“Hypocritical pricks,” Jane utters under her breath, as yet another white-linen pants woman stops to thank her for her hard work, then swigs coffee from a disposable cup.
She untangles the snorkelling mask from gray braids, tossing it to the grass beside a plastic sheet spread out for the Coastcare group on Manly Esplanade. The team empties their full nets onto the sheet, carefully sorting and cataloguing the waste for data reporting; cans, bottles, plastic, flotsam and jetsam, waiting to choke a poor unsuspecting creature.
“You would think it would be getting better after all these years of cleaning up,” her friend Margie says as she pulls the remnants of a helium balloon from the pile. “It’s a boy,” the deflated plastic declares. “More like a death trap,” she snorts as she tosses it to the side.
Jane rolls her eyes in agreement. “Come on, let’s grab a cuppa and cake. I’m getting cold and stiff – must be getting old.” She motions for Margie to help with the zip of her wetsuit, and the two stand together peeling smooth neoprene down over leathery brown skin. They don jumpers and striped beach towels, and the leader hands them tea and cake, thanking them as they try to guess the previous incarnations of the objects before them.
“Hey, what’s that?” Margie asks as she takes a closer look at what is now a plastic jellyfish. “Is that a label?”
Jane pulls the shredded blue mess from the pile. “It’s an address.” She says, squinting. “Do you have your glasses?”
Margie reaches into a pocket, retrieves her glasses, and raises an eyebrow as she turns to Jane. “That’s just around the corner. I reckon we should pay them a visit – have a word. Bloody baby reveal – they’re killing the planet that baby is being born into!
*
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Jane asks, as Margie pulls her ancient Toyota Corolla into a steep driveway outside a storage unit.
“Maybe, it’s the supplier. Even better!” Margie replies as she yanks the handbrake on, grabs the piece of offending plastic, and slams the car door behind her. Jane races after her, and then stops as Margie raises a finger to her lips, mouthing, “they’re inside,” motioning for her to lean against the door alongside her. Inside two men are discussing an arrangement with the ice-cream truck on the Esplanade. The balloons are stored there for quick delivery. It’s empty, and they need to restock with delivery scheduled for an hour.
“Let’s go,” Margie mouths, and the women tiptoe back to the car.
“Oh, this is so good. We can break the supply chain. Stop this rubbish at the source,” Margie says.
“Are you sure?” Jane asks. “What if we get caught? Isn’t it stealing, couldn’t we go to jail, and how are we going to get them from the truck?”
Margie stares at her. “This is not a crime, Jane. What they are doing is a crime, and nobody is going to send two old ladies to jail for saving the environment. We’ll wait at the park. I reckon they’ll get the guy to unlock the truck, do the delivery, and go, then tell him to lock it up. You distract him and I’ll nip in and grab the boxes.”
“Okay,” Jane says slowly, checking her watch. She has to pick the grandkids up from school at 2.30.
*
“They’re here!” Margie hisses to Jane, her breath short after completing her tenth lap of the esplanade. “Quick, you go start talking about ice cream, so everyone wants one and the line gets longer. I can lean against that tree and see how much stuff there is.”
Jane starts talking into her phone, listing to her non-existent daughter all the flavours and combinations on offer. “What do you think the children would like?” she ends as Margie motions for her.
“It’s only two boxes, we can do it. I’ll move the car into the disabled zone. I’ve still got Mom’s permit on the car. Damn, that’s the guy who did the drop-off. Quick, he’s joining the queue, you’ll have to get in front, and…”
“I got it,” Jane winks. “Hurry up!” she hisses and turns to the long line, where the man is milling. “Oh, it’s a long queue today!” she says, pasting her best grandma smile on. He nods and pushes his sunglasses higher onto his face. “I hope I can get the ice-creams I promised my grandkids. How long have you been waiting?” He looks around him to ensure that he is the one she is talking to, and shrugs. “Yes, it does take that long, doesn’t it? You lose track of time.” He does not respond, and Jane searches the road to see if Margie is on her way. She sees the Corolla turn in from a steep hill and calculates how long she has. There is not enough time.
Jane groans and staggers sideways, knocking into a mother and baby, then the sunglasses man. The young mother reaches for her, preventing her from falling as the man steps aside.
“Are you okay?” the mother says, one hand shielding a baby strapped to her chest, as she glares at the sunglasses man.
Jane nods and lowers herself slowly to the ground. “Just need a drink of water. I must have done too much today.” The mother pushes to the front of the line and asks the ice-cream vendor for water. Jane lies spreadeagled on the ground, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun, and the notice of others as she watches Margie pull into the car space. She sits and drinks slowly as Margie retrieves two boxes from the back of the van and loads them into her car.
“Thanks,” Jane says and blinks. “I think I’ll be okay now.”
“Can I call anyone for you?” the mother says.
“Thank you dear. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bother. I’ve been here so long my friend is here anyway,” Jane says, pointing to Margie, now walking casually towards them.
“Oh dear, what happened?” Margie asks, her face lined with concern.
“Had a dizzy spell. Must have done too much at Coastcare. Don’t reckon I feel like ice-cream anymore.” Jane turns towards the mother and baby, ensuring the sunglasses man is also within her gaze, raising her voice to ensure everyone can hear. “Thank you for help – it’s people like you who make the world a good place, unlike some.”
*
Jane and Margie drive up the steep hill away from the Esplanade in silence. Margie’s house is three blocks away, and she turns sharply into her driveway, presses the garage door open, drives in and locks the door behind her.
“We did it!” Margie shrieks as she hugs Jane. “Let’s see how many of these wretched balloons we stopped.” They open the hatch and stare at the two boxes bound with tape. Margie leans in and cuts it open with a key, then folds the edges back. Inside are layers of plastic, with ribbons and labels, just like the one they found. The ribbons are secured to a square box, wrapped in blue or pink. “Jesus, more junk. I wonder if this is some of the other plastic crap we found. If it is we could take this to the Environment Protection Authority, and really do something about this.”
Margie reaches over and cuts deep into the plastic with her key. A trail of white powder follows the key’s withdrawal.
“Is that what I think it is?” Jane asks softly.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, Janie. Death trap was right.”
Photo by Edi Libedinsky on Unsplash
