The Fence (28 page)

The police have already been to see Frankie. They said Eric Hill had been confused. He'd been looking for the row of crab apples and driven into the wrong driveway. In his panic, he had pressed the accelerator instead of the brake. Frankie had been very lucky, they'd said. Another second and she would have been crushed between the two vehicles.

No more Frankie, she thinks. It doesn't sound so bad. No more bad husband, no more stressful job, no more guilt about being a terrible mother. Just peace and quiet. She sighs.

‘I can't believe you told the police you didn't want to press charges. It's a criminal offence.' Brandon helps himself to one of Frankie's chocolates. He knows salted caramels are her favourites but it's hardly worth arguing over.

‘The police have the footage from the security cameras, Brandon. They've charged him with negligent driving occasioning bodily harm and driving without a licence. What else can we do?'

Brandon huffs. ‘Loss of income,' he flounders. He seems shocked Frankie is taking this so calmly.

Brandon doesn't know she's already lost her income, thanks to Tony. There is nothing else with which to charge Eric Hill. If she's being honest with herself, she feels a bit sorry for the old man. He has dementia, he hadn't meant to harm anyone. She feels a bit crazy herself.

Tired, she sends Brandon off to make her a cup of tea. He takes Bijoux and Marigold with him, leaving her alone with the twins.

‘Come here, you two, I can't give you a cuddle but we can hold hands,' she says.

The twins stand side by side, staring at her with round, serious eyes. Apparently, after the ambulance drove her away, they'd become hysterical. Frankie remembers Amber talking to her the whole time they waited for the ambulance. Some of the words waft around her head.

She says, ‘Do you remember holding Mummy's hand whilst we waited for the paramedics, Amber?'

Amber frowns. It wasn't her holding Mummy's hand, it was Mrs Hill.

‘We were talking about something. Can you remember what it was?'

Amber nods though much more slowly. Mrs Hill hadn't said very much but Mummy kept talking and talking.

‘What did we talk about?'

Amber looks at her brother. Silver stares at his shoes. She doesn't want to say.

Frankie senses they are sharing a secret.

‘Amber?'

Amber's eyes fill with tears. ‘You were talking about the knife, Mummy,' she says.

Oh yes, Frankie remembers that. They found a knife in their front yard. The police had questioned the Hills but refused to lay charges. ‘But why were we talking about the knife?'

Amber presses her lips to Frankie's ear, the relief of truth tumbling out of her. ‘I didn't find the knife in the front yard, Mummy.'

Frankie remembers sitting in a teensy weeny chair. She says, ‘You took it to school for show and tell.'

Amber shakes her head. ‘I just said that.'

Frankie tries to sit up on her pillows but gasps in pain. ‘I don't understand, sweetheart. You told Daddy and me that you took it in for news day, that you found it in the garden.'

Amber glares at Silver. ‘Tell Mummy.'

Silver squirms, glancing at the door, as if hoping his father's return might earn him a reprieve.

Amber pokes him. ‘Tell her, Silver. Mummy almost died.' The last said with wide eyes.

Silver clutches at his crotch, refusing to meet his mother's curious stare.

Frankie frowns. Why is Amber being mean to Silver? Why is he so upset? She squeezes his hand. ‘Silver, darling, you can tell me anything. I promise you won't get in trouble.'

Silver wrenches his hand free. ‘I just wanted it for a little while. It has a shark on it. Mr Hill lented it to me.'

‘What are you talking about, sweetheart?'

‘The knife, Mummy,' Amber explains. ‘Silver stole the knife from Mr Hill.'

Frankie flinches at the word ‘stole'. Her children do not steal. That's not how they were raised. But then again, Brandon's infidelity is a form of lying. Her pretending they have a happy marriage in front of the children is lying. Children are not stupid. They see through the cracks. So why should she be surprised that Silver might lie too. Still, there are missing elements to the twins' story. She says, ‘But it was in the front yard.'

Amber shakes her head. ‘Silver goes next door all the time, Mummy, to play with the dollhouses. You hid our dollhouse so he plays with Eric's.'

