Page 41 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
‘You’re not going to do any more work today, are you?’ she asked. ‘Ned came in earlier and he said you’d already made a huge clearance in the rose garden.’
‘Did he?’ I said, pleased. ‘It’s the tip of the iceberg, but I’m dying to find out what roses are in there.’
‘I can see it’s your idea of fun,’ she said, smiling.
‘It is, but I did mean to start on your garden before I checked the River Walk today,’ I confessed. ‘Then I forgot the time. I’ll have a go first thing in the morning, instead.’
‘Oh, not to worry, I’m sure you’ll soon get it into shape and there isn’t any rush.’
A giant marmalade-coloured shape suddenly shoved its way through the nearest clumps of lavender and came to twine itself sinuously around my legs.
‘Caspar!’ Elf cried. ‘Myfanwy said she’d let you out for the first time earlier, but she hadn’t seen you since. Where have you been?’
Caspar told her, but unfortunately neither of us spoke Cat. Then he said something directly to Elf and headed for the back door.
‘I think he wants his dinner,’ I suggested.
‘I suspect you’re right – though he isn’t supposed to go into the café. Still, I don’t suppose it matters when we’re shut and at least he’s come back!’
She followed him through the hall and into the scullery. Straight away I spotted a large white-painted cubbyhole for my post hanging on the wall, lettered over the top with ‘The Flat’.
That had to be Jacob’s work, and upstairs I found he’d installed a giant cat flap into the door on the landing, too.
I left the door unbolted but shut, and waited to see what Caspar would make of it if he came over again, which I already suspected was going to become a habit.
A long hot shower relaxed my muscles and removed the bits of leaf and debris from my hair. Then, after dinner, I settled down with my coffee and Elf’s book to read the chapter on Lost Treasure.
There often are legends about gold hoards being hidden near water – and of course, back in the mists of time, people did deposit valuable items as tribute in marshes and pools.
Anything put in the cave by the Fairy Falls – more of a narrow fissure in the rock – would have had to be placed there during a severe drought, since it is usually at least partly covered by the cascade, as is the ledge leading to it. But of course, it is an apocryphal treasure.
There is another hoard of treasure reputed to be hidden in the valley, too: Nathaniel Grace, the buccaneering ancestor of the present owner of Old Grace Hall, was known to have seized much gold and valuable jewels from Spanish ships, some of which, of course, he presented to Good Queen Bess, with whom he was a favourite. He certainly had enough left to purchase Old Grace Hall from his cousins when he retired from seafaring and married. He is, though, said to have concealed his greatest treasure somewhere on his property.
The oldest part of the house has several times been searched, but to no avail, so I suspect that this treasure is just as much a tale as the other!
I suspected she was right about both of them, but part of you always wants to believe in this kind of thing, like the Loch Ness Monster and Yetis!
I heard a bumping noise and, putting the book aside, went out onto the landing, where Caspar was headbutting his new cat flap, before cautiously squeezing through. He had a lot of thick fur, so it can’t have been as difficult as he made it look.
He went to bed first, highly miffed because I refused to share my cup of cocoa and two Jaffa Cakes with him, but I soon joined him, pushing him over to one side to make room, and then quickly fell asleep to the sound of his bubbling snores.
13
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
I woke very early, to find a very hairy face pressed in between my chin and neck. When I moved, Caspar rolled onto his back and stretched luxuriously, then lay there like a giant stuffed toy, big feet in the air.
The sky was still a magical dusky, duck-egg blue and I could see the bright pinprick of a star. Ilovestars; they always make me feel hopeful. I’d hung the crystal one I’d bought in the village in my bedroom window, though I expected that, apart from my day off, I’d rarely be in the flat to see the sun cast prisms from it across the white duvet and walls.
I went through the living room to the front windows, where dawn was a thin hammered silver line behind the hills on the other side of the valley, above Risings.
I heard Caspar land on the floorboards with a heavy thud and then he padded past me and I followed him into the hall in time to see him cautiously headbutt the cat flap, before squeezing through it, in that oddly ectoplasmic way cats have, as if they could just simply materialize somewhere else if they really put their minds to it.
I felt fine this morning; I mean, I’d been doing hard physical work for years, so it wasn’t exactly a novelty. But I was full of energy and anticipation for the job ahead – to reveal the secrets of the rose garden! And who doesn’t love a secret – oralmostsecret – garden?
I warmed up apain au chocolatfrom the freezer – old habits die hard – and had two cups of coffee. Then I was good to go, intending to make a start on Elf and Myfy’s garden.
All was silent from the direction of the café when I went down and let myself out into a diamond-encrusted world of webs and shadows, where the birds had struck up an enthusiastic dawn chorus.
