The Heart of the Garden

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘He’s lucky the whole thing didn’t come crashing down on top of him,’ Cape said, thinking of the high-flush toilet.

  ‘That’s what his dad said.’

  Cape shook his head. ‘I think we’d better find a really interesting job for those boys so they don’t get themselves into any more mischief.’

  As soon as Patrick appeared with his sons, Cape took him to one side and mentioned his idea of a special project for them.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Patrick said.

  ‘You can make a start by gathering as many pots and containers as you can from around the garden. There are stacks of terracotta ones around the greenhouse. They’ll need cleaning so get a bucket of water from the kitchen. I’ve got some brushes you can use.’

  Patrick nodded. ‘Hear that, boys? Get to it, then!’

  They all worked for another hour after lunch and then they started making preparations for the bonfire, collecting leaves, twigs and branches and piling them up in the centre of the walled garden. Once it was lit, they all gathered around it, toasting their hands and smiling into the flames. Only Kathleen didn’t look happy.

  ‘You okay?’ Cape asked her.

  Kathleen gazed into the orange flames. ‘I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to look at a fire again,’ she told him.

  ‘Do they know what caused your fire?’ Patrick asked.

  ‘They’ve said it was an electrical fault. Some connection that wasn’t working properly.’

  ‘At least it wasn’t your fault,’ he said.

  ‘It might have helped if it was,’ she said.

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Because I’ve got all this rage inside me that I can’t direct at anything in particular. At least I could have blamed myself if I’d caused it.’

  Patrick looked at her as if she was a crazy woman. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘I can’t rant at a piece of faulty electric when I think of all my photo albums that were destroyed. All those precious pictures of my family, my parents and grandparents. All my letters and diaries and scrapbooks. My pictures and my novels. My clothes and other bits and pieces I’d collected over the years. Things I’d kept around me for so many years that they’d become a part of me.’

  Erin, who was standing on the other side of Kathleen, reached out a hand and rubbed her shoulder.

  ‘That’s horrible,’ she said. ‘I can only imagine what that feels like.’

  ‘Everything gone within hours. A whole lifetime.’

  ‘But you’re alive, my dear. You’re still here,’ Dorothy said.

  Kathleen nodded. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I know.’

  They all gazed into the fire, the darkening sky making the flames seem even brighter.

  ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a bonfire,’ Dorothy said. ‘We used to have them at our last house. We had a big garden and there was always something to burn. We used to have a permanent place where we’d heap cuttings from the garden and, every so often, we’d have a big fire. We’d invite neighbours and friends and cook baked potatoes in the embers.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful,’ Erin said.

  ‘Oh, it was,’ Dorothy said. ‘You know, I haven’t thought about that in ages.’ Her eyes misted over as she gazed into the flames and remembered the past.

  ‘Always check for hedgehogs,’ Mac suddenly blurted.

  ‘Pardon?’ Dorothy said.

  ‘Hedgehogs like to burrow into bonfires. If you’ve made a big heap in advance of your fire, it’s advisable to move it all in case a hedgehog has made a home there.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘Right!’ Patrick said, clapping his hands together. ‘Best get back home.’

  ‘Aw, Dad!’ Elliot groaned. ‘Do we have to? I want to watch the fire.’

  ‘Me too,’ Matthew said.

  Patrick looked puzzled by this outburst. ‘Well, okay,’ he said, scratching his chin. ‘I guess we can stay a bit longer.’

  ‘Can we bake potatoes like Dorothy said?’ Matthew asked.

  Dorothy laughed. ‘Well, I don’t have any potatoes on me at the moment, but I’m sure that could be arranged some time.’

  ‘Really?’ Matthew said.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Patrick nodded towards Dorothy and she nodded back at him.

  Cape glanced at Anne Marie and they exchanged smiles. The group, it seemed, was going to get along just fine.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Who’s Angela?’ Tobias demanded.