Frankie winces at this indirect accusation. She had hidden the dollhouse. The same as she had put up the fence to keep their children from harm but they in turn had seen it merely as an obstacle to be circumvented. Telling them they are not allowed next door, locking the gates, has not prevented them from escaping and seeking refuge next door. Any control is illusory. Was it really any wonder that the children had sought escape, refuge even, at the Hills'? It would be easy to blame Brandon for inadequate supervision but now they have the fence, they can't see into next door unless they stand at the lounge room window. Even from there, there is no way they could tell if Silver was sitting in Mr Hill's workshop.

‘You stole the knife, Silver?'

‘No! I lended it,' Silver shouts.

‘Shh, sweetheart. There's no need to yell. You shouldn't borrow things and not return them.' Frankie looks at Amber. ‘But why did you say you found it in the yard?'

Amber's bottom lip trembles. ‘Silver hid it in my schoolbag and I went to get my Beanie Baby for news and Mrs Rayner saw me holding the knife. I knew Silver would be in big trouble.'

Frankie's confused. She knows she's concussed but the twins are making little sense. ‘But what's that got to do with the accident?'

Amber begins crying, ‘Because I saw them in the workshop. Eric was mad because he couldn't find the knife. That's why he drove up our driveway, Mummy. He was going to tell you the truth.'

Frankie doubts that's true. Eric Hill is a sad and confused old man. The police have the knife, not the twins. ‘Amber, you can't tell lies for Silver. And, Silver, I can't believe you'd steal something that's not yours and then let your poor sister take the blame.'

But what she really wonders is how she and Brandon have always assumed that Amber is the ringleader. Amber's sassy ways might be more about covering for her twin brother than confidence. Maybe Frankie doesn't know her children at all.

Brandon returns with a cup of tea and a latte for himself. Frankie puts her finger to her lips, indicating that they will say nothing more about the knife. What is there to say? They are her flesh and blood. It is her responsibility to unravel this complex relationship between the pair. And maybe it needs to start with her and Brandon being a little more honest with each other.

After they leave, she dozes for a while, her mind swirling with these fragments of her life that have been flung in the air and now fall into new configurations.

She is woken by the arrival of Carol with a massive bunch of flowers on behalf of the Hush Hush team. Tony had rung her to tell her she had almost given him a heart attack but he was glad she was all right. He mentioned nothing more about her losing her job but that's all right, Carol has come personally to give her the heads up.

She rests her cool hand over Frankie's as she breaks the news. ‘Hun, what can I say? I tried to warn you and I know Tony feels dreadful after the accident and all, but the decision had already been made. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.'

‘When's it effective?' Frankie asks, wondering why she doesn't care more. Her ego, like her body, is bruised but the panic she expected to feel at the prospect of unemployment is absent.

‘This coming Friday. I've brought the paperwork if you feel up to signing it?' Carol produces a wad of papers from her briefcase.

Frankie signs them. Carol's right, there's no point in delaying the inevitable. Nine years she's been at Klaussman's. Working her way up, sacrificing her personal life to serve the company. She loved being a somebody with a big office, a team of people working under her. She remembers the first time she held her newly minted business card, the words ‘Account Director' embossed in bold capitals. The rungs of the corporate ladder rose above her and each time she was promoted she felt just that little bit more validated. When she reached the management team, she had bought a new suit. Sat there in the boardroom with the men in the inner sanctum and knew she'd made it. She remembers thinking how they all looked at the executive chair at the head of the boardroom table and had the same thought – one day that will be mine.

She watches Carol stuff the papers in her briefcase, glance at her watch. She stays a few minutes longer but it is clear to Frankie that, her job done, Carol has no desire to stay. After Carol leaves, she reflects on what her life now amounts to. Here she is, in a hospital gown, eight months pregnant, four children and a soon to be ex-husband and a large mortgage. Somehow, she has slipped a few rungs. Corporate life is an all or nothing game. There's little wriggle room to balance family life and a career. She threw her lot in with Klaussman's, let Brandon be mum, and now it's amounted to nothing. No job, no marriage. All for what?

