Never before had the young woman been allowed to see the family she'd left behind. All she wanted was to let them know she was safe and being well cared for. Today was going to be her first contact. She walked down the aisle of the near empty church...
A little red plastic spade, weighed down by a little red Wellington boot, dug into the soil. The small spade, with a little soil, was lifted up, turned over and dropped back down. Then, just like she had seen her daddy do that morning, the little girl split up the earth with her spade, and patted it level.
OK, enough of that, she thought. What next? Oh yes! A bindi for her dolly, just like Karuna's mummy has! She went to fetch her crayons.
"Where are you going sweetheart?" said James.
"I'm going to draw a bindi on Penny just like Karuna at school's mummy has on her head."
"Oh no you're not! Remember I told you, you have to take very good care of that dolly. It's very, very old. And I'm not sure you're bucket is a good home for it either!"
"But Penny likes it in there Daddy! She's watching me helping in the garden. She hates being in the cabinet."
James hoped he hadn't made a mistake showing Wendy, his soon-to-be five year old daughter, the Victorian porcelain doll. Ever since, she had persistently pleaded to hold the doll. Eventually he had relented, but only after he had explained it was just for a little while then the doll had to go back in the cabinet, and that she promised to be extra careful with it. But still, whilst he tended his garden, he kept a watchful eye on the family heirloom in the blue satin dress that he'd had valued at four hundred pounds a few years earlier. Not that he had any intention of ever selling it.
"Just you and the doll, eh, Penny stay in the garden where I can see you."
"Aw!" complained Wendy resignedly.
James returned to watering his flowerbeds with his green hose. Wendy now turned her attention to the rose bushes. She noticed how one of the white roses hung loose, its stem partially snapped. She would pick it for her dad. A present for him. She reached into the bush and tugged at the flower.
"Ow!"
"What's the matter?" said James from across the garden.
"I hurt my finger!" said Wendy, extending her hand for her father's inspection.
James walked over and looked carefully. There was a small scratch on her tiny finger, but no bleeding.
"You silly billy! The roses are prickly! You shouldn't touch them."
"I wanted to give you that one as a present," said Wendy, her feelings hurt as she pointed to the dangling rose.
James kissed her finger better. He reached in and snapped off the rose from the stem.
"Just take off the jaggy bits, there!" said James. Then, he turned to Wendy, saying, "A gift for the lady," as he secured the white rose in the shoulder strap of her corduroy dungarees. He then added, "That's for being such a kind little daughter." Then, with a sly smile, added, "and this is for trying to pick my good flowers." He released a short burst of water from the hose at her, soaking a patch of her long blonde hair. Wendy screamed and ran away into the centre of the garden. James chuckled and returned to watering his plants.
Is forty years old too young to be so interested in gardening? James wondered.
With James's back turned, Wendy walked silently across the garden, picked up her little red plastic bucket, and walked to the corner of the garden where the pond was. She quietly lifted Penny out of the bucket and laid her down on the grass. Then, she knelt down and filled the little bucket up to the brim with water. Wendy then sneaked over to where her father was soaking a hanging basket. She took aim and... Splosh! She soaked his trousers, taking him completely by surprise.
"Why you little monkey!" said James in exaggerated surprise.
Wendy giggled, whilst James spun around and took aim with the hose.
"Right you!" said James in play anger.
Wendy ran away from him, squealing with delight. James targeted his aim to deliberately miss her with the first water jet, then caught her slightly with the next.
Suddenly, there was a bang at the kitchen window. It opened fully upwards, "Don't get her all wet James, I just-, don't you-" Mary was able to bring down the window just in time to avoid being splashed by her mischievous husband. She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed at him, mouthing "Right!"
James knew what this meant. He could hear the kitchen basin filling with water. He signalled to Wendy to keep quiet by putting his finger to his lips. She placed her little hands over her mouth, giggling excitedly at their collusion. James then tip-toed pantomime-like, hose in hand, into the garden shed and closed the wooden door behind him.
As James waited those moments in the garden shed, he could hear the back door of the house creek open and Mary step out onto the stone flagging. There was a distinctive slosh of water from the basin she was so obviously carrying to soak him and wreak her revenge. James primed the hose ready to take his wife by surprise. She must have known he was in there. Little Wendy was probably quietly pointing to the shed right now, giving his hiding place away. Suddenly, there was a heavy thump, followed by a loud slosh of water, followed by a scream. Mary's scream.
James burst open the shed door. The released hose danced wildly around the shed floor, flooding it.
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James rushed across the garden, making his way towards Mary. She was crouched over the pond with her back to him. The porcelain doll was lying on the grass beside her. Is that why she was screaming? Then he saw why. Mary was cradling little Wendy, slapping her lightly on the face. One of Wendy's red Wellington boots had come off and she was soaking wet. Her eyes were open but she was motionless.
"What should I do?" yelled Mary frantically, "Do you know CPR?"
Suddenly, Wendy convulsed and spluttered. To James's utter relief Wendy then started to cry. Mary brought Wendy close to her, rocking her gently and speaking softly, "There, there sweetheart. You're OK, you're OK."
Mary stood up, with Wendy's little trembling arms wrapped around her neck. James watched as Mary walked back towards the house with their little girl, who was now crying her little heart out. James saw the shock and anger in the look his wife gave him over her shoulder as she turned the door handle and entered the house.
James stood for a moment, staring at the door Mary had just closed behind herself. He then looked around, eyes darting wildly, his mind racing. Then, with resolve, he walked back towards the shed. Ignoring the gushing hose pipe, he picked up a garden fork, and walked back to the pond. He raised the fork up and, with all his strength, brought the fork down into the pond water, puncturing the plastic pond lining at its base. He repeated this violence several times. The water began to slowly drain into the underlying soil.
James watched the little plastic bucket floating in the diminishing pond. Wendy must have been trying to fill her bucket with water again, he thought. James became aware of standing on a hard object. He lifted his foot to reveal the smashed arm of the porcelain doll, its blue satin dress muddied. He didn't care. He returned his gaze to the pond and watched the last of the water drain away. The white rose from Wendy's dungarees sat in the bottom of the pond, soaked and partially crushed.
