Lavender Girl

by Paula Hickford

  Georgina never did get back to work and seven years on she was still trying to ‘find herself’ with various schemes. Adam remained completely devoted. Jim was always of the opinion, at least early on in their marriage, that Adam was Georgina’s career and they had both been fearful that should anything halt his march to the top Georgina would be looking for a new job.

  Liz blamed herself for her son’s selfish nature. She had spoilt him rotten. Adam had been born following two miscarriages and Liz had spent the final trimester in hospital, and there were other complications during his birth which meant that she was unable to have another child. She had thought about adopting but Jim wasn’t keen and Adam was such a sickly child. He was in and out of hospital with asthma and various other childhood illnesses. By the time he started school at five he was fairly robust and she began to help out at his school as a classroom assistant.

  Liz found that she loved it and fairly soon enrolled herself at university to study history, eventually qualifying as a teacher. She poured all the love she had into raising Adam and looking after the children in her care. Adam was a very bright child and, being a teacher, Liz was able to help him a lot in the early years of school.

  He whizzed through the entrance exam for the best local secondary school, a ‘Grade A’ student, always at the top of his class. In fact he was so far ahead of his peers that he did a couple of the exams a year or two early . This was both a blessing and a curse. As he was speeding to the top of his form he was leaving many of his friends behind and his teenage years were fairly lonely.

  Jim and Liz were incredibly indulgent parents and supported Adam while he studied economics and law, completing his degree and then his Masters. Things really improved at university for Adam where he managed to find an equally studious crowd to hang out with. He even found a girlfriend who made it home to meet his parents.

  Liz loved Megan from the moment they met. Megan was warm and friendly. She laughed, she joined in, she was funny and completely in love with Adam. She was petite with dark curly hair and serious brown eyes. She was passionate about the environment and in her final year studying bio-chemistry couldn’t wait to be unleashed on the world. She really wanted to make a difference.

  When Megan and Adam finished their studies they looked for work. Adam started his job search with the banking and finance sector but it was Megan who was the first to find her dream job. She was offered a research post with the World Health Organisation and the chance to go to Africa. She asked Adam to go with her but his devotion didn’t stretch that far. His dream was to make loads of money.

  It didn’t take long for an employer to recognise Adam’s talent. His first job at a bank in the city was going so well that within nine months he had usurped his former boss. A year later he had been headhunted by a rival bank in Canary Wharf. They tried to keep in touch, although Megan did most of the running, but she didn’t fit with the banking crowd. She didn’t look the part and had an inbuilt distrust of huge corporations. She also had a social conscience; Adam had no conscience, so they drifted apart.

  It wasn’t long after this that Georgina set her sights on Adam. The damsel in distress act had worked like a charm and he was happy playing Tarzan to Georgina’s helpless Jane.

  Georgina had called him at work to ask him to ask his mother a favour.

  ‘Darling,’ she began, ‘Mummy and Daddy have decided to go on a cruise over Easter to celebrate their anniversary which means that you and I will have to cancel our holiday in St Bart’s unless we can find someone to look after the children. Of course, I know it’s still a few weeks away but I thought you might like to keep your mother in reserve in case we get stuck.’

  ‘I’m sure Mum would love it,’ Adam replied.

  ‘She would have to stay at our house, of course,’ Georgina continued, ‘so the children could still see their friends and Sasha can ride her horse.’

  ‘It would be like a holiday for mum, too,’ Adam agreed. He actually believed that when he said it. ‘I’ll give her a call but I doubt there’s any hurry. Mum never goes anywhere. I’m certain she’ll be free. Leave it to me,’ and with that he put down the phone.

  * * *

  Liz still got postcards and invitations to visit from Megan now and again and mourned the daughter in law she might have had. Megan had since married and was now the mother of four children, blissfully happy and living in Cornwall where she owned a shop selling organic food. Liz would have loved to visit but Adam would not have approved and Liz was worried about appearing disloyal, so she contented herself with a letter now and again.

