A Secret Garden: An utterly gorgeous feel good romance

by Katie Fforde

  He glanced at her. ‘We would have been together.’

  ‘Yes.’ She felt suddenly shy. ‘I think we’ll find somewhere for breakfast if we head into the centre of town.’

  They found a little café and ordered everything: beans, fried bread, hash browns, pints of too-strong tea, toast and marmalade.

  ‘You know what? As a chef, I find it hard to get up a better plate of food than a full English.’ Lucien wiped up the last of the bacon fat with a bit of toast.

  ‘Which is why you want to be a baker?’

  Lucien shrugged. ‘It’s not that really. It’s just the yeast, wild yeast especially – all that stuff, is magic. And not everyone can afford gourmet meals, but most people could buy decent bread.’

  ‘I don’t think your old nanny would agree with you.’

  ‘Oh, she’d agree with me!’ said Lucien. ‘She just wouldn’t buy the bread herself.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about whether your godfather has enough money to back your business,’ said Philly. ‘They don’t exactly live on the pig’s back, do they? I mean, there’s no great wealth apparent in that house, if you overlook the house itself.’

  ‘I don’t blame you for thinking that but the thing is, Roderick doesn’t greatly care about food and comfort, as long as he has enough to drink, and mostly he has—’

  ‘Some would say too much!’ said Philly and then wished she hadn’t sounded critical.

  ‘I know Nanny would say that, but my parents have always said that Roderick is rolling in it. And people do say the reason rich people are mean is because that was how they got rich in the first place.’

  ‘What did Roderick do to earn money?’

  ‘He didn’t earn it, honey, he inherited it.’

  Philly shrugged. Having money without having had to work for it was a concept she knew of but didn’t relate to. ‘Will he give it to you, though? If he’s mean?’

  ‘He was a generous godfather. I don’t think he’s mean really, I just think he doesn’t like change. Having proper central heating in that house would mean massive upheaval. He wouldn’t like that. I think we’ll be all right.’

  ‘So you talked through it all after dinner? He understood your vision?’

  ‘Ha! Sorry to laugh, but if I used words like “vision” to Roderick, he’d throw me out of the house. I said things like “business plan”, “projected profit” and “growing market”.’

  ‘And he got that?’

  ‘I really think he did. Didn’t want to commit himself on the spot but I’m sure he’ll see the light.’

  ‘Won’t it mean upheaval? Which he doesn’t like?’

  ‘Not really. He’d just get his accountant to sort it all out for him.’ He paused. ‘More tea? Or shall we get on?’

  Philly took the wheel and, while she was driving, Lucien plotted the route to a little pub for lunch that he knew had been taken over by a promising young chef. The sun came out and they sat in the garden.

  ‘Just as well we had such a big breakfast,’ she said teasingly. ‘If it’s nouvelle cuisine there won’t be enough to fill the holes in our teeth.’

  ‘It’ll be plenty!’ said Lucien. ‘Just you wait and see. If you didn’t have the appetite of a horse you wouldn’t even say things like that.’

  ‘I’m a working woman. I have a healthy appetite and I’m not ashamed of it.’

  ‘That is one of the many things I love about you.’ He started the sentence light-heartedly but became more sombre by the end. ‘Please, Philly. Look at me. I’m being serious for once in my life.’

  She made herself look at him. He was indeed looking serious. ‘Yes?’ she said softly.

  ‘I think I love you, Philly.’

  ‘But you’re not sure?’

  ‘Don’t tease! I’ve never told anyone I love them before. They’re not words that come easily to me, that I am sure about. But you’re so lovely. It’s not just about sex—’

  Philly blushed.

  ‘It’s because I really admire and respect you. You make me laugh, you’re supportive – and as for the sex part, it’s not going to be long before I show you exactly how I feel.’

  ‘I never have before, you know, Lucien.’ Philly knew she was a deep rose pink by now. ‘You would be my first. I know that must seem weird but I’m Irish, and was brought up very strictly.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem weird. It seems perfect. And was the strict upbringing the only reason?’

