The Fence

by Meredith Jaffe

  The sad news is that Eric is now in the nursing home section of Paradise Gardens. After that incident with the stove, there was no choice. Gwen had come home from Gumnut to find Eric had dismantled the stove. Bits of it were laid out on newspaper all over the kitchenette floor and he was attempting to put it back together again.

  ‘Eric, what on earth are you doing?’ she’d said.

  ‘The element’s buggered,’ Eric replied, as he poked at some loose wires hanging out the back.

  It wasn’t broken, well, not before Eric attacked it. It was lucky he hadn’t electrocuted himself. So it was off to the nursing home section for him. Never mind Gwen’s feelings on the subject, the manager said he was a risk to himself and others. The worst of it is that since he’s been in the nursing home, Eric’s health has declined. Being vascular dementia, all his parts are failing him one by one – his heart, his kidneys. Gwen visits him every day but Eric’s moments of lucidity are rare. He won’t even pick up a piece of sandpaper. Last time she tried to engage him with one of his Vintage Dollhouse magazines, he turned his back on her and pretended to fall asleep. It’s hard to reconcile that her Eric isn’t in there anymore. His failing brain has locked her darling away. She tries not to dwell on it. It only leads to tears and she’s never been one for self-pity. That’s why she joined the community garden group at the village. Planting out brassicas with the other Garden Gnomes (as the group is unofficially called) is far more therapeutic than wallowing.

  Francesca looks around at the kindy’s garden now and Gwen can’t help feeling proud. Even though it is winter, there is a garden bed bursting with flowers of every colour. Stuck at the front of it is a handwritten sign saying, ‘Good bug bed’.

  ‘You’ve done such a lovely job here, Mrs Hill,’ she says. ‘I wish my garden was half as good.’

  Gwen blushes, as much for the compliment as the unexpected source of it. She’s sure that’s the first nice thing Francesca Desmarchelliers has ever said to her. ‘It’s really not that hard, you know.’ But the poor woman deflates at this comment so she adds, ‘I could pop in sometime if you like. Get you started.’

  Frankie’s not so sure about having Mrs Hill at her house having spent more than a year trying to keep the old lady out. But then, with Brandon working, their dream of a sustainable garden has fallen by the wayside. They say gardening is supposed to be excellent exercise and that good bug bed is gorgeous. So she concedes, ‘That’d be nice. Thank you. Well we’d better be off. C’mon, Goldie, time to go home.’

  Marigold stamps her foot. ‘Mummy!’

  ‘Come on. Where’s your bag and where’s your sister?’ Frankie takes Marigold by the hand and heads inside.

  Gwen watches her go as she tidies up the straw abandoned on the ground. Something is different about Francesca; she seems softer without the facade of the corporate high flyer. Perhaps it is having a disabled child but, whatever it is, being at home with her children agrees with her. Mind you, there must be a middle ground somewhere between where Francesca was and where she is now. You might not be able to have your cake and eat it too but having a career is good for one’s sense of self and a good role model for one’s children. Gwen should know. Be that as it may, she wonders whether they’ve patched things up, Francesca and Brandon. She hopes so, the children deserve to have two parents.

  *

  Frankie has barely arrived home from the school run when Megan Venter descends on her.

  ‘Frankie, hi. Have you got a moment?’ The tall woman grabs the bags Frankie is unloading from the boot. ‘Here, let me help you.’

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ says Frankie.

  ‘Don’t be silly. You look like a pack horse.’

  Frankie relents and together they follow the children into the house.

  ‘You look like you need a coffee,’ Megan says, ‘do you want me to make you one? We have the same machine. Where do you keep the pods?’

  Frankie wants to tell her to go, to leave them be. This woman has no sense of boundaries, always popping in, making herself at home, but she says nothing. When the coffee’s made and the children are playing on their tablets, Megan tackles the reason for her visit.

  ‘We’ve decided we want to put in a pool in time for summer.’

  Frankie nods, what is there to say?

