They work, at first, in a predictable, comfortable silence. Anne watches Greta closely, not just during the instructions but beyond, before carefully starting in on her little patch of garden. Greta keeps half an eye on her, just in case, but she isn't really worried: she hasn't let things get bad enough for it to be a bewildering jumble, and the interlopers are fairly easy to spot.
The quiet (save for the chickens) doesn't really bother her, though the lack of any conversation does feel a bit odd. Saoirse is a natterer, and Regan — whose knowledge of gardening is about on par with Greta's own — pauses to sign often enough. But making conversation with Saoirse or Regan is familiar and easy; Anne, she still feels as if she hasn't quite got the hang of. She suspects her curiosity about what Anne's life was like might just come across as vaguely distasteful, so she doesn't want to ask about that. But she also suspects inane chit-chat would dissolve against Anne like so much bloody sea foam on a rock.
She's still puzzling over possible ways of breaking the silence when Anne goes ahead and does it for her. Greta glances over in slight surprise, then smiles. "Yes, they've taken the dogs to the beach. The water's too cold for anyone but Saoirse, but it's just as well. Gives them more privacy." It's good for all of them, she thinks: Saoirse hasn't been able to visit the beach as often during the winter, and after all that business with the goblins, it's good for Regan to take her on little outings that are relatively unlikely to end in disaster.
no subject
The quiet (save for the chickens) doesn't really bother her, though the lack of any conversation does feel a bit odd. Saoirse is a natterer, and Regan — whose knowledge of gardening is about on par with Greta's own — pauses to sign often enough. But making conversation with Saoirse or Regan is familiar and easy; Anne, she still feels as if she hasn't quite got the hang of. She suspects her curiosity about what Anne's life was like might just come across as vaguely distasteful, so she doesn't want to ask about that. But she also suspects inane chit-chat would dissolve against Anne like so much bloody sea foam on a rock.
She's still puzzling over possible ways of breaking the silence when Anne goes ahead and does it for her. Greta glances over in slight surprise, then smiles. "Yes, they've taken the dogs to the beach. The water's too cold for anyone but Saoirse, but it's just as well. Gives them more privacy." It's good for all of them, she thinks: Saoirse hasn't been able to visit the beach as often during the winter, and after all that business with the goblins, it's good for Regan to take her on little outings that are relatively unlikely to end in disaster.