The Garden House

by Marcia Willett

  He holds her tightly. ‘I get it, sweetie,’ he says, ‘but stay tough. Don’t give in now. We’ll try to see a way through this together. So where’s this Nancy Fortescue?’

  She smiles, takes a deep breath and shakes her head. ‘You won’t find her,’ she says. ‘She’s always taken out of the water for the winter so it’s no good looking for her. Come on, let’s go and have some coffee. And then I’ll show you where she’ll be next spring.’

  * * *

  That night El has a nightmare. She dreams that she is with Martin in a big garden but she is small, a child again. She holds on to his hand and jumps along, and they laugh and he swings around. Suddenly he disappears and she can’t find him. She shouts to him but there is no sign of him. Now she is much older, running through the garden, calling out to him. ‘Where are you, Pa? Come back,’ but her voice makes no sound. It seems that he’s a little way ahead of her and shouting something she can’t hear. Something about Nancy Fortescue, about meeting her there. She can’t hear or see him now, and suddenly she wakes, heart thumping, tears on her cheeks and she remembers that Pa is dead. In despair, she buries her face in her pillow, learning all over afresh that she will never see him again. It’s unbearable and on an impulse she slides to the edge of the bed. She will go to Will. He will be kind and she will no longer be alone. She thinks no further than that: she cannot bear, at this moment, to be alone. She stumbles across the hall and opens his door.

  ‘Will,’ she says, still unable to stanch the flood of tears. ‘Will, I’ve had a terrible dream about Pa.’ She scrambles up on the bed just as Will struggles up and she bumps her head against his arm and begins to weep again. She curls against him, her cheek against his bare chest. Will lies still, trying to pull the duvet from beneath her so as to cover her in it. He speaks soothingly as if she is a child or an animal but still the tears come and come. He doesn’t turn on the light but allows her to be there, letting her cry, sharing his warmth, his closeness.

  Gradually this terrible outpouring of grief subsides and she simply lies there, taking great breaths. Sensing that the worst is past, Will gently eases the duvet up, wrapping it more warmly around her, and she relaxes into it, exhausted.

  ‘Listen, El.’ His voice comes from some way above her head, infinitely calm and gentle. ‘If you’re OK I’m going to make some tea.’

  He waits as if she might make some protest, but although she doesn’t want him to go away, she is much less stressed and a hot drink sounds comforting. She turns her face into the pillow as she nods: yes, she is OK. Will touches her lightly on her shoulder and then she can hear him shifting to the edge of the bed, standing up.

  ‘I shan’t be far away,’ he says, and presently the hall light clicks on and she can hear him going upstairs, water running into the kettle, mugs clinking. Slowly El rolls on to her side. Her pyjamas are twisted and uncomfortable. She straightens them out, rubs the warm flannel sleeve across her eyes. Her hair is a curling mass, strands sticking to her cheeks, and she drags her wet fingers through it. Gradually she hauls herself up, piling the pillows behind her, glad that it’s still dark in the bedroom.

  She can hear Will coming back down the stairs, his shadow stretching before him into the room, but he still doesn’t turn the bedroom light on and she’s grateful. By the light from the hall she can see him put a mug on the small chest beside her before going back to his own side of the bed.

  ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘It’s clearly my destiny today to make a complete fool of myself.’

  ‘In that case,’ he says, ‘if I were you I should just go with the flow. No good fighting destiny.’

  She can hear the smile in his voice and feels a huge gratitude. She reaches for the mug and sips the hot strong refreshing tea.

  ‘I put some sugar in,’ he says. ‘Just a little bit. It’s supposed to be good for shock.’

  ‘Have I had a shock?’ she asks, propped against the pillows, sipping gratefully.

  ‘Yes,’ he says, and this time his voice is unusually serious, almost grim. ‘You’ve had one of the biggest, bloodiest shocks any of us can have and you don’t get over it in one go. Or even in a series of small goes. It’ll come back unexpectedly and hit you when you least expect it. So don’t feel guilty about it. And if you really want to know,’ he goes on, ‘coming down here, being with you, is really helping me to come to terms with my mum’s death, and that was fifteen years ago. So shall we agree that somehow this is helping both of us and then neither of us need feel grateful or guilty?’

