The Garden of Little Rose

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The Garden of Little Rose Page 11

by Suzanne Snow


  Astonished, Flora listened to Maggie’s explanation. ‘We’ve been trying to set up a proper garden at school, but it’s ground to a halt and turned into a bit of a tip just now. Seeing as we don’t get many visitors to the island with your level of expertise, Flora, I wanted to ask if you would consider popping down to the school and having a look at what we’ve done? And perhaps letting us know how we might improve and make some progress?’

  Flora was already nodding, delighted by the invitation and the opportunity to offer her skills to help engage children in the joys of gardening. ‘Of course,’ she told the headteacher, whose smile became even brighter at Flora’s words. ‘I’d love to, if you think I can help at all.’ She glanced sideways at Mac, who was looking at her. ‘I’m sure I’ll still have enough time here. It’s light until late so I can use the evenings, if necessary.’

  ‘I think you having a look over the school garden is a great idea. I’m not worried about how much time you spend here; you know you’re free to come and go as you please.’

  ‘Perfect.’ Maggie was beaming, still clinging onto the squirming dog. ‘Thank you both so much. I really had better dash; we can sort out the details later. Oh, Mac, before I go, you haven’t forgotten about the ceilidh tomorrow evening, have you?’

  The smile Mac gave Maggie was apologetic. ‘I haven’t, but a client has requested a last-minute meeting on site, and I might end up taking them out for dinner. I’ll try to be back in time, but no guarantees.’

  Maggie nodded, accepting his explanation as she lifted the dog down, seemingly tired of the battle to keep him still. ‘Why don’t you come, too, Flora? It’s just a fundraiser for the school at the community hall. There’ll be music and dancing and great food. Whoever is on the island, even if they’re just visiting, is always invited. We like to keep an open door for any events.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ Flora said awkwardly. ‘It’s very kind of you to invite me but I won’t know anyone, and I don’t want to intrude on a private event.’

  ‘Och, don’t be daft! It’s not private at all, you’d be very welcome,’ Maggie pointed out. ‘And you’ll know me – and Mac, if he turns up – and I’ll introduce you to lots more people. And Scottish dancing is great fun.’

  ‘I won’t promise,’ Flora warned her. ‘I’ll see what time it is when I’ve finished here.’

  ‘Lovely, see you tomorrow,’ Maggie called as she headed back to her car. ‘I’ll pick you up about seven from the hotel, if you like – save you bringing a car or having to walk, and then you can have a glass of wine or a beer? Bye, Mac, hope the meeting goes well and you’re free in time. Thanks for lending Flora to us.’

  ‘But I haven’t said—’

  Maggie was in the car and speeding away, with the dog bouncing on the back seat, before Flora had even finished her sentence. She looked at Mac, bemused, and saw him grinning.

  ‘You may as well just go,’ he said. ‘She’ll only send someone to find you, if you don’t turn up.’

  Judging by what she had seen of Maggie already, Flora didn’t doubt his words. They said goodnight and she began the walk back to the hotel, leaving him standing alone in the driveway, sensing the weight of his stare following her steps.

  Chapter Eleven

  The community hall wasn’t quite what Flora had been expecting. Maggie had turned up, as promised, at the hotel to pick her up and Flora enjoyed listening to her chat about the island, even though she was glad the journey in the bouncy little Ford lasted no more than ten minutes. They soon arrived and, once out of the car, Flora looked at the modern and bright building with appreciation.

  ‘Oh, how lovely.’

  The hall sat just below a small hill overlooking the sea, perched behind the hamlet where most of the islanders lived. Clad in dark sheeting, no doubt robust enough to withstand the island’s weather, huge skylights made the most of the natural light and three sets of bifold doors opened onto a deck running the width of the building. Surrounded by a stone wall with a belt of pine trees behind, the playing field was scattered with tables and chairs, full-sized goals for football and a couple of barbeques.

