The Fence Read Online Free Page A

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.
    â€˜Lunch is in the oven and I’ve baked a caramel slice,’ Gwen says. ‘Come inside and I’ll pop the kettle on.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜We’ll pop over when we’ve finished,’ Michael calls out and Soo-Lin adds, ‘I’ll be desperate for a coffee by then.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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,