by Ali McNamara
The décor may be dated, there’s a thick layer of dust covering every surface and large cobwebs in places there shouldn’t be, but it still has a certain ambience. A warm, welcoming feel, so that as I wander from room to room with Basil by my side, I don’t feel scared or worried what might jump out at me, I simply feel nostalgic for a time when I was young, carefree and happy.
After exploring the house thoroughly, I can’t find any signs of life. There’s definitely no one living here, the place hasn’t been touched for years, that much is clear. But if no one is living in the house, why are the gardens so well cared for?
Eventually we find ourselves at the entrance to the ballroom, which must have played host to many grand events in the castle’s history, but which I remember for something much more fun.
While Basil sniffs amiably about the doorway, I walk over to one side of the room and slip my shoes off. I don’t know why I check either side of me to see if anyone is coming – old habits die hard, I guess. But with a huge grin on my face I begin to run across the floor. About halfway across, I twist slightly to the side and slide the rest of the way in my socks across the polished wooden floor.
‘Ah, that was great!’ I tell Basil. ‘Will and I used to do the same when we were here.’
‘Did you now?’
I swivel rapidly in my sock-clad feet towards the other, smaller door to the ballroom that Stan would tell us was the servants’ entrance.
‘Who are you?’ I ask an amused-looking young man wearing khaki combat trousers and a white T-shirt. I notice he’s holding a spade in his right hand.
He doesn’t answer but instead says, ‘You’re Poppy, aren’t you?’
‘Yes…’ I reply hesitantly. ‘But…’
‘I thought so. My sister told me all about you and the flower shop.’
I look blankly at him.
‘I’m Willow’s brother, Ash,’ he says. He walks over to me, brushes down his free hand on his trousers and holds it out. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Willow, from the Women’s Guild – yes, of course. Hello,’ I say, still slightly dazed by his sudden appearance. ‘Oh, Willow and Ash —’
‘I know…’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘Trees. My parents were keen gardeners.’
‘As are you, by the looks of it.’ I indicate the spade in his hand.
‘Runs in the family,’ he says. ‘My grandfather used to be the gardener here many years ago.’
‘Oh, you must be Bertie’s grandson!’ I exclaim, looking up at this broad, tall, blond guy. ‘I remember you now, you were just a little fella running around in nappies when I first used to come here as a child.’
‘Yeah, that was me,’ he says without a hint of embarrassment. ‘I wasn’t always in nappies though – at least, I hope not, ’cos we lived in St Felix until I was seven!’ He winks. ‘My parents moved the family back here when my granddad got ill,’ he explains. ‘We stayed on after he passed away, to be close to Grandma Babs.’
‘How old are you?’ I ask, trying to work all this out.
‘Twenty-two.’
‘That would be about right. I stopped coming to St Felix when I was fifteen, although by then I wasn’t really running around the castle playing. We’d just pop up to visit Stan when we were here visiting my grandma.’
‘Sorry about your grandma,’ Ash says sombrely. ‘Rose was a lovely lady.’
‘Yes, she was, and your granddad too.’
We look at each other, caught in a slightly awkward moment.
‘So, you haven’t actually told me why you’re walking around this dusty old house. Or,’ Ash’s blue eyes twinkle, ‘how you managed to break in.’
‘And you haven’t told me what you’re doing in Stan’s old house brandishing a spade.’
Twenty-three
Apple – Temptation
Ash and I close up Trecarlan again and walk back through the grounds with Basil, Ash returning his spade to a shed full of gardening equipment.
‘So, how come you still do the gardening here?’ I ask him after I’ve explained how I got into the house and why.
‘I promised my granddad I would,’ Ash says, closing the shed door and locking it. ‘When Stan left Trecarlan, my grandparents did too. Bertie said just ’cos Stan had left didn’t mean to say the place had to go to rack and ruin, and he was going to continue looking after the gardens.’
‘Aw, that’s sweet of him.’
‘I know,’ Ash says. He gestures towards the path. ‘Walking back into town?’
I nod and we set off down the hill together.
‘Shortly after Granddad got ill he asked me if I’d look after the place for him until he got better. But he never did.’
‘Again, I’m sorry,’ I say, meaning it. ‘Your granddad was a lovely man, I remember him well.’
‘As was your grandma,’ Ash says, and then he smiles. ‘So I look after Trecarlan whenever I get the time in between my other gardening jobs, because there’s no one else to.’
‘Stan never sold up then?’ I ask, trying to piece all this together.
‘Nope. He still owns the house, as far as I’m aware. He leaves it to the Parish Council to look after the place. And they don’t do very much. They don’t really have the funds to run a country house.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘That Caroline can be a bit of a terror though. She went nuts when she found out I was gardening here. Tried to tell me what to do and everything, but I soon put a stop to that.’
‘How?’
‘I told her if the Parish Council wanted to start paying me to work here then she could tell me what to do. Until then, the gardens were my business.’