  Somehow these strong words restore El’s sense of balance and she smiles.

  ‘I’ll go with that,’ she says. ‘But am I allowed to say thanks for the tea?’ She swallows the last drops and sets down the mug on the chest. ‘I’m fine now.’

  She swings her legs off the bed, stands up, and hesitates.

  ‘I was just about to say thank you again,’ she says, ‘but I won’t. But I hope you manage to sleep for what’s left of the night. See you in the morning, Will.’

  She crosses the hall, switches off the light, and feels her way to her bed. Climbing in, she prepares to feel shock or guilt or just embarrassment for what has just happened but instead, as she curls against her pillow, dragging the duvet over her head, she topples suddenly into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Angus folds his newspaper and glances at his watch. Kate should be arriving any time soon and he looks around the kitchen to make sure all is clean and comfortable. Marina never quite grew used to having visitors drinking tea and coffee – or even having lunch and supper – in the kitchen, but Angus is growing accustomed to it.

  ‘Much cosier and less formal, Dad,’ Plum says. ‘I know that Mum was so good at all that stuff but that was then and this is now. You’ve got to keep up.’

  And so now, when his friends drop in, he’s ready to dispense hospitality here in the warm kitchen with the dogs stretched out by the Aga or in their beds. If he’s honest he rather likes it. Plum is right. There is an informality about it that puts his guests at ease and seems to provide the right atmosphere for confidences.

  Angus wonders why Kate has asked if she can have a chat with him. It sounded rather more than the usual meeting, and he was with her and Cass in the Bedford only yesterday, so his curiosity is roused. As he takes one more glance around, he hears the ring of the doorbell, and he goes out to greet her.

  ‘This is good,’ he says, giving her a hug. ‘Come on through. Ah, here come the dogs to greet you. Where’s Flossie?’

  ‘I left her at Chapel Street and walked over,’ says Kate, following him into the kitchen. ‘She’s fine. I gave her a run on Plaster Down earlier.’

  She bends to greet Blossom and Dearie, murmuring endearments, whilst Angus pushes the kettle on to the Aga and smiles at her, hoping that she’ll make the first conversational move so that he knows where he stands. Kate drops her bag on to the floor and sinks down on a chair at the table.

  ‘I’m in a bind, Angus,’ she says, ‘and I need your help.’

  He is surprised at her directness but pleased that there’s to be no beating about the bush. His instincts were right and this is not a casual visit.

  ‘Always glad to be of help if I can,’ he says. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Actually, it’s who is the problem,’ answers Kate. ‘And it’s Plum and Cass and Tom.’

  Angus leans his weight on the back of the old wooden Windsor chair and stares down at her.

  ‘Really?’ he asks. ‘All of them?’

  Kate sighs and pushes her fingers through her short grey curly hair. ‘Yes. All of them.’

  Angus turns back to the Aga. ‘Coffee?’

  Kate nods. ‘Thanks. That would be great. Sorry, Angus. I don’t mean to talk in riddles. I’m hating this, actually. When we were all together in the Bedford recently, Plum was talking about finding a place for her and Ian. She asked me about my cottage. I know what you said about hoping they would stay here with you so it was just a t
ad tricky.’

  Angus makes coffee, his back to Kate, imagining the difficult position she’s in whilst trying to hide his own disappointment.

  ‘And what did you say to her?’ he asks.

  ‘I told her that the cottage wasn’t quite ready yet, hoping that she might give it some more thought, but she asked me if I would give her first refusal.’

  Angus turns, puts the mugs on to the table and sits down. Kate looks at him anxiously and he smiles reassuringly at her.

  ‘I can see why that put you in a difficult position,’ he says, ‘after what I’d said to you.’

  ‘Well, it did,’ she admits. ‘I think Plum feels that Ian needs space when he comes home…’

  Angus knows that she’s trying to be tactful and he nods. ‘And privacy,’ he suggests. ‘Please don’t be upset, Kate. I understand and I was expecting it, anyway. So you agreed to give her first refusal?’