  She shook her head. It was best to tell the truth. ‘Not really. I never fancied anyone enough.’

  He brought his hand up to cup her face. ‘I’m glad.’

  Philly let Lucien drive for the last bit but she wouldn’t have noticed if the wheel had been taken over by an orangutan. She was on a cloud of happiness. She was in love with someone who was in love with her. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

  20

  When Lorna had unlocked her front door and gone into her little house after her holiday she had felt as if she’d been away for years, not a week. She had felt years older, too, although when she’d glanced in the hall mirror she’d noticed she’d caught a bit of sun, which had made her feel a bit better.

  Moving through to the kitchen she had been aware of a certain amount of mess. Leo had moved out, and had only taken what he needed, which sadly didn’t include the washing up.

  As she put the kettle on and gathered the dirty dishes she wondered if her holiday by the seaside had actually done her any good at all emotionally. She’d walked a lot, eaten delicious food and slept, yet she’d come back not cured of Jack but missing him more than ever.

  Later, when she’d sorted herself out a bit, she lit the wood-burner, more for comfort than warmth, and wondered for the millionth time if she’d overreacted to finding a picture of her naked on his wall. But unlike all the previous times she decided that she had, and this time she would do something about it.

  She wasn’t of the generation of women who invited men out on dates and her own personal rules meant she should wait for him to get in touch with her. But he hadn’t, and old-fashioned or not she knew she had to take the initiative and get in touch with him. She composed a text.

  Sorry for being so hysterical. Can we meet and talk? Hope France was good and you found your stone. Love, L x.

  She agonised only briefly about the correct text etiquette regarding crosses. She didn’t know it, and although younger than her, she was fairly sure that Jack didn’t know it either.

  Having sent the text she was now in agony about whether or not he was going to reply. She went into the kitchen and began making comfort food: spaghetti with cheese, no vegetables, nothing healthy to go with it except wine. Fortunately Leo didn’t like white wine and there was a bottle in the fridge.

  When an hour had passed with no reassuring ting from her phone indicating Jack had replied she called Leo.

  ‘Hi, love. I’m back. How are you?’

  ‘Oh, hi, Mum! All good here. Good holiday?’

  Lorna realised Leo didn’t really know what was behind her sudden change of destination although he had been pleased, unmistakably, when she’d told him that she hadn’t gone away with Jack. ‘Really nice. I caught a bit of sun and the B & B was lovely.’

  It had been an excellent B & B – just what she’d needed as a single person who needed to be alone but not isolated. She had someone to chat to if she needed, even if they never really got beyond the weather.

  ‘You see I’ve moved out?’ said Leo.

  Lorna didn’t comment on the detritus he’d left behind. ‘Yes. So Kirstie and Peter found room for you in the house? You’re not getting in their way?’

  ‘Oh no. Anyway, Peter has gone away. Work as a consultant. The money too good to turn down apparently.’ He paused. ‘I’ve been helping Kirstie clear out. The house is absolutely full of stuff.’

  ‘I know. Peter bought it like that. The previous owners just upped and left. It was one of the reasons it was such a bargain.’

 
; ‘Of course. I’d forgotten you knew the house before Kirstie came.’

  ‘Not everything is left over from the previous owners though,’ said Lorna, suddenly worried. ‘Quite a lot of it is Anthea’s. When she downsized from the family home, she stored a lot of things in Burthen House. Don’t let Kirstie throw anything away without checking with her first. In fact, you should invite Anthea to look through what you’re clearing out, before anything actually leaves the house.’

  ‘Oh.’

  There was something a bit worrying about how he said this. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve been chucking roomfuls of stuff into a skip?’

  ‘Well, not whole roomfuls, but there have been some bonfires. Although everything has been real rubbish. I’ll tell Kirstie. And actually, I’ll have to go now. Kirstie is cooking me dinner.’

