by Fiona Lowe
Jade hesitated, unsure if she should walk straight in. She craned her neck but couldn’t see anyone working on the many garden beds, which apart from some random cheery red ranunculi and some decorative White Lion double daffodils, were sadly lacking in flowers. Scanning the area, she saw three white bee-boxes and at the very end there was a rope ladder hanging from an oak tree. Was that the tree Helen had suggested Milo could sleep under?
Halfway down the block there was an old shipping container with its doors flung open. Pushing Milo between the mostly neat beds, Jade walked to the container and looked inside. A couple of spades and forks hung off three long posts and a board was attached to the back wall. The names of the tools were written in texta, but without a shadow outline, Jade had no idea what a Dutch hoe was or what it looked like. She got the impression that the shed could hold a lot more gardening equipment. There didn’t seem to be anyone about so where were the tools? Had someone robbed the garden?
She heard voices and rounded the container, but still couldn’t see anyone. Then she looked beyond the cyclone fence. Ten women—some wearing headscarves—were booting spades into the ground and digging over the soil. They were talking and laughing as if working in the hot sun was the best fun ever. Not that Jade understood a word they were saying.
A familiar heavy feeling settled on her chest, pressing in on her, and she closed her fingers around the wire fence. These women belonged together, just like the mothers at Baby Time. Once again, she was on the outside, looking in. Just like at school. Just like—
‘Jade!’ Helen was striding towards her, wearing the same faded plaid shirt from yesterday and the same clay-encrusted, elastic-sided work boots. ‘You came.’
She almost said, ‘Of course,’ but that wasn’t close to the truth. ‘Yeah.’ She pointed through the fence. ‘What are that lot doing?’
‘Making themselves garden beds so they can plant their vegetables. Put your baby under the tree and I’ll show you what to do.’
Usually older women made a fuss of Milo but Helen wasn’t even looking at him. Jade parked the stroller in the shade, threw an old sarong over it to give Milo some extra protection and joined Helen at a big garden bed that was a tangle of plants and weeds.
‘If you work methodically from left to right, you’ll get everything. There are trowels in the shed and a wheelbarrow. When you’ve filled it, wheel it up to my car.’ Helen glanced at Jade’s hands. ‘You got gardening gloves?’
As if. ‘I don’t need them.’
Helen’s mouth pursed like she’d sucked on a lemon. ‘Yes, you do.’
Jade bristled at the command. ‘It’s just dirt. It washes off, you know.’
‘All women who can get pregnant must wear gloves.’
After Milo was born, Jade had chosen to have a contraceptive rod inserted in her arm to give her complete protection against another accidental pregnancy. But she was curious about Helen’s decree. ‘Why?’
‘Cats poo in the garden and they can carry a virus called toxoplasmosis. I don’t have a lot of rules, Jade, but this is one of them. No gloves, no gardening.’
All her life there’d been rules that everyone seemed to know about except her. Rules that came out of nowhere and bit her on the bum, like the time her mother had walked into the kitchen wearing Jade’s new dress.
‘Mum! I haven’t even worn it yet,’ Jade had said.
‘So?’ Charlene replied. ‘I’ve paid for everything for years. Now you owe me.’
The memory stirred old anger that slammed into her frustration with Helen. ‘You could of told me that yesterday! By the time I walk to the supermarket and back here, Milo will be awake. Thanks for wasting my time. Thanks for nothing!’
Jade wasn’t hanging around for Helen to shrug her disinterest, yell back at her or give her a lecture on respecting seniors. She was about to march back to Milo when Helen pulled a pair of well-worn leather gloves from her back pocket.
‘Wear these today.’
Jade’s anger lessened, but it left behind a confusing sensation that was tiny part grateful and many parts annoyed. She’d felt the same the day before when Helen had suggested she come to the garden. There was something about the woman that made Jade itchy and scratchy.
‘Thanks, but they’re too big.’
‘They’ll do the job for today. I’ll leave you to it.’ Without looking back, Helen strode out through the gates.
