The Heart of the Garden

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘But it’s too valuable. It’ll get spoiled.’

  ‘Not if you wear it carefully like a Victorian lady.’

  ‘But I’m not a Victorian lady. I’m a twentieth-century one and I’m a clumsy one at that.’

  ‘Not in this dress,’ he told her, his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘Come on, Tobes, help me take it off. I can’t undo the hooks on my own.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re wearing the dress, Emmy.’

  She watched as he started to turn to leave the room, but then he stopped.

  ‘I’ve got a friend coming to stay,’ he told her. ‘Jay Alexander.’

  She didn’t respond. She felt furious with him and didn’t trust herself to speak.

  ‘Now – go and look at yourself in the mirror,’ he said. ‘You’ll love what you see.’

  Emilia felt anger and frustration boiling inside her as her brother left the room and she had half a mind to find the nearest pair of scissors and cut her way out of the dress, but she knew she could never do that. It was far too beautiful and precious. For a few moments, she stood helplessly in the middle of the room. She had to admit that the dress was a perfect fit, which she found a little unnerving. She took a deep breath and walked across to the full-length mirror that Tobias had uncovered.

  ‘Oh!’ she cried as she looked at her reflection. With her long red hair and pale skin, she truly did look as if she’d stepped out of one of the family paintings. She hadn’t realised until that moment how much she looked like her ancestors.

  She walked across the room, the dress swishing about her. She liked the noise it made, but she couldn’t imagine wearing it around the house.

  ‘Emmy? Come downstairs,’ her brother called.

  She left the room, realising as she did that she was barefoot under the long dress, which didn’t feel at all right. She’d have to find a suitable pair of shoes. At that thought, she shook her head, suddenly annoyed at herself. She wasn’t going to give in to Tobias. Wearing a dress like this all day was a ludicrous idea.

  When she reached the top of the stairs, Tobias was waiting for her in the hall below and he looked up at her with the kind of smile that made her anxious.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

  ‘I need to take it off,’ she told him.

  He shook his head. ‘You’ll wear the dress for the rest of the day.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ She tried to laugh, but found she couldn’t.

  ‘You know I’m never silly,’ Tobias said.

  She swallowed hard at the tone of his voice. ‘But it isn’t right,’ she protested.

  ‘Says who?’ He made a point of turning around and gesturing at the empty house. ‘It’s just you and me here, Emilia. We make our own rules. And I say this is what’s right.’ He held her gaze and she was just about to interrupt him when he continued.

  ‘You’ll wear the dress. And, tomorrow, you’ll wear another one.’

  Chapter 5

  While Cape’s partner Renee had never been interested in his career, their daughter Poppy was always fascinated by the plans he drew up for the gardens he was working on and would gaze at them with eyes full of wonder. She was standing there now in his study, her hands on her hips as she surveyed his latest piece.

  ‘What’s that bit?’ she asked, pointing to a group of three circles.

  ‘They’re hydrangeas,’ he said. ‘You remember what a hydrangea is, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course. They’re the big flowers with big leaves.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Why have you painted them purple?’

  ‘Because that’s the colour the client has chosen.’

  Poppy wrinkled her nose. ‘I like pink ones.’

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘You should give her pink ones.’

  Cape smiled. ‘Ah, but you have to listen to what your client wants. You can’t plant what you want in somebody else’s garden. You can advise them if you think they’re making the wrong decision, but the choice is theirs.’

  Poppy seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘I think she’s making the wrong decision,’ she declared. ‘Would you like me to tell her for you?’

  Cape laughed. ‘I’ll pass on your message and see what she says, okay?’

  ‘Okay!’

  He watched as she skipped out of the room and then he took a deep breath. It was the day after the meeting at the solicitors’ and he hadn’t yet told Renee about what had happened. He hadn’t shown her the letter when it had arrived either. Something told him not to, but he’d have to let her know what was happening sooner or later, he supposed, getting up from his desk and stretching.

  He walked through to the living room. The curtains were drawn and the lamps were on and Renee had lit the wood burner. He had to admit that there was something wonderfully cosy about winter evenings even though he missed the long summer nights when he could be planting out and digging until the last streaks of light had left the sky with a fierce passion. If he wasn’t out working, he would be walking along the footpaths that threaded their way through the valley. There was one in particular he liked to frequent. In the summer, the dust from the track would coat his boots and the swallows would screech in the sky, darting in and out of the farm buildings he passed as he slowly climbed uphill towards the woods. Then he would turn around and survey the countryside beneath him. It was a gentle landscape of hills, dotted with farms and small cottages, and he loved it.

  He knew he was easily pleased. He was happy with his lot in life, but he knew that Renee wasn’t and her anxiety weighed him down. He’d done his best to ignore it, but it sat there like a malicious devil between them, ready to tear their life apart.

  He watched Renee now. She was sitting on the sofa, flicking through a magazine about hair. There was a stack of similar ones on the coffee table in front of her. There was also a pile underneath the coffee table and in the basket by the fire. He wasn’t sure if she meant those ones to be used as kindling or not and thought he’d better ask before ripping them up.

