The Heart of the Garden

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Did you want to get changed?’ he asked her.

  ‘We’re going to continue, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but wouldn’t you be more comfortable having a break from that dress?’

  Emilia’s hands caressed the midnight-blue dress and she shook her head.

  ‘I like it.’

  ‘You’re a strange one.’

  ‘I know.’

  Emilia had grown used to walking through the gardens wearing the Victorian dresses that Tobias had forced upon her. She liked the feel of them, the sound they made on the gravel paths and the way they moved as she walked up the stairs. They made her feel feminine in a way that her usual garb of jeans and jumpers never could. If that made her strange, then so be it. Perhaps she’d been born in the wrong century. The thought had never occurred to her until she’d started trying on the dresses, but they’d given her a strange connection to the past, a fabric portal into the lives of her ancestors.

  Jay had even made a small watercolour painting of her in the maze while she’d been wearing the blue dress. Tobias had framed it immediately and it now hung in the main sitting room.

  ‘You know, you looked very thoughtful when you were looking out of the window,’ Jay told her. ‘A little melancholic.’

  ‘Aren’t most portraits unsmiling?’

  ‘Yes. It’s pretty hard to keep a smile in place for the entire length of a portrait.’

  ‘Well then.’

  ‘What were you thinking about?’

  They’d reached the west entrance of the maze. It was funny but, over the last few weeks since he’d been painting her, they usually found their way here.

  ‘What was I thinking about? You, me, Tobias. I was wondering what would happen when you finish the portrait.’

  ‘Oh, there’s weeks of work left on it.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

  She smiled and he winked at her.

  ‘You know,’ he continued, ‘you really do have that whole Pre-Raphaelite look going on.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘Yes. The red hair, the pale skin, that wistful look in the eyes.’

  ‘Being trapped in a house by a tyrant of a brother,’ she added.

  Jay frowned and reached out to touch her arm. ‘Emilia?’

  ‘I’m just joking!’ she said quickly.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She held his gaze. ‘Tobias can just be a bit of a bully, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s not exactly a virtue,’ Jay pointed out. ‘I worry about you being here with him when I’m not around. I wish he’d let me stay, but he made it clear I was only welcome for a few days. But I worry about you when I’m not here.’

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

  ‘No, I really do. You’re all alone in this big old house that, quite frankly, looks like something out of a film you wouldn’t want to watch late at night on your own.’

  She laughed at that.

  ‘And then there’s your brother,’ he went on. ‘I think I’d rather be holed up with Dracula.’

  ‘Oh, you’re being silly. Tobias is all right. He just gets a bit glum.’

  ‘What do you mean by glum? You’ve used that word before.’

  They had neared the centre of the maze now. Just a few more turns and they’d be there.

  ‘Well, he can get a bit down, you know?’

  ‘No, I don’t know. The Tobias I knew at Oxford was always hyper.’

  ‘Yes, there’s that side of him too. He can swing from being really high on life and enthusiastic about everything to being really introverted. He’ll lock himself in his bedroom for hours. Days sometimes. I worry about him in there.’

  ‘Do you think he’s on something?’

  ‘I’ve wondered about that too, but I think he’s really good at hiding it if he is. I think he sleeps a lot. He’s always very quiet. I did have a poke around his room once, but I couldn’t find anything obvious. But he’s always been rather morose. Even when he was a small boy, he could sulk and pout like nobody else.’

  They reached the centre of the maze and sat down on the bench there. The sun was hot above them and a pigeon cooed from the high branches of a tree.

  ‘You should have a parasol with that outfit,’ Jay said. ‘Then you’d look like a heroine from a Monet painting.’

  ‘I thought you said I was a Pre-Raphaelite.’

  ‘You’re both.’

  ‘You’re fickle.’

  He grinned and then he took her right hand in both of his. ‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘I worry about you here. You’re so isolated.’

  ‘Stop worrying. I’m absolutely fine. This is my home.’

  Jay shook his head. ‘You know, you’re the most unusual person.’

  ‘Is that a compliment or an insult?’ Emilia asked. ‘Because I’m really not sure.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a compliment,’ he told her. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before and I’ve met a lot of women.’

  ‘Do I want to hear this?’ she asked with a little laugh.

  ‘I don’t know, do you?’

  Emilia wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said slowly.

  Still with her hand in his, he looked directly at her. ‘I just mean that you’re different. In a really good way. You’re not loud or brash. You’re not into playing games.’

  ‘Women play games?’

  ‘Oh, yeah!’

  ‘What sort of games?’

  Jay shrugged. ‘Just silly mind games. But not you. You’re open and honest and—’

  ‘You’re going to make me blush!’

  ‘And you blush! Most of the girls I’ve dated wouldn’t recognise a natural blush if it hit them in the face!’

  Emilia giggled.

  ‘You’re really sweet and innocent and that’s so refreshing.’ He tutted and suddenly looked annoyed. ‘God, I’m sounding horribly condescending now.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘I just want you to know that you’re special.’

  Emilia grimaced. ‘Now that sounds condescending.’