  ‘It really is. We’re so lucky to have the hall, it’s a real gathering place for the islanders and we’ve all used it for some reason or another over the last couple of years. The previous one blew down in a storm, but it wasn’t up to much anyway. Mac designed this one to last for an awfully long time, and we’re certainly benefitting from his expertise.’

  The music was already spilling outside as they made their way to the entrance. A light drizzle didn’t seem reason enough to keep the doors closed and they were pulled wide, as more people headed inside. A folk band, complete with fiddles and accordions, was set up at the furthest end, away from the makeshift bar, and Flora followed Maggie as she searched for a free table. She made a mental note to thank Sophie, as the simple grey dress she’d packed on her insistence fitted the occasion well. Cheerful, handmade bunting was strung across the light-coloured walls, and she noticed a sports court marked out with white lines on the floor and a basketball hoop at either end. Small groups of people were clustered together, holding drinks and chatting over the noise as a few excited children raced around, the smell of hot dogs filling the room.

  ‘Not many tables left,’ Maggie called across her shoulder to Flora. ‘Quick, there’s an empty one – let’s grab it.’

  They settled down at the table and Flora was happy to sit on her own for a few minutes whilst Maggie headed off to find glasses. Mac had warned her in a text this morning that there would not be a proper bar so she had brought a couple of bottles of wine and some beers from the hotel, as her contribution to the evening’s refreshments. She watched the room, her eyes falling on people laughing together and clutching drinks whilst children played together. She thought about Mac and wondered if he would turn up or whether dinner with his client would keep him from the island all evening. She told herself firmly that she didn’t mind either way.

  Maggie returned with glasses and Flora poured drinks for them, distracted by the constant flow of islanders who came over to say hello and welcome her. Maggie introduced her to everyone as ‘Mac’s gorgeous gardener’, and eventually Flora gave up trying to insist that she wasn’t. Finally, making the most of a lull in visitors to their table, she and Maggie joined the queue for the buffet.

  ‘Don’t eat too much,’ she warned Flora, waving at someone she recognised across the room and trying not to drop the slice of quiche slithering around on her plate. ‘Save yourself for the set dances; it’s not much fun if you feel sick.’

  ‘Oh no, I won’t dance,’ Flora told her with a firm shake of her head. ‘I don’t know the steps, and I’d only be in the way and trip somebody up.’

  ‘Och, don’t worry about that! The simpler ones are easy enough, if you keep an eye on someone nearby. We’ll find you a good leader and then you’ll be flying.’

  ‘Not literally, I hope!’ Flora’s silent resolve was still to sit them all out and enjoy watching everybody else instead. Maggie was side-tracked by a couple of governors from her school and apologised as she turned away to speak with them. Flora was content to slide a little food onto her plate, before returning to the table and topping up her glass of red wine. The band had settled down to eat, too, and the room was quieter, as only the noise of chat and laughter filtered through the crowd.

  Her gaze constantly flicking to the wide-open doors, Flora saw Mac before he spotted her, and her heart hitched in surprised pleasure as he strolled in, greeting people with ease. He was still in a shirt and tie, the formality of his clothes at odds with the casual nature and fun of the gathering. She watched as he removed the tie, ramming it into a pocket and undoing the top buttons on his shirt, as though distancing himself from the city he had just left behind. He looked tired as he pushed a hand through his damp hair while he spoke to an older man who had come to stand beside him.

  She shrank back in her seat until she felt the wall behind her and could r
etreat no further. The man left, and she saw Mac’s eyes scanning the room quickly. When they eventually found hers, she gave him a brief smile and he nodded in return with a lift of his brows, acknowledging her presence but no more. She dropped her gaze and sipped the wine slowly, pushing aside the disappointment of his greeting. Still, she felt the pull of his presence in the room, as though the space had contracted to contain only them, and it was an effort to refuse her eyes permission to follow him, to wonder and watch where he went.

  Soon the band was in place once again, tuning up as tables and chairs were pushed to the walls, and couples began to line up together down the length of the hall, experience telling them where to go. Some of the men were in kilts, which Flora found very appealing, whilst others were in jeans, and quite a few of the ladies were wearing dresses or tartan. Flora watched, shrinking back in her chair at the far end, hoping that Maggie had forgotten about her. But it was not to be. Maggie dashed over and grabbed Flora’s hand, pulling her to her feet with a cheery grin.

