Page 65 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
Several people were still sitting at the tables outside the café, too, despite the chilliness of the air, eating ice-cream and drinking coffee. The main road through the village looked quite busy, as well, which all gave me some idea of what the place would be like in summer!
Not, perhaps, quite the quiet little hideaway I’d originally envisaged.
At least today it wasn’t me picking litter up on the River Walk, so I went back to the flat, where a familiar bubbling snore alerted me to the fact that Caspar was there, asleep on the sofa. He opened his eyes when I went in and changed the snore to a throaty purring noise.
I started sorting and unpacking some more of the things I’d brought over from Treena’s and found my box of childhood treasures – a shell box from some long-ago seaside holiday, a packet of photographs of me growing up, taken by Mum, and one or two of us both together. She was tall and vibrantly glowing, Titian-haired and full of life. It was so cruel that it had been taken away from her in that way.
There were no pictures of her earlier than a few snaps taken when she was a student nurse, looking younger and more serious. There were pictures of me with Aunt Em and a baby Treena. They’d become fast friends at antenatal classes and Aunt Em had looked after me with Treena when Mum had gone back to work. And then, once Mum was facing her final battle and knew she wasn’t going to win it, they arranged between them that the Ellwoods should adopt me …
For the first few months after Mum died, I’d repaid them by beingthe teenager from hell. The hurt, angry child I’d been stayed hidden inside me long after, stirred up again when the family had moved to France, which had seemed like another abandonment, however illogical I knew that to be.
Then Mike had come along and so skilfully worked on and exploited that inner insecurity …
I shook off the past resolutely: understanding meant I could move on. Ihadmoved on. I put the photos back in the envelope and into the chest I was using as a coffee table.
Then I found a few of Mum’s ornaments in the next box, though she hadn’t been one for clutter, and arranged them on top of the bookshelf.
Time had passed and at some point, unnoticed, Caspar had vanished. He was probably in the kitchen next door, eating his dinner … and now I was conscious that the celestial chimes of the café door had ceased to ring out a considerable time before, and when I looked out of the front window, no one was to be seen. It was time to freshen up and go next door for Sunday dinner. By then I was ravenous and looking forward to it.
20
By the Book
Dinner proved to be fun, with good food and interesting conversation, as you’d expect with such a mix of individual characters.
Jacob had returned the ball-bearing clock, now restored to working order, so Elf was appeased. She and Gerald had cooked the dinner between them, which they seemed to enjoy doing. Myfy wandered in late, with a smear of ochre paint on one cheekbone that no one mentioned. It sort of suited her, though after a while, Jacob went out and came back with a rag that smelled rather pleasantly of linseed oil and, without a word, tilted up her face and removed the daub gently, then kissed the place where it had been.
Jacob told Ned that now he’d seen the new waterfall feature in the Grace Garden, he was going to give him a small, kinetic installation that would look very well there.
‘The power of the water will be enough to very slowly open and close small metal flowers among the rocks,’ he said, illustrating what he meant on a Post-it note block he’d removed from one slightly saggy pocket.
‘It’s verykindof you,’ began Ned, looking taken aback, ‘but—’
‘Now, don’t try and tell me you’re restoring the garden to the absolute original, because you know very well that the layout of the main paths is really the onlytrulyoriginal part of it,’ Jacob said.
‘Some of the planting will be original, too, where there are notes,’ Ned said.
‘But you’re keeping some later additions and introducing new ones,’ Myfy said. ‘Even a garden must evolve and change to survive. Your new wetland area can only be enhanced by Jacob’s sculpture.’
‘I think it’s a lovely idea,’ I said. ‘It’ll give a magical quality to that corner and really intrigue the visitors.’
‘When they spot it, because it will be quite subtle, the flowers small and of delicately coloured metal,’ Jacob said dreamily. ‘Trust me, it will look right, as if it’s always been there.’
‘I’d let him do it and then, if you don’t like it, he can take it away again,’ suggested Gerald practically.
‘And sell it – he’s very well known, you know,’ Elf said to me. ‘His works fetch a fortune.’
‘The ones he’ll part with, anyway,’ said Myfanwy with a grin, and then, to me: ‘You must go up and see all the water-powered sculptures around the barn, when you have time – Jacob won’t mind.’
‘If I’m working I won’t even notice,’ he agreed. ‘And that clock has inspired a lot of ideas, so I think I’m going to be very busy for quite some time. I do prefer kinetic sculpture that relies on natural and renewable methods of movement.’
‘I rely on a natural and renewable method of movement too,’ said Ned, then sighed. ‘This will probably be the last relaxing moment I get for a long time. There’s so much to do between now and Friday, when we open.’
‘It’ll get there,’ Elf assured him. ‘And I’m certain Friday will be pure fun! We’ll all come, and our friends, and loads of villagers, and the vicar …’
‘Andsomeone from the local newspaper, who rang me just after you’d been down for a look round the garden this afternoon, Jacob,’ Ned said, his face darkening slightly.
I suppose he was thinking that once the connection was made between him and the Grace Garden, there might be a bit more than local news coverage.
