‘But you’re sad today, aren’t you? Daddy said.’
Anne Marie looked down at Poppy’s sweet face, her large eyes staring up at her in wonder.
‘Today’s been a very odd day,’ she confessed.
‘How?’
Anne Marie frowned. How was she going to explain this? Simply and honestly, she decided.
‘Well, I found out that I’m adopted and that my real mother had a brother who sold me to the parents who raised me.’
Poppy took a moment to digest this. ‘That is odd!’ she said, making Anne Marie laugh. ‘I had an odd day too.’
‘Did you?’
Poppy nodded. ‘I went out in odd shoes. I have two pairs that are the same, only in different colours – pink and purple. They’re my favourites. Mum let me buy them because I couldn’t make up my mind and they were in the sale. And I went out in one pink and one purple today.’
‘When did you notice?’
‘Erm, I think I kind of knew when I was putting them on, but I didn’t know where the others were so I just got on with it.’
Anne Marie smiled. ‘And did anyone else notice?’
‘My best friend said it looked good.’
‘I bet it looked good too. I think we need lots of colour in our lives, don’t we?’
‘Like the flowers we’re planting at Morton Hall.’
‘Exactly!’
‘Like dahlias, peonies and cornflowers,’ Poppy said. ‘They’re Daddy’s favourites. And poppies.’
‘Of course.’
‘He likes poppies.’
‘I like Poppy too,’ Anne Marie said, giving her a big smile which made her giggle.
‘Are you happier now?’ Poppy asked.
‘Yes. I think so.’
‘Good!’
Cape came out with a tray on which sat three glasses of lime cordial chinking musically with ice.
‘You both look very comfortable,’ he observed.
‘We are!’ Poppy said. ‘And Anne Marie’s much happier now.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘That’ll be the Poppy effect.’
Poppy frowned. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s what happens whenever you’re around,’ he said, bending to kiss her head before sitting on the bench next to them.
‘Your bum’s too big, Daddy!’ Poppy said. ‘You’re taking up all the room.’
‘Charming!’ he said.
Anne Marie laughed. ‘I think the Poppy effect is wearing off.’
‘She always tells it like it is.’
‘I do,’ Poppy said.
Three in a row, they sat there on the bench sipping their lime cordials as the swallows screeched overhead. Poppy retold the story of her mismatched shoes to her dad and he confessed to her that he hadn’t noticed, but that he had noticed that she’d only eaten half of the sandwiches he’d made for her packed lunch.
She pulled a face. ‘They were soggy.’
‘Soggy?’
‘You put too much filling in them.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Poppet.’
‘’S’alright.’
‘I’m still learning the ropes,’ he explained to Anne Marie.
‘I’m sure you’re doing a great job.’
‘He is,’ Poppy said and he ruffled her hair.
‘Right, I’m going to finish dinner,’ he said.
Half an hour later, they were all sitting at the kitchen table.
‘This smells wonderful,’ Anne Marie said as she dived into her bowl with a fork.
‘We like to eat our chilli in a bowl,’ Cape told her. ‘I hope that’s okay.’
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said.
‘Comforting,’ Poppy said. ‘I like bowls.’
Anne Marie and Cape exchanged smiles.
‘But it feels funny eating at the table,’ Poppy added.
Anne Marie looked up from her bowl. ‘Don’t you normally eat at the table?’
‘Well, we did when Mum was here, but we’ve been eating on the sofa since she left, haven’t we, Daddy?’
Cape almost choked on his chilli. ‘You’re making us sound like animals, Poppet.’
‘Not animals, but Mum would hate it.’
‘What do you think about eating on the sofa, Poppy?’ Anne Marie asked.
She shrugged. ‘I like it, I guess.’
‘I do it all the time at Kath’s.’
‘You do?’
‘It’s fun.’ She smiled at Poppy and Cape and he raised an eyebrow.
‘You want to move to the sofa now?’ he asked.
‘I’d love to,’ she said.
‘Okay then.’