Jade didn’t know what she’d expected, but part of her thought Helen might work alongside her for a bit, not just abandon her to spend time with the women on the other side of the fence. Women who didn’t even speak English!
Cold determination coiled the length of her spine. She’d show Helen. She’d harvest this garden bed and keep whatever the hell she wanted.
An hour later, Jade’s back ached. She’d dug up something that looked like a tumour and something with feathery leaves that smelled like liquorice, along with potatoes and carrots. The best find was a huge pumpkin. She was going to keep it and make soup inside it like she’d seen on a cooking show. Corey hated cooking shows, so she only watched them when he was away. Recently she’d been watching them a lot.
The unintelligible conversation continued to drift through the fence and across to Jade, reminding her she was on her own. Mostly she hummed songs to herself to block out the sound, but a burst of rapid-fire jabber made her glance up. Using her forearm, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and felt a dusting of dirt fall and stick to her cheek, pinned there by sweat. More laughter from the women dumped over her.
What the—? Jade slashed hard with a knife and severed four heads of broccoli from their thick and sturdy stalks. Those women had no right to be laughing at her when they were just as hot and dirty as she was.
She dumped the broccoli on top of the fully loaded wheelbarrow, then puffing and panting she pushed the heavy beast to the gates and Helen’s car. Opening the hatch, she found six boxes neatly positioned in two lines of three and an esky taking up the remaining space.
Jade tossed the broccoli onto the ice and sealed the esky before brushing excess dirt off the root vegetables. She was tempted to dump the lot into random boxes so Helen had to sort them. But there was something about the neatness of the arrangement and the colours of the vegetables that called to her, demanding order, so she loaded each vegetable type into its own box.
When she’d finished, she was struck by how much it looked like a painting. Vibrant green zucchinis shone, the deep purple of beetroots looked royal, and pleasure streamed through her at the way bunches of tapered orange carrots contrasted with their fluttery fine green leaves. Jade had never considered vegetables pretty before—that was the job of flowers—except right now she could imagine a glossy wooden table with vegetables as the centrepiece.
She slammed the hatch shut and pushed the barrow down the garden, glancing through the fence as she went. The women now sat cross-legged in the orchard, eating food out of plastic containers. Helen was with them, looking like she sat on the ground like that every day of the week.
Jade’s stomach rumbled and she wished she’d thought to pack herself a snack. She wouldn’t mind taking smoko either except she needed to work while Milo slept. But first she needed to pee. Tentatively, she slid open the lock on the portaloo, bracing herself for the stench, but instead of a fetid odour, the fresh smell of antiseptic wafted out to greet her.
When she’d finished, she stepped back outside and took a moment to listen for Milo. No crying, but she looked towards the tree anyway. She couldn’t see his pram, only three of the boat people. Her heart leaped, banging frantically against her chest, and then her legs were moving and she was sprinting the length of the garden.
‘Hey!’ The women turned and Jade saw Milo snuggled into one of them. ‘What are you doing? Give him to me! Get away!’
‘He crying,’ the woman said, handing Milo to her.
‘So? You’ve got no right to touch him.’
‘Sorry.’ Her head dipped for a mome
nt before rising. ‘You want him cry?’
‘No!’
‘I only hold him because you busy.’ She inclined her head to the portaloo.
Jade hugged Milo tightly, not only to reassure herself he was safe but to still the adrenaline-induced jitters.
Her son’s tear-stained face broke into a smile and he shot out a chubby hand, closing his fist around another woman’s headscarf. She made a cooing sound and said something to him Jade didn’t understand. Milo laughed.
‘He is beautiful baby.’ The woman who’d picked up Milo tickled him under his chin. ‘You very lucky.’
Jade stared at her. Since getting pregnant and having Milo she’d been told she was stupid, crazy, a slut, a disappointment, that she was throwing her life away, being unfair to Milo and too young to ever be a good mother. Not once had anyone said she was lucky.
She tried to think of something to say, but could only manage, ‘Yeah.’
‘I am Aima.’
‘A-mah?’ Jade repeated, trying the hard A. The woman nodded, smiling shyly. ‘I’m Jade. This is Milo.’
