The alarm on the timer went off and the trainee returned to wash off the colour before moving her to a different chair and the new stylist who would be cutting her hair. Sarah introduced herself and began chatting away. Liz was grateful that she could talk about anything she wanted to and she wanted to talk about the garden.
She told Sarah that she would be reviving a neglected garden. She didn’t say why it was neglected or how long it had been that way, just that it required a bit of work.
‘That’s fantastic,’ enthused Sarah. ‘You have the opportunity to change it completely. A revamp, like on the telly.’
‘You’re right,’ said Liz, and she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her before.
When Tammy came home from school she did a double take as the front door opened.
‘Who are you and what have you done with Liz?’ she said eventually, taking in the new improved version. Liz’s hair was now light brown with subtle blonde highlights and bouncy layers replaced the straight grey bob.
‘I got sick of looking like a witch,’ she said smiling. Tammy blushed at the memory. Gone were the shapeless tracksuit bottoms and in their place were jeans, flat boots and an olive green v neck jumper. A little eye make-up and blusher completed the transformation.
‘What do you think?’
‘You look nothing like a witch now,’ Tammy replied smiling, which was as near to a compliment as she could manage.
‘You’ll have to redo my portrait,’ said Liz, pointing at the picture on the fridge. Tammy grinned.
Liz had already prepared a snack, which was waiting on the kitchen table next to a notebook and pen. ‘School ends this Friday for the Easter break and I thought we could make a start on the garden, if you’d still like to?’ Liz asked cautiously.
‘I would,’ said Tammy, ‘and I’d also like to do something to help bees.’
‘Bees?’ repeated Liz.
‘We’ve been learning about bees at school and how important they are for pollinating and stuff. Did you know that they are being hurt by pesticides?’ she asked earnestly. ‘Too many gardens are paved over,’ she continued. ‘It’s called habitat destruction, so bees can’t find enough food.’
Liz could imagine the teacher standing in front of the class delivering the doom and gloom sermon and now Tammy was doing the same.
‘Sounds serious,’ she said.
‘It is,’ said Tammy. ‘I want to do something to help them.’
‘OK,’ said Liz. ‘Sounds like the garden and your project have a lot in common. We can work on it together. We can make the garden bee friendly. After tea we’ll do a bit of research on the computer to find out which plants bees prefer. Maybe we could plant up some tubs to put in your garden next door too. What do you think?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Tammy, who was pleased with the idea and both of them went into the office to work at the computer.
The next day Liz got up early. She had some shopping to do and decided to go to the garden centre first. She wanted to get a plant to take to the cemetery. In the months after Jim’s death the only place she found any comfort was the cemetery. She would sit on a bench near to the black marble plaque which stated in gold letters, ‘James Edward Bailey 12th March 1948 – 5th April 2009. Beloved Husband and Father. Always in our Hearts.’
She would sit on the bench and cry until she could barely breathe and her nose would get so bunged up she had to breathe through her mouth. Eventually there would be no more tears left and through soft, intermittent sobs she would talk to him quietly in her head. She was sorry she hadn’t been able to save him, she was angry he had left her, she was lonely, so very, very lonely without him.
But today felt different. She was different. She would take the flowers to the cemetery but she wouldn’t cry. She would tell him about Tammy and Monica and how she would be working on the garden.
The garden centre was huge. It was always a favourite of Jim’s. They would often go in without collecting a trolley first. This was always a mistake as half way round Jim would spot some flowering shrub or bedding plants and would gather them up in his arms while Liz ran back to the front of the shop to collect a trolley. They would sometimes meet friends in the pub up the road and have lunch after shopping or sit and have a coffee, watching the world go by.
It always amazed her that couples could sit opposite each other with nothing to say. They always had plenty to say. Despite being married for thirty five years they would sit in restaurants and coffee shops, chatting and laughing like a courting couple. They would argue about politics, about religion, about what colour to paint the kitchen, but it was never dull. Liz could talk for England and Jim had never really grown up. He had a real sense of fun.