  She looked over at the family photograph of Adam, Georgina and the children. They looked like the perfect nuclear family. Adam and Georgina were seated, holding hands in the foreground with Leo and Sasha standing behind them. They were all smiling. You could almost see the photographer in the background mouthing ‘cheese’ as they all grinned together. She picked up the phone to give him a call but glanced at the time and changed her mind. It was too early. He would still be at work and she couldn’t face the rejection.

  Besides, she had lunch to organise. The house had not seen many visitors since Jim died. On the very rare occasions when Adam and the children came to visit they were usually en route to somewhere else and never had time to stay for tea let alone dinner. So they had disposed of their dining table and instead converted the dining room into an office.

  She liked the room very much and spent a great deal of time in there but it no longer lent itself to family dinners. She would have to think of something else. She wandered into the living room which overlooked the garden. Jim hated clutter and the room was functional rather than comfortable. There was a sideboard, two sofas, three side tables, a rug in front of the fireplace and the TV on the wall. It was certainly big enough for a table and chairs but did she really want to buy one? She had to do something; the small kitchen table was only big enough for two. Three would be a squeeze.

  As she looked around the room she caught sight of the patio furniture through the window, she remembered the neat brown rattan set with a glass topped table and six chairs. It was sitting there, untouched, waiting to be of service. She opened the patio door and went outside. Only little bits of it were visible under the green protective cover, which was now stained.

  A slimy green paddling pool had formed on top of the table where the excess plastic had been forced down by the rain. Liz went back inside to find her rubber gloves.

  She returned with scissors to cut the ties which held the plastic in place, then lifting one side she managed to slosh some of the water away. She repeated this a few times until most of the water was displaced and she was able to lift the cover off completely. She placed it on the floor next to the door. She would get the yard broom and hose out to work on the residual dirt and slime that stuck to the cover later.

  The furniture was still in remarkably good condition. Yes, no doubt it had been inhabited by spiders and various other insects. It was dirty and neglected but nothing a wash and brush up wouldn’t cure. She could move the oblong table and three, no four of the chairs inside. Three would look unbalanced.

  She pulled out the hose from the reel attached to the wall and, after clicking the nozzle into place, turned the selector to indicate a single stream of water which she directed at one of the chairs. She saw a spider run for cover as a stream of water rushed over the seat. She used kitchen towels to remove the excess water before drying the chairs with an old tea towel individually. She did the same to the table before polishing the glass and when she had finished it looked as good as new.

  She lifted one of the chairs and was relieved to find it was fairly light. She tried the table and, to her surprise, it was not that heavy either but awkward to manoeuvre. She looked for a way to remove the glass and was happy to find that it just lifted off. This made it much easier to coax into the living room through the patio door. She put it in the centre on the rug and then brought the chairs in one by one, finally slotting the
glass back into place.

  The furniture looked odd in the living room so she moved the chairs into the office, followed by the table which she had to put on its side to get through the doors. It looked better in the office. It still looked out of place but less out of place than in the living room. She tucked the office chair in as close to the desk as it would go and stood back at the door to get the full effect. It looked great. She decided to leave it there until Sunday and went back outside to tackle the plastic cover.

  This time when she went outside she paused to look around the garden before starting work. She hadn’t had a really good look at the garden for a very long time but she took a deep breath and scanned the flower beds carefully. It had been ages since she had been this close. In some places it was almost impossible to tell where the grass ended and the flowerbeds began.

  She tried to picture it in her head. She closed her eyes to imagine how the garden would have looked at this time of year. Crocuses and daffodils would line the front of the flowers beds and perhaps some hyacinths in the tubs. She inhaled deeply as if the act of drawing breath itself would recapture the smell of the fragrant flowers. There would be buds on the fruit trees and then blossom. She opened her eyes, almost expecting it to be as it was.

  She turned her head to look at the pergola. In the spring it was magnificent, its dark wooden arches covered with stunning pink clematis with flowers almost the size of saucers. But now it was a mass of dead, brittle twigs twisted around the beams.

