The Heart of the Garden

by Victoria Connelly

  Chapter 16

  The brief winter flurry of snow in February was overtaken by a mild March. Daffodils gilded the edges of the garden, replacing the army of snowdrops and crocuses. There were also hyacinths blooming amongst the winter leaves that were still to be cleared. It was, Cape said, ‘a good start on the bulb front’, and Anne Marie had spotted the fresh leaves of bluebells flourishing in the nuttery.

  The days were now lengthening and that meant more time could be spent in the garden. A few members of the group had been coming during the week as well as the weekends and the results were visible. Mac had managed to clear a path on the other side of the walled garden and had done a fantastic job pruning some of the old trees there. Dorothy and Erin had joined forces to clear a wild area to the west of the house using a scythe that Mac had found in one of the old sheds. Erin had once taken a summer course in scything and had been tutoring Dorothy in how to use the traditional garden tool. The two women worked incredibly well together and had also scrubbed a mountain of terracotta pots ready to use for planting.

  All of the raised beds had been made in the walled garden and a delivery of topsoil had filled them all. The long greenhouse had been cleared and repaired, its new windows looking splendid, and the group was suitably excited as to what could be achieved in the new space.

  It was on a Saturday in March when Patrick was in the greenhouse with Kathleen, Cape and Anne Marie. Patrick’s boys were spending the day with their grandparents, but had sent some seedlings they’d been growing on a windowsill at home.

  Anne Marie and Cape were at one end of the greenhouse, pushing a couple of workbenches together, when the row began.

  ‘I don’t know why you came to Morton Hall!’ Kathleen yelled at Patrick. ‘You’re always in a bad mood and you’re always complaining.’

  ‘Hey – you’re the one who’s complaining, lady!’ Patrick pointed out.

  ‘Don’t call me lady.’

  ‘Yeah, my mistake,’ he said.

  ‘Why you—’

  For one dreadful moment, Anne Marie was quite sure that Kathleen was going to fly at Patrick and she ran towards her, stopping her, but Kathleen had taken her gardening gloves off and thrown them at Patrick’s face.

  ‘I’ll slap you properly next time,’ she told him.

  ‘What the hell did I do?’

  Cape joined them. ‘Come on, you two. I thought you were getting along all right now,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, well, he’s been grouching at me all morning,’ Kathleen said.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Patrick said. ‘You’ve been on at me.’

  ‘Only because you keep taking my tools.’

  Cape looked at Anne Marie and she shrugged. She’d been aware that there’d been some sort of discord between Kathleen and Patrick initially but, like Cape, she’d thought it was a thing of the past.

  ‘Let’s take a break, okay?’ Cape said.

  ‘Fine!’ Kathleen said, stalking out of the greenhouse.

  ‘I’ll go with her,’ Anne Marie said, following her towards the communal kitchen.

  By the time she got there, Kathleen was slamming her way around the cupboards.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Anne Marie asked.

  ‘That man is impossible!’

  Anne Marie did her best to bite back a smile because Patrick had truly improved over the last few weeks. He could still be a tad sardonic, but he was really throwing himself into the work and had made excellent progress with the vegetable garden, which was to be planted out once the risk of frost was over.

  ‘He’s making a real effort to get on with everyone now, though,’ Anne Marie said.

  ‘Except me. He hates me.’

  ‘He doesn’t hate you!’

  ‘Then why is he always teasing me?’

  ‘Because he likes you best of all?’ Anne Marie suggested.

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I really think he likes you, and don’t forget the way he’s opened up to you about his wife. I’d say he has a soft spot for you, for sure.’

  Kathleen shook her head. ‘He’s the last person I’d want to get involved with. The last! I’ve not waited this long for some moody grouch like Patrick.’

  Anne Marie reached for the tin of biscuits which Dorothy had kindly brought in for the weekend. If there was ever a time for a sugary shortbread, it was now.

  ‘I’m a patient woman,’ Kathleen said. ‘I’ve dated a lot of wrong’uns and I can spot them at fifty paces – and that’s exactly what Patrick is.’

