“You’ve taken it from the fence,” Nandi said.
“From the post.” Graham held the tape out for her to see. “One metre twenty.”
“So have I.”
Her row of stones crossed his string halfway down the garden. He had been careful with the string. He had wound it twice round each stake and checked it from the kitchen window, where it made a straight line between the gate and the back step. The fence jogged at the gate; the step sat half a brick to one side of it. From here, kneeling in the grass, he could see how much lawn her stones would take.
“Put yours against mine.”
She laid her tape beside his. The marks agreed.
“And where did you start?” he asked.
Nandi went to the back step and pressed the metal hook against its outside edge.
“That isn’t the boundary.”
“I’m trying to leave room for the trolley.”
“There’s room.”
Amira came through the gate with a watering can. She lifted it over the string, stepped between two stones and caught her sandal on the line. Graham reached to steady the stake before it moved.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right.” He checked the knot.
She looked back at the gate. “Mum comes round this side, then turns for the step.”
Graham stood. From above, the fence looked straight enough. At the gatepost, the soil had opened on one side and heaped on the other. Nandi hooked her tape against the step again. He took the other end. As they moved towards the gate, the gap narrowed. The distance on each tape stayed the same; the lines between their starting places did not.
“It’s the post,” he said.
“Yes.”
“We could reset it.”
“We could.”
He looked at the concrete round its foot, then at the stack of bricks beside the shed. He had promised they would have the path down by Sunday. The bricks were already cleaned. His thumb still hurt from knocking mortar off them.
Amira turned on the tap. Water struck the bottom of the can loudly enough to stop the conversation.
Nandi went to the shed and brought out the trolley. One wheel rattled on its axle. She put a sack of compost in the basket and pulled it towards the gate along Graham’s proposed line.
At the post, she stopped.
“You have to turn it,” he said.
She turned it. The basket cleared, but the wheel caught the corner of the concrete. She lifted the handle and pulled harder. The sack slid against the mesh.
“That’s how she does it,” Amira said. She shut off the tap. “The front wheel needs room to get past the post before she can point it at the step.”
Nandi backed the trolley out and left it for him.
He took the handle. With the weight in it, the trolley wanted to run straight. He could get it past, certainly. He had to put his foot against the post and lift. When the wheel dropped, the handle jarred his sore thumb.
He set it down.
“Could the path curve?” Amira asked.
Graham looked along the string. “You get gaps.”
“Between the bricks?”
“On the outside of the bend.”
Nandi brought three bricks from the stack and laid them on the soil. She turned the last one slightly. There was a wedge of daylight between it and the next.
“Like that?”
“Smaller.” He crouched beside her. “Over more bricks.”
She passed him another.
They laid enough to suggest the bend. Graham moved the stake, leaving the string slack while Nandi pulled the trolley through again. This time the wheel missed the concrete. It sank into the bare soil instead, and they both laughed, briefly, before he helped her pull it free.
“The base still needs doing,” he said.
“I know.”
Amira carried her full watering can away. Some water spilled onto the bricks and darkened them. Graham sat back on his heels. The curve would take longer; the straight cuts he had planned would not all serve. He turned a brick over, looking for a sound edge.
Nandi picked up the tape.
“Wall or post?” she asked.
“Wait.”
He fetched the trolley and put it between the loose rows. Then he took the far end of the tape from her and held it beyond the wheel.
“Give us another brick there,” he said. “We’ll check the turn before we set the base.”
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