Page 3

Chapter Three

Emu bush 'Kalbarri Carpet’

( Eremophila glabra )

A native ground-cover with soft silvery foliage and gold tubular flowers. Perfect for native gardens, wildlife gardens, winter gardens, feature ground-cover or as a weed suppressant. Containing the plant in a pot is also an option. Prefers free-draining soil, but can handle heavier soils. Plant in full sun to light shade and mulch after planting to retain moisture particularly if growing in southern states.

“S o, you decided on colour coordination,” I said to Steph when she turned up at ten to eight the next morning. I pointed to her dark blue shirt and jeans. “Excellent. Although, the apron might clash.” We grinned at each, which made me feel funny in my stomach. Far out. I was forty years old and behaving like a teenager with a tiny work crush.

I handed over the apron I was holding, and Steph whipped the straps over her head and tied the apron to her slim torso. I grimaced as she had to double the straps over to make it fit properly.

“I’m sorry. It was made to fit me. I don’t have any small sizes yet, but I’ll order you one.” That was me: a sturdy chunk of timber. I wasn’t overly vain about my appearance. I wouldn’t have sent ten small hoop earrings like a caterpillar up the outside of each ear if I were. I just liked the look of them. And body wise? I gave an internal shrug. I was okay with strong, medium height, stocky, and looking like the sort of competent lesbian who could star in an advertisement for Subaru.

I gestured for her to follow me around the nursery.

“So, Dig It has been in business for twenty years. I took over the running of the place when I got my diploma of nursery management and horticulture. Mum and Dad insisted that I have a strong sense of business as well as an understanding of Australian flora.”

“That’s young to start managing a business,” Steph commented as she caressed a leaf on each plant every time we stopped on our tour.

I shook my head. “I didn’t start running the place until I was thirty. I finished high school then went straight to uni. I was doing an arts degree.” I flipped my hand. “Human rights and social science.”

Steph’s eyes lit up. “That’s a fantastic major to study.”

“Oh. I didn’t finish it. Uni wasn’t for me. My brain wouldn’t work the way it had to, so I couldn’t keep up with the lectures, and the tutorials, and the assignments. Let alone the exams.” I shrugged. “I left after two years.”

Steph continued fondling the leaves. It was very distracting. Suddenly a hot little sizzle, like when your stomach has stumbled onto a rollercoaster going full tilt and you’re gleefully tossing handfuls of glitter while screaming in fear, whispered through my body.

“What did you do then?”

“Well, I started working here. My parents were pretty laid back with the dropping out of uni thing. They just wanted me happy, and working here made me happy. Then I did the diploma and here we are.”

“That’s so understanding.” Steph smiled, then her face fell and she folded her arms. “I went from high school to a year as an exchange student in Italy then to a bachelor of business and economics with an honours year, and then I had to start at my parents’ business.”

That solved my curiosity from last night.

Steph gave a little half smile, almost in resignation. “Seventeen at high school, then twenty-four when I started at middle management. Talk about young. It was a lot.”

I gestured for her to follow. “Sounds it.” Then my curiosity leapt into my frontal lobe again. “If it’s okay to ask, what was your parents’ business?”

Steph’s expression was hard to read. Her face had shut down and I assumed it was because of my question. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

“Developments,” she answered and went back to fondling fronds.

“Okay.”

Developments was an incredibly vague line of work to be in. All manner of questions filled my mind. Development of what? Developing where? I left the questions unasked because Steph’s expression didn’t invite any more.

“Well, I guess your parents’ business is still going.” Not a question. A statement left hanging.

Steph gave a quick laugh. “It is. My brother runs it. I have a somewhat casual role to play, hence my request to be a member of staff here.”

“And the plants love you already.” I gestured at the tables at the back of the nursery. “And that’s where I utilise my love of social science and wellbeing.”

We made our way over to the tables and I opened a locked cabinet, then swung back the metal grill door to reveal the ten bonsai plants I kept there.

Steph gasped. “They’re beautiful! Where did you get them?” She peered into the large cabinet.

“These lovely specimens were donated by one of our customers who wanted them tended to by people who would appreciate the entire process.” I stroked one of the pots. “These are for my bonsai group: Bonsai Brains.”

Steph looked like she wanted to chuckle but seemed to hold it back, so I smiled which did the trick. She let out a short laugh.

“Bonsai Brains?”

