Page 4 of Plight
Firstly, this was the first I’d heard about my participation in what sounded like a huge project. Thanks, Mum. Secondly, I couldn’t believe the council wanted to demolish our garden. That news hurt my heart. They couldn’t tear it down. It was special. And, thirdly, his winky face emoji was the first sign that he hadn’t lost his ability to joke around.
At least I hoped he hadn’t.
As I was about to type a reply to that effect, my phone started dancing within my hand, my mother’s picture staring me in the face.
I tapped speakerphone. “Your ears burning?”
“Why hello, dear. Saying hello is the correct way to answer your phone. I could’ve been anybody, you know.”
I shook my head and smiled. “No, you couldn’t have, Mum. I knew it was you.”
She laughed. “Oh, so you’re a Psychic now?”
“Nooooo…” I narrowed my eyes and shook my head again. “Never mind. So, what’s this I hear about Mr Hillier’s garden needing to be rebuilt or it will be demolished, and that we are rebuilding it? When were you planning on telling me this?”
“Now, as a matter of fact, but your new psychic abilities have allowed you to beat me to it.”
“I’m not psychic, Mum. I found out from Elliot Parker.”
“Ahh yes, Helen’s boy. Such a wonderful young man he is. Did you know he’s a famous lawyer? He stopped the demolition so that we could fix the garden.” She sighed, sadly, kinda fake-like. “I always thought the two of you would end up getting married and giving me grandbabies, so did Helen.” Mum’s part witch, part sing-song cackle, momentarily broke her words. “I think she still does.”
I snorted. Loudly. “Mum! The garden. What’s going on?”
“Okay, okay. Gee whiz. As of this weekend, we are going to be working around the clock to rebuild the community garden. Seeing as Helen and I are listed as the garden’s founders, it’s up to us to make sure we succeed or it will be demolished.”
“What happened to the garden? The last time I saw it, it was fine.”
“When was the last time you visited the garden, Danielle?” Her all-knowing tone was critical of my answer because it was warranted; it had been a while.
“I don’t know … maybe a year or so?”
“Try at least five.”
“No way!”
“Yes way. It’s been at least two years for me, and I live here.”
Hunching with guilt, I hugged Dudley a little tighter for reassurance. The garden was special to Elliot’s family and mine, and we’d neglected it. I felt awful.
“How bad is it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Well, the garden beds are no longer visible, swallowed by weeds. The shed is rotten, the windows smashed, and the panels have been kicked in and graffitied,” Mum paused. “And of course some disrespectful little so and so’s with nothing better to do have defiled Mr Hillier’s plaque. There’s also a good chance the gum tree is dead or at the very least partially dead.”
“Shit! So there’s a lot of work to do?”
“Yes, sweetheart, there is. And we owe it to Mr Hillier to fix this. We also owe it to Elliot for working his magic and allowing us this second chance.”
I nodded; she was right. What Elliot had done for our families, the Coldstream community, and Mr Hillier’s memory was pretty cool. He’d fought for all of us knowing how important the garden was.
All of a sudden, he wasn’t so creepy.
“Okay, Mum. So what time do we start on Saturday?”
“Be there at 7:00 am on the dot. And bring a shovel. Love you.”
“I don’t have a shov—” Before I could finish my sentence, she hung up. 7:00 am on Saturday morning? Are you kidding me? Ugh! There goes TGIF drinks after work.
