The Fence (3 page)

Eric opens the passenger door. ‘C'mon, Gwennie,' he urges.

Gwen takes a moment more, trying to imagine anyone but Babs living next door. ‘Do you think Michael will return home now?' she asks, ignoring Eric's proffered hand.

‘Now, Gwennie, Michael's a grown man, you can't expect him to keep his parents' house just so you can maintain the garden.'

‘But Singapore is no place to raise a family.' She swings her legs out of the car and grabs the door handle for support.

‘I don't know. Domestic help is cheap. I'm sure his wife has her own career.'

‘Huh.' Gwen strides down to the letterbox and retrieves a roll of catalogues. ‘Two incomes, an inheritance, they can afford to hire a nanny here. Besides, I practically raised Michael, I could always lend a hand.'

Gwen sorts the catalogues into those she wishes to scan and those to trash, which she pops into the recycling bin.

Eric opens the garage door.

Gwen purses her lips. ‘You're not coming up then?'

Shaking his head, Eric switches on the overhead light, the fluorescent tube flickering and humming as it comes to life.

Gwen wants to continue this conversation over a cup of tea. The desire keeps her here, one foot on the step, but Eric turns on the lathe and its loud hum prevents further discussion.

She spends Thursday morning cleaning the house. Thursdays aren't her normal cleaning day but with Michael and his wife coming over, she wants the house to reflect her welcome. Gwen puts a loin of pork in the oven to roast along with extra crackling and makes golden syrup dumplings and custard. Michael always loved her dumplings. When the kids were small, the three of them would clatter up the internal stairs from the garage after Sunday school and crowd around the dining nook, scraping their bowls clean. She can just picture Michael's little ones sitting here doing the same thing.

Though no fan of hand-watering gardens, which is wasteful and ineffective, Gwen doesn't want to make it obvious that she's waiting for Michael to arrive. Instead, she stands in her drive and sprays the crab apples, keeping a lookout. Eric is in his workshop sorting through a box of doll-sized bathroom accessories. She watches him, obsessing over matching the 1960s decor of his current project with the right era of vanity unit.

At the crunch of tyres on gravel, Gwen hurries to turn off the tap and wind the hose around the wheel hub attached to the wall. Wiping her damp hands on her culottes, she waves as the couple pull into the drive. Through the car window, she sees Michael whisper in his wife's ear. They laugh, the wife glancing at Gwen as she does, a gesture that slows Gwen's arrival. Staying inside her own boundary, she waits for them. Michael climbs out first and comes around the bonnet, kissing Gwen's cheek before opening the passenger-side door. ‘I'm Soo-Lin,' says the wife as she shakes Gwen's hand before looking to Michael.

‘Lunch is in the oven and I've baked a caramel slice,' Gwen says. ‘Come inside and I'll pop the kettle on.'

‘Um, Auntie Gwen?' Michael's face is apologetic. ‘I'd really like to show Soo-Lin the house first.'

Soo-Lin smiles. ‘Is that okay, Mrs Hill? I'm dying to see where Michael grew up. He's such a dark horse, he never tells me anything about his childhood.'

Thoughts crowd Gwen's head. She curses herself for not giving Babs' place a quick whip around with the vacuum whilst she had it out. Michael's reluctance to talk about his childhood, a pain that smarts like a slap in the face. There is no one to visit next door and she and Eric have been expecting them. She swallows her rejection.

‘Of course. I should have realised you'd be keen to show Soo-Lin your childhood home. Go ahead,' she shoos them towards Rohan and Babs' house. ‘Pop in afterwards. Take your time.'

Watching them walk between the rows of crab apples reminds her of the day Rohan and Babs moved in, little Michael running ahead and using his hands as well as his feet to climb the steps. Soon there will be new little Michaels and Soo-Lins clambering the stairs, their parents laughing and holding each other's hands, excited to be living in this wonderful leafy corner of Sydney so perfect for raising young families. So much nicer than a cramped apartment in the sweltering heat of Singapore.

At the top step, they turn and look back at Gwen. With nothing filling her hands, Gwen has no way of appearing busy. Embarrassed, she feels her cheeks heat in that unattractive way they do whenever she drinks champagne.

‘We'll pop over when we've finished,' Michael calls out and Soo-Lin adds, ‘I'll be desperate for a coffee by then.'