‘Brilliant!’
‘Funnily enough, I never heard another peep out of her. They seem quite happy with me popping in and doing the gardening for nothing.’
‘I bet they are.’ I think for a moment. ‘So what happened to Stan in the end? I’ve asked around but everyone seems a bit vague about what happened.’
‘I don’t think anyone knows the details. I reckon he had money troubles – like I said, it takes some wonga to run a place like Trecarlan, and I don’t think Stan was all that loaded. Although someone must be paying for his home.’
‘His home? Where does he live now then?’
‘I’m not sure exactly, but I heard he went to live in an old folks’ home somewhere. My granny always says ‘Up North’ if she ever talks about him – which isn’t too often. I think she blames Stan for my granddad’s demise.’
‘Oh no, that’s awful.’
Ash shrugs. ‘She’s elderly. Bit stuck in her ways. It’s easier for her to blame someone else than face up to the fact Granddad smoked twenty a day, and spent five nights a week in the Merry Mermaid!’
We’ve arrived back in town, and as we stop outside Daisy Chain, I let Basil off his lead so he can go on into the shop to get water. When I stand up again, Ash is looking at me.
‘So,’ he says, as we linger outside the open door. ‘Do you need to go back in and fiddle with your buds right now?’ His eyes, set against his tanned skin and scruffy blond hair bleached by the sun, sparkle like naughty sapphires. ‘Or can I take you for an early lunch at the Mermaid?’
I feel myself flush, but I manage to reply with a fairly straight face, ‘I don’t actually fiddle with my buds, I prefer someone else to do that for me.’
Ash grins.
‘However,’ I continue, ‘it’s Amber’s lunch break very soon, and I have to cover the shop. So I’m afraid it’s a no.’
Ash pulls a sad face. ‘Ah, I see. Never mind…’ Then I see the glint in his eyes. ‘In that case, might you be free for a drink tonight instead?’
‘Oh…’
‘We can have a reminisce about Stan, and me in my nappies…’
An image of Jake in the cottage yesterday flashes across my mind. So I quickly shake it away.
‘Sure, why not?’ I agree, without stopping to think about it.
‘Great,’ Ash says, grinning. ‘I’ll see y
ou in the Mermaid about… eight?’
‘Eight’s fine.’
Ash gives me a cheery wave as he carries on up the cobbled street, just as Amber appears at the door with an intrigued look on her face.
‘Who was that?’ she coos, bending to look around me so she can watch Ash walk away.
‘Ash – he’s a gardener up at Trecarlan Castle.’
‘Sexy gardener!’ She lets out a low whistle.
‘His grandfather used to work at the castle when I played there as a child. I knew Ash when he was little.’
‘Bet there’s nothing little about him now.’ Amber nudges me.
‘Amber…’ I give her a warning look.
‘What? You wanna let your hair down, Poppy, have some fun. I thought you were gonna have fun with Jake when I first arrived here, but that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, so why not this Ash?’
She casually turns and walks back into the shop.
‘Jake and I are just friends,’ I protest, hurrying after her, wondering if we’re even that after yesterday.
Amber rearranges some sunflowers in one of the metal buckets. ‘Yeah, honey, I know that now, but when I first came here and saw the way you looked at him, I did wonder if there might be something more.’
I can only stare at Amber – she’s right, of course, but I’m not about to admit that to her.
‘Poppy, come on – Jake’s fit, not as fit as Lady Chatterley’s lover out there, mind, but he’s still hot for an older guy.’
‘Jake isn’t that old,’ I reply, trying to sound like I don’t care either way.
‘He’s older than Ash.’
‘What’s that to do with anything? Jake is thirty-nine; like I said, not old. In fact, I think his birthday is coming up very soon. Bronte mentioned something about a party the last time I saw her.’
Jake’s birthday – great. That would be fun now. Oh, why did I have to kiss him and ruin everything?
‘How old is Mr Hot?’ Amber continues, unusually for her she’s not sensing my unease.
‘Twenty-two, but I don’t see —’
‘Ooh, she swings from older man to toy-boy, what a gal!’
‘Amber, stop this. Ash has asked me out for a drink tonight, that’s all.’
Amber’s eyes light up.
‘And before you say anything, we’re only going to reminisce about old times at Trecarlan.’
Amber raises one eyebrow. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ I say, heading around the back of the desk, ‘it is. Now go and get some lunch – and if you’re heading anywhere near the Blue Canary, pick me up a tuna sandwich while you’re there, will you?’ I wink at her, hoping this will do the trick and she’ll move on.
Amber sighs. ‘Change the subject all you like, but my sixth sense is tingling about this, missy, and I can’t remember the last time that was wrong.’
