Page 28 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
‘It sounds like your idea of heaven,’ Treena said, amused. ‘If he’ll let you help him, that is?’
‘He can’t really afford not to, because he’s trying to restore it all on a shoestring and they’re getting me dirt cheap. Anyway, I’ve had the whole thing out with him this morning and put him straight about that damned resignation email! I had to tell him a little bit about Mike, which I really didn’t want to do, in order to convince him I wasn’t likely to cause trouble in future.’
‘I should think not!’ she said indignantly.
‘Myfy and Elf had already told him they were certain I was a good person, which might have helped … and, of course, once I knew what had happened to him last year, I sort of understood why he was petrified I might start throwing accusations about. But I think we’re OK now. At least he’s employing me, and I mean to prove I’m both sane and hardworking.’
‘You can always set him on to me, if you think he has any doubts,’ Treena suggested. ‘I’ll put him right!’
And if he made herreallyangry, he might just find himself microchipped and neutered, too, I thought, amused.
‘I’m really looking forward to learning about the apothecary garden. I saw what looked like a blown-up photo of the original plan on his office wall, and as well as being huge, it’s very unusual for the late seventeenth century. I’m longing to get my secateurs into that rose garden, too!’
She laughed. ‘I think it sounds like your idea of heaven, rather than mine!’
‘Definitely. I know it’s going to be hard work, but fun! Ned’s going to show me round the garden tomorrow morning, and I can hardly wait. The Lavender Cottage side of things won’t take me long, once I’ve given everything a good pruning, probably an hour or so a week in the afternoon, just before I go up the River Walk.’
‘River Walk?’ she echoed.
I told her about this unexpected addition to my duties and added, ‘You’ll have to come and see it all – and the Grace Garden, when it opens at Easter.’
‘I’ll let you settle in first, unless I’m called out to Risings to see those spoilt Pekes again. And then, Luke is starting his dig at the monastic ruins on the Tuesday after Easter, so I expect I’ll be popping in to see what’s happening there, too.’
‘It should be fascinating,’ I said tactfully, though I didn’t think Treena had much more interest in old walls and post holes than she had in gardening.
She helped me to carry down the last of the stored things from the spare bedroom and we managed to fit them into the car. There was the little chair and the tiny white-painted bookcase to get in somehow. In the end I had to pile things high, with a travel rug tucked over it all, and leave the roof down, so it was going to be a chilly drive back.
‘It’s amazing what you can get in a Citroën 2CV,’ Treena said. ‘You’d think it was made of elastic.’
‘It’s a Tardis.’ I wished, though, that I could put a giant luggage strap around it, in case it sprang open like a suitcase with a broken lock.
Treena checked her watch. ‘I’m doing evening surgery, then it’s my turn to be on twenty-four-hour emergency call. I’ll take the dogs for a good run now, before I go back. Do you want to come?’
‘I think I’d better take all this stuff back and unload it,’ I said. ‘I might have time for a little walk round the village after that, to stretch my legs.’
‘OK. And let me know how things are going. See you soon.’
We hugged and I drove off, full of hotpot and cream horn and a faint and probably entirely unfounded stirring of optimism.
10
Cat Flap
It was mid-afternoon when I bumped and rattled my overstuffed car across the humpbacked bridge and parked outside the café. It was a pity it was their closing day, because Charlie would have made short work of carrying everything up to the flat.
I had a key to the café door, but didn’t somehow like to use it and instead began to haul everything round to the back door. It took me about a dozen trips, and the chair, with its elegantly scrolled and padded back, was the last thing. The heap sitting on the crazy-paving terrace looked like a slightly dubious garage sale, with odds and ends sticking up out of boxes and strange bundles tied with string.
I sat on the chair for a minute to recover, before going upstairs to open all the doors and deposit the first box in the corner of the living room with those already there.
When I got down again the French window to Myfy’s studio further along opened and she stepped out, followed by a tall, hawk-nosed and handsome man. His silver hair was as long as Myfy’s, but caught back in a thick plait and he was dressed from head to foot in black.
Myfy was wearing a knee-length patchwork and beaded tunic over harem trousers, and a black cloak was draped over her shoulders. Together, they looked as if they’d stepped out of a slightly dark fairy tale, or a mythical kingdom.
Catching sight of me, they came over and Myfy introduced the tall man as her husband, Jacob Springer.
‘He’s an artist too, did I say? Or perhaps more of a sculptor, really, since he mainly constructs three-dimensional moving things.’
‘I’m a kinetic artist,’ he said, shaking hands.