The three of them grabbed their bowls and went through to the living room, sitting down on the sofa together.
Poppy positioned herself in the middle of them and Anne Marie tried her best to hold her laughter in as she imagined sitting on the sofa with Irma and Rebecca. No, she just couldn’t envisage that ever happening.
‘And do you watch television while you’re eating dinner on the sofa?’ Anne Marie asked.
‘Sometimes,’ Poppy confessed, ‘but Dad says we should talk about our day over dinner.’
‘That’s a nice idea,’ Anne Marie said, again thinking about the impossibility of any sort of conversation around the dining table – or anywhere else – at Garrard House.
‘Tell us about your day, Poppy.’ Cape asked. ‘She went to a friend’s house.’
‘In odd shoes,’ she reminded them.
‘Oh, I’m always going out in odd shoes,’ Cape said and they all laughed.
‘It was good,’ Poppy said. ‘She’s got a doll’s house and we played with that, but I got a bit bored. I told her it should have a garden because that’s the most important part of any house, isn’t it?’
‘It’s the bit I always like best,’ Cape said.
‘Me too,’ Poppy said.
‘Does your friend have a garden?’
‘Yes, but it’s only used for putting out the washing and the bins. They’ve not got any flowers or vegetable beds.’
Cape sucked his teeth in at that. ‘I might have to stop you going over there,’ he teased.
‘Maybe she could come to Morton Hall sometime,’ Poppy suggested.
Cape nodded. ‘That’s a very good idea.’
‘She could get some ideas for her own garden.’
‘Spoken like a true gardener,’ Cape said.
‘I’m not like a gardener,’ Poppy said. ‘I am one!’
And nobody could disagree with that.
After dinner, Poppy went up to her room and Anne Marie and Cape stepped out into the garden. The light was beginning to fade and the sun was setting behind a distant wood, leaving a trail of brilliant pink stripes in the sky.
‘You’ve got a wonderful spot here,’ she told him.
He nodded. ‘I think so.’ He gazed over the low hedge at the bottom of the garden towards the field beyond. ‘I could never leave this place.’ Anne Marie moved closer to him and slipped her hand in his. ‘I often wonder if Renee misses it,’ he added, ‘but I doubt she does.’
‘Have you heard from her?’
‘Not directly. She emails Poppy though and they talk on the phone at least twice a week.’
‘Has she found work over there?’
‘Poppy said she’s got a job in a salon in downtown LA. She’d attached some photos of recent clients’ nails.’ Cape huffed out a laugh.
‘What did Poppy think?’
‘Poppy says nails are for getting dirt under,’ he said with some pride.
‘She really is a gardener, isn’t she?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And how are you?’
‘Feeling better for being here with you and that bowl of chilli on the sofa.’
‘So, have you thought about what you’re going to do about, well, everything?’
She swallowed hard. ‘I’d like to talk to Mrs Beatty some more. And I told my mum to get in touch if she wants
to discuss any of this, but I don’t suppose she will. I think I’ll just have to pretend I never found out about the adoption.’
‘You really think she’ll never talk about it?’
Anne Marie nodded. ‘I think she’s going to block it out for good.’
‘And how do you feel about that?’
Anne Marie gazed out over the field. ‘I’d love to speak to her about it, I really would, but we’ve never had the kind of relationship where we can discuss anything openly.’
‘But she was talking to Grant, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes, she’s good at giving her own opinion on things, but she’s not so good at being accountable for her own actions.’
Cape reached an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. ‘You can always talk to me. You know that, don’t you?’
She looked up at him, his eyes so loving and tender.
‘I do,’ she told him.
‘You know, you should write about all this,’ he said.
She frowned. ‘You think so?’
‘Absolutely. It’ll give you a chance to get all those feelings out and really think about them.’
‘Like free therapy?’
He laughed. ‘Yes.’
‘A bit like gardening, then?’
‘Exactly.’
She sighed happily at the idea. ‘I like that.’