  ‘Poppy upstairs?’ he asked her.

  ‘She’s deciding what to wear to a party next week,’ Renee told him, not looking up from her magazine.

  ‘Well, if she’s anything like you, that should occupy the rest of the evening.’

  ‘Very funny!’ Renee said, pulling a face at him.

  He sat down on the sofa next to her.

  ‘You finished work for the evening?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so. I’ve got a bit of a headache.’

  ‘You need glasses.’

  ‘I don’t need glasses.’

  ‘You should have an eye test,’ she told him.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You spend half your life squinting at little maps and plans. It isn’t good for you.’

  He appreciated her concern, but he was quite sure it was unwarranted.

  They sat in silence for a while, Cape closing his eyes and enjoying the toasty heat from the wood burner as he listened to the gentle flip of Renee’s magazine pages being turned.

  ‘I spoke to Martina again,’ she suddenly announced.

  Cape knew what was coming next, dreading it and hoping against hope that he was wrong.

  ‘Is she well?’ he said, not daring to open his eyes. If he kept them shut, the problem might just go away.

  ‘Yes. Very well. She doesn’t have to put up with these long cold winters in California, does she?’

  ‘But winter can be fun. We’ve got our fire and there’s nothing prettier than our valley when it’s snowing, is there?’ He opened his eyes. ‘Remember the first time Poppy sledged down the hill? She said she was an angel flying over the vall—’

  ‘She’s even got film work,’ Renee interrupted.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Marti!’ she said in exasperation. ‘Can you imagine? If I worked with her, I could be doing make-up for the stars!’

  Cape frowned. He hated it when she talked like that.r />
  ‘But you live here,’ he pointed out, ‘so that’s not likely to happen, is it?’

  ‘We could move,’ she said, and he could both see and hear that she was gritting her teeth. The idea of moving to join her sister was something she’d been impressing upon him for a few weeks now. He’d been ignoring her, hoping it was just a phase, a pipe dream that would fade away into the background as the realities of life took over and buried it, but that wasn’t happening. If anything, it was getting worse and he was finding it impossible to ignore now.

  He took a deep breath. ‘My work is here,’ he told her, thinking that would silence her on the subject.

  ‘But you could easily work there,’ she said. ‘And just imagine the money you could make designing gardens in Beverly Hills!’

  Cape grimaced. He could think of nothing worse. His joy lay in the green and verdant gardens of England, but he could see that she was serious about this.

  ‘Poppy’s school is here. She’s settled, she has friends.’

  ‘She’ll make new friends,’ Renee insisted. ‘Kids adapt and this experience will be so good for her. Just think, we could probably afford a place with our own swimming pool over there or live somewhere near the sea.’

  Cape frowned, wondering what on earth made Renee think that. California sounded expensive to him.

  ‘I think you’re getting carried away,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not getting carried away. I want to do this, Cape,’ she said, ‘and, if you don’t want to do it too, I’ll have to do it on my own.’

  ‘You’d go out there on your own?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, Poppy would come with me.’

  Cape’s stomach felt as if it had dropped about a yard. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘I’m not kidding.’

  Their eyes locked together for an agonising moment while Cape tried to still his racing mind. And then he remembered that he hadn’t told her yet.

  ‘The garden,’ he blurted.

  ‘What garden?’

  ‘Morton Hall.’

  ‘That ugly old pile? You want to stay here because of that horrible old—’

  ‘You don’t understand – listen to me for a moment,’ he told her with some urgency now. ‘I’ve been given an opportunity. Miss Morton died and she’s left the house and garden to her village and I’ve been chosen as one of the people to organise everything.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I need to be here. I can’t just up and leave. This is a unique opportunity for me to create something really special. You know I love that garden and I’ve been wanting to get my hands on the derelict part since I started work there. Well, that time’s come.’

  ‘So you’d turn down a chance to live in one of the most beautiful parts of the world so you can cut down a few nettles and thistles? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Listen, this could be big for us,’ he said.

  ‘Big – how? You said the place has been left to the whole community – not to you.’

  ‘But my input – my guidance – I think I could really make a mark there.’ He reached out to her and took her hand in his. ‘Listen, if you still feel this way next year, we can talk about it then. Just give me some time with this garden, okay?’

  Renee stood up, throwing the magazine she’d been reading onto the coffee table.

  ‘It’s always about you, Cape, and it’s just not fair.’

  ‘Renee – don’t be like that. Please, darling!’

  He watched as she left the living room, her feet heavy on the stairs a moment later, and he didn’t have the energy to follow her.

  Grant left Garrard House at the same time as his daughters on the morning Anne Marie was to meet Cape at Morton Hall. She hadn’t told her husband about her appointment, nor had she told him about the strange bequest of Emilia Morton. She had the feeling that he’d somehow dampen the excitement she was feeling. Why had she been one of the chosen ones, he’d be likely to ask her. She could just imagine Grant putting himself forward and spoiling everything, and she didn’t want that. This was her little adventure and she was going to keep it to herself for as long as possible.