‘Right-o.' Gwen waves. ‘I'll pop the kettle on.' Though she smiles, she feels the tension in her jaw and fears it has appeared as more of a grimace.

Realising it is up to her to leave first, she trots up the drive and shelters in the shadows of the garage.

This is not what she expected, Gwen thinks, patting her cheeks, still pink with heat. She'll go upstairs and put a cool flannel on them whilst the kettle boils. She'll have to dig around the pantry and find where the jar of instant coffee lurks.

Eric is at the kitchen bench, knife poised to quarter an orange.

‘Here, let me do that,' she says, taking the knife from him. The way Eric cuts up oranges means small segments stick in his teeth, impossible to remove without floss. Luckily she's arrived in time. Eric steps away from the bench allowing Gwen access to the cutting board.

She hands Eric the plate of sliced fruit, saying, ‘Michael wanted to show Soo-Lin the house first.'

Eric takes his orange to the dining nook. ‘He'd be keen to show her where he grew up.'

Gwen rinses her hands and dries them on a tea towel. ‘That's what he said. And she said that Michael never talks about his childhood. Why do you think that is?'

‘Can't be that relevant in Singapore.'

Gwen harrumphs, plonking herself opposite Eric, the vinyl squeaking in protest. ‘I planned that they'd come here and have some slice and a cuppa first. We'd have a proper catch-up. I even got these out,' she pats the pile of photo albums next to the fruit bowl. ‘I thought Soo-Lin might like to see Diane and Jonno's kids. After all, we're practically family.'

Eric eats his orange in silence, pushing the plate aside and drawing his cup and saucer in front of him. He eyes the tray of slice sitting on the bench but Gwen chooses to ignore him.

‘We haven't seen him in years and his mother's just died for goodness sakes.' Her cup clatters into the saucer.

‘I know you had it all worked out, Gwennie. You've always been good like that.' Eric tries to take her hand but she brushes her hair behind her ear to avoid it.

Eric sighs and drinks his tea. ‘I wouldn't mind a piece of that slice myself. It'd go nicely with the tea.'

‘Not now,' she snaps. Her shrillness is echoed by the kitchen timer and she shoots to her feet to pull the pork from the oven.

Through lunch, Gwen deliberately avoids asking Michael about his plans for the house but as they eat their dumplings, Eric says, ‘If I were you, Michael, I'd think long and hard about putting a pergola over that front porch. That westerly sun is a real killer in summer.'

Michael clears his throat. ‘Well, yes, that's certainly a good idea, Uncle Eric, and it's something we'd probably consider doing,' he pauses, ‘if we were staying.'

Gwen's spoon drops to her bowl. ‘You're not staying?'

Michael winces. ‘The thing is, Auntie Gwen, our lives are in Singapore. I'm about to manage a new dam project in Thailand. Soo-Lin has taken a position as a senior research fellow at the South East Asian Institute for Tropical Diseases.'

‘That's impressive,' says Eric, turning to Soo-Lin. ‘Are you specialising in any particular area?'

‘Malaria,' she says.

Gwen stares at Michael. ‘So will you rent the house out then?' Not that she likes this idea at all. A constant rotation of people moving in and out who won't care for a house or garden that isn't theirs. She has lived in this street with most of the same people her entire married life. The thought of strangers is unbearable.

Michael tidies his napkin before saying, ‘I thought … we thought,' he rests a tentative hand on Soo-Lin's leg, ‘it might be better to sell up. Property in Singapore is outlandishly expensive. The extra money will come in handy.'

‘Is it now?' comes Eric again. ‘How much would a place like your parents' set you back over there?'

Michael shakes his head. ‘God, we wouldn't even dream of buying a house, Uncle Eric. That's way out of our league. We were thinking more of one of the newer apartments close to the city.'

‘So you couldn't even afford to buy a house? That's no good, is it?'

‘When are you thinking of putting it on the market?' Gwen snaps, sounding angry when it's really the terrifying thought of her world falling apart. First Rohan gone, then Babs and now the house. Has Michael no idea what a wrench that will be?

Michael squints his apology. ‘Pretty much straight away. We're staying in Sydney for a couple more days. We want to line up a real estate agent before we go. Do you know of anyone good who works this area, Uncle Eric?'

‘Well now,' begins Eric.

‘There hasn't been a house sold in this street in years,' Gwen cuts in.

‘There were the Morrises at number 33,' corrects Eric.

