If she went to live with Gran, she’d probably have to go back to school. Was that what she wanted? Elspeth’s words came into her mind about unexpected opportunities. Now that she’d lost the baby, and had to give up her dream of just the two of them living together, she was free to explore …
Overcome with pain and loss, Morgan started to cry again. She didn’t want other opportunities. She wanted her baby back.
*
“Morgan? Are you awake?”
Dazed, Morgan lifted her head from the pillow and found herself staring at Merlin. It was a relief to see that Elspeth was with him. She didn’t want him hearing her thoughts and consciously blanked her mind as she struggled to sit up. “Hello.” Her voice came out as a croak.
“How are you doing?” Merlin asked.
“Fine. I feel okay.”
He nodded. Morgan could tell he didn’t believe a word of it.
Elspeth took over. “Have you thought some more about what I said? Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”
“Or you can stay on with us, if you like,” Merlin put in. Elspeth gave him a hard nudge, and waited for Morgan to reply.
They both mean it when they say I can stay. Morgan felt warmed by their concern. But I have to get out of Glastonbury.
“Why?” Merlin asked.
Damn! Morgan thought, and Merlin grinned.
“You know why,” she said.
“I know you lost your baby, and I am sorry for it,” Merlin said softly. “But I thought, when I first saw you, that you were meant to come to Glastonbury, that you’ve come here for a reason. I don’t know what it is, but I wish you would stay.”
“Don’t badger the girl,” Elspeth said sharply. “It’s not about what you want; it’s about deciding what’s best for Morgan.”
“Is there anyone who can stand in loco parentis?” Merlin asked. Puzzled, Morgan looked at him. “Someone who can take the place of your parents?” he said.
“I have a grandmother,” Morgan said hesitantly. “I haven’t seen her for ages but …”
“I’ll contact her,” Elspeth promised. “What’s her address?”
“I wish I felt more comfortable about this,” Merlin muttered. He fixed Morgan with a piercing gaze. “I know you don’t want me to know it, but you’ve seen things, haven’t you? Dru told me you acted quite weird at Bride’s Mound. What did you see there, Morgan?”
“Nothing!” Morgan lowered her head and tried, instead, to remember Gran’s address for Elspeth. “I’m not sure if that’s quite right,” she concluded, as Elspeth wrote down the details.
“Don’t worry. So long as I’ve got her name, I’ll be able to track her down,” Elspeth promised. She turned to Merlin. “I think we should go. And Morgan – I’ll come and fetch you tomorrow. Try to get a good night’s sleep. I’m sure everything will look better when you wake. And just remember: the whole world is waiting for you, so it’s up to you to make the most of every opportunity.”
*
And that was exactly what she’d done, although it had taken seventeen long years, Morgan reflected as she hastily grabbed up her coat and briefcase and raced out of the flat, slamming the door behind her. She glanced at her watch, swore, and broke into a run. She was scheduled to conduct the first tour at the Chelsea Physic Garden where she worked, but she’d be lucky to make it in time for her usual walk through the garden, something she liked to do before each presentation, just to check on anything new that might be flowering, or new plantings, or anything else of potential interest to show visitors. Her thoughts continued to wander as she clattered down the stairs of the tube station to wait impatiently for the next train.
Thanks to Elspeth’s encouragement, she had set the course of her future that would bring her here to this place, at this time. And in part, Merlin had been absolutely correct, for her experiences in Glastonbury had also contributed to the path she’d taken, from her arrival to the moment she’d woken up in hospital and seen, not Elspeth this time but her grandmother, who at once had enfolded her in a tight embrace.
“You don’t have to worry about a thing, pet. I’ve come to take you home,” she said.
“No!” She’d pulled away and hunched over, cradling her stomach.
“Morgan, I know what’s happened. Elspeth told me.” Gran had sat down on the bed then. “And I’m not suggesting you go home to your mother and stepfather. I want to take you home with me.”
