Maud stopped and looked around. Yes, this was the perfect spot. It would be in the shade for most of the day and anyone wanting to enter would need to pass her table.
She set out a stack of orchid house brochures on her table with the donation box, and the laminated sign, “Entry by Gold Coin Donation” propped next to it. With everything arranged to her satisfaction, she fetched her handbag and a small esky from the car, tucked them under her chair and made herself comfortable.
She was barely settled when Theresa arrived to open up. At ten o’clock, the first visitors greeted Maud with a cheery g’day, rummaged in bags and pockets for change and dropped their coins into the donation box. One or two who hadn’t brought change happily contributed a five dollar note. On their way out, twenty minutes later, they waved and promised to “see you again soon”.
At midday, Theresa collected Maud’s empty cup and closed up for lunch. “Back in half an hour,” she called as she strode towards the car park.
Maud had packed a sandwich, an apple and a bottle of water in her little esky, with an ice block to keep them cool and fresh. She would sit here at her table and eat her sandwich. If anyone arrived and wanted to know what time the orchid house reopened, she would be able to tell them. Of course, they could read the sign on the door, but how many people want to read a sign when there’s a real live person to talk to?
Theresa returned at twelve thirty, along with the first visitor of the afternoon, a doddery old gentleman carrying a walking stick.
“Good idea,” he said, when he spotted the donation box. “About time Council asked people to contribute to the upkeep of this place. Nobody appreciates anything unless they have to pay for it.”
The afternoon was quiet. Two hours was hardly a long time when business was brisk, but with nobody to talk to, time dragged. She would need to bring a book for the quiet days.
The orchid house was closed on weekends and public holidays, much to Maud’s relief. After a week of carting her table, chair, esky, handbag and donation box back and forth between the entrance and the car park, she was exhausted. And, of course, she still had to drive to the bank and deposit her takings in that clever machine which sorted and counted the coins and deposited the total into the right account. Not that she was complaining. After all, she didn’t have to count and bag all the different coins herself any more.
Life settled into a regular pattern. Occasionally Theresa would bring out another chair and the two would eat lunch together. They chatted about the weather, the price of petrol and food and their various health issues. Theresa complained good-naturedly about her husband, opening her phone to show Maud photos of her latest grandchild. Maud smiled her congratulations and showed Theresa photos of her old ginger cat. Maud supposed they were friends of a sort, although they only ever met at the orchid house.
Maud had been collecting donations for almost a year when Theresa announced she would be leaving at the end of the week. Now her husband had finally retired, they had bought a caravan and would be setting off on a much-anticipated trip around Australia.
Unfortunately, having failed to find a volunteer to run the orchid house, the Council would be sending one of their staff to take over from Monday.
“You’ll be staying on, I expect?” Theresa said.
“Oh, no,” said Maud. “I’ve had a good run.” And I’m off to New Zealand as soon as I’ve taken these coins to the bank!
“Have you let Council know? They’ll need some time to replace you.”
As she drove out of the car park, she looked back and waved. Actually, I don’t work for the Council. I’m what you might call an independent contractor!
She set out a stack of orchid house brochures on her table with the donation box, and the laminated sign, “Entry by Gold Coin Donation” propped next to it. With everything arranged to her satisfaction, she fetched her handbag and a small esky from the car, tucked them under her chair and made herself comfortable.
She was barely settled when Theresa arrived to open up. At ten o’clock, the first visitors greeted Maud with a cheery g’day, rummaged in bags and pockets for change and dropped their coins into the donation box. One or two who hadn’t brought change happily contributed a five dollar note. On their way out, twenty minutes later, they waved and promised to “see you again soon”.
At midday, Theresa collected Maud’s empty cup and closed up for lunch. “Back in half an hour,” she called as she strode towards the car park.
Maud had packed a sandwich, an apple and a bottle of water in her little esky, with an ice block to keep them cool and fresh. She would sit here at her table and eat her sandwich. If anyone arrived and wanted to know what time the orchid house reopened, she would be able to tell them. Of course, they could read the sign on the door, but how many people want to read a sign when there’s a real live person to talk to?
Theresa returned at twelve thirty, along with the first visitor of the afternoon, a doddery old gentleman carrying a walking stick.
“Good idea,” he said, when he spotted the donation box. “About time Council asked people to contribute to the upkeep of this place. Nobody appreciates anything unless they have to pay for it.”
The afternoon was quiet. Two hours was hardly a long time when business was brisk, but with nobody to talk to, time dragged. She would need to bring a book for the quiet days.
The orchid house was closed on weekends and public holidays, much to Maud’s relief. After a week of carting her table, chair, esky, handbag and donation box back and forth between the entrance and the car park, she was exhausted. And, of course, she still had to drive to the bank and deposit her takings in that clever machine which sorted and counted the coins and deposited the total into the right account. Not that she was complaining. After all, she didn’t have to count and bag all the different coins herself any more.
Life settled into a regular pattern. Occasionally Theresa would bring out another chair and the two would eat lunch together. They chatted about the weather, the price of petrol and food and their various health issues. Theresa complained good-naturedly about her husband, opening her phone to show Maud photos of her latest grandchild. Maud smiled her congratulations and showed Theresa photos of her old ginger cat. Maud supposed they were friends of a sort, although they only ever met at the orchid house.
Maud had been collecting donations for almost a year when Theresa announced she would be leaving at the end of the week. Now her husband had finally retired, they had bought a caravan and would be setting off on a much-anticipated trip around Australia.
Unfortunately, having failed to find a volunteer to run the orchid house, the Council would be sending one of their staff to take over from Monday.
“You’ll be staying on, I expect?” Theresa said.
“Oh, no,” said Maud. “I’ve had a good run.” And I’m off to New Zealand as soon as I’ve taken these coins to the bank!
“Have you let Council know? They’ll need some time to replace you.”
As she drove out of the car park, she looked back and waved. Actually, I don’t work for the Council. I’m what you might call an independent contractor!