Page 85 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘Ah, come on, Kath, she’s right there out in the open. Anyone could have seen her. It just happened to be us. Ha!’ Lorraine does a little jig.
Rose looks from one to the other. ‘I’m going to ask her to do a reading.’
‘Mum, you can’t!’
‘Why not? I’ve never had one done. Maybe she’ll tell me I’m going on a cruise.’
‘Do you want to go on a cruise?’
‘I wouldn’t mind. And if this Barb says I’m going on one I’ll have something to look forward to, won’t I?’
‘No, Mum.’ Lorraine sounds like she’s scolding a child. ‘You won’t be able to help yourself and you’ll tell her that you know me.’
Rose makes a mischievous expression. ‘So?’
‘Kathy’s right,’ Lorraine says, sighing like the admission is a huge hardship. ‘We need to leave her alone. It’s her business.’ She pinches Kathy’s waist. ‘But I’m keeping it in reserve just in case I need to earn gossip points.’
‘All right, I’ll let you,’ Kathy concedes, and smiles to show she means it.
‘Come on,’ Lorraine says, ‘let’s head to the bakery stall this way. Then I’ll take you to see my friend’s paintings. They’re really good.’
Kathy restrains herself from asking Lorraine if she too is psychic, given she hasn’t said anything about wanting to look for paintings. Instead she follows Lorraine and Rose around the market for the next hour, and it’s one of the most pleasant hours she has spent in a very long time.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Wallet,keys, something she’s forgetting … No? Yes. Deodorant. Lorraine forgot to put deodorant in her bag and it’s so stinking hot that she’s going to sweat all day, which means the deodorant she’s currently wearing will stop working in about an hour’s time and then she’s going to smell and who wants to be near that? Not that the others will say anything. They’re too polite. Especially Elizabeth. Lorraine has a theory that if she stomped on Elizabeth’s foot she’d be apologisedto– Elizabeth would probably say she was sorry for getting in Lorraine’s way. Honestly! She’s going to have to teach that girl a thing or two about not making excuses for herself.
Actually, that’s advice Lorraine can take as well. If she starts to pong she won’t make excuses, she’ll just say it’s natural. If she says anything at all. Maybe it won’t be that bad. Yeah, she had garlic for dinner last night and that always means a bit of seepage out of the pores, but garlic’s good for you, isn’t it? That’s her excuse for putting it raw into the pasta sauce. Terry probably still hasn’t forgiven her because after dinner he said he was too stinky to go to the movies with his mates. Lorraine said he was lucky to be fed at all. Not the best thing to say to a teenage boy who’ll take any excuse he can get to never talk to his mother ever again.
‘What’s wrong?’ Cynthia is standing by Elizabeth’s gate, frowning at Lorraine.
‘Huh?’
‘You look like you’ve lost something.’ Cynthia arches an eyebrow. ‘Maybe your marbles?’
‘Ha ha. No. Deodorant.’ She can tell Cynthia. No judgement between them. Once, when they were at school, Lorraine’s period arrived in the middle of lunch and she bled through her pale-blue uniform. Without a word Cynthia held out her hand and hauled Lorraine off to the toilets, where they scrubbed the dress, then Cynthia tied her cardigan around Lorraine’s waist before taking her to the sick bay to ask for a pad. The only comment she made was that it was stupid to put teenage girls in light-coloured uniforms because the risk of bleeding was high. Lorraine was too busy being relieved that her friend was so capable to be embarrassed, and Cynthia was too much of a queen bee for anyone to say anything about it to Lorraine, if they’d even noticed.
‘Oh, great,’ Cynthia says, wrinkling her nose. ‘You already smell like a deli.’ Then she smiles, so Lorraine knows she doesn’t really care.
‘Do you have your gloves, at least?’ Cynthia asks.
Lorraine panics momentarily, then puts her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Her gardening shorts as they’ve become. They’re so ratty from her crawling through garden beds and bracken that she can’t wear them anywhere nice. And no matter what Shirl says Lorraine has to wear shorts in weather like this. It’s too humid for long pants – they just cling to her and she feels like she’s encased in Glad Wrap.
‘Yep,’ she says, pulling them out with a triumphant smile. ‘At least I got that right.’
Cynthia frowns briefly. ‘Are you feeling like you don’t get things right?’
‘I married a liar,’ Lorraine says quickly, sharply. ‘So, yeah, I don’t get things right.’
‘That wasn’t your fault.’ Cynthia pauses and glances towards the house, where the back door is opening. ‘And he’s cleaning up the mess, isn’t he?’
‘Not quickly enough.’ Lorraine thinks of the fight she and Mike had last night, when he told her he was doing his best to make things right and she said his best was never going to be good enough again. She wasn’t even sure she meant it – because she still loves him – but it felt good to say it. Anger feels powerful. It’s been surprising to discover that.
‘Hello.’ Elizabeth appears at the gate and pulls it open, ushering them inside.
‘Charlie here?’ Lorraine says, grateful to have the chance to think of someone other than Mike. She’s fond of that little fellow – he’s curious about things and not in that annoying-kid way. Probably going to be a scientist or something one day.
Elizabeth shakes her head. ‘He’s with a friend. They’ve gone to the Big Pineapple.’