They used to have loads of friends but none of them were single and in the early months after Jim died the couples didn’t know how to deal with a suicidal widow who could barely string two sentences together without wailing like a banshee. They just stopped coming to see her. She laughed to herself, ‘What must they have thought of me? How do other people cope? How do Monica and Tammy cope?’ She promised herself that she would get in touch with some of their old friends to let them know she was back in the world and hadn’t gone completely mad.
She settled in front of a rack of potted azaleas in various colours and picked a plant with salmon pink flowers.
‘Jim would love these,’ she thought. She picked up two plants and then put them down again while she went back to get a trolley. Instead of going straight to the till she decided to sit down and have a coffee.
The coffee shop had changed since she was last there. It had been revamped and was now very modern. It still sold lattes and cappuccinos, tea and scones but it also sported a blackboard with ‘Specials’ like beetroot risotto with goats cheese and Brie and bacon quiche with pomegranate salad. Liz wasn’t hungry. She ordered a skinny latte and sat down in a seat where she could sit and watch the world go by.
She thought about grief as she waited for the coffee to arrive. It not only robbed you or your loved ones, it robbed you of your confidence, your very self. She thought about Tammy and Monica. Just over eighteen months ago Monica had a sister and Tammy had a mother and now they were struggling to come to terms with their loss and coping a lot better than she had done.
She was completely lost in thought and hadn’t noticed a man sitting nearby who was studying her closely.
‘Liz,’ he said presently. She didn’t hear him the first time so he repeated it, louder this time. She turned to see a familiar face although the name escaped her.
‘I’m sorry. I was miles away. I recognise your face but I’m afraid I can’t place where from, and worse, I can’t remember your name.’
‘St Joseph’s Secondary Modern,’ came the reply. ‘You taught history,’ he continued, ‘I taught design and tech but only stood in for a couple of terms.’
‘Nick,’ she said, ‘yes, I do remember. We have both changed a bit I think.’
‘You still look great,’ said Nick kindly, ‘and I still have my hair and all my own teeth.’
‘A pony tail,’ said Liz, ‘you used to have a pony tail.’
‘I am embarrassed to say that I did,’ said Nick, now sporting a short back and sides with greying hair at the temples. ‘Are you still teaching?’ he asked.
‘No, no,’ said Liz, ‘I left a few years ago. You?’
‘I taught at another school for a while but soon got fed up with school politics and paperwork and decided to start my own business.’
‘That’s great,’ said Liz.
‘Well, it would have been had it worked,’ said Nick, ‘but it folded a few years ago and now I scratch a living as a painter. The pay is lousy but I work when I please and my office is fantastic. When I say my office I mean my spare room.’
Liz smiled. It was nice to have someone to talk to and a bit of light-hearted conversation was just what the doctor ordered. They chatted for a while longer, remembering old colleagues, until she fini
shed her coffee.
‘Well, I’d better be going,’ she said presently. ‘It was nice to see you. Good luck with your new venture.’
‘Nice to see you too,’ said Nick. He stood up to shake her hand as she left the table. ‘Maybe we’ll bump into each other again sometime.’
She grabbed the handle of the trolley and headed towards the tills and the exit. On her way she passed a large stand displaying garden tools and accessories. She scoured the shelves and was pleased to find a fork and trowel set with small flowers on the handles. ‘Ideal for a little girl,’ she thought to herself as she put them in her trolley. Finally she spotted the gardening gloves and picked up the smallest pair she could find and headed to the exit.
She toyed with the idea of going home first but decided instead to go straight to the cemetery. It was a beautiful sunny day and as she drove into the entrance she noticed more cars there than usual, which meant that a funeral was taking place. She thought back to the day of Jim’s funeral. It was a bright sunny day, much like today.