‘Yummy like the drink.’
‘You drink Milo?’ Jade couldn’t believe Aima knew it.
She shrugged. ‘I like chai. My son drinks Milo.’ She pointed to the orchard. ‘You bring food?’ Jade shook her head. ‘Come. Eat ours.’
Jade hesitated. Did she really want to join them? What if their food was weird? Aima looked a bit Asian and she’d read somewhere they ate insects. But if Aima gave her kids Milo, maybe some of their food would be Aussie.
While Aima’s friend played clap hands with a shrieking and laughing Milo, a tug of war played out inside Jade. Her wariness about the women’s foreignness and her suspicions that they’d been talking and laughing about her pulled against their obvious delight in her son—a delight that matched her own. There were few people who shared that. Should she risk it? What was the worst thing that could happen? The food would be gross? They’d talk in their own language and she’d feel as ignored and out of place as she did pretty much everywhere in this stinking town? That Helen would tell her she needed to keep working? It wasn’t like any of those scenarios were new, so whichever way it went down, she could deal.
Decision made, she picked up her backpack. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER
7
Helen was glad yoga gave her the flexibility to sit cross-legged on the ground with the women. They’d arrived this morning directly from school drop-off and had worked like Trojans, weeding and digging. The first bed was turned over and Helen had completed the soil test. After lunch, they’d fork in the compost. Helen was donating the contents of her bin as well as the Liparis’ to kickstart the project, but the women would need to start their own compost. The committee would insist on a bin rather than a bay and she wondered if they could afford to buy one. The beds also needed sleepers to bring them in line with the plots in the main garden, but again that took money.
Helen glanced at Jade who was refusing the food Aima was offering her. Why had the girl bothered to join them if she was going to be rude? Irritation jabbed at her.
‘At least try a bolani,’ she said. ‘They’re a bit like a pasty.’
‘I can make up my own mind, thank you.’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ Helen muttered under her breath. Honestly, the girl was so full of spikes and prickles it was impossible to have a conversation. ‘How did you get on with the vegetables?’
‘We’re best friends.’ But this time the sardonic tone was accompanied by a wry smile that hinted at a sense of humour.
Helen laughed. ‘Did you get much done before the baby woke up?’
‘It’s all done except the cabbages.’
‘Really?’ Helen’s surprise slipped out before she could stop it.
Jade scowled. ‘What? Did you think I couldn’t do it?’
‘I think you’re a lot faster than me. Thank you.’
Jade’s mouth worked as if she was masticating the compliment, unsure if it tasted sweet or sour. ‘I’ve kept two bunches of carrots, and a dozen spuds. Oh, and I found a pumpkin and I’m keeping it to make soup.’ The tilt of her chin said, just try to stop me.
‘Good for you. Would you like some fresh herbs too?’
‘Do you have garlic and sage?’
‘Done.’
Jade didn’t thank her but reached instead for a bolani and raised it tentatively to her mouth. Her face wrinkled in trepidation while her free hand clutched her water bottle. All the women stopped talking and watched her. She nibbled the end and Aima nodded encouragingly.
‘It won’t poison you,’ Helen said. ‘Take a decent bite.’
Jade glared at her, but bit into the bolani and chewed quickly as if she was keen to get it out of her mouth as fast as possible.
‘Is good, yes?’ Aima asked.
Helen held her breath.
Jade nodded. ‘I thought it would be too spicy but it’s just potatoes and chives.’
‘And lentils and a little bit chilli.’
‘Can I have another one?’
Helen relaxed, the women laughed and Milo squawked at the food passing him just out of reach. Jade offered him some of the filling. He ate it and demanded more.
It was Kubra who rose first, urging the women back to work. Helen could have sat a little longer but their enthusiasm buoyed her to her feet.
She walked Aima and Baseera over to the Liparis’ compost bin and left them shovelling the organic matter into a wheelbarrow and trundling it next door for the women to fork it into the bed.
‘Come on, Jade, I’ll get you that sage and garlic.’
