and grow up and go to school and make friends and enjoy activities, that’s the jackpot. And sometimes, in quiet hours, we can think about our own mothers and how they tried, every day, to do their best, because that’s all there is.
These are things Cynthia wants to say to Odette except they’re not at that point yet. They are not confidantes as they once were. Although today Odette has accepted Cynthia’s invitation to cross the road to the beach at Little Cove and have a swim with her in the warm sea, leaving Jordan with Pat.
Odette sighs as they walk onto the sand. ‘It’s been ages,’ she says, stretching her arms overhead and arching her back like she’s trying to catch the sunlight.
‘Since before Jordan, I imagine,’ Cynthia says, because Odette hasn’t been for a swim since she moved in.
‘Yeah, ages before. I used to …’ Odette’s expression is rueful. ‘I took it for granted. Going to the beach. It’s always here, right? I used to think, yeah, yeah, I’ll go for a swim. I didn’t. But I’ve missed it.’
She kicks off her thongs and unties her sarong, dropping it on top of her towel. Cynthia does her own version, adding her hat and sunglasses. Then, with a shy smile in Cynthia’s direction, Odette walks slowly towards the water.
This is the most Cynthia has seen of her daughter’s body since the birth and it is clear how it’s changed, as they all change. She loathed the changes in hers, convinced that they made her unattractive. Not that Pat ever said that; attraction was never part of their problem. But it was the era of Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton, and Cynthia felt the pressure – especially at her age – to be that shape. Breastfeeding made her breasts huge, and while it sucked the fat out of her too she felt wobbly. Jiggly. Uncontrollable. Like her body was having a life without her. That sense of disconnection possibly set her on the path she ended up taking, as she tried to find herself again. She doesn’t want that to happen to Odette, and hopes Odette doesn’t feel about her postpartum body the way Cynthia did about her own.
Ahead, Odette duck dives and pops up on the other side of a wave, grinning. ‘It’s beautiful!’ she cries, then she’s under again.
Cynthia lowers herself, dunking her head, opening her eyes and looking at the fuzzy underwater world around her, before she presses her feet down and emerges into the air.
‘It is,’ she agrees.
For a few seconds they are looking into each other’s eyes and smiling and Cynthia feels her heart expanding. Then a wave hits Odette in the back of the head and she squeals.
‘Let’s go out a bit further,’ Cynthia suggests.
They breaststroke beyond the waves. It’s low tide so the water isn’t too deep but they still need to tread water to stay afloat. Cynthia has always found treading water quite relaxing, even as it’s hard work. Or perhaps that’s why.
‘Do you think we’ll ever see Ash again?’ she says, deciding to launch straight into the hardest topic.
Odette has barely mentioned her baby’s father since she moved in, and Cynthia wants to know if it’s a temporary schism while Odette adapts to motherhood – which she could completely understand – or a permanent rift. Which may mean Odette is intendingto stay forever – and if so, that’s something Wilfred really needs to be told.
Odette makes a face. ‘Who knows.’
‘I note that it wasn’t Ash you asked to look after Jordan while we came for a swim.’
‘Dad was coming over anyway,’ Odette says quickly, like she’s prepared the answer in case she was challenged.
‘That’s irrelevant.’ Cynthia angles herself so the sun isn’t in her eyes and so she can see Odette’s grumpy face better. ‘I am on your side, darling,’ she says more kindly. ‘Always. So if I ask about Ash it’s because I want to work out how we can help you if you’re going to raise Jordan on your own. Your father and grandfather and I want only the best for the two of you.’
‘I don’t know,’ Odette says angrily. ‘I don’t know!’
Cynthia waits to see if Odette will say any more. When she was a child she’d blow off steam then settle down quickly.
‘It’s just …’ Odette starts, then she kicks herself into a circle like she’s a dolphin at play.
Cynthia understands: that freedom of being in the water, far from care, can make you believe you can leave worries behind. It’s deceptive. And impermanent.
‘I still love him,’ Odette continues. ‘But he’s a kid.’ She shakes her head. ‘That sounds weird. It’s … He seems to think Jordan isn’t a person … you know? Like he’s a toy who doesn’t need looking after, so Ash can carry on doing whatever he wants and has no responsibilities whatsoever. But I don’t get to do what I want.’ For a second she looks intensely sad.
‘So if Ash grew up, would you want to live together as a family?’ Cynthia prompts.
‘That’s a fantasy, Mum. And even if he did, it’s years away. By then I’ll be used to not having him around.’
Cynthia turns herself again so she can gaze out along the expanse of water, where there are swimmers and surfers, and buy herself time to think about what Odette has said. It’s whatCynthia feared for her – being on her own as a parent – yet now that she has first-hand knowledge of Ash’s inaction she realises it’s the best course. Odette could try to force Ash to be more involved with his child but that won’t benefit anyone, not even Jordan. So Odette will bear the bulk of the child-rearing alone. Although it’s not ideal, Cynthia is proud of her for being so clear-eyed and so responsible.
‘I’m sad that it’s come to this,’ she says as she turns back, ‘but I will help you. Just so you know.’