  Later, as she ate her spaghetti, Lorna wondered if Leo and Kirstie were developing a relationship. She was quite a bit older than he was, but who was she to talk? Jack was quite a bit younger than her. And where did this leave Peter? Then she decided it wasn’t her job to protect Peter’s romantic interests while he was away. Not that long ago she’d have been delighted to think that Peter’s younger-woman-off-the-internet was losing interest in her millionaire. But she discovered that although she had lost Jack (still no reply to her text) she didn’t want Peter instead, even if he’d been offered to her.

  Funny old thing, love, Lorna thought, pouring a second glass of wine. It was like a disease. You caught it, and then it went away, or it didn’t. But there was no logic to it. You couldn’t turn it on and off according to the suitability or otherwise of the love object.

  Actually, it wasn’t funny, it was really annoying.

  The following morning, having taken a herbal sleeping pill and slept quite well, she had decided to be proactive. She would go and visit Jack at work. He hadn’t replied to her text, and nor to the email she sent later.

  She had to remind herself about a hundred times that she was an adult visiting another adult. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. In fact, to rely on technology and assume it always worked was foolish. Everyone knew that phones broke, or lacked signal or battery. But she still felt terribly anxious as she parked and walked to the abbey.

  It was so different from the last time she’d visited with Jack. Although this time the ancient building was bathed in sunshine, in her heart all was darkness and dread. She didn’t pause to admire her surroundings as she walked through and found the workshop.

  Jack wasn’t there. It took her a little time to get the attention of the young men who were chiselling and carving, using noisy tools. When finally she was able to ask where Jack was, they shook their heads. He was on a sabbatical, they said. And no, they didn’t know when he was coming back. She hadn’t wanted to ask if he was coming back. It would make her look even more foolish and needy than she already felt. And had the answer been no, she would have despaired.

  It was only fifteen minutes later, but when she walked out of the church and through the town to where she’d parked her car she felt her whole life had changed. For the worse.

  Before she met Jack she had been contented, if suffering with unrequited love for Peter. But her feelings for Peter now seemed so girlish, so amateur, compared to the deep yearning she had for Jack. It wasn’t going to be easy to get herself back on track. But she would do it.

  There was the garden in Burthen House – although the garden was now infected with memories of when Jack had been in it, what he’d said to her, how she’d felt.

  There was her home, which she loved, even more now she was back in it and her beloved son was not. She was very lucky, she knew that. She had work she was good at and really enjoyed and which kept her fit; she had friends – not many but they were true friends. She lived in a lovely part of the world. She was solvent, if not rich.

  Sadly, the positive thoughts she had forced into her brain with such determination fizzled away when she saw Kirstie’s car outside her house. When she discovered that Kirstie was actually inside, they were replaced by outrage and fear.

  ‘Er – Kirstie?’ Lorna said, holding on to her temper. ‘Should I have been expecting you?’

  Kirstie seemed put out but not as embarrassed as she should have been. ‘No. Actually, I thought you were still away. Sorry to intrude.’

  Hadn’t Leo mentioned to her that his mother was home? Apparently not. ‘So, can I help you?’ Lorna’s hard-wired rules of hospitality rebelled. She was not going to offer this woman coffee as if she’d been invited, or even just knocked on the door.

  ‘I just want to look round,’ said Kirstie, as if she had the right. ‘I do think this place would make the ideal holiday cottage, don’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said Lorna bluntly. ‘I live here. And I’m not on holiday.’

  ‘But you don’t actually own it?’

  ‘No. It’s a tied cottage. It’s part of my wages.’ Anthea had been very insistent that Lorna was given somewhere nice to live. Lorna had been very grateful. Not having to buy a house meant she had some savings, so she could buy one when she retired.

  ‘Oh, I see!’ Then Kirstie became thoughtful. ‘So I gather you didn’t go to France with Jack?’

  ‘No. I went to Salcombe. It was lovely,’ she snapped. ‘Does Peter know you’re here?’

  ‘He’s away. He got a consultancy gig – money too good to refuse. I’m keeping an eye on things for him, looking after his assets. As you probably know, he’s a bit idle about things like that.’ She paused. ‘I’m also doing a bit of clearing out, something he’s also quite idle about. The house is full of junk, all left by the previous people.’

