Lessons From Ducks by Tammy Robinson

kind of wild, untamed look didn’t bother him, it did bother the Reverend who preferred his cemetery remain creeper free. He was half way down the fence when he heard his name called, and straightened up to look back at the church in the direction the voice had come from. Even though the weary sun was sinking lower in the sky it was still bright enough to impair his vision, and he held his hand up to shade his eyes. The Reverend himself had emerged from the back door of the church and was making his way over to him, smiling broadly and nodding as he surveyed Matt’s work.
    “Matt,” he smiled, offering a hand. “I don’t know how you do it, but as usual the place is looking marvellous. It always does when you’ve finished with it.”
    “Thanks Reverend.”
    “Please, call me John. Tell me, how do you get the grass so green? I used to pay someone to mow my lawn but my wife bought me a mower last Christmas so I’ve started doing it myself. I quite enjoy it, very peaceful pastime, but my blasted grass is getting browner and browner. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Any tips?”
    “It could be a variety of things Rev -”
    “John.”
    “ - sorry, John. What level have you got your blades on?”
    John gave him a blank look. “Level?”
    “You know, the lever on the side that makes the blades go up and down. What have you got it set on?”
    “There’s a lever that makes your blades go up and down?”
    “Um, yes. On the side. Near one of the back wheels usually.”
    John sagged. “Oh. I think I’ve seen that. Had no idea what it was for so I haven’t touched it.”
    Matt shrugged. “That could be your problem. If the level’s too low you might have scalped your grass.”
    “Oh dear. Sounds painful.”
    “It’ll kill it, that’s for sure.”
    “How can I fix it?”
    Matt shrugged. “Depends how far gone it is. Leave it for a few weeks, let it get some rain.” He looked up at the clear sky. “Hell, even give it water from the hose if you need to, council restrictions be damned.” Then the language he had just spoken caught up to his ears. “Shit, sorry Rev,” he apologised, then winced when he realised he’d sworn again. “I didn’t mean to say the H word.”
    John laughed. “It’s alright Matt, I’ve heard worse. Right, I’d better not hold you up anymore. I can see Oscar is waiting. Thanks for the advice, I’ll give it a shot.”
    “No problem.”
    John started back towards the church but had only gone a metre or two before he stopped suddenly.
    “Oh Matt,” he turned around, “what level should I set the lever on?”
    “Start with six and see how you go, Five at a push, but I wouldn’t go any lower than that. As well as scalping it, if you go too low prickles will invade.”
    “Six it is then. Wonderful. Thank you Matt.”
    Matt watched John walk back to the church and when he was safely out of earshot he allowed himself a chuckle. ‘I guess we’re all clueless about something or other,’ he mused aloud. He hoisted the spray pack a little higher and readied himself to finish the job. But just as he faced the fence a movement by the church caught his eye. A woman, the same woman who had been lying on the grave, he could see by her clothes. She was nearly out of sight, heading up the path around the church that would lead her back to the road. There was something about her, something familiar, and he frowned as his mind worked to place it.
    Anna.
    She had her hair tied up today but it was her, he was almost certain.
    “Anna!” he called, but the woman kept walking. If anything, she sped up.
    “Anna!” he tried again, louder. And this time the wind favoured him and carried his voice right to her and she paused, hovering, just before she was about to disappear from sight around the church. She didn’t turn though, not straight away, which made him doubt whether she had heard him, or if it had been something else that had caused her to pause.
    But then she slowly turned and