  The January air nipped at her fingers and nose as she left the house swaddled in her thick winter coat and hat. She walked through the village, entering the churchyard and wending her way through the frosty grasses towards the little gate. It was a journey she’d made so many times and yet this one was different because she’d been invited to Morton Hall. She had a role to play now at this magical place.

  Cape had told her to meet him at the cedar tree and she knew where that was. It was impossible to miss the wonderful old tree with its great girth and enormous limbs that stretched out across the lawn. Anne Marie had often wondered how old it was. Older than the hall, she believed. Perhaps it had stood in the grounds of an older property on the same site. She’d have to look into that. It would be interesting to learn more about the history of the property.

  Looking up at the dark red-brick Gothic house, she couldn’t help feeling sad that it had lost the last member of its family. Could houses feel such things, she wondered? Grant would tell her not to be so stupid, but she was suddenly feeling melancholy about the whole business of Morton Hall and found that her imagination was taking her in all sorts of strange directions. She had only seen Emilia Morton – if indeed it had been her – for that one brief moment at one of the windows, the arched one to the right on the first floor, she thought, and yet she couldn’t help but feel the loss that came with her passing.

  ‘Hello!’ Cape’s cheery voice suddenly broke through her thoughts.

  ‘Hi,’ she replied.

  He frowned and nodded to the path behind her. ‘You came in through the church?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You should’ve walked up the driveway. I think you’ve got permission to do that now.’

  ‘I didn’t think. I mean, I’m used to coming in this way,’ she confessed.

  ‘Come by the main entrance next time,’ he told her.

  ‘I’ll try, but I can’t promise.’ She was aware that he was studying her, as if trying to make her out, so she pointed towards the topiary to distract him.

  ‘Ah, yes – you’ve not seen this part of the garden at all, have you?’ he said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You sure you never sneaked in when I wasn’t around?’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘No! It’s much too close to the house. I’d never—’

  He laughed. ‘I’m teasing.’

  She gave him a guarded smile, noticing that he was wearing a thick woollen jumper that was unravelling at the back and which had a big hole where his right elbow jutted out. He was also wearing large conker-coloured boots and Anne Marie began to worry that the little ankle boots she’d chosen to wear wouldn’t be suitable, but she wasn’t expected to do any actual gardening today, was she?

  ‘Let me show you the beasts first,’ Cape said, leading her along a path lined with a low box hedge. Everything was so neat and tidy and Anne Marie marvelled at the frosted spider webs that glistened everywhere. January could be a bleak month, but it could also make one gasp at its beauty.

  But the cobwebs weren’t the only things in the garden to take her breath away. As they turned a corner, the great fat topiary display greeted her.

  ‘Heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘How did I never know this was here?’

  ‘Not many people do,’ Cape said.

  ‘It’s incredible!’ She took in the gigantic peacock, which looked so regal and haughty, the cuddly-looking dodo and the magnificent horse.

  ‘Do you like them?’

  ‘Like them? I love them,’ she enthused.

  Cape’s smile stretched across the whole of his face. ‘I secretly think of them as mine. Mine and Poppy’s.’

  ‘Poppy?’

  ‘My daughter,’ he said. ‘She’s ten. I’m allowed to bring her here once a month. She loves the animals and the maze.’

  �
��I bet she does.’

  ‘You have children?’

  ‘Step-children.’

  ‘Bring them here – I’m sure they’d love it.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  He looked surprised. ‘No?’

  ‘They’re – erm – not those kind of girls.’ She could see the confusion on Cape’s face.

  ‘Not the kind of girls who like gardens?’

  ‘Yes. Or doing anything with me,’ she said and then bit her lip. What had made her say such a thing to a virtual stranger? She cleared her throat. ‘They wouldn’t enjoy it.’

  ‘Okay,’ Cape said. ‘No worries. Well, we’ll enjoy it instead, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  He gave her a warm smile that helped to banish the dark mood she was bound to fall into if she spent too much time thinking about her family.

  ‘So, tell me about the topiary,’ she said, turning her attention to the beautiful garden.

  ‘Well, it was created for the original owners, Arthur Augustus Morton and his wife Clarissa. I believe they started with a design for the maze and then created these box hedges to give this part of the garden a sense of structure. The topiary beasts and shapes came slightly later. It was something that was popular in Victorian times although not everybody liked it. The Gardeners’ Chronicle called topiary “vegetable monstrosities”.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?’

  He shrugged. ‘There’s always been a lot of snobbery in gardening. Plants come in and go out of fashion the same way colours and planting schemes do.’

  ‘I’ve never understood that,’ Anne Marie said. ‘How can the colour of a beautiful flower suddenly be out of fashion?’

  ‘Exactly. It’s all a load of nonsense,’ Cape declared. ‘In my opinion, you either like something or you don’t. That’s what your gardening choices should be based on. You shouldn’t be worrying about what somebody else might say if they happen to look around your garden.’

  ‘Well, it seems as if the Mortons have always done exactly what they wanted.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Cape said. ‘I mean, the topiary and the maze weren’t Emilia’s choice, were they?’