Twenty-four
Nasturtium – Impetuous Love
As I head down to the Merry Mermaid just before eight that same evening I try not to think too much about Ash as I walk. I haven’t been on a proper date in ages, and even though I’d insisted to Amber that it wasn’t really that, and only a catch-up with Ash, I had a feeling she might be more accurate than me with her predictions for the evening.
So as I head down the road towards the harbour and the pub, I allow the other things on my mind to battle for prominence over my thoughts about Ash.
For a start there’s the story Marie told us yesterday about the reconciliation with her sister. Could Amber’s choice of flowers really have made such a difference? It must have been a coincidence, surely? Perhaps Julie had been thinking of making up with Marie all along, and seeing her standing on her step had given her just the push she needed.
But what if Amber was right and it had been the flowers. Could it be that there really was something to these books? Amber had admitted to me afterwards she’d used the books to make up bouquets several times already, but Marie had been the first person to come back and tell her they had worked. What if more people started coming back to the shop to tell us it had worked for them too? Ant and Dec remain convinced my grandmother helped bring them together, and the locals are always talking about Daisy Chain being special… Even Jake seems to think there’s something to it, and despite our falling out, I value his opinion very highly.
My mind wanders to Jake, and a feeling of guilt immediately begins to seep through me.
‘Stop it, Poppy,’ I tell myself. ‘Jake made it quite clear he didn’t want a relationship with you, you are doing nothing wrong in going out for a drink with Ash tonight. And that’s all it is,’ I remind myself. ‘Just a drink with an old friend. Nothing more.’
It’s Friday night so the pub is already busy when I get there.
I push my way through the locals, and a few tourists, and spot Ash standing up at the bar.
‘Hey,’ he says, turning around when I tap him on the shoulder. ‘You made it. You look great.’
On Amber’s advice, and after much coaxing, I’ve been uncharacteristically adventurous with my outfit tonight. I’m still wearing my customary black in the form of skinny jeans with pixie boots; it’s my top that’s making me feel uneasy. I’ve borrowed one of Amber’s plainer shirts – still black, but with a host of colourful polka dots scattered haphazardly over the fabric. It’s very Amber; I’m just not sure it’s very me.
‘It’s a start,’ Amber had said proudly, like a mother helping her daughter dress for her first date. ‘Have fun!’ she’d encouraged as she’d stood waving at the cottage door, watching me walk down the street.
‘Thanks,’ I tell Ash now, smiling at him. ‘So do you.’
Ash is wearing dark blue jeans and a pale green shirt that makes him look even more tanned and healthy as he leans casually against the bar. ‘What can I get you?’ he asks. ‘The world of the Merry Mermaid is your oyster!’
‘I’ll have a white wine, please,’ I say, just managing to stop myself from asking for ‘a pint’. This was definitely an evening for channelling the ‘Belle’ in me, if there even was such a dainty, elegant thing contained within my four sturdy walls.
‘Rita, when you’re ready,’ Ash calls, opening his wallet and waving a note at Rita.
‘You’re next, Ash, sweetie,’ Rita calls down the bar. ‘Oh hello, Poppy, I didn’t see you there.’ I notice her face registering the fact Ash and I are together as she finishes pulling the pint.
I lift my hand to give her a tiny wave, then sort of drop it in embarrassment. Rita is obviously wondering what’s happened to my usual drinking partner, Jake.
‘So, how was your afternoon?’ Ash asks. ‘Were you busy creating lots of beautiful bouquets?’
‘No, I’m just a general dogsbody about the shop; it’s Amber that does all the hard work. She’s the creative one.’
‘Really? I’m surprised you kept the shop as a florist’s then. Most people would have turned it into a coffee shop or a tearoom, that seems to be all anyone wants these days.’
‘Family tradition.’
‘Ah, I know all about that. My grandfather was a gardener, my father too, and now little ol’ me.’
‘Don’t you enjoy it then?’
Ash smiles, and I’m treated to the sight of his perfect white teeth. ‘Yeah, it’s OK. I like being out in the fresh air, and I’m virtually my own boss. It could pay a bit better, but I kinda do what I like when I like, so that’s a big bonus.’ He pretends to look around him, then winks. ‘Just checking none of my clients are within earshot. They might say differently!’
‘Ha, well I think you’re quite safe tonight,’ I reply, pretending to look quickly around the bar.
‘Oh?’ Ash enquires, flashing another disarming smile at me. ‘I’d hoped otherwise… Ah, Rita, yes, a glass of your finest white wine for the lady, and I’ll have a Jack and Coke please.’
I take a deep breath while he’s turned away for a moment.
Goodness, Ash is certainly laying on the charm tonigh
t. But not in a fawny, grovelly way, I couldn’t bear that. No, Ash’s brand of charm is much more dangerous; it’s the kind that catches you completely off guard, leaving you tongue-tied, blushing and not knowing what to do. Worst of all, you find yourself liking it.
‘There’s a table over there, do you want to sit down?’ Ash asks when he’s got our drinks.