Page 33 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
Here it is. The moment Elizabeth knew would come, when she has to explain all over again that Jon is dead, then she has to make people feel better that they’ve asked her about a husband who is dead, then she has to put aside the sadness that inevitably arises for her whenever this exchange occurs – because Jon is dead, because he’s staying dead, because this sadness is permanent and all she can do is try to shove it to the side from time to time, even though other people keep yanking it back to centre. She’s considered having a badge made:My husband is dead. Just to pre-empt. And so she doesn’t have to talk about it.
When she’s with people who know her she can put thoughts of Jon to one side of her brain and just get on with living. Charlie doesn’t ask about him much – which is a good and a bad thing – and her parents understand how she feels, so she rarely has to talk about Jon. Talking about him is what really makes her sad because she has to use past tense.
‘He doesn’t have a dad any more,’ Elizabeth says. ‘My husband died a few months ago.’
Olive’s eyes widen and her mouth opens, then she presses her lips together and sniffs. ‘Good on you, duck, getting back to things. To a job. I lost my Morrie when I wasn’t much older than you and it took meyears. I was that sad.’ She sniffs again. ‘Didn’t have any kids, though, so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. Still …’
She looks into Elizabeth’s eyes for a few seconds, and while normally Elizabeth would find that uncomfortable, this time she doesn’t. In fact, she feels relief, warm and comforting, flood her body and an overpowering sense of, for once, being in the right place at the right time. What were the odds that her new co-worker would understand her circumstances? That she wouldn’t have toexplainanything?
‘It’s not easy,’ Olive says at last. ‘So good on you.’ She wriggles her chair-on-rollers to the side a little and pats the empty chair next to her. ‘This is where you’ll sit.’
Accepting the invitation, Elizabeth moves around behind the desk and puts her handbag underneath it before sitting down and smiling tentatively at Olive.
A door to Elizabeth’s left opens and a man whom she presumes is Doctor Lopes sticks his head out.
‘Olive?’ he says. ‘Is Mrs Toshiya here?’
‘Not yet,’ Olive says, tight-smiling in the doctor’s direction.
He looks at his watch.
‘You know she’s always late,’ Olive mutters.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘ButI’mnot.’
He notices Elizabeth and offers her a big smile. ‘Hello,’ he says cheerfully. ‘I guess you’re Elizabeth.’
‘Yes.’ Elizabeth stands up to greet him and self-consciously runs a hand down her skirt. This one always wrinkles. She should have worn something else.
‘I’m Marco,’ the doctor says, extending a hand.
‘But call him “Doctor Lopes” around the patients,’ Olive says, giving her a look that Elizabeth deciphers as one of irritation at the doctor, not at her.
‘But Marco is fine when they’re not around,’ he says, giving Olive a look of his own. ‘Very pleased you could join us, Elizabeth. Olive will show you the ropes.’
‘So to speak,’ Olive says under her breath.
‘Call me when Mrs Toshiya arrives,’ Marco says to Olive, then he nods to Elizabeth and closes his door.
‘Like I wouldn’t,’ Olive huffs. ‘Honestly.’
Elizabeth isn’t sure whether to laugh or be worried that she’s entered a hostile workplace.
‘Family,’ Olive goes on. ‘Nightmare to work with.’
‘Oh … ?’ Elizabeth tries to calculate who Marco could be to Olive.
‘My stepson,’ Olive says. ‘Met his father on a holiday. He was a widower. Marco was almost a teenager. His father’s a hunk, let me tell you.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Marco got the brains.’
Now Elizabeth can’t help but laugh, because Marco is actually quite good-looking with his thick, chocolate-coloured hair and heavily lashed brown eyes.
‘Anyway,’ Olive continues, ‘he’s pretty much my son since I raised him from twelve but hereallyknows how to push my buttons. Insisted I work for him because no one else was good enough, then he drives me mad! But I’m scaling back, I told him.’ She gives Elizabeth a proper smile. ‘That’s why you’re here.’
The circumstances hadn’t been explained at the interview; Elizabeth had presumed she would be replacing her.
‘Sherry probably didn’t tell you that,’ Olive says, reading her mind.
‘No. I thought I was … I thought someone was leaving.’