  Anne Marie gave her a sympathetic smile. One evening a few weeks ago, her new friend had opened up to her about her romantic history – or rather her unromantic history. Now in her early forties, she’d declared that she still believed in true love, but she’d never found the right man for her. Anne Marie suspected that her standards were very high, but Kathleen insisted that she wouldn’t give up her independence for any old man.

  They drank their tea together and munched on a couple of shortbread fingers.

  ‘I’ve really seen a change in Patrick,’ Anne Marie ventured. ‘His sons too.’

  ‘I like his boys,’ Kathleen said, ‘and I never thought I’d say that after my first encounter with them.’

  ‘Yes, they were a little bit wild when they first arrived,’ Anne Marie agreed. ‘But maybe Patrick will follow suit. Maybe you’ll grow to like him as much as you like his boys.’

  ‘Huh!’ she snorted. ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’

  Anne Marie grinned. ‘Come on, let’s get back to it before Cape sends out a search party for us.’

  Kathleen and Patrick might have been at odds, but other friendships were being forged in the garden. Dorothy and Erin seemed to have gravitated towards one another and spent a lot of time working together, teaming up during the week when other people couldn’t make it to the garden and sneaking off for tea breaks in the kitchen.

  It was the next day when the two women came running into the walled garden.

  ‘Cape!’ Dorothy shouted. ‘I think you should come and see this.’

  Everybody downed tools and ran to where Dorothy and Erin had been working on a sheltered path on the way to the nuttery.

  ‘What is it, Dorothy?’ Cape asked. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘I think it’s another statue,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘How exciting!’ Kathleen said. ‘It’s all very Howard Carter, isn’t it?’

  ‘Who’s he?’ Matthew asked.

  ‘He was the man who discovered the tomb of Tutankhamun,’ Kathleen informed him.

  ‘Wow! You mean there’s an Egyptian tomb here?’ Matthew said.

  ‘Cool!’ Elliot said.

  ‘Erm, let’s not get too excited,’ Cape said.

  The group looked at the great plinth which had been cleared of a swathe of ivy and brambles.

  ‘We didn’t want to uncover any more without you guys here,’ Erin said.

  ‘Are those feet?’ Mac asked, peering closer.

  ‘They sure look like feet,’ Cape said. ‘Go on, then – let’s find out what’s under all that ivy.’

  Dorothy and Erin exchanged glances.

  ‘Go on – you do it, my dear,’ Dorothy told her young friend.

  ‘Okay!’ Erin said, taking a deep breath and grabbing hold of a handful of ivy and chopping into it.

  ‘They’re definitely feet!’ Patrick said.

  ‘And legs!’ Elliot cried a moment later.

  Erin continued to hack away at the ivy, clearing it inch by overgrown inch, revealing a pair of mossy knees and then . . .

  ‘Oh, my god!’ Cape exclaimed.

  Kathleen burst into laughter as the virile stone appendage greeted the group’s eyes.

  ‘He’s – erm – ready for action it would seem!’ Patrick said.

  ‘Perhaps we should cover him up again,’ Dorothy suggested, a pretty blush colouring her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Erin said. ‘He’s much too handsome.’

/>   ‘How do you know that? You haven’t seen his face yet!’ Kathleen teased.

  Erin started to laugh and, soon, the others were all joining in.

  ‘Boys,’ Patrick began, ‘look away!’

  ‘We know what it is, Dad!’ Matthew said in a world-weary tone as he rolled his eyes.

  ‘I’m just glad Poppy isn’t here to see it,’ Cape said.

  ‘Or Mrs Beatty,’ Anne Marie said. ‘Do you think she’s seen it?’

  ‘It’s a beautiful work of art. Everybody should see it,’ Erin said as she cleared the rest of the ivy away to reveal what had once been a very handsome face.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Dorothy said. ‘He’s missing his nose.’

  ‘His other bit more than makes up for it!’ Kathleen said and the laughter began again. ‘I don’t think anybody will be looking at his nose.’

  The group worked until the sun began to set. The March days were still bitterly cold, especially once the light began to fail, and the team were good and prompt when it came to packing up to go home.