‘That was only because their children moved them into a retirement village,' Gwen says. Some children cannot wait to get their hands on their inheritance. The only way Gwen is ever leaving this house is in a box.

‘The Morrises?' Michael asks.

‘Yes, you remember them, Michael. The people in the awful mock Tudor house they called Rose Cottage. English couple. Shirley caught you and Jonno stealing roses from over the fence to give me and Babs for Mother's Day that time and chased you up the street. That nasty Maltese Terrier of hers bit poor Jonno's ankle.'

She's never forgiven Michael for that. As the eldest, he should have known better. The ankle took ages to heal and Jonno missed three weeks of cricket.

‘There's that bloke Keith used to play golf with,' Eric says. ‘I could ask Val if you like. She might still have his number. Bob something or other.'

Gwen shoots to her feet and begins stacking the bowls. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?'

Michael stands. ‘I think we best get going, Auntie Gwen. Thanks for the lovely lunch, it made me feel like a kid again.'

She can see he wants to kiss her cheek but she isn't in the mood for token gestures of affection. She fusses with wiping the benches down while Eric wanders off.

Michael pats his pockets, checking for his keys. ‘Well it was lovely to see you again, though I'm sorry for the reason.'

Gwen has a sudden thought. ‘What about your mother's things? Aren't you taking them with you?'

Michael flushes. ‘I'm leaving the house furnished. Houses don't sell well empty and people hear the term “deceased estate” and think bargain.'

‘But her clothes, her jewellery.' Gwen thinks of that painting but isn't sure if Soo-Lin realises that the nude hanging over the fireplace in the lounge is her dead mother-in-law.

‘There's not much to take, Auntie Gwen. I think Mum must have had a clean out when she knew she was dying. There's a couple of boxes of photos and sentimental items but that's about it.'

Gwen is overcome by the desire to rid herself of Michael and his traitorous wife. Soo-Lin has put him up to this, she thinks, pushing Michael around, telling him what to do. She knows the sort.

Eric ambles into the room carrying a business card between his finger and thumb. ‘Michael, I found this business card. Bob Henshaw's his name. I'm not sure if he still owns the business, but it might be worth giving him a call. They're just up at the shopping centre, you could pop in on your way back to the city.'

As Michael goes to take the card, Gwen snatches it from Eric's hand and rips it in half. ‘Bob Henshaw died three years ago, Eric. We went to his funeral.'

Eric looks confused. ‘Did he?'

‘Yes,' Gwen hisses. ‘They had the wake at the golf club. How could you forget? A dry wake at a golf club for goodness sakes. Who has a dry wake for a seventy-five year old?' And then she flushes, remembering Babs' wake had also been dry. Tea and cake for a woman who enjoyed nothing more than a cold white wine and a bowl of olives.

To hide her embarrassment, she puts the pieces in the kitchen bin, forgetting, in her state, that the card should go in the recycling box.

‘We'll drive by anyway,' Michael says, shaking Eric's hand. ‘See you next time, Uncle Eric.'

He turns to Gwen. ‘Thanks for lunch, Auntie Gwen.'

Gwen refuses him an answer, preferring to let the silence grow.

‘I'm sorry,' he whispers, looking every bit as shame-faced as he used to when she caught him sneaking extra crackling.

Standing at the lounge room window, Gwen watches them reverse down the drive. Heading off into a future far, far away. Sighing, she takes the damp tea towel from her shoulder and goes into the kitchen to hang it on the oven to dry. She's out of sorts. It's more than Michael selling the house. They're robbing her of everything precious about her past and exposing her and Eric to an uncertain future. She feels vulnerable.

Outback + Outdoors

In the Garden with Gwen Hill

Many new gardeners mistakenly think the winter months are quiet. Time to potter in the shed rather than brave the frosty mornings and cooler days. However, June is in fact one of the busiest months of the year.

It's time to prune deciduous fruit trees and give them a good spray with winter oil to rid them of dormant pests. Grapevines in particular need hard pruning to remove debris, a common source of infection, especially in the spring.

June is also the perfect time to thin out old, diseased plants that just aren't flourishing. Make hard decisions between plants competing for light and space and rid yourself of the non-performers. You'll be amazed how quickly your favourite plants thrive once competition is removed.

Tip of the month

Cross-infection is an ever-present problem when pruning. When cutting off diseased limbs, make sure you wipe the blade of the pruning saw with methylated spirits between cuts to protect the lower limbs from infection.