  Jay cursed. ‘I’m sorry!’

  ‘I’m just teasing!’

  There was a pause during which Jay’s head lowered towards hers and she wondered if he was going to kiss her, but they were interrupted by a strange sound.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Jay asked, looking around.

  Emilia bit back a smile. ‘It’s Tobias. He’s teaching himself the violin.’

  ‘Heaven preserve us – that’s awful !’

  ‘I know, and he insists on playing it by an open window so there’s no escape if you’re in the garden.’

  ‘Is he doing that on purpose because he knows we’re out here?’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘I think my eardrums are bleeding!’

  Emilia laughed. ‘He’ll get better, I’m sure.’

  ‘Will it be quieter in the house?’

  ‘We can go and find out.’

  ‘Come on then,’ Jay said, her hand still in his.

  He led the way out of the maze. He knew it well now and rarely made a mistake.

  ‘Hey, the violin’s stopped,’ he said just as they were about to exit the maze.

  ‘It didn’t last long.’

  ‘No, thank goodness. Maybe his own ears were bleeding.’

  ‘I don’t know why he’s suddenly taken it up. He was poking around the attics and found it. I think it’s quite an old violin. It’s probably worth a lot of money.’

  ‘And he’s sawing away on it like a piece of timber.’

  ‘I think it’s nice that he’s showing an interest in music.’

  ‘Does he have a tutor?’

  Emilia shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t tolerate one. He’s teaching himself.’

  ‘Isn’t that difficult?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘He doesn’t do things by halves, your brother, does he?’

  ‘No, he’s into full immersion,’ Emilia a
greed. ‘You should have seen him when he found it. He was so excited – just like a kid at Christmas. He was practically leaping up and down. But he wouldn’t let me near it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s his. He’s very protective of it.’

  Jay grimaced. ‘The more you talk about your brother, the odder he sounds.’

  ‘He’s just a little . . .’ She paused. ‘Unusual. That’s all.’

  ‘No, you’re unusual and that’s a good thing, but your brother—’

  ‘What?’

  Jay took a deep breath. ‘I’m not so sure,’ he told her. ‘I think there’s something off with him.’

  ‘What do you mean, off?’

  ‘Something not quite switched on. Not right. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, you see him as normal because you grew up with him. Anything a child grows up with seems normal. But you did admit he’s always been morose and I think you see it now, don’t you? How he’s not like other people. He never was at college. He was popular, but there was always something aloof about him. Something odd.’

  ‘How can you say that? You’re his friend.’

  ‘We’re not really friends. We just inhabited the same lecture theatres for three years.’

  ‘And you used that connection to come and see the art collection here,’ Emilia said, remembering what he’d told her before.

  ‘I know. It was a bit mean of me, but I got to meet you, didn’t I?’

  ‘So I shouldn’t reprimand you, is that what you’re saying?’

  He stopped walking and pulled her closer towards him. ‘I’d rather be kissed than reprimanded,’ he said, but she put her hands out to stop him as he inched closer.

  ‘I think we’d better get back to work, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘Spoilsport,’ he said as they made their way out of the maze.

  ‘Ah, there you are!’ Tobias said, almost crashing into them as they exited.

  The first thought to fly through Emilia’s brain was just how much of their conversation her brother had heard. She could feel her face heating in anxiety.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked him.

  ‘Wondering where you two were. I went into Clarissa’s room and you weren’t there. I thought you were working?’

  ‘We were just taking a break,’ Jay said. ‘We were both getting a bit stiff.’

  Tobias eyed them both and gave an indecipherable nod. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Very well,’ Jay told him.

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Jay said. ‘It’s too early. It would spoil things.’

  Tobias nodded, but he didn’t look convinced by this argument. ‘I want to see it soon. I need to see what I’m paying for.’

  ‘Of course.’

  An uneasy silence descended between the three of them.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to get back to work,’ Tobias said at last and he returned to the house.

  ‘Is your brother always so bossy?’ Jay asked once he was out of earshot.

  ‘Always!’

  ‘How do you put up with it?’

  ‘I try to zone him out whenever I can.’

  ‘And does that work?’

  ‘Not really. He’s very persistent.’

  ‘Do you think he heard us?’

  ‘In the maze? I was wondering that too,’ Emilia said.

  ‘God, was he hanging around listening to us?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘That’s so weird,’ Jay said. ‘He’s so weird.’

  ‘Don’t keep saying that.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. I’m just . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Worried about you.’

  ‘Well, don’t be. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself,’ she insisted, but the look she saw in Jay’s eyes told her that he wasn’t at all convinced.

  Chapter 9

  For the first time since Cape had started at Morton Hall, there was another gardener working alongside him. Not only that, but Mac had arrived that Saturday morning before Cape, his digger already positioned at the entrance to the walled garden.

  ‘You don’t hang around, do you?’ Cape said, waving a hand as he approached. He was pleased to see him there, but he couldn’t help feeling a little bit threatened by this other man’s presence. The garden had been his domain, his responsibility, and now he was expected to share it – not just with Mac but with a whole group of strangers. He definitely had mixed feelings about the whole thing but it was for the greater good, as he kept reminding himself, and he couldn’t help but be excited by the thought of restoring the garden to its former glory.