  ‘Have you heard from Grant?’ Cape asked Anne Marie after the others had departed. She was cleaning one of the old spades they’d found behind an ancient shed. It had a split handle, but there was still a good bit of life in it yet.

  ‘Not since I told him I wasn’t coming back,’ Anne Marie told him.

  ‘He’s not contacted you at all?’

  ‘Well, he did text to tell me he was throwing out some of my old university essays he’d found. I went to collect them when he was out. He’d left them on the doorstep underneath a pair of my shoes that I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Nice of him.’

  ‘Yes, it had been raining and everything was soaked.’

  ‘What a jerk,’ Cape said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. He is a jerk.’ She gave a tiny smile. It had taken her years to gain the confidence to call her husband that and she’d quite enjoyed the experience.

  The spade clean, Anne Marie popped it into a shed which Cape locked.

  ‘That’s another weekend, then,’ he said and the two of them left the walled garden together.

  ‘Patrick’s boys are still here,’ Anne Marie said a moment later as they rounded the corner and saw the two of them chasing each other around the topiary garden.

  ‘Matthew? Elliot?’ Cape called. ‘Where’s your dad?’

  ‘In the kitchen,’ Matthew said. ‘He told us to wait out here. He’s in there with Kathleen.’

  Cape and Anne Marie exchanged glances.

  ‘I thought they’d left.’

  ‘Yes, Kath said she had to get back and I told her not to worry because I fancied a walk anyway.’

  They waited, wondering what was going on in the kitchen and hoping that it wasn’t another slanging match. Kathleen was the first to emerge.

  ‘He’s impossible!’ she declared, shaking her head.

  ‘Patrick?’ Cape asked.

  ‘Who else?’ Kathleen said. ‘I’ll see you later, Annie?’

  ‘Yes. See you.’

  They watched as she walked to her car and sped down the driveway, spraying gravel in her haste to get away.

  A moment later, Patrick emerged from the kitchen, his face flushed. But what was even more striking was the fact that his mouth was also a deep red – a red which perfectly matched the colour of Kathleen’s lipstick.

  Chapter 17

  March blew in and out in a flurry of showers and it was a great relief when April arrived with a balmy kiss. Jackets were shed as the team worked in the garden. Great slabs arrived and new paths were made. Benches were bought and then, one wondrous morning, a lorry laden with plants was delivered. The garden was really beginning to take shape.

  Relationships were beginning to take shape too, Cape had noticed, watching as Kathleen and Patrick worked side by side with his boys. They certainly kept everyone guessing, he thought. A few of the group had been wondering whether something was brewing between them, and Anne Marie and Cape were never really certain if the tempestuous pair were going to trade insults or kisses next. But Kathleen’s relationship with his boys had definitely changed for the better. She genuinely seemed to care about them now whereas, before, she’d merely tolerated them.

  Then there was Dorothy and Erin. Just that morning, he’d watched as Erin helped Dorothy move one of the large terracotta pots they’d uncovered in the nuttery. They had become a natural pair, making tea for everybody together and chatting amiably in corners of the garden.

  Just like him and Mac, Cape thought with a smile. That had been one of the biggest surprises to come out of this project. Mac Minter was slowly beginning to come out of his shell, and Cape was enjoying getting to know the older man. They’d been sharing their love for gardening, and Cape had told Mac about his father and how passionate he’d been about it, while Mac, in turn, had told Cape about his grandfather. He’d been the one to encourage Mac to become a gardener; his father had been an accountant.

  ‘I took one look at that line of work to know it wasn’t for me,’ Mac had confided. ‘My dad was always pale-faced and stressed and had this hunched look about him. Came from decades at a desk. The human body isn’t meant to sit down all day.’

  ‘I agree,’ Cape had said.

  ‘But he didn’t believe in my dream,’ Mac had gone on. ‘He never supported it. I was on my own.’

  Well, Mac wasn’t on his own now. He was surrounded by a group of fellow dreamers and Cape couldn’t have been happier with their progress in the garden.