“Yeah, there’s a group of ten teenagers, aged sixteen or seventeen, who come in on Saturday afternoons to spend an hour looking after their particular bonsai. The kids are recommended by the therapist at the private psychiatric hospital in the next suburb. She vets the patients and sends the ones who would benefit the most in my direction. If I’ve got a vacancy that is, which I haven’t at the moment. Bonsai Brains has been full for about four months. It’s therapy for their anxiety or neurodivergence or diagnoses like bipolar. Anything that means their brain stops them from slotting into society easily because society sure doesn’t shuffle over to fit them in.”

Steph held my forearm. “That is amazing. So what happens to the bonsai plant if someone leaves?”

Normally I wave my hands about while I talk but I liked the feel of Steph’s hand on my arm, so I stayed still for a moment.

“They leave the bonsai to the next person. Part of their therapy is the permission to let go. Lots of neurodivergent people have a hard time letting go because it means something in their routine disappears.”

“Change is hard.” Steph let her hand drop and I missed it immediately.

“You’ll be meeting some as they come in today. Be aware, though. You’re a change. They might blank you for a session.”

“I’m in their session?” Steph’s eyes were round.

“No, I run it. You’re in charge of…” I gestured to the entire nursery.

Steph blew out a breath. “So much easier.” Then she grinned. “I bet your customers are also into routine. This place strikes me as somewhere that invites neighbours and many people from surrounding areas to buy plants and stay for a good chat.”

“Exactly. A lot of folks make an afternoon of it. They visit Ted’s book shop, buy a classic or two, drop by Jules’ place to grab a coffee and get gifted a new moniker, then come here and buy something nice for their patio or balcony.” I entwined my fingers. “We, all of us, are an important part of these people’s weekend. They’re regulars and I’d hate for that to go.”

“Would it?”

I growled. “It will if bloody Walker’s gets their way.”

Steph looked like she was holding her breath, and I gave her a quizzical look. I about to ask if she was okay but the thought of Walker’s was still filling my brain.

“Walker’s is building a warehouse on that enormous block of land down the road.”

“Oh!”

“Yep. Bloody noxious weed that they are. Say goodbye to Dig It and Coffee Crystals because we’re suddenly competition with our similar stock, but also Mr and Mrs G with their takeaway and Ted with his books. They’ll have dwindling foot traffic and eventually they’ll have to sell up. It sucks.” I slammed the door of the bonsai cupboard, and drove the lock into the slot. I turned to find Steph with a look on her face like she was contemplating something important. Probably my news.

“It would affect them that much?” Steph whispered.

“Absolutely.” I gestured for her to follow me down to the register counter. “Think of a giant supermarket going in up the road from a small well-loved fruit and veg place who had regular, local trade. They’d try hard to keep their customers, but eventually people go to the big supermarket because.” I fisted my hand then pointed a finger. “One. It’s convenient. Two.” I poked out another finger. “They can get everything they need, not just fruit and veg, and three.” I paused, then threaded my hand through my short strands of hair. “I don’t have a three. I reckon one and two are awful enough.”

“Has it been approved yet?”

“The Walker’s Warehouse?” I turned the EFTPOS machine around, ready to show Steph the ins and outs of working the till. “No. We’ve got ninety days to lodge a complaint. It’ll have to be an official one from a lawyer.” I set the stack of empty boxes ready for customers to take their potted plants home without getting their car seats dirty. “I’d prefer one we know, but the local guy in the next row of shops said he wouldn’t take on Walker’s if we paid him a squillion dollars.”

Steph straightened the brown paper bags on the counter. “One of my friends is a lawyer. She’s super busy at the moment, but she’d know of someone who could take on Walker’s.”

I paused in my sorting. “Really? That’s terrific. Could I have your friend’s office number? Maybe we can set up an appointment for next week.”

Steph jerked, sending a cascade of bags to the floor. She stooped to pick them up. “Oh! How about I call her first? You know, introduce the idea and see if she’s got a person in mind.”

I blinked at the intensity of Steph’s answer, then smiled. She obviously felt as strongly about the situation as we all did.

* * *

Once the EFTPOS and general purchasing tutorial was over, I left Steph to it, only pausing to wander out of my little cupboard-office when I heard Pip’s voice at the front.

“Hey, Angel. Steph here has agreed to a Tarot reading when she’s finished today.” Pip beamed and I turned to Steph, whose eyes were sparkling. With joy? I hoped so. I really wasn’t into Tarot and crystals and all that, but Pip was and I wasn’t about to rain on anyone’s parade. It made her happy and that was all that mattered.

