Page 91 of The Garden of Forgotten Wishes
The garden had magic of its own and tended to draw people in, even when they’d only intended a saunter round the paths and a spending opportunity in the shop to prove they’d been there. Ned had already had to re-order postcards of the Poison Garden.
In fact, the Poison Garden had proved to be a major draw. People took it in turns to stand and read the information board about the deadly plants and their more grisly effects. Many of them wanted to go inside the enclosure, so Ned would have to organize his special Poison Garden tours soon. I didn’t think he should fob that one off on poor Roddy.
The koi in the fish pond were popular too, though we’d had to place signs around it, asking people not to feed them after we found wholesandwiches floating in the water, along with a Krispy Kreme doughnut with one bite out of it. We hoped that was a human bite, rather than fish, because it would probably be instant death to a koi.
Luckily, most visitors were sensible; it was just the odd one, or parents who thought it was fine to let their small children run about screaming at the tops of their voices, despite the signs warning them that they must be under parental control at all times.
Not all the plants with toxic effects were in the Poison Garden. It’s surprising what some everyday garden plants can do to you, if brushed against, or ingested.
Some visitors, too, were frankly weird, trying to buttonhole Ned for long discussions on the history and uses of the mandrake, or taking an unhealthy interest in the effects of the rosary pea vine, but none was weird in the waySaulhad been …
As the days had passed since he accosted me in the rose garden, I was feeling more relaxed about my encounter with him: nothing had come of it, after all, and there seemed no reason why our paths should ever cross again. And come to that, no reason, even if hedidsuspect who I was, why he should tell anyone else.
No, I thought it was safe enough … right up to the moment when, hooking the rope back across the path where we were working, on my way to lunch, I heard a faintly familiar woman’s voice squeal: ‘Marnie? Is that you? Itis!’
And there was a small, raven-haired woman, looking at me over the top of her glossy garden guide with wide, startled hazel eyes.
It took me a moment to place her, but when I did, my heart sank: she was one of the veterinary nurses at Mike’s practice.
‘Non– you are mistaken. I am Genevieve, a student volunteer from France,’ I said, hastily assuming a French accent, probably overlaid with a veneer of Lancashire.
She laughed and lowered the guidebook. ‘Oh, you were always a joker! But I know it’s you, it was just the short hair that made me look twice.’
I didn’t think I’d ever been a joker, but I gave up on the French accent. ‘Hi – Melanie, isn’t it?’
‘Melinda, Melinda Smith,’ she said. ‘And still working for Merchester Veterinary Centre, though I’m the senior veterinary nurse now.’
‘Congratulations,’ I said, without really being aware of what I was saying. ‘I didn’t know you were keen on gardens?’
‘Well, I like them, but it’s my mother-in-law who’s really keen – she’s trying to find Ned Mars, because she was a huge fan of his programmes.’
She was looking at me curiously now. ‘You haven’t been here all this time since you left Mike, have you? We all thought you’d gone to stay with that family of yours in France, but I heard Mike went over there to look for you and you weren’t.’
‘I’ve been travelling about,’ I said vaguely. ‘I’ve only just got this job and—’
‘We didn’t blame you for taking off like that; we all thought he was creepy,’ she said. ‘We still do. Was he violent?’ she added eagerly.
‘No, not physically violent,’ I said, looking round to make sure no one else was within earshot, which luckily they weren’t. ‘I just … found it impossible to live with him anymore and a clean break seemed the best thing.’
‘He did tell us that … well, that you’d been ill and it had given you a sort of nervous breakdown, so you’d been sending out strange letters to people.’
‘I bet he did,’ I said bitterly. ‘But I don’t want to talk of the past, I’ve moved on – and so has he, hasn’t he? What’s his new wife like?’
Her hazel eyes went even wider. ‘But Mike hasn’t remarried. He wasengagedat one time, but after she moved in with him, she changed her mind pretty quickly and broke it off.’
‘Not … married?’ I repeated numbly. ‘But my sister, Treena, bumped into that receptionist, Sylvie, and she told her hehadremarried!’
‘Oh, that Sylvie! She only ever gets half of the story. She moved to a new job in Ormskirk soon after you went, but she’s still friends with one of the other girls on reception and must have got hold of the wrong end of the stick.’
I expect I’d turned a whiter shade of pale, because she said, ‘Are you all right?’
I summoned a smile. ‘Fine – I just need my lunch. That’s where I was off to when you spotted me.’ I paused. ‘Melinda, would you mind not mentioning to Mike that you’ve seen me? I mean, I don’t suppose he’d be interested anyway, but I’d … well, much rather he didn’t have any idea where I was.’
‘Of course – you can trust me,’ she breathed, and I could see she’d been unconvinced by what I’d said and still thought Mike was a wife beater. Which I suppose he had been, in a way, even if the scars were all on the inside.
I wasn’t entirely convinced that Melinda would refrain from telling all her friends she’d seen me, but I hoped it wouldn’t get back to Mike’s ears. Perhaps it wouldn’t. He’d never been one to socialize with his employees.
‘Thank you – and it’s been lovely bumping into you like this,’ I lied, and then made my escape into the thankfully empty Potting Shed where I could try to get a grip on myself in privacy.