  Kate nods reluctantly. ‘But there’s worse to come.’

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Really?’

  ‘You know that Cass and Tom have been having the great downsizing debate? Tom really wants to get on with it but Cass is finding the prospect hard to come to terms with. Well, apparently a friend’s son and his family would be very interested in buying the Rectory and Cass has really got a battle on her hands now. So Tom has had the bright idea that they should move into my cottage so as to make the whole transition less traumatic, and to give themselves time to look around to find what they might like to buy. Cass is thinking about it. It takes the pressure off having to find what they want quickly.’

  Several different thoughts cross Angus’s mind. Clearly it’s difficult for Kate now, caught between her oldest friend and Plum, but at the same time he wonders if this might make Plum rethink her decision not to make a base with him, even if it’s temporary to begin with.

  ‘I don’t know how to handle it. For the first time Cass is really beginning to waver about downsizing and, to be honest, I think it’s right that they should do it. But, having given Plum the option, how can I back out?’

  Angus smiles at her. ‘It’s a difficult one for me to answer. I declare an interest.’

  Kate begins to laugh. ‘I do see that. And I know that Plum will understand, but it doesn’t really make it easier.’

  ‘Poor Kate.’ Angus sips his coffee. ‘But even if Plum can’t have Chapel Street it doesn’t mean that they’ll come here.’

  ‘No,’ agrees Kate, ‘but they might start off here and then find they’re too comfortable to move. Personally, I think we all need to get through Christmas before making any life-changing decisions.’

  ‘But if you let your cottage to Cass and Tom,’ says Angus, ‘where will you stay when you come up from your Cornish rock? With all their stuff, you’ll be a bit cramped in Chapel Street with Tom and Cass.’

  Kate smiles at him. ‘With you, of course,’ she says. ‘Simples.’

  He laughs back at her, pleased at the prospect. ‘I shall hold you to that. But it’s a bit of a thought, isn’t it? The last Christmas at the Old Rectory.’ He shakes his head. ‘How tiresome getting old is. I should be thinking about downsizing, too.’

  ‘But at least you’re right here in the town,’ argues Kate. ‘And you don’t have all that land to worry about. You can walk everywhere you need to go. Tom and Cass have to get into the car for every little thing.’

  ‘Will you come up for Christmas?’ he asks her.

  Kate thinks about it. ‘For some of it,’ she says. ‘That’s the thing, you see. Our families, Tom and Cass’s and mine, are mostly all living half an hour away down on the Tamar now, so they don’t need to stay over Christmas any more. They’re having a big Boxing Day thrash down there so I’ll certainly come up for that.’

  ‘Plum suggested that they come down from London,’ says Angus. ‘We might have a drinks party on Christmas Eve if we can get enough chums together and then go to Midnight Mass. It’s good that we can walk to church from here.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ says Kate. ‘And what about El? Has she mentioned Christmas at all?’

  Angus shakes his head, thinking of how he met El recently in the Bedford with Will. He seemed a nice boy and he and El were getting on very well. Angus is pleased: El needs all the friends she can get during this period of bereavement.

  ‘I shall invite her, of course,’ he says. ‘I’d hate to think of her all alone at Christmas. Even with the family here there will be room for her. And you,’ he adds, smiling at her.

  ‘I might take you up on that,’ says Kate, ‘though I can’t quite see Tom and Cass being out of the Rectory before Christmas. Thanks, Angus. I was having a panic.’

  ‘I think Plum will completely understand your dilemma,’ he reassures her. ‘Don’t give it another thought. Now, I’ve had a rather nice idea. Tuesday is one of El’s days at Book Stop. Shall we stroll down and see if she’d like to have lunch? Would that fit in with your plans?’

  ‘It’s a great idea. I’d love it,’ she says at once.

  His heart lifts at the prospect of company. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘That’s settled then.’

  * * *

  As they walk into the town, Kate thinks of times past when she lived here in Whitchurch, not far from Angus: walking to the shops, to the Bedford to meet Cass, to St Eustachius for the end-of-term school service. Perhaps Tom is right and it will be good for him and Cass to be in the town, though Kate is still wondering how she will put this change of plan to Plum. As they wait to cross the road opposite the church an old brown Morris Minor pulls up and Father Steven leans out of the driver’s window to hail them. Angus raises an arm in salute, gives a cheery shout of greeting and they cross in front of him.