Morgan had stared at her grandmother with narrowed eyes, and heard what she’d most wanted to hear: that she was loved, and that Gran meant every word of her offer. She’d held her arms out to her grandmother then, weeping with relief.
“Elspeth suggested that you might think about going back to school and finishing your education.” Gran had held her tight. “I think that sounds like a good idea. I’ll have to tell your mother where you are, of course, but you don’t have to see her if you don’t want to. I know she doesn’t like visiting my hovel.”
Mortified, Morgan pulled out of her grandmother’s embrace. Gran had laughed. “I warned your father from the start that she wasn’t right for him. He thought he could make her happy – but he wasn’t nearly important or rich enough, not when a bigger prize was dangled in front of her eyes.”
“I would have come to see you if I could, Gran. I wanted to come.”
“I know, pet, I know.” An encouraging pat on the back and then Gran had pushed her away and stood up. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ve got your future to plan.”
Gran had never mentioned the baby after that, or asked who the father might be, and Morgan was grateful. It was too hard to think about Lance, and what had happened. One of the first things she’d done after leaving the hospital was get a new SIM card for her mobile so that neither he nor her family, nor anyone else, was able to contact her. Although that lacerating grief had eventually dulled, Lance was still ever-present in her thoughts; he’d been there all the way through school and through the years at university that had followed.
True to her word, Gran had given her a few days to settle in before phoning her mother to tell her that Morgan was safe. Igraine had arrived the following day in a chauffeur-driven car, instructing the driver to wait. Morgan had watched her from the window, ducking out of sight when her mother glanced upwards. She’d locked her door then and, despite her mother’s furious demands, had refused to come out. But she’d stayed by the door listening to Gran trying to calm the situation. It hadn’t helped that Gran still called her mother by her childhood name, “Iggy,” instead of Igraine as she now preferred to be known. Even so, “Iggy” hadn’t needed too much persuasion to do as she was asked, and leave.
“Morgan will telephone you later, when she’s feeling a bit more settled,” she heard her grandmother call out as her mother walked towards the car. Later, Gran had reported their conversation, but she hadn’t insisted on Morgan making the phone call. Instead, she and Gran had sat down together to talk about the future, starting with finding a local college where she could finish her education. “I’m afraid I can’t afford the fees of that fancy boarding school you’ve been going to,” Gran had finished ruefully.
“I don’t want to go back there anyway.” So they’d made lists and phone calls and finally found a college that followed the same curriculum as the boarding school Morgan had attended. With only another year left to go before completing her A levels, she didn’t want to start all over again with new subjects. She’d got good results in maths and the sciences in the past, while her experience with Dru had ignited an interest in plants. “I’d like to study biology – especially botany – if it’s on offer,” she said.
“Remember that the subjects you take will have a bearing on what you want to do after you leave school.” Gran had paused. “You’re clever enough to try for a university if you work hard now. That would be a kick in the eye for your mother, for a start!”
For that reason alone Morgan was determined to succeed.
“So what do you thi
nk you’d like to do, if you don’t go on to university?”
“I got a job in Glastonbury just for a few days. I worked in a nursery. The guy there was nice; he told me about all the plants, and stuff like that.”
“So it might be a good idea to get a weekend job at a nursery, and see how you like it?”
“I think I will. I enjoyed working with plants and being outdoors.” Morgan paused. “Maybe I’m a bit like my dad in that?” she ventured.
Gran had given her a hug. “You’re very like your dad in more ways than one,” she said, with a hint of tears clogging her voice. “Make him proud.”
“I will,” Morgan promised.
“You could certainly go on to study such things at a university,” Gran continued. “I’m sure there are courses you can do, because plants are important – not just for planting in gardens, but they’re also being used more and more in medical research, for medicines and other treatments. Or you could design gardens for fancy homes? Or look into increasing forestation to help the planet? Or you could travel to third world countries to help people grow crops in a sustainable way kind of thing? What do you think?”