  ‘Come on, Flora, I’ve found you a partner.’

  Hesitantly, Flora found herself being towed into the middle. As soon as she saw Mac staring at her with some reluctance, she tried to protest and back away to the safety of the chairs along the wall.

  ‘Oh no, really, I’ll just watch. I’m not a very good dancer.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Maggie scoffed, only letting go of Flora after she had handed her over to Mac with a smile. ‘You’ll be fine. Mac’s an excellent partner; he’s had plenty of practice. Just try to follow him.’

  Slowly, she approached him. Flora felt herself stiffen when he placed his right hand on her back and took hold of her free hand with his left, joining them. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see that every touch reminded her of the wedding, when she had danced in his arms for the first time and they had spent most of the evening together. She sensed that he was equally uncomfortable and avoided touching her any more than was essential.

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she muttered, every part of her responding to his closeness with a delight she tried to disguise. ‘I’m more than happy to sit it out.’

  ‘Let’s just get through it, shall we? Maggie will think it strange if we don’t dance now.’

  His curt reply was more than enough to dash away any pleasure their proximity had brought and she remembered how, in the garden at Middlebrook, he had tried to tell her about his relationship with Chloe. The sharp reminder made her realise that his unwillingness to dance with her again was their reality and the way things were going to be between them now. Tension lent her frame a stiffness that made her awkward in his arms, but when the dance began, the intricacy of the steps and the sheer pace demanded all her attention. Suddenly, she was half-dancing, half-skipping across the floor, as she tried to keep up with Mac and realised it was much more fun than she had been expecting.

  Somehow they stumbled through the opening barn dances, thanks to Mac’s obvious skill, and when they had completed the faster ‘Eightsome Reel’ and the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’, Flora was laughing, despite her initial reticence. She didn’t need to see Mac’s face to know that he was beginning to enjoy himself, too, as she felt the rigidity in his muscles softening. She was still getting hopelessly lost at times and felt dizzy after being twirled from partner to partner and back again. During a short pause in the music, she broke away for a quick drink.

  ‘Where did you learn to dance like that?’ She had to gasp out the words in between breaths as she leant against a table, still smiling at what had just taken place. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘Misspent youth,’ Mac told her drily.

  They had both downed half a bottle of water when Maggie called them loudly back to the floor. ‘“Strip the Willow”, you two, come on!’

  Flora dashed back to line up opposite Mac once again and he gave her a brief, impersonal smile as he bowed slightly, copying the other men. They were third in line when the music started up and Flora was glad, as it gave her a few moments to watch the other dancers before it was their turn to take part. They joined hands and Flora was entirely aware of the taut strength of his arms, crossed with hers, as he spun her around, their eyes never connecting as he led her through the steps. The dance seemed to last for an age, and when she and Mac finally reached the end of their row and the music stopped, she was hot and breathless all over again, her hair escaping from her high ponytail and framing her face with long tendrils that curled into soft waves.

  ‘I’m done,’ she told him with thankful relief, tucking her hair behind her ears as they drifted away from the centre of the floor, their arms no longer linked. ‘I’m going outside for some air. Thanks for obliging Maggie and showing me what to do.’ She could have told him she had loved every minute because she had danced it with him, but that would be going too far.

  ‘You did great, for a first time.’ His gaze was settled somewhere in the distance, but she heard more warmth in his voice this time, as they slowly drew to a halt.

  Flora laughed at that as she searched for Maggie amongst the people milling around the hall, topping up drinks in the break between dances and finishing the last of the food. ‘I think you’re being generous. It’s exhausting and I’m sure I stood on your feet a few times. Night.’