  As they approach the bookshop, Kate wonders if El will be pleased to see them. It’s been good to talk things through with Angus, and Kate’s glad that El has someone like him in her corner.

  El is alone in the shop, working at the computer screen and, as she glances up and sees them both, her reaction is one of pleasure. Yet Kate notices that she looks tired and her eyes show signs of soreness, as if she has been weeping.

  ‘I’d love to have lunch,’ she says. ‘Simon will be back in a minute and then I can join you. Where will you be? I often go over to Church Lane. They do really good sharing boards.’

  Kate hides a smile at Angus’s faintly baffled expression. ‘Sounds good,’ she says. ‘See you there.’

  ‘El looks tired,’ Angus says, following Kate into the café, glancing round at the bright modern interior set in this old Georgian house. He smiles at the white bicycle hanging above an original fireplace and at the bar with its high wooden chairs. ‘I like this place,’ he says unexpectedly. ‘And please, before El arrives, tell me what a sharing board is so that I don’t show my ignorance.’

  Kate laughs as they sit down at a long table with benches on either side. ‘You have to keep up,’ she agrees. ‘My grandchildren love this place. I’ll go through the menu with you now.’

  He chuckles when he sees that the pizzas are named after famous cyclists, agrees that he and Kate will share a seafood board, and by the time El walks in he’s enjoying a glass of Plaza Bonita Tinto.

  ‘You look well settled,’ says El, sliding in beside Kate. ‘This is nice. It’s been a busy morning. I can’t believe Christmas is only six weeks away.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ Angus says, ‘I was telling Kate that Plum and Ian are coming down with the girls. We’re hoping to have a little party on Christmas Eve and then go to Midnight Mass. Does that appeal to you, or do you have other plans?’

  Kate can see from El’s expression that Angus has caught her unprepared. She hesitates, clearly at a loss for words, and then recovers her composure.

  ‘That sounds a really nice idea.’ Another hesitation. ‘I must admit I haven’t really thought about it yet.’

  ‘Of course you might decide that you want to spend Christmas with your family,’ Angus says, ‘but the offer is there.’

  Watc
hing her, Kate thinks that there’s something more here than not having thought about Christmas yet. It’s as if Angus’s invitation has suggested the possibility of something else that El also hasn’t considered yet: a new idea that has taken her off guard. To give her space, Kate begins to talk about her own plans. She describes the chaotic lives of her family and their sailing school down on the Tamar.

  ‘It must be odd,’ says El to Kate, ‘your son marrying Cass’s daughter.’

  Angus laughs. ‘At least they can’t slag off their in-laws.’

  ‘It’s been a bit of a roller coaster,’ Kate admits, ‘but would it be too much of a pun to say that it seems to be all plain sailing at the moment?’

  Their food arrives and Kate begins to instruct Angus in this new form of eating.

  * * *

  El sits back and watches, amused by these two old friends and their easy, affectionate relationship. Is this how Will and she might be in fifty years’ time? It’s difficult to know how she feels about him, partly because her sadness about Pa is colouring everything, along with the effort needed to stay strong in the new life she’s making for herself. She’s really grateful to have the job in Book Stop. Natasha is encouraging her, so that El is trying new things: planning a visit to the local primary school as well as making an effort to keep up with recently published books so that she can discuss them with the customers. The time she spent working in a bookshop during her gap year is really paying off. Then there are the ideas for her novel, which are beginning to make a very satisfactory pattern. She makes notes, jots down ideas and wonders if she can really make it work.

  Yet all the while, this new relationship with Will is there at the back of her mind. She knows that because of his own grief for his mother he’s able to empathize with her – and she was very touched by what he said about his visits being helpful to him, too – but she’s still feeling embarrassed about the way she’d gone into his room in the middle of the night. He’d driven away early the following morning to get back to work and by now she feels so tired, unable to catch up on sleep, that she can hardly concentrate.