“All of those things sound interesting – but I’m not sure I’ve got the brains.”
Gran had smiled and ruffled her hair. “You’ve got the brains, if only you’ll use them, pet. I reckon you can do anything you want, so long as you put your mind to it. And put in the work as well,” she’d added.
She’d certainly worked hard, Morgan thought, looking back over the years while she waited for the train. In an effort to forget about Lance, she’d led the life of a hermit instead. She’d taken a weekend job at a nursery, as Gran suggested, partly for experience, but also conscious that she owed Merlin for the dress she’d bought from his shop. She’d had it cleaned and kept it still, although she’d never worn it again. She’d paid her debt as soon as she could and received a thank-you note from Merlin and a scribble from Elspeth, which later became an intermittent exchange of emails between them. During those early days, Morgan had studied day and night, determined to get into university. She’d decided to aim high, and had applied to several colleges at Oxford University to do a degree in biological science, hoping to gain work experience at the botanical gardens during the vacations. She was determined to graduate with honors. Morgan knew that Gran had saved her life, and that she owed her big time; her goal was to make Gran proud, as well as her father.
She was grateful that Gran had lived long enough to celebrate her graduation with her, and celebrate again when the university had gone on to offer her a job at their botanical gardens. But Gran had died by the time she decided to follow her heart and accept the job at the Chelsea Physic Garden in London to study and work in the section devoted to medicinal and medieval plants. By then she’d taken some extraneous courses in healing with herbs, for she still remembered planting out lady’s mantle with Dru, and his explanation of why plants were so important in medical treatments in medieval time. So as well as conducting tours around the garden, and explaining some of its features to visitors, she was also able to do some research and conduct experiments of her own, for Gran was right. Plants were important, and for all sorts of different reasons.
Morgan looked at her watch, and realized she’d been waiting for at least twenty minutes at the tube station with no sign of a train. She scanned the sign above her head for information, but it was blank. They were all blank, she realized, as she looked above the press of people all pushing and shoving as they tried to get closer to the platform edge. A disembodied voice came over the loudspeaker, and the disgruntled mutters hushed as people listened for news of the next train.
“This station is now closed. There is no cause for alarm. Please evacuate the station in an orderly fashion. I repeat: there is no cause for alarm.”
At once Morgan was caught up in the crush as, ignoring the advice, people reversed direction and began to scramble towards the exit. Convinced that this was yet another terrorist attack, Morgan let herself be swept along by the tide and tried to stay calm. As more and more joined the crush, a woman screamed. A collective panic seemed to take over so that within moments everyone started shouting and fighting to get ahead of the throng. Children in danger of being trampled underfoot were grabbed up by mothers, and even strangers. Morgan stopped to help up an elderly woman who’d got knocked sideways, and was knocked off her feet in turn, while scoring some ripe curses for getting in everyone’s way.
At last, battered and bruised from jabbing elbows and trampling feet, she finally exited into daylight and fresh air, with the elderly woman in tow. With thanks on the woman’s part, they exchanged smiles and commiserations. As she watched the elderly woman totter off, Morgan leaned against a wall, shaking with delayed reaction. She pulled out her phone and hit the news app to find out what was going on. And what she saw chilled her to the bone. A bomb had been detonated on a train further down the line – the train she might well have caught if she’d been running to time. Information was sketchy, but terrorists were already being blamed for the attack. The number of deaths and casualties was not yet known.
She uttered a brief prayer of thanks for her lucky escape to whoever might be listening, but she had to force her legs to move, to walk out onto the street and hail a taxi to take her to the Chelsea Physic Garden. Her mind was filled with the horror of it all, her imagination supplying vivid and terrifying details of the dying and the dead, and their last moments on earth. She felt sick to her very soul. While attacks such as these had escalated over the past five years, she had turned a blind eye and had closed her mind to what was happening in her own country, justifying her attitude with the thought that there was nothing that she, personally, could do, and that it was up to the government to act. Not that she had any respect for the government, or for any politicians, no matter their party. But this event had shaken her out of her apathy, for terror had never come so close before. All of a sudden she was feeling frightened. And very vulnerable.