Adam and Georgina brought the children who were quite young to be at a funeral but Georgina kept the children with her while Adam supported Liz, holding her arm as they entered the crematorium. Her legs had almost buckled under her as the mourners came in with the coffin and laid it on the stand at the front of the chapel, Jim’s smiling face beaming out from a picture at the front.
The rest of the service was a complete blur. She had written something to read out but was unable to speak so the vicar had read it for her. Adam stood up and gave a very eloquent eulogy, accustomed as he definitely was to public speaking. Neither she nor Jim were religious and had discussed death but like most people they thought the day was a long way off and there was plenty of time.
Liz always said she would like a cardboard coffin and to be buried in the garden, after donating anything useful to medical science. She didn’t feel sentimental about her earthly remains. They had asked her at the hospital if Jim was an organ donor but she couldn’t get her mind round it at the time and had therefore not given her consent for the hospital to remove anything from his body. She regretted this now as it would have been something Jim had wanted.
How she got through the funeral and the months after were still a mystery. She was in automatic mode, walking through each day of the week like a zombie. Adam came to stay for a couple of weeks and Jim’s sister, Doris, popped in from time to time. She lost weight, she lost weeks, she lost herself. Eventually Doris persuaded her to go to see the doctor who prescribed Prozac.
She remembered looking at the packet and considering taking the whole lot in one go but the thought of Jim and Adam stopped her. As much as her heart ached Jim would not have approved so she flushed them down the toilet. Looking back she thought that she may have coped better if she had moved and not had to look at the garden at all.
Today she definitely felt stronger. She was now considering changing the garden and banishing the memories of that terrible day.
She parked her car and took the flowers from the boot before heading towards Jim’s plot. She always took wipes in the car with her so she could clean the plaque. Luckily she had Tammy’s new tools in the car so she would be able to plant them properly instead of placing them either side of the plaque as she had originally intended.
When she was happy with her handiwork she sat on the bench to talk to Jim. She told him how sorry she was that the garden had been so neglected, particularly the lawn. She mentioned the amazing flowers Adam had sent for Mothers’ Day. She kept her real thoughts to herself on this matter. She didn’t want Jim to think badly of their son. When she ran out of new things to say she told him she loved him and that she was going off to buy Easter eggs and something nice for Monica.
Chapter 6
On the way back from the cemetery she popped into the supermarket. All the supermarkets stocked up on Easter eggs immediately after Valentine’s Day, and the shelves had been piled high. Unfortunately, with the Easter weekend fast approaching they were much less crowded now with obvious gaps where the most popular brands had been. Luckily they still had a few of the larger chocolate bunnies left.
She picked up three and thought she would post them to her grandchildren. She had not sent them Easter eggs for quite a while. She did buy them once when they were little and living locally but Georgina had informed her that she did not want them having too much chocolate and requested money instead. For the last few years she had done just that, no eggs, just money.
Sending money was easier but it had always jarred, especially when Leo had called to thank her for the money but let slip that he had an enormous egg from Grandma Betty and Grandpa Joe. This year she would send Easter eggs instead of money.
She left the supermarket and went straight to Boots, spending what seemed like ages wandering around the aisles trying to find something suitable for Monica. Eventually she settled on a small basket of pampering products, a facemask, relaxing bubble bath, body wash and skin lotion. Poor Monica was always so stressed. She rushed home so that she would have time to wrap up the eggs for Sasha and Leo and pop to the post office before Tammy got home from school.
She also had to wash and repack the gardening fork and trowel and hide them along with the gloves and the chocolate egg. It was almost two thirty and she was starting to worry. Tammy‘s school broke up early for the Easter break and she was only ten minutes away so should have been home. Liz went to the front door to look up and down the street and was heartened to see that Tammy was having an animated conversation with a couple of girls in front of the house. They were all laughing.
Liz shut the door quietly and went into the office so she could keep watch until Tammy came down the path.
