by Katie Fforde
‘You’ve got your business here. You can’t give that up for me just because my vile father has other ideas.’
‘I could start another nursery somewhere else—’
‘No, darling.’ He was more gentle now. ‘Your life is here. I’m not tearing you away from everything you’ve built up. And I want mine to be here too.’ He sighed. ‘I tried to explain to Dad how perfect it is – even apart from you – but he wouldn’t have it. I won’t go!’
Philly gulped. ‘Go with him now. Do what he wants you to do. Work for a baker. Show him commitment. Then we’ll try and work round the other stuff. Seriously, Lucien. I want you to do this!’
‘You don’t understand! He won’t let us keep in touch. If I go we’re saying goodbye for months possibly. I can’t do that.’
Philly screwed up her eyes to stop the tears and so she couldn’t see him, because she knew if she could she wouldn’t have the courage to say what she knew she had to. ‘We’re young, Lucien. We’ve got the rest of our lives to spend together. Take this opportunity – you may not get another one.’
Lucien sighed sharply. ‘My father thinks if we don’t have contact with each other I’ll forget about you. But I won’t! I never could!’
‘Then we must prove him wrong,’ said Philly desperately, through her tears. ‘We must prove that our love will survive this. Do what they want, get the backing you need; we’ll make it work somehow.’
‘Oh God…’ he said hoarsely.
They clung on to each other until eventually they heard a voice. It was Seamus.
‘Philly? Lucien’s parents need a decision.’
‘Go!’ she said.
He cupped her face with his hand for a second and then turned and walked back to the house.
‘Are you all right, little one?’ said Seamus.
Philly nodded. ‘It’s not as if he’s going to war or anything.’ Then she threw herself into her grandfather’s arms and sobbed.
23
There was nothing like a new project for raising the spirits, thought Lorna, checking the back of her car for missing tools that she might need at Anthea’s. While Jack was a constant presence, a nagging ache, having the extra bit of Anthea’s garden to focus on gave her conscious brain something positive to focus on.
Most of her gardening tools had gone ahead but she was adding things like twine, secateurs, loppers, a selection of pruning saws, some plastic sacks and gardening gloves in several weights, include Kevlar ones for brambles. She was already wearing thorn-proof overtrousers. She’d made a batch of chocolate brownies and some flapjacks as well as a flask of coffee.
‘It’s like going on safari,’ she muttered as she set off. ‘I just need a couple of pith helmets and a compass and I’ll be all set.’
While she was laughing at herself she did feel it was a bit of a journey into the unknown and she relished it. She wanted to get so physically tired that she’d be able to sleep, and not be kept awake by ‘if only’ thoughts about Jack.
Anthea was waiting for her; she too was geared up for a good battle with nature, and nature would not win, Lorna decided, not this time.
‘Morning, Lorna!’ Anthea called. ‘Philly will be over soon. I’ll let her tell you all about it but Seamus rang first thing asking if we could use her.’
Lorna got the impression that Anthea knew more about ‘it’ than she was letting on and was cross about whatever ‘it’ was. ‘It’s brilliant that she wants to come. We need all the help we can get. Oh – here she is.’
Philly came over, dumping her own selection of tools in the wheelbarrow that already held Anthea and Lorna’s. ‘Hi.’ She looked as if she’d been crying all night. Her eyes were pink and puffy and matched her nose.
‘Oh, darling!’ said Lorna, unable to help herself. ‘You look awful. What’s wrong?’
Philly shrugged. ‘I sent Lucien away. He went back to his parents. We won’t see each other for months.’
Lorna was astounded. ‘Why? He’s lovely! How could you send him away?’
‘He is lovely,’ Philly agreed. ‘But his parents aren’t. They won’t back his business unless he demonstrates he can do it and doesn’t see me until he has proved himself.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not that unreasonable but they were so vile about it. And, really, I don’t think it’s to do with him. I think they might back him right now if I wasn’t in the picture. They really want to separate us.’ She cleared her throat as if tears might come again. ‘But they won’t. Not forever. So, shall we get on?’