  ‘I thought I’d make an early start and pace the garden out,’ Mac said, removing his woolly cap and running a hand through his thick, dark hair.

  ‘Anyone else here yet?’ Cape asked.

  ‘Nope. You’re the first. Well, second,’ Mac said. ‘Not got your daughter with you?’

  ‘Dance class,’ Cape explained. He’d been looking forward to Poppy’s company, hoping he could have her with him for the whole day, but Renee had reminded him that a new dance class was beginning. ‘Another time.’

  ‘Good to get them into gardening early,’ Mac said.

  ‘Absolutely. I’m all for that.’

  ‘So, are you happy if I make a start?’

  ‘Please,’ Cape said. ‘There’s a lot to do.’

  Mac nodded and Cape watched as he hopped onto the digger and drove it into the walled garden.

  From previous wanderings around this space, Cape knew that there was a lot of rubbish to clear. Mrs Beatty had said that a skip would be arriving at some point, but Cape wanted to make a start piling it all together. He’d brought all the pairs of tough gardening gloves he could round up at his place, and he put a pair on now and walked across the overgrown expanse towards the long lean-to greenhouse. It was a magnificent structure with its huge lead-weights pulley system which opened the windows. But many of them were damaged now and broken glass lay around in great shards. He’d make a start clearing those up, not wanting to leave that unpleasant job for anybody else.

  His booted feet trod carefully over the ground as he began to clear this first patch of land. What an enormous task it all seemed, he thought. But with the seven of them, plus various children coming and going, the job was definitely achievable. Cape had spent the previous night trying to visualise how the garden would have looked one hundred and fifty years ago. How he wished he could get a glimpse of the garden when it was first being designed and laid out, when the yew hedges of the maze were being planted and the great topiary shapes had first been dreamt up. The walled garden must have been a paradise of produce, with a whole team of gardeners employed to keep it all running. Had they loved it as much as he did now, he wondered? Did they stride around that little bit of earth with the same sense of pride and enjoyment? He felt quite sure that they had, for gardeners were almost always people with a passion for what they did.

  It was a rare gardener who was just going through the motions, working the nine till five. Gardening was a vocation. It was what got you out of bed on the cold, dark winter mornings when you knew that the sun would never show itself and a day of numb fingers and frozen toes lay ahead of you. It was what kept you going when a crop failed or a pest struck. It gave you a resilience against rain, frost and snow, because a gardener knows that those days will pass and all of your hard work will pay off when the first green shoots force their way up through the soil, their leaves and blooms unfurling. Yes, he thought: gardening was the only job for him.

  He turned to see how Mac was getting on. He’d made good progress digging up some of the nettles and brambles and was just turning the machine around when he stopped and hopped out to examine the ground. Cape watched.

  ‘Hey!’ Mac shouted over a moment later, waving to him.

  ‘What is it?’ Cape asked, crossing the space quickly. Was there a hoar
d of Saxon treasure? A Viking longboat?

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’ Cape asked, peering into the half-opened black case. A moment later, he let out a laugh. ‘It’s a violin.’

  Mac shook his head in bemusement. ‘What on earth is that doing here?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  Mac took off his cap and scratched his head. ‘It’s amazing what you find in gardens,’ he said. ‘You know, I once found an engagement ring.’

  ‘Really?’

  He nodded. ‘Big fat ruby. Lovely thing once I’d washed all the muck off it. Been in the ground a good old while, I reckon.’

  ‘What did you do with it?’

  ‘I took it to the owner. A Mr Phillips, I think it was. He’d lived in that place all his life and looked puzzled when I presented him with the ring. But then he recognised it and his eyes went all misty like.’ Mac smiled at the memory. ‘Told me he’d proposed to a sweet slip of a girl there several decades before, but she’d turned him down and he’d flung the ring in the herbaceous border in frustration and had forgotten about it. Well, he snatched it out of my hand after telling me that just as Mrs Phillips showed up, asking what we were talking about. My theory is that she had no idea about that sweet slip of a girl her husband had proposed to before her.’

  Cape laughed. ‘I once found a vase. Beautiful. I wiped away a section of dirt on it and read the word Ming.’

  ‘Ming?’ Mac said. ‘I’ve heard of that. Wouldn’t that be worth a bit?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Cape said, ‘only, when I wiped a bit more of the dirt away, I saw that it read Birmingham.’

  Mac grinned. ‘Bad luck.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘So what do we do with this violin?’ Mac asked.

  Cape looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I guess we take it up to the house.’

  Anne Marie wasn’t going to make it to Morton Hall until later in the day. First, she had to pay a visit to her mother. She hadn’t been officially invited to visit, but her mother had left a number of messages on Anne Marie’s answer machine while she’d been working. They were the usual passive-aggressive messages like, ‘I hardly ever see you these days, but don’t go worrying. The last thing I want you to do is worry.’