She arrived at the garden just in time to conduct the first tour of the morning, and was grateful to have something to take her mind off what had happened on her way to work. Later, after she’d mulled over her report on a grafting experiment, she decided to grab lunch and a coffee at the café. Once again she checked her phone for updates on the bombing, and found out that the death count now stood at thirty and was set to rise as more bodies were found, while the numbers of those injured were still being determined.
Deciding she didn’t have any appetite for lunch, Morgan took her coffee out to a table in the sun. She’d no sooner settled down than Jeff dropped into the seat opposite. Her heart sank. She knew Jeff fancied her, and she liked him well enough – but always there was a small ache in her heart that prevented her from ever becoming serious about anyone.
“I’ve just heard the news,” he said, and patted her hand, his face creased in concern. “Thank God you weren’t on that train, Morgan – although I feel desperately sorry for all the passengers who were,” he added hurriedly.
Morgan sighed. She didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Fortunately Jeff seemed to understand. “Actually, I’ve been chasing you all morning,” he said, and pulled a scrunched up newspaper from his pocket. “It was left on my bus,” he confessed as he unfolded it and tried to smooth out the creases. “I was just going through it when I saw this.” He quickly leafed through the pages, then stabbed at a news item with a grubby finger.
“What is it?” Morgan pulled it closer.
“I thought of you the moment I saw it. It’s exactly what you’re always on about. Why don’t you give it a go?”
Morgan’s heart gave a hard jolt as she read the headline. BELLE MEADOW TO RECONSTRUCT MEDIEVAL GARDEN AT BRIDE’S MOUND IN GLASTONBURY.
“It’ll be in the wrong place.” Morgan looked up at Jeff. Now why did I say that? she asked herself.
“How do you know?”
Morgan shook her head as a rush of memories almost
overwhelmed her. Dru at Bride’s Mound, showing her his plans, and her complete certainty that the garden should be a different shape and in a different location, with the holy well in the center of a wheel.
“Just a guess,” she muttered, and continued to read the news. A company specializing in natural, plant-based products for personal and household use had bought an abandoned factory site along with land close to Bride’s Mound with the idea of establishing a production plant and retail outlet there. The company also planned to fund the excavation and replanting of an ancient medieval garden around the holy well at Bride’s Mound, with the aim of turning it into both a tourist attraction and also a potential source of plants for their own products. The reporter noted that the plan had the support of the local council, and the company would work in conjunction with a local voluntary group, the Bride’s Mound Conservation Society, who had been trying to re-establish a medieval garden at the site for many years.
Dru must be ecstatic, Morgan thought, as she read of his appointment as consultant and supplier of plants for the garden, and his invitation for anyone interested in joining his group of volunteers to contact him at his nursery.
“I can’t afford to take the time off. I’m still paying off my student loan.” She stopped reading and looked up at Jeff.
“Aha! But what about this?” He drew a finger under the last few lines of the article. “You could apply?” His hand folded over hers. “Not that I’m trying to get rid of you, of course. In fact …” He paused and swallowed hard.
“I know, Jeff. And I’m sorry.” Morgan removed her hand, wishing he would stop trying to win her over. She’d already made her feelings plain on several occasions although she hadn’t given him the reason why: that it was nothing to do with him and everything to do with the feelings she still had for Lance. She was sure he would have forgotten her by now, but Lance was still in her heart and she was beginning to think that she would never get over him. Not wanting to witness Jeff’s hurt, she looked down at the paragraph that said the company was looking for a qualified horticulturist to oversee the project, and welcomed enquiries.
The Once and Future Camelot Page 16