‘Good idea,’ said Lorna. ‘Where shall we start? We should probably get rid of the saplings first?’
‘We need a chainsaw,’ said Philly. ‘Grand’s got one. Will I ring him and ask him to come over with it, Anthea?’
‘Or get a tree surgeon?’ suggested Lorna.
Philly and Lorna looked at Anthea, waiting for an answer.
Anthea shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want to wait for a tree surgeon and Seamus kindly offered to help but I want us to do this ourselves. This is our adventure.’
‘But what about the trees?’ objected Lorna. ‘It’ll take us ages to saw them all down.’
‘We could borrow the chainsaw,’ said Philly, ‘but I don’t think we should, not if we’re not qualified to use it.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Anthea crisply. ‘I have a chainsaw and I’m qualified to use one.’
‘How come?’ said Lorna.
Philly was too surprised to speak.
Anthea made a dismissive gesture. ‘Oh, a couple of years ago Peter gave me a voucher to do a course at this rather nice place. When I tried to book one everything was full up except crochet and chainsawing.’
‘Goodness,’ said Lorna, hoping this was a suitable response.
‘I know it sounds a bit eccentric but I thought chainsawing would come in handy,’ said Anthea, as if it had been an obvious thing to do. ‘And so it’s proved. I’d better get kitted up.’
‘Typical of Anthea to prefer a chainsaw course to crochet,’ said Philly while she and Lorna were waiting. ‘But what are we here for? Grand just told me to get over here and be prepared for hard work.’
‘Anthea and I were at Burthen House, going through all the things that Kirstie had decided should be thrown away. We came across an old painting of the garden done from an upstairs room – probably the room we were actually in at the time, which was rather exciting.’
‘And?’ prompted Philly when Lorna stopped for breath.
‘There are also plans. There seems to be a garden behind Anthea’s current garden that no one was aware of. But a lot of self-seeded ash trees and sycamores have grown up around it over the years. Some of them are really big, in which case we’ll have to leave them. But Anthea is determined to investigate it.’
Philly nodded. ‘And why didn’t you go to France with Jack?’
Taken by surprise Lorna said, ‘Oh – well – something happened – or at least it had happened ages ago… I changed my mind. I didn’t want to go.’
‘Would you rather not talk about it?’
Lorna shrugged. ‘I feel such a fool.’
‘I’m sure there’s no need.’
‘I’ll tell you about it when I don’t feel so stupid. You’ll probably laugh.’
Philly shrugged. ‘I could do with a laugh. Life’s a bit bleak just now. For at least three months, maybe even six.’
‘Oh, Philly. OK, I’ll make you laugh,’ and she told Philly about the drawing and how embarrassed it made her feel.
‘Actually, that’s not funny,’ said Philly when Lorna had finished her tale. ‘I think I’d feel weird about it too.’
Lorna sighed. ‘I think Anthea thinks I’m being ridiculous.’
Before Philly could respond, Anthea appeared.
She looked, Lorna thought, rather like a Lego figure. She was carrying a chainsaw and was fully kitted up in Kevlar protective clothing. This involved a helmet, gloves, overtrousers and big boots. She heard Philly snort and suddenly felt like
giggling herself. It was funny! There was an awful moment when she thought she might find herself in hysterics at a woman in her seventies wearing protective clothing. She bit her lip.
Anthea removed the helmet. ‘It’s all right, you can laugh. I won’t wear all this, I don’t suppose. My generation doesn’t believe in health and safety; we all think it’s fine for a child to suck on a nice bit of lead-based paint, but they made you buy all the kit on the course.’
Lorna realised Anthea had put it all on to cheer them up. It had worked. But instead of stifled guffaws they now just smiled and felt better. ‘It would be a shame not to use it, if you’ve got it. But has the saw got fuel in it?’
Anthea nodded. ‘I checked all that first thing. Now, let’s get going!’
Quite a few of the trees were too big for Anthea’s starter-model chainsaw, so they left those after Lorna had put a dab of paint on the ones they thought should go. The smaller ones, Anthea attacked with determination. They soon developed a technique that meant the saplings were despatched quickly and safely. As their confidence grew, they took on some of the larger ones. Anthea did tire though and, having watched her do it quite a lot of times, Philly donned the protective clothing and took over the chainsaw.
