Page 109 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
‘The full-time ones seem to work even longer hours than I do,’ I said. ‘In theory, I get Sundays off as well as Tuesdays, though I told Ned I’d give him a hand this afternoon.’
At the thought of him, all my worries came crashing down on me again. ‘Treena, what on earth am I going to do about Ned?’
‘Well, you could wait and see if the Vanes really do know who you are and threaten to tell Ned, out of spite …’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think they would tell him because, after all, they disowned Mum when she was pregnant, so they wouldn’t want to acknowledge me, would they?’
‘So, if Saul did guess who you were, he was just warning you not to try to claim any relationship with him.’
‘Possibly – not that I ever wanted to!’
‘And if that’s so, then he’s not going to do anything else about it and you can stop worrying, can’t you?’
‘Not if Wayne knows too, and keeps dropping hints to Ned, because he’s bound to realize it’s something more than the resignation letter. It would be like carrying an unexploded bomb around with me all the time. It feels a bit like that now,’ I added. ‘Only, when I’m really happy I manage to forget it, or convince myself everything is going to be all right.’
‘There you are, then, you’ve answered your own question: you need to have it out with Ned, or it’ll always be hanging over you,’ she said firmly.
In my heart, I’d always known that would be the inescapable conclusion.
‘Yes … but things will never be the same between Ned and me again.’
‘Don’t be daft – you’ve blown it up out of all proportion. Though it might be a shock to Ned, once he’s got over that, I’m sure it won’t change how he feels about you.’
I wished I could feel as sure about that as she did. She must have seen the doubt on my face, because she added cheeringly, ‘On the bright side, it doesn’t seem like Melinda’s told Mike where you’re living now, does it? I mean, there’s been no sign of him, has there?’
‘Mike …’ I echoed vaguely. The question of whether he knew where I was or not seemed to have faded into insignificance next to my preoccupation with how Ned would react to my revelation … if I ever actually managed to pluck up the courage and tell him.
‘Mike, your controlling ex-husband, remember?’ prompted Treena.
‘He doesn’t matter any more, because Ned knows all about him,’ I said simply. ‘Perhaps he did find out from Melinda, but isn’t interested?’
‘Perhaps, but if he knows, then I wouldn’t put it past him to try to jerk your strings a bit, just for the fun of it.’
I hoped she was wrong: he’d be one more blast from the past I could do without right then.
When I’d got home and put my shopping away, I changed and went to join Ned at the bottom of the garden, where our veg-plot-style beds were coming along nicely, even if the surrounding ground did look a bit of a muddy mess at the moment. Once we’d finished digging out, enriching and planting up the long beds and replaced the walkways and borders with new turf, it would all look entirely different.
The garden had opened by then, but was not yet very busy, so we spent a peaceful hour with just the two of us, working together … and it would have been the perfect moment for my confession, except that every time I looked up, the words forming on my lips, he’d catch my eye and smile at me, amber eyes warm and happy, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.
To add to the problem, after my talk with Treena I was seeing himwith new eyes – and she’d been quite right, because my feelingshadbeen changing towards him and unacknowledged hopes were now struggling to the surface. Perhaps howhefelt aboutmewas starting to change, too?
How could I speak the words that might put an end to all that?
He looked up at me again and grinned. ‘Stop daydreaming and put your back into it, Ellwood,’ he said.
That evening, over a Sunday dinner of roast chicken with all the trimmings, Ned told the family about the Lizzie letter and gave Elf her copy.
‘I’ve sent one over for Cress, too, since it’s about her branch of the family as much as mine,’ he told them.
Elf pored over it, exclaiming and wishing it had come to light before she’d written the book. ‘Though the bare outline is correct, of course. But it would have been nice to have the human element, to have fleshed out the character’s motivation.’
‘The poor girl sounded very nice, for a Vane,’ said Myfy, who’d been taking the pages from Elf as she’d read them. ‘Witty and clever, too.’
‘Yes, but they can’t all have been horrible. There are always some nice people, even in the most disagreeable families,’ Elf said. ‘Only think of that lovely Martha Vane, who was our Saturday girl in the café years ago, just as Daisy is now. Such a clever, sweet-natured girl – everyone liked her.’
I inadvertently swallowed my last bite of treacle pudding the wrong way and Ned patted me on the back rather too heavily with one large hand, then poured me some water.
‘You know, I’d forgotten about her,’ Myfy was saying, when I resurfaced. ‘But she was a little younger than me, so I’d have been off to art college by then, I expect.’