“Make sure she’s not going to get hit by a bus, Pip. I need my staff members safe.”

Pip tossed a mock glare at me, then grinned. “Just as well I like you, because that sort of comment makes me want to un-feng-shui this place.”

I laughed, and Pip gestured at my lurid orange shirt, the sleeves and upper torso peeking out from beneath the apron.

“Latest op-shop purchase?”

“Absolutely.”

Steph grinned. “I love op-shopping. I get the best bargains on designer labels.” I wouldn’t have picked Steph for an op-shop frequent flyer but maybe her fancy jeans from yesterday were hidden gems from her neighbourhood charity store.

I nodded. “Exactly. I go to op shops because it’s like a pick ’n mix buffet. You never know if the stuff will fit and that’s a fun guessing game. In a regular shop you have to go in, get the clothes you want, go to a tiny cubicle, pull across the curtain which never goes all the way, and try on stuff all the while looking in a mirror straight out of a circus.”

Steph and Pip cracked up.

I laughed at their reaction, then pointed to Steph. “How has it been so far?”

“Fine. Not that busy but busy enough. It was lovely, actually. I had a couple from Canada who wanted ten ornamental plants for their front entrance area. The woman wanted an English cottage garden and the man wanted Australian natives, so I recommended a few Eremophila and a collection of the Boronia.” Steph raised her eyebrows in a hopeful query.

“Diplomatic and perfect. Well done,” I said, impressed, and Steph let out a huff of breath in relief.

“Meanwhile,” she said. “I called my friend Kat, who’s the lawyer I was talking about. She said she’d find a colleague who could take on our complaint because apparently it’s fairly simple to irritate a council into compliance.”

“Yay for annoying,” I said, my smile underlining the mock frown I wore. I noticed straight away that Steph had joined in on our ownership of the issue as well. She’d said, “Our complaint,” and I couldn’t stop the warm glow in my veins.

Pip laughed, then tipped her head at the door. “Your crew are here.”

I looked over and saw that at least half of my Bonsai Brains group had walked in. I gave them a wave, then followed through with sweep of my hand to indicate that they could head on back to the tables and that I’d be there in a moment.

“I better go,” announced Pip. “The senior citizens mini bus is on its way and we’ll need all hands on deck.”

I patted Steph on the back. “About fifteen old ladies will descend on this nursery in about sixty-three minutes after they’ve each eaten a vanilla slice and drunk an entire pot of tea. They’re all yours.”

“What?” Steph wore panicked look.

“Don’t worry. They don’t buy much. One or two might but that’s all. It’s more.” I put on a highly affected ninety-year-old voice. “In my day we would grow pumpkins in a patch the size of the MCG then enter them into the local agricultural show and win first prize. Remind me to bring in my trophies next month.” I rolled my lips together as Pip cracked up.

Steph stared, then laughed. “Okay. So while you’re bonsai-ing, I’m dealing with multiple clones of my grandmother.” She flipped her hand as if to ‘Am I right?’

“Pretty much.”

Pip agreed, nodding. “Well, I better go,” she repeated. “There’s a couple of the younger seniors who like their cards read. Although I did have one last month who said not to bother because she could get hit next week by a delinquent riding a mobility scooter in the corridor of the aged care facility and no Tarot reading would help that.” With that, Pip skipped off next door.

“Before you dash off, Angel.” Steph touched my arm lightly. Which was nice and sent odd, uncalled for, and what-the-hell butterflies cascading through my stomach. “I won’t interrupt your Bonsai Brains, but if I get into an awkward spot, can I give you a wave or something?”

I grinned. “A wave, which may need to have more speed to it than a simple greeting, is a perfect SOS.”

She huffed a sigh of relief. “Good. I just thought you’d be in the middle of doing a therapy?—”

“Not a therapist. Or a counsellor, for that matter.”

“Oh.”

“I am absolutely not qualified to deal with anyone’s important head stuff. But!” I held up a finger and Steph sent me a quizzical frown. “I am qualified to provide a plant each for a group of kids who need focus, companionship, and quiet. They’re always surprised at how much they have in common and yet they’re all so different. It makes for a camaraderie that I could never provide if it was just me, talking at them about a plant.” I nodded slowly. “I give them space. They bring the support.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Thank you, and because it’s so important to me, I’m going to fight the Walker’s place with every cell in my body.” I wiped my hands down my apron. “Right. Bonsai Braining.” I left Steph to it, and walked down the back of the store to greet my collection of ten young people.