They finally reached an old wall, swathed in generations of ivy, traveller’s joy and brambles. Lorna caught the whiff of honeysuckle and spotted a wild hop.
‘I wonder how long all this has been here,’ she said.
‘Could be hundreds of years, could be far less,’ said Anthea. ‘I don’t know how to tell. But it’s all coming off. I wonder whether we will find a door. It looks like the type of wall that might have a door.’
‘Oh, like in The Secret Garden !’ said Philly, who, Lorna noted, was looking far more cheerful after her stint on the chainsaw. ‘I loved that book as a child.’
‘I still do love it,’ said Lorna.
‘Hmm,’ said Anthea, less sentimental. ‘I seem to remember there was a key involved to that particular secret garden. If we find a locked door we haven’t an earthly chance of finding the key for it. We’ll have to knock it down.’
‘We can do that,’ said Philly. ‘We’re hardcore!’ Then she stopped. ‘Sorry. It’s this Kevlar clothing. It’s gone to my head.’
‘It’ll probably be rotten but there must be a door,’ said Lorna, ‘and it’ll probably be in the middle of the wall. I think that’s where we should start looking.’
She retrieved her loppers from the wheelbarrow, went to where she judged was the middle, reached up as high as she could and snipped a line of brambles, strands of ivy and some traveller’s joy. While she gathered them up to get them out of the way, Anthea and Philly took her place. Lorna had just decided they should start a bonfire when Anthea said, ‘Found it!’
There was the door, roughly where Lorna had thought it would be. It was quite high and wide and was arched.
‘And it’s not locked,’ said Philly excitedly. ‘In fact it’s ajar.’
‘It’s just a shame it’s got several hundred years’ worth of undergrowth behind it stopping us opening it enough to actually get through it,’ said Anthea.
‘I think we should have a coffee break,’ said Lorna. ‘And then we’ll get the door open. Or down.’
Anthea found a stump to perch on as she sipped coffee from Lorna’s flask and ate a flapjack. Philly and Lorna had theirs standing up. Although glad of the coffee, Lorna was itching to get on. She sensed Philly was too.
‘I was thinking maybe we should have a bonfire,’ said Lorna. ‘It’ll be fairly smoky as lots of the stuff is green but we’re quite far from other houses so it shouldn’t bother anyone.’
‘There’s a by-law, I think,’ said Philly. ‘It has to be after six o’clock.’
‘Oh, nonsense!’ said Anthea. ‘We’ll have a bonfire and if anyone complains we’ll put it out. But you’re right, Lorna. We’re too far away from anyone’s washing to get smuts on it. Once we’re through the door, I’ll get what we need to start it.’
Getting through the door took some effort, mostly because they couldn’t get to the roots of the plants that were preventing it opening away from them. When there was a gap big enough, Lorna squeezed through to the other side.
‘What’s it like through there?’ asked Anthea, obviously desperate to see it for herself.
‘Hang on. I’ll get rid of a bit of this jungle so I can open the door a bit more.’
Soon she had forced a gap wide enough for Anthea to get through and Philly followed.
‘Oh my word,’ said Anthea eventually after the three women had surveyed the scene. ‘It really is a secret garden, but it’s also a jungle.’
Just then the sun came out and changed everything. ‘It’s magical,’ said Lorna softly.
And it was. It was silent apart from birdsong, and the light coming through the trees turned everything green. While most of what surrounded them was wild and thorny there was still a sense of peace.
‘It’s going to be wonderful,’ said Philly. ‘But it’ll be a lot of work.’
‘And we might need more help,’ said Lorna.
‘Then we’ll get more help,’ said Anthea. ‘But are you two up for helping me restore it?’
‘Abso-bloody-lutely!’ said Philly and everyone laughed.
They didn’t hang around admiring the tranquillity for long. They fetched the wheelbarrow full of equipment and soon every cutting tool was in use. Philly started a bonfire and every so often, when they couldn’t move for pulled-down brambles, ivy, young trees and elders, they gathered up the detritus and piled it on the fire.