  ‘I know. Peter and I saw the house together when he first considered buying the estate. I encouraged him,’ she added. ‘It’s a lovely property.’

  Something in her wanted to lay claim to Peter, not because she wanted him any more, but to make it clear to Kirstie that she and Peter had known each other all their lives. Peter would not throw her out of her cottage as long as she needed it.

  She went on. ‘And not all the “junk” as you call it was there; a lot of the things are Anthea’s. I was telling Leo. I do hope you haven’t thrown away anything precious of hers.’

  A flash of concern crossed Kirstie’s features. ‘Oh. I didn’t realise that. But so far we’ve only got rid of real rubbish.’

  ‘That’s what Leo said, but you can’t always tell what’s rubbish and what’s precious.’ She gave Kirstie a warning look. ‘Really, ask Anthea to come up and tell you what’s hers. Peter would never forgive you if you upset his mother.’

  Kirstie’s anxiety appeared to increase. ‘I really don’t think we have chucked anything precious, but I will check.’ She paused, obviously terrified of ringing up her potential mother-in-law and revealing the possible destruction of precious possessions or her old school reports. She swallowed. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to ask her?’

  Lorna sighed. Kirstie was a bit crass but she had taken Leo in. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll need to ring her to tell her I’m back anyway. And thank you so much for finding space for Leo.’

  Kirstie seemed relieved. ‘Oh, that’s no bother. He’s been really helpful. He’s been giving me all his spare time after he gets back from work.’

  ‘Well, if you’re giving him a roof over his head I’m sure it’s the least he can do,’ said Lorna, who really wanted to know if it was just Leo’s handiness Kirstie was interested in. As a mother it was hard to tell, but she thought Leo was gorgeous. It was possible Kirstie did too.

  ‘He’s going to clear out the coach house. We’re going to convert it to a holiday let, but Leo can have it for as long as he needs it.’ She smiled. ‘Just like you can have this place.’

  ‘How kind,’ said Lorna coolly. Really it wasn’t up to Kirstie to say who could live where and for how long – at least until she was married to Peter.

  Kirstie smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry to have been here when you got home.
I was really hoping you and Jack were going to get it together.’ She shrugged. ‘But I suppose there is a bit of an age gap. Anyway, I’ll be off. You will give Anthea a call, won’t you?’

  Lorna had just been wondering if it would be a waste of time to sit down and have a good cry when there was a knock on the door. It was Anthea. She was brandishing a bottle of champagne.

  ‘Hello,’ said Lorna. ‘I was going to ring you to say I was back and to give you a message from Kirstie.’

  ‘Seamus saw you arrive so no need. Can I come in? You get glasses.’

  Lorna couldn’t help smiling just a little at her friend’s abrupt entry and abrupt instructions. ‘What are we celebrating?’

  ‘Nothing,’ declared Anthea. ‘Life is a pile of horse droppings for you just at the moment. What better reason to drink champagne?’

  In spite of herself Lorna laughed. ‘Well, before we get too drunk, I’d better tell you that Kirstie has called round. She wants me to ask you to go up to the house and identify your belongings. She and Leo are clearing things out. I warned her that some of them might be yours and she shouldn’t until you’ve checked.’

  ‘Thank you. I think I have all the things I really value at the Dower House, but I’d better check.’ She paused. ‘Oh, you’ve got lovely old-fashioned champagne saucers. Flutes are such a nuisance in the dishwasher, aren’t they?’

  Anthea extracted Lorna’s tale of woe: how she’d come back and made herself go and see Jack at his stonemason’s yard. Then, having heard that Jack was on indefinite leave, and wondering if it was because of her, she found Kirstie in her house, sizing it up as a holiday let.

  ‘So I wonder if I should move away from all my humiliation and just start again,’ said Lorna, topping up their glasses.

  ‘Definitely not. It’s outrageous what Kirstie has been up to. Honestly! Seeing your home as a holiday let? I shall have words with that young woman!’

  ‘Oh, no need. I think I made the situation perfectly clear. Now, we’ve finished the champagne, shall we move on to white wine?’