Page 60 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
‘True, and I do have several things we’ve found in the outhouses, like old gardening tools and blown-glass forcing jars, which would make a good display,’ he said, warming slightly to the idea. ‘I’ve still got more boxes of old papers and photos to sort through, if I ever have any time.’
‘Perfect: photos of the garden and house, past and present, a pamphlet about the history of the family and the garden … Elf could write that, and visitors will love to learn about the buccaneering Grace. I’m sure he had that sundial made now I’ve seen it closer. That’s a very Tudor galleon and the writing’s old and funny.’
‘You’re probably right. I think it was on the lawn behind the house originally, but was moved to its present spot later.’
‘So,areyou going to add converting this building to your plans – maybe get someone to do an estimate?’ I demanded.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, and led the way back into the cobbled courtyard, locking the gate behind us.
‘Meanwhile, you need one of those big collecting boxes so people can donate towards the restoration of the garden.’
‘So you said … Seems a cheek when they’ve just paid four quid to look at it.’
‘There are a lot of garden lovers out there,’ I said, and then checked my watch and realized how long I must have spent pottering about with Ned.
‘Look at the time! I’ll have to go,’ I said. ‘Treena came over this morning with her friend Luke, the archaeologist in charge of that dig.’
‘You’d better get off, then,’ he said, and I thought he sounded slightly disappointed. Probably he’d hoped to rope me in for a bit of extra work, as Elf had warned me.
‘Treena’s meeting me at the bridge. She’s never been further into Jericho’s End than Risings, when she’s been called out to see the Pekingese, so it’s time she did. I thought we’d go up the River Walk and—’
My phone buzzed, cutting me off, and I fished it out of my pocket. ‘On my way, Treena!’ I said hastily. ‘Two minutes.’
I looked up. ‘Have to dash. Treena’s already waiting for me.’
Something about his expression – I don’t know, perhaps I imagined a faint wistfulness had replaced the disappointment – made me add, ‘Luke’s meeting us for lunch at the pub – join us if you’re free?’
I didn’t wait for an answer; I was already heading for the gate to the rose garden. I nearly dropped the phone again, trying to shove it in my pocket as I ran past the koi pond, another watery phone death narrowly averted, though maybe it would have lasted long enough for the fish to call their friends.
I wonder what fish would talk about to each other. Maybe the huge, orange, hairy creature that sat on the edge of the pool watching them, with a kind of detached, languid interest, and who barely glanced at me as I hurtled past.
Treena was standing in the embrasure on the upstream side of the bridge, leaning over the wide stone wall to watch the water slide deeply and quickly underneath.
‘You couldn’t play Pooh Sticks here,’ I said when I joined her. ‘They’d get smashed to bits in the Devil’s Cauldron on the other side.’
‘So would anyone who fell in,’ she said, with a shiver. ‘I wonder if anyone ever has?’
‘I expect people do fall in the river further upstream from time to time, but there are lots of big flat rocks sticking out into the water, sothey probably get out again. Come on, let’s go and have a cup of coffee in my flat – unless you’d prefer the café?’
‘No, I want to see this flat of yours,’ she said. ‘I’m ready for a hot drink, too. Luke had me all over the site, holding the end of measuring tapes, or carrying things while he took pictures and dictated notes into his tablet. The wind really whips round you like liquid ice up there.’
‘Very poetic,’ I said. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting Luke later and hearing all about it … And I mentioned to Ned that Luke would be in the pub with us later and he’d be welcome to join us if he wanted to. He’s interested in the dig.’
‘Yes, of course – and I’d like to meet him, too!’
We went round to the back door and had barely got up to the flat when the cat flap gave a huge rattle.
‘That’s Caspar, the cat the Price-Joneses have just taken on from a rescue centre. He’s decided to spend most evenings with me, so they’ve put a cat flap in. I wonder how he knew we were here,’ I added as he appeared. ‘He was in the rose garden five minutes ago!’
Treena made much of him. ‘He’s a bit thin under all that fur, but seems in good condition.’
‘They’re trying to fatten him up a bit,’ I said. ‘He’s half Maine Coon, but they have no idea what the other half is.’
‘Whatever it was, the Maine Coon is winning out,’ she said.
She admired my little domain and said it already looked homely, what with mine and some of Mum’s bits and pieces spread about. Then she picked up Elf’s book and began glancing through it, while I made the coffee. Caspar lay over her knees like a slightly knobbly rug.
‘This is quite interesting,’ she said when I put the mugs and a packet of chocolate digestives down on the chest that did duty as a coffee table.