  They were standing in the living room where Emilia had been rearranging the furniture. She wasn’t allowed to redecorate, but at least she could assert herself by moving a few pieces around. It drove Tobias mad.

  ‘Put that bloody chair back, will you? And tell me who this Angela is.’

  ‘I’ve told you. She’s a friend from university.’

  ‘And why’s she coming here?’

  ‘Because I’ve been home for weeks now and I’ve seen nobody but you, Jay and Mrs Beatty.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just that I’d like bit of female conversation. With a friend.’

  ‘But I’m your friend.’

  Emilia took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. ‘Yes, but you’re my brother.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that I can’t talk to you about everything.’

  This, she quickly realised, had been exactly the wrong thing to say.

  ‘You should talk to me about everything,’ Tobias said. ‘I don’t want you hiding things from me, Emilia.’

  ‘I’m not hiding things from you.’

  ‘What aren’t you telling me then?’

  ‘Nothing! It’s just different talking to a girlfriend.’ She sighed and reached across to hug him. He was dangerous when he got sulky. Most people could bounce back from the sulks, but Tobias could make them last for days, weeks even, and she didn’t want that with Angela arriving. It would be just like him to make her friend’s visit all about him, dominating the house with his brooding presence and creating an unpleasant atmosphere.

  ‘She’ll want you to show her around,’ Emilia went on, releasing her brother from her hug. ‘I’ve told her you give a mean tour.’ She hadn’t, but she thought this would please him.

  ‘I’ll have to see what sort of a person she is before I take her around the house,’ Tobias told her. ‘We have a special collection here.’

  ‘I know we do. Angela will love it.’

  ‘Because you can’t take just anybody round this house.’

  ‘Quite right, but Angela adores art. She’ll be very appreciative. Like your friend Jay,’ she said, careful to stress that Jay was his friend.

  ‘And where’s he gone by the way?’

  ‘He had to go up to Scotland,’ Emilia said. ‘A prior engagement with a gallery in Edinburgh.’

  ‘And he’s still nowhere near finishing your portrait?’

  ‘I think there’s still a lot of work to do on it,’ Emilia told him. What she didn’t say was that Jay had been making several other sketches of Emilia, filling sketchpad after sketchpad just so they could be in each other’s company for as long as possible. He could have finished the portrait long ago, but he hadn’t told Tobias that.

  ‘It’s a very large portrait,’ Emilia added. ‘I think you’ll be thrilled with the result. It’ll be worth the wait.’

  ‘It better had, otherwise I won’t pay him,’ Tobias declared. It was then that he noticed something. ‘Why are you wearing those horrible jeans?’

  ‘Because it would be a bit odd if I met Angela in Oxford wearing a nineteenth-century gown. I doubt I could even get in the car wearing one, let alone drive!’

  He seemed to consider this for a moment and then nodded. ‘I don’t like it when people come here.’

  ‘I know you don’t.’

  ‘I like being just us.’

  ‘That isn’t very healthy, is it?’

  ‘Why not
?’

  ‘Because you need friends, Tobias. Don’t you ever want to talk to anybody?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Well, I do. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll like Angela. She’s fun.’

  ‘I don’t need fun in my life.’

  Emilia shook her head in despair.

  ‘Just keep her visit as short as possible,’ Tobias warned.

  ‘She’s coming for a week,’ Emilia announced and then bit her lip, thinking it best to get things over and done with as quickly as possible. ‘And she’s staying here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s coming down from York, Tobias.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? Why can’t she stay in a hotel like a normal person?’

  ‘Because we’ve got all these rooms doing nothing.’

  ‘That’s how I like them.’

  ‘But it’s such a waste.’

  ‘They’re my rooms, Emilia.’

  ‘Our rooms. And it’s only for a week. It’ll fly by. You’ll see.’

