Free The Fence by Meredith Jaffe

were enjoying their cake and tea, when Rohan said, ‘I love what you’ve done with the garden, Gwen.’
    â€˜Mmm, this sponge is delicious, so light,’ Babs had added.
    â€˜Anyone for seconds?’ Gwen asked and Eric and Rohan pushed over their plates.
    â€˜When I look at our yard it’s hard to imagine it ever being as lush and productive as yours,’ Rohan continued.
    Gwen’s cheeks had pinked. This was years before the gardening column, back when the backyard was her one true pleasure. There was the chicken run on the southern side where the girls had the benefit of the morning sun rising over the fence. The mulberry tree she had planted when they first moved in was already over two metres tall. It provided shelter and a good crop of fruit on which the chooks gorged themselves in summer. She had laid out garden beds using old railway sleepers Eric and his father, Harry, had sourced from the railway yards at Clyde. There was a row of citrus along the back fence, an apple tree in the corner and behind the vegetable beds she was experimenting with espaliering a fig.
    Babs had laid a hand on her husband’s arm. ‘Don’t go getting ideas, Rohan. Neither of us have a green thumb.’
    Rohan had laughed that low chortle of his that would become so familiar. ‘No, my love, there’s no danger of that.’
    As they drank their tea and enjoyed another slice of Gwen’s sponge cake, Rohan stood at the window staring at the expanse of lawn Gwen had been rolling out the day they moved in. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t done something similar out the front here, Gwen. It gets plenty of light too. Perhaps more fruit trees?’
    Gwen rose and stood beside him. ‘I love a good stretch of lawn. Eric is thinking of putting up a trampoline for the kids in the neighbourhood to share. I’ve planted a couple of rondeletia under the windows to soften the brickwork but I’m stuck on what to plant along the boundary. It’s a bit of a nothing spot and it seems a shame to put up a fence just for the sake of it.’
    â€˜You could plant a hedge?’ offered Babs, joining them.
    â€˜Well, yes, I could but then I’ve always liked the idea of the children roaming free. Fences are so dominant and overbearing. No one can get in but then no one can get out either, can they?’
    â€˜They can always go over the top,’ added Eric. ‘Kids love climbing.’
    â€˜But would they? A fence says, “Stay out”, don’t you think?’
    â€˜Whereas a hedge . . .?’ said Babs.
    â€˜It depends what you use,’ said Gwen, ‘and it’s certainly more visually appealing than a fence, but it still discourages access. I can’t imagine this street being turned into one where the ­children didn’t feel welcome.’
    â€˜When we were children, there was an old hedge that bordered the common,’ said Rohan. ‘We used to burrow under there and play all sorts of games. We were tunnellers in the war or revolutionaries in our secret hideout.’
    â€˜As the boys get older, they’ll like that,’ added Babs.
    â€˜No more lawn though,’ said Eric, ‘I spend enough of my Sundays mowing the wretched thing as it is.’
    â€˜Do you know what we could do?’ Gwen turned to the gathering. ‘I mean, if it’s all right with you. We could turn your front garden into a maze with winding paths that the children could play hide and seek in or ride their scooters around and then instead of a full hedge, we could plant an intermittent one using small trees the children can duck in and out of. That way, they can pitch a tent on our lawn and then set off on adventures in your garden.’
    â€˜Yes! Or even play cricket,’ Rohan added. ‘The row of trees would be the boundary. Over the trees for a six.’
    â€˜Mrs Hill?’
    Gwen realises Francesca is talking to her. ‘I’m