The following day, as Frankie picks at her lunch tray, deciding between the jelly or custard or both, Gwen Hill sticks her head around the corner. She is shielded by a stiff bunch of pink peonies. For a moment, neither woman speaks. Being in the same room as each other has never been a comfortable experience for either and Frankie feels vulnerable lying here naked beneath a flimsy hospital gown.

Mrs Hill steps forward and lays the flowers at Frankie's feet. ‘These are for you,' she says.

Frankie thanks her, wishing she could reach her dressing-­gown. Instead she fusses with her lunch tray, scrunching the napkin to hide the gravy-smeared plate.

Mrs Hill twists a cotton hanky through her fingers. ‘I came to say sorry. I'm glad to hear you aren't too badly hurt.'

‘I'll survive.' Frankie waits for her to mention her husband. She knows Mr Hill was injured, not seriously, but still.

‘I bought those, you know,' Mrs Hill says, pointing at the peonies. ‘They're not from my garden.' For some reason when she stood in the florist, the peonies had shouted out to be bought for Francesca. They were the perfect flower. And though they were quite expensive, Gwen wanted that poor young woman to have something perfect to enjoy.

‘They're lovely. They're my mother's favourite.' Noelle's flowers, a single white orchid in a pot, is on the shelf in the corner. It's a statement rather than a gift.

‘Oh that's a coincidence, they're mine too but I've never been able to produce such lovely blooms,' Gwen exclaims, shuffling towards the door. She's never liked hospitals, sick people remind her of her own mortality. She hasn't been inside one since visiting Babs in her last days. Plus, she doesn't want to outstay her welcome. A quick in and out, that's what she'd planned. She is sure Francesca doesn't even remember her holding her hand as she lay in the driveway. It was only a moment, Eric was badly shaken. The knock to his head had bled profusely but had proved minor. Bandaged up, he sat on the front steps and drank a cup of sweet tea whilst Gwen soothed Francesca as she rambled on about the knife, Peanut, and the dollhouse.

The truth is, this fence had claimed more victims than either of them had intended. It is a sorry business. Flowers won't change that but she wants the Desmarchelliers to know she is sincere in her sorrow, for all of them. ‘Well, I'm glad you're not too sore and sorry. I just wanted to let you know we're thinking of you.'

Frankie remembers Amber and Silver's confession, how easy it has been to assume the worst of their elderly neighbours. She doesn't forgive them. Their behaviour, well Mrs Hill's really, has been despicable, but a small voice whispers in her ear, ‘Maybe yours has been sometimes too.'

An awkward silence grows between them. There is so much they could both say but what good would it do now? The time for reconciliation has long passed.

‘Well, I should let you rest,' Mrs Hill says.

Frankie goes to sit up, to say farewell, when a wrenching pain sears down her side. She wails and Mrs Hill steps forward and presses the nurse's buzzer.

‘My waters have broken. My waters have broken,' Frankie screams.

Gwen shouts for a nurse. Not wanting to abandon the poor girl, she stays until two nurses run to Francesca's bedside. It's best if she goes, she'll only be in the way but as she turns, Francesca calls, ‘Please, please don't leave me.' Her pale face, stretched with fear and pain, reminds Gwen of when she lost first one baby then another. She knows the terror when your body betrays you and terror should never be endured alone. She picks her way over to Francesca's bedside and slips her hand into hers. Frankie squeezes it tight, doesn't let go, not until they wheel her into theatre.

Outback + Outdoors

Our Garden Treasures with Sofia Williamson

I'd like to start my first column by offering a HUGE thank you to my predecessor, Gwen Hill. Gwen has written over four hundred columns in the forty years she sat in this chair. In that time, Gwen has informed us, entertained us and, most of all, inspired us to be better gardeners. Speaking for myself, I cannot thank Gwen enough for encouraging me to pick up my trowel and have a go. I can only hope that in my time in this chair, many of you will be equally inspired.

Gardening is all about change. But don't worry, there will still be plenty of gardening tips, inspirational new ideas about turning your garden into another room of the house and making the most of each and every season. So let's start by talking about that most fascinating of topics: vertical gardens!

Before I forget, click on the QR code to download the Garden Treasures' app and you can like me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter @gardeningtreasures.

Now let's get to it!