Standing together under the clear pink sunset, Cape bent to kiss her and she felt truly blessed. She might not be able to change the past but, in her heart, she knew that the future was going to be wonderful.
Chapter 25
The July sun shone down on the garden at Morton Hall from dawn till dusk, browning the limbs of the gardeners and making everything bloom. The greenhouse and the raised beds were brimming with produce. Everything was pushing, growing and surging towards the sun.
The sweet peas, which Matthew and Elliot had planted and nurtured, were scenting the garden, twisting colourfully around their obelisk and providing the group with delicious handfuls to take home each week. And Cape had dug up the first potatoes for them all to share.
Mac had made a picnic bench out of some old planks of wood he’d found around the garden and they were all sitting at it having lunch one Saturday when Erin came running across the lawn from the house.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Kathleen asked.
Erin could barely contain her excitement.
‘Mrs Beatty’s offered me a job,’ she told them. ‘Full-time curator of the collection here.’
‘Oh, Erin!’ Dorothy said, getting up to hug her. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’
‘That’s brilliant news,’ Anne Marie enthused, knowing just how much the job would mean to her.
‘I’ll be continuing the cataloguing with Anne Marie when she’s not needed in the garden,’ Erin said, ‘and liaising with experts to make sure everything is kept in pristine condition and – I hope – curating exhibitions.’
‘Exhibitions? Here at the hall?’ Cape asked, obviously surprised.
Erin nodded. ‘I think Mrs Beatty wants to test the waters with loaning pieces to museums first for short-term exhibitions, but she did say that Emilia’s wish was to open the house to the public one day. The garden too.’
‘Good,’ Mac said. ‘It’s too lovely not to be seen and enjoyed by everyone.’
There was a pause while everybody took in this news.
‘What’s the matter, Kath?’ Patrick asked and Anne Marie noticed that her friend’s expression was sad.
‘I’m not sure how I feel about sharing the garden,’ she confessed. ‘We’ve had it to ourselves for so long that I kind of selfishly want to keep it that way. Is that awful?’
‘Yes!’ Patrick said and everyone laughed.
‘I know what you mean,’ Anne Marie said. ‘Before we started work here, I used to sneak into the walled garden and have it all to myself. I kind of miss that, but I have to say that it’s a much nicer experience to share it.’
Cape beamed her a smile.
‘I think it will be amazing to share this place with the rest of the village,’ Erin said. ‘We’ve had so much fun here but it would be mean to keep it all to ourselves. And I’ve been thinking – we could have all sorts of events like treasure hunts in the maze and concerts and theatre in the garden.’
Suddenly, everybody was talking at once, dreaming and planning for the future of Morton Hall.
‘Can you believe we’ve been here for seven months?’ Dorothy asked once things had calmed down. ‘I’m so proud of what we’ve accomplished in that time.’
‘Don’t start getting complacent,’ Cape warned. ‘There’s still an awful lot to do and then we’ve got to maintain it all.’
‘Oh, I know,’ Dorothy said, ‘and I’m sure you’ll keep us all in check.’
‘I almost forgot,’ Erin interrupted, ‘Mrs Beatty’s got something to show us.’
‘What is it?’ Patrick asked.
‘I’m not sure. She was all mysterious about it, but it sounded important.’
The group tidied away their lunch things and followed Erin back towards the house. Mrs Beatty was there to greet them.
‘I have something you might like to see,’ she told them. ‘I think it’s time. But wash your hands first. I don’t want greasy fingers on it.’
Everybody went to use the cloakroom in turn before Mrs Beatty led them through to the dining room. Anne Marie took a deep breath, remembering the news that had been told to her in that very room just a couple of months before. She felt she’d grown a great deal since then, accepting the past with wonder and, she hoped, grace. Her mother still hadn’t spoken of it and Anne Marie believed that she never would, and she was trying to be okay with that. Cape was there to listen to her whenever she needed to talk about things and she’d also found a new closeness with Mrs Beatty, who had been surprisingly delighted to show Anne Marie the old family photo albums and to tell her stories about her ancestors. Little by little, she was coming to terms with being a Morton.