  If only things could have been going as smoothly at home, Cape thought. Renee seemed more distant than ever, finding excuses to be out in the evenings and, whenever they did happen to be home at the same time, she would feign tiredness to avoid conversation. Cape felt relieved and would move through to his study, throwing himself into his work. It made him think about Anne Marie and Grant. Hadn’t he hidden away in his study? And look how that had ended. But then he’d shake his head. Different situation, he assured himself. Grant had pushed Anne Marie away, resolutely shutting her out from his life, whereas Renee had forced Cape to find sanctuary in his work.

  Now that spring had arrived, his workload had increased. Everybody, it seemed, had discovered they had a garden that needed work. Not that he was complaining; he was happy to fill his hours and was working on several exciting new projects that took him all over the Chilterns and beyond. How he loved getting out into the countryside, discovering the hidden gardens of England behind the cottages and the hedgerows. One never knew what one was going to come across, from the tiny spaces behind the traditional thatched cottages to the great rolling lawns behind the mansions in the Thames Valley.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have worked quite so hard. Perhaps he might have been able to prevent what had happened if he’d been around more, if he’d made an effort. But somehow, he doubted it.

  It was at the end of one of those perfect spring days when the blue sky had been filled with friendly white clouds and the celandine had shone like golden pennies along the lanes. He pulled up outside their cottage, his limbs aching from a good day’s work. He noticed that the house was dark and, when he went inside, it felt cold and empty.

  ‘Renee?’ he called, instinctively knowing that nobody was home. ‘Poppy?’

  It was late. Poppy usually had dance class on a Thursday after school, but they should have been home well before now. He checked his phone, but there were no messages. He rang Renee’s mobile, but there was no answer.

  He didn’t begin to panic until an hour later. He’d made himself some tea and toast before going upstairs. That’s when he realised that something was seriously wrong. The wardrobe door was open and all Renee’s cosmetics were missing from the bathroom. She hadn’t even tried to disguise the fact that she’d left.

  Cape ran into Poppy’s room and noticed a hurricane of clothes on the bed as if her little wardrobe had been completely emptied and a few things chosen to take. He looked around. Her favourite teddy was gone and the d
oll with the loose right arm, and the poster of her favourite girl band had been taken down. Cape swallowed hard, suddenly feeling hot. You didn’t take posters on holiday with you.

  He sat down on the edge of Poppy’s bed, looking at the little lamp with the tutu shade. He saw the ropes of pretty beads on her dressing table and her collection of miniature ballerinas. Again, the favourite was missing – the one she called Miss Twirl.

  Getting up, he walked out onto the landing and opened the loft door, pulled down the ladder and climbed in. Sure enough, the suitcases were gone. Renee had done it, hadn’t she? Hiding the suitcases hadn’t stopped her.

  She’d left him and she’d taken Poppy with her.

  The curtains had been drawn for the night at Kathleen’s and Anne Marie was sitting on the sofa having just cooked pasta for the two of them. How quickly she’d got used to her new friend. They were really beginning to feel like roommates and had developed a nice easy relationship. After her years with Grant and his daughters, Anne Marie found it a novel experience to actually talk to the person you lived with and how wonderful it was to pass the time drifting from subject to subject. There was no uneasy tension between them. She didn’t fear a flare-up of emotions; she wasn’t going to be ignored, bullied or moaned about. Her company truly seemed to be appreciated.

  Anne Marie had confided in Kathleen about her failed marriage and had found a sympathetic ear.

  ‘Marriage is highly overrated,’ Kath had said. ‘Men are highly overrated.’

  Anne Marie had had to agree with her, though she couldn’t help wondering if, at some point, the subject of Patrick would surface. But Kath never spoke about him and no reference was made to the two of them emerging from the kitchen with her lipstick on his mouth.

  They were just finishing their dinner when Anne Marie’s mobile rang.

  ‘Anne Marie? I didn’t know who to call.’

  ‘Cape? Are you okay?’

  ‘No! No, I’m not okay. Renee’s gone and she’s taken Poppy with her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’ve gone. They’ve really gone. All their stuff too.’

  Anne Marie gasped. ‘Cape – is there anything I can do?’