Jade followed and, to Helen’s surprise, immediately identified the sage from the other herbs.
‘You should grow flowers too,’ Jade said.
‘I can’t eat flowers.’
‘Yeah, you can. Nasturtiums, pansies, lavender, zucchini flowers.’ She counted them off on her fingers.
‘You seem to know a lot about it.’
Jade shrugged and shoved the garlic and sage in her pocket. ‘MasterChef.’
Helen waited for thanks, but Jade turned the pram around, said, ‘See ya,’ then walked away.
‘Bye,’ Helen said to her retreating back and relaxed. She’d been on tenterhooks since Jade had arrived. The teenager was graceless, defensive and didn’t take instruction very well. And then there was the baby …
Helen gave herself a shake—it was time to weed the Liparis’ bed. She reached into her back pocket. Bloody hell! Jade had walked off with her gloves.
As she was up to date with her tetanus shots, she decided not to waste more time by going to the cottage to get another pair and got busy digging, shaking, tossing and raking. Her plan was to make the bed so neat and tidy that pedant Judith would suffer from not being able to fault the handover preparation. Helen was tempted to plant an oxalis seed in the bed as an act of defiance for Fiza who’d been denied this bed, but that wasn’t the fault of the new owners. Besides, the weed wouldn’t confine itself to one garden bed so she’d only be hurting herself.
‘Hello, Helen.’
The musical voice made her look up. ‘Fiza! You made it.’
‘I am so sorry. Things have been very busy for me.’
Helen stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. ‘No worries. I’m just glad you’re here.’
‘This is my garden?’
‘No.’ Helen pointed through the fence. ‘I’m afraid you need to start from scratch, but I’ll help.’
‘That is very kind, but I don’t have a shovel.’
‘We’ve got everything you need in the shed.’
‘And I can use?’ She clapped her hands close to her chest. ‘This is wonderful. My children can help after school?’
‘As long as you’re here with them. Come and meet the other women and I’ll show you the bed I’ve marked out for you.’
Helen did the introductions and the women all murmured greetings. She was surprised they didn’t know e
ach other given they lived in the same street, but then again, she kept to herself. Between the café, the garden and her work with the shire, she knew a lot of people but didn’t socialise with anyone.
The women returned to their tasks and Helen and Fiza dug the perimeter of the rectangular bed. It was hard work and neither of them chatted much.
Helen was taking a water break when she heard her name being called. Judith and Sharon stood on the community garden side of the fence. Helen returned their waves. Judith beckoned. Helen’s spine stiffened, but she waved again before returning to her digging. If Judith wanted to talk to her, she could walk to her.
It took Judith and Sharon less than three minutes.
‘Helen, what’s going on?’ Judith’s arm waved, encompassing all the activity.
‘We’re extending the garden.’
‘You can’t do that without consulting the committee!’
‘Our lease only covers the space we have,’ Sharon said.
‘The orchard’s ours,’ Helen said.
‘It’s a grey area.’
‘It’s not. The cottage is affiliated with the garden. Don’t you think it makes sense to turn this empty space into a much-needed extension?’
‘We don’t need an extension. Our waiting list is less than a year.’
‘And I’ve got women here who are keen to have their own garden. We’ve got the space, so why wait?’
‘Did you get permission from the shire?’ Judith asked.
‘Yes.’ She’d discussed it with Messina and Vivian.
‘Do you have it in writing?’
‘No, but—’
‘Until we have it in writing, this area’s not part of the garden.’
Helen rolled with Judith’s need to split hairs. ‘Fine, I’ll get it in writing.’
‘Good. Until then, none of the equipment can be used.’
‘What? You’ve got to be kidding?’
‘I don’t joke about protocol and procedure, Helen. You might be the coordinator, but you must operate within the rules.’
Helen fought for calm. ‘And that’s what you’re doing? Operating inside the rules?’
‘Absolutely.’ Judith looked around at the women who’d all stopped working, sensing something was happening. ‘It’s what a civilised society does. As these people have chosen to come to our democratic country, they’ll understand.’