  She was tired, probably as a result of the long drive on Monday and the constant battle to conceal her emotions around Mac, and decided to make her way back to the hotel. She found Maggie, refused her offer of a lift and thanked her for the invitation. It had been much more fun than Flora had imagined and, despite the awkwardness with Mac, she was glad she had come – everyone had made her feel very welcome, as Maggie had promised. She and Maggie made plans to meet at the little village school the following afternoon and Flora headed out of the hall, waving to the people who wished her good night.

  It was cool outside, and she appreciated the breeze drifting from the sea as she slid her jacket loosely over her shoulders. It was only nine thirty and the evening was still light, despite the clouds tumbling overhead. Setting off towards the hotel, Flora looked forward to the prospect of a brisk walk to free her mind. She was getting used to seeing sheep scattered across the rough fields, penned in here and there by cattle grids crossing the few roads, and she saw a couple of lambs spilling onto the lane in search of excitement, jumping out of her way into the fresh, emerald green fronds of bracken. She had only been gone for ten minutes or so, when a car drew up alongside her and she recognised the purr of the engine without having to check who was driving.

  ‘Flora? Let me drive you back; it’s probably going to rain again.’

  She carried on walking but glanced into the vehicle. Mac had slowed to a crawl and was leaning across towards the passenger seat, the window down, one hand on the wheel to keep the car under control.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. I think you’ve done your duty for one evening.’

  The car lurched towards the grassy bank on the other side of the road and then Mac cut the engine and leapt out, striding around to face her. She stopped, too, and tried to disguise the dismay she felt as she read the tension in his face.

  ‘I’m sorry, about before. I didn’t mean to seem offhand. I just wouldn’t want to give anybody the wrong impression about you and me.’

  ‘Again, you mean. Like we did at the wedding? I suppose it was different then, since you weren’t officially back with Chloe and it didn’t matter who saw us.’ Flora crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘Unless you were together even then? You did leave in rather a hurry.’

  ‘What? Of course I wasn’t with Chloe.’ His answer was sharp. ‘Is that what you think of me? That I’d fall for someone else and cheat on my girlfriend at the same time?’

  Shock plunged through her stomach, and Flora’s voice was shaky when she found it. ‘Fall for someone else? What do you mean?’

  His face was suddenly expressionless as he rubbed one hand across his neck in agitation and ignored her question. ‘Flora, look, things
have got a bit complicated since the wedding. It’s not what you think.’

  ‘It really doesn’t matter at all what I think, Mac. Only what’s happening between you and Chloe.’

  ‘If I asked you to trust me, to give me time, would you?’

  ‘Trust you?’ Flora’s laugh was bitter, and she heard the sneer in her voice. ‘You hurt me! I told you things I hardly ever share, and you kissed me like it really mattered, and then left me with barely a word. Then I see you strolling down the street with your girlfriend like nothing ever happened between us! What am I supposed to think?’ It was impossible now to disguise the despair she was feeling, and her voice fell. ‘Just leave me alone and let me do my job. That’s all I need.’

  Mac’s shoulders slumped and he stared at her for a long moment, his hands balled at his sides, before he retreated to the car without another word. Flora continued to walk, the pounding in her temples increasing, despite the even pace she soon re-established. She was a good distance from the car before she heard the engine re-start and then fade into the night as he drove away. She reached the hotel and hurried through reception, desperate for a shower to wash away the entire evening. However simply they tried to behave around one another, somehow complications seemed to arise with every encounter, and Flora was beginning to look forward to leaving the island and returning home to the steadiness of her ordinary life.

  The next day she was excited about seeing the school garden, so she finished at Róisín in good time and drove straight there. Maggie had wanted her to come before the children left for the day and Flora arrived promptly at two, giving them around an hour before the grown-ups arrived to take pupils home. Nestled in the hamlet just behind the houses closer to the bay, it was a long, low stone building, surrounded by a wall, with a playground at the front. Flora worked out that it faced east, and she automatically looked to her right, searching for signs of the garden and spotting the high dome of a polytunnel sitting behind a hedge. Maggie met her at the office and, once Flora was signed in and issued with a visitor pass, they headed straight through the school to the garden.

 

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