  She recognised the leaves of a passion flower on a single, slender stem pushing its way through the ever present ivy. But she was most ashamed of the grass. She had no excuse. She could easily have handled the hover mower but she had not been able to touch it since Jim died and so the lawn now resembled a wild meadow with nameless plants a metre or more high in some places. Even the odd sapling was trying to stake a claim in the wilderness.

  She stood in the garden and cried, hot tears falling down her cold face.

  ’Oh, for God’s sake,’ she said to herself, ‘get a grip, you silly woman.’ She turned and went inside.

  Chapter 4

  She spent Saturday morning doing her usual housework. Not that the house needed anything really. She had the ironing board up in the kitchen with Radio 4 in the background. She ironed everything these days, fitted sheets, towels, even knickers, not because she needed to but because it wasted a bit more time.

  After lunch she made a shopping list. She had decided to cook roast lamb. It was Jim’s favourite and according to him one of her specialities. Jim would not say he liked something too much when it came to Liz’s cooking. He was scared that he would get it every other day so was sparing with his praise. He wouldn’t have minded roast lamb every other day though, it was that good. Liz hadn’t made a roast dinner since Jim died. It was not as though she had forgotten how, she just had no one to make it for.

  Whenever they had roast lamb Jim requested apple pie. Crisp, melt in the mouth short-crust pastry filled with soft, sweet cooking apples. She didn’t bother making custard nowadays. You could buy vanilla custard made with cream from most supermarkets.

  She thought about wine. Should she buy wine? She didn’t want Monica to think she was a regular drinker, especially now she was looking after Tammy, but it was nice to have a glass of wine with Sunday lunch. She hadn’t had a glass of anything since the funeral. She was scared to have it in the house in case she was tempted to drink herself into oblivion. Bugger it. One red and one white were added to the list, Shiraz and Sauvignon Blanc plus lemonade or squash for Tammy.

  Tammy had begun to come to Liz’s every evening after school and they were getting used to each other. Liz learnt that Tammy liked toast with Marmite which Liz hated but bought anyway.

  Tammy also liked salt and vinegar crisps and cheese spread. Liz obliged by making sure that she always had these in stock. She liked the company and Tammy was easy going and interested in everything.

  She liked to read and had picked out Ann of Green Gables from the bookshelf in Liz’s kitchen. Ann of Green Gables was Liz’s favourite when she was growing up and she was really enjoying listening to Tammy reading aloud from the book, although Tammy voiced Marilla Cuthbert, who was Canadian, with an Irish accent and her brother Matthew could have been Welsh.

  When she wasn’t reading or watching TV she was asking questions. In fact Tammy reminded Liz of Ann Shirley from the book in that she was a very chatty companion, curious and opinionated. As she grew more comfortable in Liz’s house she began to ask more and more questions, firing the ‘why’ word like machine gun bullets.

  Why was Adam an only child, did she not want more children? How old was she? Why didn’t she do something with her hair? Did she ever have any pets? Why didn’t Adam visit, had they had an argument? How long had she lived in her house? Did her grandchildren ever come to stay? Why was she on her own? A never ending stream of enquiries that often left Liz feeling like she was being interrogated by the junior branch of the FBI.

  Liz was careful not to ask Tammy questions about her mother. She knew that Tammy would talk about her when she was ready. However, she didn’t have a good word to say about her poor aunt Monica. Apparently nothing Monica did could compare to her mother, which was entirely natural but really hard on Monica who was doing her best. Liz always tried to get Tammy to see it from Monica’s point of view but if the slamming of their back door was any indication of progress their relationship still required work.

  Liz told Monica that dinner would be around two o’clock but she failed to put the joint in early enough as she was so out of practice and was just putting the roast potatoes in when the doorbell rang. Worse, it suddenly occurred to her that Monica might be a vegetarian. She began to panic. She hadn’t even started on the apple pie.

