Page 21 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
‘Cheery.’
She considered this. ‘Perhaps not in winter, but in spring and summer, I think taking your last journey through the fields and meadows, carried by your friends and family, doesn’t sound too bad.’
‘No, you’re right,’ I agreed.
We retraced our steps down the path by the waterfall, catching glimpses of the viewing platform below as the path twisted and turned, so I could see why that poor tourist had found herself stuck here overnight.
All the same, I longed to come back there alone, with no possibility of anyone else about. When I asked Myfy, it seemed that I was welcome to walk there in my free time whenever I wished.
‘I’m very glad you’re going to be doing the check on the walk every day, too,’ she added. ‘I quite often forget the time and then it doesn’t get done, unless Charlie or his sister, Daisy, are about.’
‘The café seems to have a lot of staff,’ I commented.
‘Not really, it’s usually just Elf. Charlie’s been helping out a lot, because of being on his gap year, and Daisy is still at school and only works in the café on Saturdays and in the holidays when they’re busy.’
We met no one at all on the way back and we’d picked up little litter, other than the inevitable plastic water bottles and one crisp packet that had obviously been blowing about the village for a few days before capture.
Locking the gate to Lavender Cottage carefully behind her, Myfy said, ‘The recycling bins are near the back door, if there’s anything that can go in them, but I’ll sort that today. Tomorrow, of course, is Tuesday, when the café’s closed, so you can spend your first day off settling in and then start work officially on Wednesday morning.’
‘Yes … but I’d better tackle Ned first thing tomorrow, before I do anything else,’ I said grimly.
‘I suppose you had better,’ she agreed. ‘He’s usually in his office in the courtyard at the top end of the Grace Garden from about eight thirty, unless he’s gardening. I’m sure everything will be all right, though, Marnie. He’s desperate for help to restore the garden, and he’s trying to renovate the Old Hall too, when he has any time. Poor Theo didn’t have a lot of money and an old period place like that drains your resources alarmingly, even if it isn’t very big.’
‘Ned has a lot on his hands, then,’ I said, because five peripatetic years in France, spent living in old and dilapidated houses, had taught me quite a bit about the subject.
‘If he says he doesn’t want to employ me, are you still sure you want me to work for you and live in the flat?’ I asked tentatively. ‘It would be only half the job and all the benefit of the accommodation.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s not in question. We’re very happy to have you. And I’m sure Ned, now he’s had time to think about what I said to him earlier, will be ready to listen to you.’
‘If he doesn’t, then perhaps I can get some daily gardening locally instead, because your garden won’t be a full-time job. Then you can pay me part-time wages.’
‘Wayne Vane gardens locally, but he’s neither good nor reliable. But it shouldn’t come to that. Ned would be crazy to turn you down, and you’reverycheap.’
I grinned. ‘Fully qualified, very experienced in all aspects of gardening and economically priced,’ I agreed. I still wasn’t quite sure how I was going to persuade Ned that I had never written that unhinged resignation email, but I’d give it my best shot.
‘I’ll see Ned first thing, then I need to go to Great Mumming. I’vebeen storing some of my and my late mother’s things at my sister’s house – I mentioned she was a vet at a practice there, didn’t I? Elf said it was fine for me to bring them back with me to sort out in the flat.’
‘Good idea, and I expect you’ll find you can get rid of a lot of it. Very cathartic, disposing of old possessions.’
‘Yes, I think you’re probably right,’ I agreed. I’d already found purging myself of everything that reminded me of Mike pretty therapeutic.
I parted with Myfy at the back door, where I could see that the lights were still on in the café kitchen. She told me that Elf and Charlie would be cleaning down the café – they liked to give it an extra deep clean on Monday evenings – but since it had been a quiet day they’d probably already nearly finished.
It was getting on for five by then and I felt ravenous, so back in my flat I made myself dinner from the ingredients in the fridge, and finished with some honeycomb crunch ice-cream from a box I found in the freezer. It was delicious.
The little flat was quiet and warm, though I switched on the flickering flame effect of the electric log-burner for cosiness and settled down at the table with the temperamental laptop.
It eventually consented to turn on and I emailed Treena to say that I’d be in Great Mumming next day to pick up more of my things, and was she free to meet me for lunch, in which case I could tell her all about my arrival in Jericho’s End then.
An email pinged back almost straight away, suggesting we could eat lunch at the cottage and then she’d help me load the car.
I had so much to tell her tomorrow – and I’d have even more after I’d seen Ned in the morning!
After that, I made a cup of coffee and began to trace the downfall of Ned Mars via the internet. I had a faint suspicion Myfy might have left out a couple of details. Perhaps, although this allegation of an affair had been untrue, he had previously been unfaithful, giving his girlfriend grounds for jealousy? That didn’t sound like the Ned I knew, but I suppose he could have changed in the years since I’d known him.
It was easy enough to track the story back to the original Sunday tabloid article, which was full of innuendo and short on facts, but much as Myfy had said. There was plenty of speculation and a lot of social media slurry, then the paper printed a retraction and apology in the following week’s issue. I suspect there had been a threat of legal proceedings from Ned’s director and her husband. It would all probably have died down after that, had Sammie Nelson not stuck her oar in by selling that nasty little piece to a gossip column. After reading it, I could only suppose she must have done it for money, whipping up something out of nothing. The word ‘paydirt’ sprang to mind and it certainly left a nasty taste in my mouth. There seems to be an art to implying things, without coming out and saying them in a legally actionable way.
Anyway, I just couldn’t believe they’d printed this stuff, because it left their readers with the impression that Ned had not only dropped Sammie from his life when fame beckoned, but she had been pregnant at the time – plus, worst of all, they hinted he’d been violent to her!