‘We should compost some of this really,’ said Lorna.
‘Not at all,’ said Anthea, sounding a bit like Seamus. ‘We’d have to put it through a chipper first and there’s too much.’
‘Well, we can heap up the softer stuff in piles as we go and decide what to do with it later.’ She brushed her hair back from her face. ‘Is it time for another break?’
‘Hope so,’ said Philly. ‘Grand has sent a cake.’
‘I need lunch not cake,’ said Anthea. ‘At least, I’d like a sandwich first. Shall I go and make sandwiches or do you want to come in, wash and have a rest and a drink while I do so?’
There was no doubt about what the right answer was and Lorna gave it. ‘We’ll carry on if you’re happy to bring us the sandwiches here.’
Although they were carrying on in theory, Lorna and Philly did take a break.
‘I wonder what this garden was for?’ asked Philly. ‘Why would there be a garden separate from the rest of the house?’
‘Women – at least those who could afford them – have always had gardens as places of sanctuary, to pray in, or just to get away from male oppression,’ said Lorna. ‘I read a book about it once. It was fascinating. I must try and find it so you can read it too.’
‘I can imagine if you were a great lady who always had to be doing things it would be wonderful to have somewhere you could be private.’ Philly frowned. ‘But would the great ladies have done the actual weeding and stuff? Or would they have had gardeners to do it?’
Lorna shrugged. ‘I expect they’d have had men to do the heavy lifting.’
‘There’s something to be said for that,’ said Philly. ‘Anthea is inexhaustible! She was amazing last night, with Lucien’s parents.’
‘Tell me about it?’ Not only was Lorna desperately curious, she sensed Philly needed to talk about it.
Philly sighed and propped her foot on a fork she’d stuck under a bramble root that possibly went down to Australia. ‘One day I’ll think it was quite funny. Even now, part of me does.’
Lorna nodded encouragingly.
‘Lucien and I just got back from visiting his godfather and the scariest nanny ever.’
‘Lucien’s godfather had a nanny?’ Very disturbing images involving grown men in nappies flitted into Lorna’s head.
‘No! She was Lucien’s nanny. But now she’s looking after his godfather, Roderick
. He puts up with her but her cooking is dreadful and she hardly gives him anything to eat. She tries to restrict his drinking too, but he’s quite cunning about that.’
‘Sorry, I’ve missed a bit. Why did you and Lucien go there?’
‘To see if Roderick would lend Lucien enough money for him to set up his bakery. But Evil Mary Poppins, as I called her, must have got on to Lucien’s parents the moment we’d left and they were waiting for us at home when we got there.’
‘Oh, love, I don’t think that sounds funny at all. It sounds a nightmare.’
‘It was a nightmare. The funny part was how dreadful they were and how desperately shabby our house is with the swirly carpets and enormous sofas with the stuffing coming out of them.’ Philly shrugged. ‘You know what it’s like. Only we’ve got used to it and have other things on our minds than making it more civilised.’
Lorna nodded. Philly and Seamus’s house wasn’t remotely elegant but it was their home and she felt prickly at the thought of people being snooty about it. ‘Were they appallingly snobbish?’
Philly nodded. ‘Grand sent for Anthea and I must say she was a great help. Although eventually, nothing worked. They told Lucien he had to go home with them if he wanted backing. He refused. But I made him leave.’
Her voice faltered a little and she stopped.
‘That was the right and brave thing to do,’ Lorna said. ‘If you two can prove you can survive being apart for a while, his parents will come round to the idea of you and probably adore you in the end.’ This was how it was supposed to work out anyway, Lorna thought, and with luck it would.
Anthea arrived with the picnic. It involved packets of smoked salmon sandwiches, flasks that turned out to have gin and tonic in them, and Seamus’s cake and a knife.
‘Let’s find somewhere more comfy to eat this,’ suggested Anthea. ‘Look, there are some stones in there we could perch on.’
They were chewing happily when Lorna said, ‘I think these are plinths that we’re sitting on.’