  ‘Now I’ve had some quotes and there’s a wee bit of a problem in so far as that there’s actually quite a big rock underneath the back lawn. It’s going to have to be removed otherwise we won’t have an in-ground pool.’ Megan laughs but all Frankie can think is, more noise.

  ‘Can’t you put it in the front yard, where the lawn is?’ she says.

  ‘Well, we thought about that but who wants to be swimming with all the neighbours watching on.’

  Frankie wonders if Megan is making a point about their security cameras.

  ‘The problem is, in order to get the digger into the backyard we are going to have to move the fence, temporarily of course.’

  ‘Which fence?’

  ‘The back one between our houses on the side path. It will only be for a month or two and, of course, Jerry and I will pay all the costs of replacing the fence. It’s an ugly old thing anyway. I thought we might agree on something more aesthetically pleasing. Brush fences are nice.’

  Frankie hates brush fences. ‘What about the neighbours on the other side? Have you asked them?’

  Megan nods. ‘Yes, we did. They’re a funny old couple, aren’t they? They don’t speak much English.’

  Frankie has never met them. She sees them now and then but never close enough to say hello. They live next door to Sam Russell. Frankie met Sam and her baby twins at the park at the bottom of the street. They often meet there for play dates. It’s nice to have some adult company.

  ‘Finally you’ve found a friend,’ her mother had said.

  ‘I have friends,’ Frankie protested.

  ‘Work colleagues.’ Noelle tutted.

  Sam was a start in fixing that hole in Francesca’s life.

  ‘Anyway, the problem is that the fence on that side is brick, it’s much more of a hassle to move and it also incorporates the back wall of their garden shed. Hence why I am here.’ Megan smiles.

  Frankie’s just remembered that she promised Sam she could have Silver’s old glider bike. She’s sick to death of fences but she says, ‘Well if the fence is knocked down, the kids will be able to access your yard. What if they get in the way of the builders? One of them could get hurt. Plus there’s Butter and your dogs. There must be another way.’

  She should be angry at Megan Venter. Charging in here, assuming she’ll get what she wants. But the truth is, it’s hard to muster the energy.

  Megan’s eyes narrow. ‘Well the fence is going to have to be replaced at some point. The pool builder pointed out that, in fact, the existing fence is illegal under current council regulations.’

  Ha! The council. Wait till Megan starts trying to reason with them, Frankie thinks. But what’s the point? She’ll have to find out the hard way, like she did. She says, ‘That’s a separate issue. I don’t really want the fence removed. Can’t you find another way to build your pool?’

  ‘To do it any other way would be very expensive. It would be much easier and cheaper to remove the existing fence, build the pool and then replace the fence with one that is compliant, like a brush fence.’

  Frankie wishes Brandon would hurry home. She doesn’t want to be having this conversation. She’s had it up to here with bloody fences and crappy neighbours. But it’s Wednesday and he runs a guitar group after school. Forced to deal with the issue, Frankie says, ‘I think you’ll find the council won’t approve that because whilst you’re building your fence, our pool will be without a workable fence and, as I said, the children will not be contained within our yard.’

  Megan stands and upends her unfinished coffee in the sink. ‘Well,
I can see that you’re not prepared to be reasonable about this. I told Jerry you struck me as the kind of people who would be difficult. To be honest, I half expected you to say what you’ve said so I have already rung the council. You can expect a letter from them. We need to get this fence issue sorted.’

  Frankie sighs. What is it about fences that makes people so, well, defensive? There’s more to it than timber and nails. People put up a fence certain it will provide a sense of security, a physical barrier to block out the world, to contain and protect their family. But, she knows from her fence, rather than peace of mind, it provoked a series of events that possibly would never have occurred without it. Then again though, in a funny way, the physical fence and Mr Hill running into it via Frankie, saved her and saved her marriage. If she’d paid closer attention to the children, she might have realised sooner that in their minds all erecting a fence did was provide an intriguing invitation to escape.

  At the front door Megan turns and says, ‘Oh I almost forgot, the arborist is coming tomorrow morning to remove that mulberry tree. I have no idea why people plant those, they’re nothing better than a weed. He said some of the roots might be on your side of the fence but he’ll do his best not to damage the pool pipes if they’re in the way.’