Now, as they all gathered around the dining room table, Anne Marie’s gaze fell to a large book lying on it.
‘What’s that?’ Patrick’s son Elliot asked.
‘It’s a scrapbook,’ Mrs Beatty explained. ‘It belonged to Emilia.’
‘Can we look through it?’ Kathleen asked.
‘Now that we’ve washed our hands?’ Patrick added with a wry smile.
Mrs Beatty sent him a glare for his impudence, but then nodded.
‘It’s full of newspaper clippings,’ Kathleen said a moment later as she turned the pages over.
The group gathered around.
‘Hey, there’s the story about Erin after she graduated,’ Cape said.
‘And the one about Kathleen’s fire at the bed and breakfast.’
‘And my husband’s funeral,’ Dorothy said, looking at the local report.
For a few moments, they stood in silence as they examined the newspaper clippings, turning over the pages and reading the pieces.
‘What is this?’ Patrick said at last. ‘What was Miss Morton doing with all this?’
Mrs Beatty surveyed them before answering. ‘She chose you,’ she said. ‘She chose each and every one of you.’
‘Chose us?’ Erin asked. ‘How do you mean?’
‘She said she wanted this place to make a difference and to bring people together,’ Mrs Beatty continued. ‘She knew that this garden had the power to heal and it was her wish to pass that on to others. She might not have known anybody in the village, but she took an interest all the same – only from a distance. She cared about you all. She felt your pain when your husband died, Dorothy, and she was so delighted to see you graduate, Erin.’
‘Well, I can’t thank her enough for choosing me. Being here has made a huge difference,’ Dorothy admitted. ‘I was in a really dark place for a time there, but coming here each week gave me a focus and a real purpose.’
‘It’s given me a job!’ Erin said and Mrs Beatty nodded.
‘But there’s nothing about me,’ Patrick stated. ‘How did she find out about me?’
‘Gossip,’ Mrs Beatty said. ‘We might be cut off here at the hall, but we’re not completely immune to gossip.’
Everybody laughed at that, including Patrick.
‘Well, I’ve never been closer to my boys,’ he admitted, putting an arm around each of them and hugging them close.
‘I suppose I was chosen for my brute strength,’ Mac said with a grin.
Mrs Beatty looked at him. ‘No,’ she told him. ‘She heard you on the local radio talking about gardening.’
‘She heard that?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s the only radio interview I’ve ever done and that was under sufferance,’ Mac said.
‘Well, she remembered it. She said she loved your quiet passion.’
Mac’s face heated up with colour at the attention. ‘Well, I just try to do a good job,’ he said, looking down at his boots.
‘And we all know why she chose Anne Marie,’ Kathleen said with a smile.
Mrs Beatty turned her attention to Anne Marie. There was a gentleness in her eyes when she spoke again.
‘Emilia would be so pleased to know you were home.’
Anne Marie blinked back the tears that had arisen and managed a smile. Cape moved towards her and put his arm around her shoulder.
‘Well, that’s what I wanted to show you,’ Mrs Beatty said. ‘I thought you had a right to know.’
‘Thank you,’ Dorothy said. ‘It was all such a mystery that day in the solicitors’ office. When I was told about it, I thought you must surely have the wrong person.’
Mrs Beatty shook her head. ‘I think Emilia got it absolutely right, don’t you?’
The group exchanged smiles and Anne Marie couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it was that they’d all been brought together in this way.
‘Right, who’s going to help me with the watering?’ Patrick said, clapping his hands together at the prospect of getting back to his beloved plants in the walled garden. His question was met by a chorus of ‘Me, Me, Me!’ and everyone trooped through the hallway and back outside into the sunshine.
Anne Marie was the last to leave and she couldn’t help looking back towards the house and smiling at Mrs Beatty, who was standing by the front door watching them all. It might be some time before Anne Marie thought of Morton Hall as a home, but there was one thing she was certain of – she knew she had found a family there.
The Heart of the Garden Page 33