  Angela Godfrey was such a wonderful breath of fresh air that just seeing her joyous face made Emilia happy. With her short blonde curly hair, which bounced around her face, her pink lipgloss and blue eyeshadow, she looked like a flower personified, and Emilia adored her.

  ‘Emmy!’ Angela cried as she caught sight of her outside Oxford train station.

  ‘Angie!’

  They threw themselves at each other, hugging and kissing each other’s cheeks.

  ‘God, I’ve missed you!’

  ‘I’ve missed you too!’ Emilia said, suddenly realising how very long she’d been without female companionship. After all, Mrs Beatty wasn’t exactly the sort you would confide in about the new love of your life. ‘Come on, let’s get home. Tobias is anxious to get his car back in one piece.’

  They chatted non-stop on the journey back to Parvington. Angela had never been to Oxfordshire before and commented on the prettiness of the villages they drove through. It was a gentler landscape than that of North Yorkshire. Her home was on the edge of a village overlooking a windswept moor. It sounded very romantic to Emilia – very Wuthering Heights – but Angela soon put her right, telling her that there was nothing romantic about knotted hair and a wind-chapped face.

  Turning into the driveway of Morton Hall, Emilia awaited her friend’s response and it wasn’t long before it came.

  ‘Blimey, this is your home?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘It looks like a museum.’

  Emilia laughed. ‘It’s Victorian Gothic. Not everybody likes that style.’

  ‘It’s a bit—’

  ‘Austere?’ Emilia suggested.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s more beautiful inside. Wait until you see the paintings and the furnishings.’

  It was a sad fact that Emilia hadn’t had many friends visit her home over the years. Her mother had once given her and her brother permission to have a birthday party each when Emilia was six years old. She had invited a few friends from the local primary school and Joanna Morton had almost swooned with exhaustion by the end of the day, fanning herself with a copy of Country Life and declaring that she was very glad that the whole business was over. Emilia couldn’t remember much about her brother’s party. He’d been ten or eleven and she’d spent most of it outside, away from the noise that the boys were making. Other than those two parties, she could count the number of visitors on one hand, and her brother seemed intent on keeping it that way. But she was determined to defy him in this.

  She parked her brother’s car and helped Angela with her luggage, entering the hall a moment later.

  ‘This really is like a museum!’ Angela cried as she looked at the impressive hallway and the sweep of stairs.

  ‘Wait until you see your bedroom.’

  Emilia led the way, listening to Angela’s low whistles as she took in the many portraits that lined the gallery.

  ‘Are all these your relatives?’

  ‘Every single one.’

  ‘Wow, you know I don’t even know who my dad is,’ Angela reminded her. ‘Mum’s got her suspicions it was somebody she met at a pop concert, but she doesn’t really remember.’

  Emilia grinned. ‘We can go back six generations quite easily.’ She stopped outside a bedroom and opened the door, motioning to Angela to go in first.

  ‘Emmy! This is like a hotel!’

  ‘I hope not. Tobias would hate that.’

  ‘A film set, then. Something from a wildly romantic film where the heroine floats around in a dress the colour of moonbeams.’

  Emilia laughed.

  ‘My own four-poster bed! Really?’

  ‘Bought specially for you!’

  ‘No!’

  Emilia smiled. ‘No – it’s been here as long as the house.’

  ‘And nobody sleeps in it?’

  ‘Not very often.’

  ‘It’s not haunted, is it?’

  ‘Probably!’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Angela declared, flopping down onto the embroidered counterpane. ‘It’ll be worth being haunted by ghosts to sleep in a room like this.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to settle in, then,’ Emilia said. ‘You’ve got a bathroom through there with fresh towels, but call if you need anything else.’

  ‘Do I get my own butler?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. There’s only Mrs Beatty.’

  ‘Oh. I was kind of imagining some gorgeous young man in black and white.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint.’

  ‘But I’m not disappointed. Emmy, this is amazing. I can’t believe anyone still lives in houses like this. I thought they were all destroyed after the war or turned into hotels or country clubs.’