  She leaves and Frankie marvels at her gall. She can’t wait to tell Brandon. How Megan Venter didn’t even allow Frankie the opportunity to say, ‘Build the fence. See if it makes you happy,’ knowing that it wouldn’t.

  The following morning, the arborist arrives, a massive woodchipper in tow. Frankie sews squares for the quilt listening to the sound of chainsaws demolishing the mulberry tree. She is standing at the kitchen window watching him when one of the branches falls, crushing the fence and ending up in the pool. Frankie half suspects Megan Venter told him to deliberately damage the fence so she can get her way. So that when the council arrives, they will see the damaged fence and agree it must be replaced, which Megan Venter will be more than happy to do – after she’s built her pool. The arrogance of some people, Frankie says to Ruby, and goes back to sewing squares for the quilt.

  Acknowledgements

  After the long hours of solitude writing this novel comes the moment when it must see the world. Many thanks to my first readers Robyn Barker, Michelle Barraclough, Imogen Lambert and Catherine Szentkuti, who each provided important insights that have flowered in the final text, but most of all for telling me they loved it!

  Thanks also to my agent Tara Wynne for representing me, encouraging me and introducing me to the wonderful folks at Pan Macmillan. Quite a team has worked on this novel. First and foremost, my thanks to Commissioning Editor Haylee Nash, for the leap of faith it takes to sign up for an unwritten novel. No pressure there, Haylee! And on the journey with us were the editorial team, Ariane Durkin, Jodi De Vantier, Danielle Walker, Julia Stiles and Deonie Fiford. Each have added unique insights and a firm hand to make this book the best it can be. Any faults are all mine. Pan Macmillan’s publicity, marketing and sales teams have done an astonishing job in getting The Fence on the radar and into readers’ hands. Thanks in particular to Tracey Cheetham, Charlotte Ree and Alex Christie. Your enthusiasm is infectious.

  Writers need other writers to buoy them when the going gets tough and self doubt threatens to flatten you. We’ve all been there and we’ll all be there again. Long emails and the odd spot of lunch with Carol Baxter have been essential confidence boosters. Faith has been restored by chats at writers’ festivals with all manner of peers. And none of this would have happened without my four years with The Hoopla crew, especially Wendy Harmer, Jane Waterhouse and Caroline Roessler, who gave me a chance, championed me and made me a better writer.

  But in the end, writing is not for the faint-hearted, for the glory or for the money. Without my self-declared one-man patron of the arts, my husband Paul, I can’t imagine finding that most precious of gifts, the time to write. Thanks to all my children for their enthusiastic support. In the middle of all this, we’ve moved to the country where there is plenty of fresh air, space to roam and miles and miles of fences. Not to mention an awfully big garden. The perfect environment for storytelling.

  And lastly, to everyone who has bought this book, borrowed it from a library or recommended it to a friend, thank you. Without readers, writers would be whistling in the dark.

  About Meredith Jaffé

  Meredith Jaffé is a writer and occasional book critic. For four years she wrote the weekly literary column ‘The Bookshelf’ for the online women’s magazine The Hoopla; sharing literary news, reviewing books and interviewing writers. Meredith regularly chairs panels, presents workshops and interviews fellow authors for various literary events and writers’ festivals.

  As a keen believer in the power of literacy, Meredith volunteers at The Footpath Library where she manages their annual EPIC! writing competition for school children. She is currently working on her next novel in between riding her horses and enjoying farm life with her family on the beautiful NSW south coast.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

  First published 2016 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

  1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000

  Copyright © Meredith Jaffé 2016

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available

  from the National Library of Australia

  http://catalogue.nla.gov.au

  EPUB format: 9781925482959

  Typeset by Post Pre-press Group

  Cover design: Christabella Designs

  Cover illustration: Fence, lauralani/Getty Images; Girl, Soubrette/istock

  The author and the publisher have made every effort to contact copyright holders

  for material used in this book. Any person or organisation that may have been

  overlooked should contact the publisher.

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