  Monica had brought flowers and wine. Liz felt obliged to own up to the fact that she had assumed that Sunday roast would be OK. Monica immediately put her at ease by telling her that it was her favourite meal, adding that she was completely hopeless when it came to cooking.

  Liz felt her nerves evaporate and asked them both if they would like to muck in and help with the pie. Tammy was really keen so Liz gave her an apron and put the flour and butter in a bowl. Tammy knew exactly what to do and didn’t hesitate to tell Liz that she didn’t need help. In no time at all she had formed a ball of dough in her hands and was separating it into two halves, ready to be rolled out.

  She sifted flour over the pastry board and rolled out a pizza sized round to line the dish. Monica peeled and cut the apples. Liz greased the pie dish and marvelled at how well Tammy was able to fold the pastry over the rolling pin so it could be manoeuvred into the pie dish without help. She then arranged the sliced apples on top, added the sugar and topped it with the pastry lid which she pricked with a fork and dusted with sugar. Liz put it into the oven. Monica was very impressed.

  The smells in the kitchen were wonderful. The roast lamb and roast potatoes were doing nicely and the vegetables were steaming on the hob. Liz made the gravy whilst Monica and Tammy helped to lay the table. Tammy, of course, already knew where everything was and got the plates and cutlery out of the cupboards and drawers. Liz apologised for the lack of mint sauce. It had been a long time since she’d had guests for dinner. But Tammy had never heard of it and Monica didn’t like it anyway, so it wasn’t missed.

  Liz came in with the cold wine that Monica had brought along with a couple of wine glasses and a tumbler for the lemonade already in front of Tammy. She then went back to the kitchen to plate up the dinner. She looked at the finished meal and thought of Jim. She hadn’t lost her touch. She took the apple pie out of the oven and left it on the kitchen counter to cool before taking the dinner plates into the office.

  ‘Wow’, said Monica, ‘it looks delicious. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make anything like that.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Tammy interrupted.

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ said Liz, ‘it just takes a bit of pract
ice.’ She gave Tammy a sideways glance and poured them both a glass of wine. ‘I was a terrible cook when I first got married. I am grateful I didn’t poison anyone, although I think I came close. I remember once buying a Vesta meal which was the closest thing to convenience food there was in those days. The tag line in the TV advertisement was ‘Vesta knows how’. Vesta may have done, but I certainly didn’t. They were Chinese meals with noodles and Jim was astounded that I managed to get the noodles perfect on one side, raw on the other and burnt in the middle. He was very skinny in those days. Luckily we had a fish and chip shop nearby.’

  Monica laughed. ‘Well, as you can see I am heavily supporting the local takeaways. They all know me by name.’

  Tammy added that she was surprised Monica didn’t look like a pizza. Monica bemoaned the fact that she couldn’t lose weight and promised to learn to cook.

  Dinner over, Liz picked up the empty plates and took them into the kitchen. She was soon back with a tray on which sat the gorgeous glistening apple pie, three bowls and the custard, which had now been decanted into a cut glass jug.

  ‘Only a small piece for me,’ said Monica, ‘I should try to lose weight.’ Liz cut the wedge in half and shared it between them.

  ‘Custard?’ she asked, holding up the jug.

  ‘Better not. I only have to look at something sweet and I pile on the pounds. I do intend to start exercising but I don’t get much time.’

  Tammy had scoffed hers in five minutes. ‘I used to make pies with mum.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ added Monica, ‘and they were fantastic. Joanna was a brilliant cook.’

  ‘Maybe Tammy will teach you?’ said Liz. ‘She is obviously a dab hand in the kitchen. You could make dinner together.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ said Monica hopefully, looking at Tammy who said nothing.

  ‘When I was your age,’ said Liz addressing Tammy, ‘we used to go blackberry picking in Parliament Hill fields. Parly we called it. We’d go all year round, summer and winter. In the summer we’d play hide and seek in the long grass and in the autumn we’d collect conkers and pick blackberries for blackberry and apple pie.