  ‘A lot of them were.’

  ‘It certainly beats our stone semi.’

  ‘I bet your stone semi is perfect,’ Emilia said. ‘I bet you don’t have trouble getting warm in your home, or getting to one end of it and then realising that the very thing you most want is about half a mile away at the other end.’

  Angela laughed. ‘No chance! It’s absolutely tiny. If you sneeze in one room, the next one shakes.’

  Emilia smiled. ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready and we can have some tea in the garden.’

  ‘Sounds heavenly!’

  Emilia left her, a huge smile on her face. It was so good to have her friend there. The house suddenly seemed full of light and happiness and she was looking forward to the next few days.

  Passing Tobias’s room, Emilia stopped, wondering whether she should let him know that Angela had arrived. He must have heard them coming up the stairs. Indeed, she’d half expected him to show his face. She had to admit to being relieved when he hadn’t made an appearance because she wanted to keep her light-hearted mood for a little longer and she had a feeling that Tobias would spoil that. He would speak to them in that condescending way of his, believing himself to be the adult and the two of them children, frowning at them and disapproving of everything they did and said. She couldn’t face that yet and so she walked on past his room and went downstairs into the kitchen to make the tea.

  A little while later, Emilia and Angela were sitting out in the garden drinking tea and eating cake.

  ‘This is the life,’ Angela said, gazing across the garden at the giant topiary beasts. ‘I could get used to this. Mind if I move in full-time?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind at all,’ Emilia said. ‘But somebody else might.’

  ‘Tobias?’

  Emilia nodded.

  ‘I have yet to meet this mysterious brother of yours.’

  ‘Don’t be in a rush to.’

  Angela pointed a finger at her. ‘You see, it’s remarks like that that make me curious about him.’ She paused. ‘Tell me what he’s like.’

  Emilia took a deep breath. ‘How to describe Tobias,’ she began. ‘He’s serious to the point of being dour. He’s intense. He’s passionate about this place and the family history. He’s protective and
. . .’ She paused.

  ‘What?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  Emilia bit her lip. She was going to say that her brother was strange, but that was going too far. She was desperate to be honest and to talk, to really talk to her friend but, when it came down to it, she found that she couldn’t.

  ‘He’s Tobias,’ she finished, giving a little laugh that sounded false even to her own ears.

  They sat contentedly for a few moments, enjoying the warmth of the summer sunshine.

  ‘So, what do you do here all day?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Well, I take care of the house.’

  ‘Isn’t that what Mrs Beatty does?’

  ‘It is, but I supervise. I tell her what needs doing. And I’ve been going through all the family archives recently. It’s fascinating stuff. The Mortons never threw anything away. I’m finding all sorts of marvellous things like shopping lists from the 1880s and a diary my great-grandmother kept.’

  ‘But to spend all your days here,’ Angela said. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, this is a beautiful house, in an eerie kind of way, but I think I’d go mad if I stayed here all the time.’

  ‘I thought I would too. I mean, I do get a little bored. Sometimes. That’s why I’m so excited you’re here. But this place has a strange effect on you. You find yourself slowing down and living with the rhythms of the house. It’s hard to explain. Maybe it will be easier if I show you.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Angela asked as Emilia got up from the bench.

  ‘To a very special room, but we’ll have to be quiet.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we don’t want Tobias finding out. Or Mrs Beatty for that matter.’

  ‘Oooooh, I love a bit of subterfuge!’

  ‘Come on.’

  They took their cups and plates to the kitchen and then climbed the staircase once more.

  ‘This house really is amazing,’ Angela said as they rushed down the landing together. ‘I still feel as if I’m going to bump into the ghost of Queen Victoria any moment.’

  They came to a stop beside a door, Emilia turning to face her. ‘This is it.’

  ‘What?’

  Emilia opened the door into the room and Angela charged inside.

  ‘Wow! This is the best yet!’ she cried.