‘Friends from school?’ Liz enquired.
‘Yes, Molly and Lauren are in my class. It’s Molly’s birthday in a few weeks’ time and she is having a party.’
‘That’s great,’ said Liz. ‘Are you going?’
‘If Monica lets me,’ she added.
‘Monica wouldn’t want you to miss it. I think you know that too.’ Tammy looked down. ‘Where is the party?’ said Liz.
‘At the bowling alley on a Saturday afternoon,’ replied Tammy.
‘Sounds like fun. I’m sure Monica will be happy for you to go and if she is busy I can drop you off and bring you back.’
‘Thanks,’ said Tammy, as she slipped off her backpack and put her coat on the hall stand. ‘I’ve been working on my list,’ she added as she came into the kitchen where Liz was inserting bread into the toaster.
‘Toasted cheese sandwich OK?’ she said as Tammy came in.
‘Mmmm. I did some more research on bee friendly plants and I have some plant names. I thought we could look in Jim’s book. He has a list of all the plants in your garden and you might already have some of the ones we need.’
‘Good idea,’ said Liz, as the toast popped up. ‘We might have trouble finding them though. It’s so overgrown.’
‘Well, they can’t walk,’ said Tammy. ‘Dead or alive they should still be where Jim put them.’
‘True,’ said Liz, ‘and if they are dead we can always replace them. The garden centre is just up the road. Perhaps the three of us can go there next weekend?’ Liz picked up the book confidently, no longer scared that it would spin her back into a well of sorrow. In fact she was actually looking forward to it.
Tammy ate her sandwich and Liz poured herself a coffee. Tammy rummaged in her backpack and retrieved a lined pad where she had scribbled a number of plant names.
‘Wow, you have been a busy girl,’ said Liz, scanning the list.
They opened the book at the beginning. On the inside front cover there was a pouch containing a couple of photographs of the garden. Tammy took them out and laid them on the table.
‘It was so beautiful,’ she said.
‘Yes, it was,’ Liz replied, ‘and it will be again.’
On the next page there was an A3 piece of paper, folded back on itself and
sellotaped to the book. When unfolded it revealed a perfectly preserved scale drawing of the garden set into a numbered and lettered grid. On the next few pages Jim had listed every plant in the garden with the grid reference, its Latin and common name, the date it was planted, the date it would flower or fruit, even adding individual tips like prune in March or plant in dappled shade.
Later pages in the book were sectioned into months with each individual month devoted to what happens in the garden and when, plus the hints and tips Jim had picked up over forty years of gardening.
After the garden calendar section Jim had included a few pages on his beloved lawn. He had written down recommendations for certain products and what to do when. Liz scanned down the list of tools and was surprised to see there was no spirit level listed.
‘We might not find all the plants in the garden yet,’ said Liz. ‘They flower at different times but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ They decided that if the plant was in the garden they would put a tick next to it on Tammy’s list and the date that it flowered. Tammy read from the list and Liz scanned the book.
‘Crocus,’ said Tammy.
‘It’s here,’ said Liz. ‘It flowers March to April. Not sure if we’d still see that in the garden.’
‘How about daffodils?’ Tammy continued.
‘They’re here too,’ Liz replied, ‘but again, they’re probably fading now.’
‘Cowslip,’ said Tammy.
‘No, not here.’ Tammy put a cross against cowslip.
‘Honeysuckle.’ Tammy had to sound this one out.
‘Yes,’ said Liz, ‘L1 and M1, May to June.’
Tammy ticked and added the grid reference.
‘Lilac.’ called Tammy.
‘Yes,’ said Liz. ‘J10.’
‘Shall we swap?’ said Tammy after a while, tired of writing and finding some of the plant names a bit difficult to read. ‘You call out the name and I will look it up in the book.
‘Hawthorn,’ said Liz, adding the spelling, ‘H A W T H O R N.’ Tammy ran her finger down the list of plants.
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