Read Online The Geranium Girls by Alison Preston - Free Book Online Page B

it, Dhani?”
    “I’m worried about you, Beryl.”
    “I think you should go now, Dhani.”
    He didn’t move.
    “Hi, Beryl!”
    It was Russell again, this time on foot. He had come up silently, through the yard.
    “Russell, you scared the living daylights out of me,” Beryl said.
    The little boy leaned with his elbows on the deck and blew a big beautiful bubble made of spit.
    Beryl and Dhani both laughed and Russell laughed too.
    “My mum told me not to blow bubbles anymore,” he said and blew another one bigger than the last.
    “Well, you should probably listen to what your mother says.” Dhani crouched down near the boy and stuck out his hand. “I’m Dhani,” he said, “a friend of Beryl’s.”
    Russell smiled shyly and gave him his sticky little hand.
    “Hello, Dhani,” he said and skipped away down the sunny street.
    Beryl stood up. It was definitely time for Dhani to leave. She needed to think. She needed to ponder alone for awhile: was Dhani crazy? Was she falling for a crazy person?
    She waved half-heartedly from her kitchen window as she watched his silver Camry back into the Kruck-Boulbrias’ garbage cans. He knocked them right over. At least he had the decency to get out and place them back in position, even if he blocked the lane while doing so, causing a short line-up of people in their cars to wait patiently while he completed his task. No one honked, no one shouted — Beryl was pleased with her neighbours.

Chapter 15
     
    Beryl’s ankles hurt on the walk home from the bus stop. Her plan was to rest for a bit with her feet up on cushions, have a bite to eat — maybe a bowl of Corn Pops — and then spend an hour or so deadheading her lobelia. It was one of her favourite activities. The weather had been hot and dry for a few days and the flowers were begging to be done. She had promised them and the bees as she left the house this morning.
    When Beryl entered the yard an uneasy feeling caught in her throat, slowed her in her tracks. Nothing happened, no one spoke; there was no noise at all. Just a feeling. I’ve been hanging around with Dhani too much, she thought. All his talk of vibes and karma, those sorts of things; it’s rubbing off.
    She found her key underneath the flower pot and looked over her shoulder as she unlocked the door.
    “This is stupid,” she said out loud. I may as well leave the doors open if I’m going to leave the key in such an obvious place.
    She resolved to give that some thought.
    Once her feet were out of their socks and shoes her ankles felt better. Beryl threw on a pair of overalls and decided to forgo putting her feet up and eating some Corn Pops. I’ll get right at the lobelia, she planned, as she tossed her postal uniform down the basement stairs. That’ll fix me up.
    She poured herself a Dr. Pepper over ice and headed back outside.
    The hanging plant closest to the door seemed the safest place to start. Close, and she could work her way out. The flowers were so abundant and beautiful they dazzled Beryl for a moment. She couldn’t see them as individuals, hundreds of them needing their tired dead blooms removed to make room for the new. As she focussed her eyes and blinked, and blinked again, she couldn’t find a single bloom that was past its best. This was impossible. She hadn’t tended her flowers in several days.
    The yard was too quiet. Beryl couldn’t even hear traffic noise from across the river. No trains ran and no birds sang.
    She feared she was losing her mind. She moved on to the next planter, this one lobelia mixed with petunias, and stared into the blue blooms. Not a one needed doing. Not a one was less than perfect.
    Slowly, she walked around her yard knowing what she was going to find. Someone had been here and someone had deadheaded her lobelia, all of them. There wasn’t a dead flower to be found.
    It must have taken whoever did it well over an hour unless he or she had help. A sidekick deadheader. Maybe one of the neighbours had