Page 110 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
‘Beforeyourtime, Ned,’ Elf told him. ‘She was a beautiful girl too – tall and Titian-haired.’
That was Mum – and she’d worked in the café! Not only that, but she, a Vane, had been universally liked.
‘What happened to her?’ asked Myfy, ladling custard onto Jacob’s second helping of treacle tart.
‘She went off to train as a nurse, against her father’s wishes, but her teachers encouraged her. Then I think there was some family breach later, because she stopped coming back to visit after a while. And I think …’ she furrowed her brow in concentration, ‘… someone told me she died quite young. Tragic, if so.’
I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to, but my mind was working furiously. No wonder Mum’s last words had been ‘ice-cream and angels’, because they’d probably been her two most favourite things about the valley.
There were two more plant deliveries next morning and, since Ned had gone over to Formby to see the site for a garden design commission, Gertie, James and I had moved all the pots to the bottom of the garden. Or rather, since his rheumatism was playing up, Gertie and I had moved them and James had directed proceedings, before going to get the shop ready to open with Steve. The school Easter holidays were over now and I couldn’t guess how many visitors we’d have in the lull before the bank holiday weekend.
Gertie left me to arrange the new batch of wetland plants where I thought they would look best, while she went to fetch more of the small pots of herbs from the greenhouse, to put outside the shop.
I was finally heading for the Potting Shed and lunch when Ned, who must have returned at some point, called me over to the office.
Roddy was in there, too, sitting at the other desk with a stack of opened mail in a wire basket.
‘Hi, Roddy,’ I said, thinking this must be something to do with one of the orders – the roses, or perhaps the new lines for the shop, but although he returned my greeting he looked rather grave and … sort of embarrassed.
Ned closed the door. ‘Marnie, when Roddy was opening the mail, he found something disturbing. I suppose you’d call it a poison-pen letter and it’s certainly anonymous.’
‘After all this time?’ I said, surprised. ‘I expect you had a few last year, when all the scandal blew up, but by now—’
‘It’s not about me,’ he broke in. ‘Or in a way, I suppose it is …’ He ran his hands through his hair in that familiar gesture and then picked up a sheet of paper and passed it to me. ‘You’d better read it.’
It wasn’t hand-written, just a printout, and warned Ned that I’d gained employment with him under false pretences because the writer was sure I would have concealed my previous resignation from the Heritage Homes Trust, after making a series of unfounded allegations of misconduct against my employers and work colleagues. The writer then added that in light of Ned’s own difficulties last year, if I made false accusations againsthim, too, it could cause him a lot of embarrassment he’d probably rather avoid.
It was signed, ‘A Wellwisher’.
‘Mike!’ I said wearily. ‘So Melindadidtell him she’d seen me here, after all.’
‘I thought it must have been sent by him,’ agreed Ned. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve told Roddy about you escaping from a controlling ex and him sending that resignation.’
‘No, if Mike’s going to do this sort of thing, it’ll all come out anyway, won’t it?’
‘I don’t see why it should,’ said Ned. ‘Idoknow the truth about it all, and the stories about me were disproved last year, so as you keep telling me, no one is going to be interested in that old news!’
‘I’m sure Ned’s right, now that he’s given me the whole picture,’ Roddy said. ‘The writer doesn’t know you’ve already told Ned, so he’s expecting it to be a bombshell.’
‘It was just an attempt to make trouble for you – he’s a nasty, vindictive sod, isn’t he?’ said Ned. ‘We’ll simply ignore it, though I’ll keep the letter just in case any more come and we want to involve the police.’
‘I sincerely hope it won’t come to that!’
Roddy, who had seemed lost in thought, suddenly said, ‘You know, I’ve just remembered something disquieting that Cress told me the other day. A man rang up making enquiries about room availability, because he was keen to visit the Grace Garden. He said he’d heard that an old friend, Marnie Ellwood, was working there. So Cress, in allinnocence, probably told him all kinds of things you’d rather she hadn’t, if it was this Mike.’
I could imagine. Mike could be very charming and persuasive, so by now I was sure he’d know I was living over the café and working in the garden there, as well as at Old Grace Hall. I hoped Elf and Myfy hadn’t had a letter, too!
When I said so, Ned said he thought they couldn’t have, or they would have told him already, but in any case since they already knew all about my coercive former partner, it wouldn’t make any difference to them.
‘I think we’ll warn Gertie, Steve and James, just in case he turns up,’ Ned said. ‘And I’ll give Elf a ring, so she can beware if anyone appears asking about you.’
We left it at that, though when I checked my mail later, on the way back to the flat, I wasn’t altogether surprised to find a short note from Mike awaiting me, saying how hurt he was I hadn’t got in touch when I was living so near and that we should meet up for old times’ sake.
Yeah, right – he must be entirely mad. And deluded, if he thought he had any power over me now.
Besides, I had Ned’s support and strength behind me. When I went round to the Hall that evening and showed him the letter, he gave me a warm, reassuring hug and told me not to worry.
Which I wasn’t – or not about Mike, anyway. And our dinner was again from the Lucky Dragon, with encouraging messages in the fortune cookies, so perhaps that was a good omen?
