‘They won’t stare at you. I’ll make sure of it, okay?’
‘They won’t know what to say. Either that or they’ll start asking questions I don’t want to answer.’
‘Do you want me to tell them what happened before we go?’
‘No!’
‘Okay,’ Luke said, amazed that she was even considering his suggestion.
‘One single question – or one odd look – and I’ll leave,’ Orla vowed.
‘Understood.’
Orla glared at him from across the room. ‘I don’t know how I let you talk me into these things, I really don’t.’
‘It must have something to do with my innate charm,’ Luke said with a grin.
Orla shook her head slowly and sighed out a huge sigh. ‘If it all goes horribly wrong, I’m locking you in the dungeon.’
‘Fair enough,’ Luke said. ‘I’m actually growing quite fond of it.’
Chapter 13
Orla didn’t quite know how she was feeling as they arrived at Oyster Cottage. She was nervous, of course, and could feel a whole meadow of butterflies fluttering inside her, but it was more than that – she felt like she was on the edge of a panic attack and that she was only just keeping it in check because of the calming presence of Luke by her side.
They’d walked through the village together, which was a feat in itself as Orla had never actually done that before. As always, she’d popped a big hat on her head and wore a pair of oversized sunglasses, looking like a fifties movie star who was trying to hide from the press. The outfit might well have masked her scars but, in a little English village, she soon realised that it only really succeeded in drawing attention to her, which was the very thing she was trying to avoid.
‘I rang ahead,’ Luke told her. ‘Bill’s delighted you’re coming and he’s promised to brief everybody before they arrive, so there won’t be any questions or undue attention.’
‘How can I be sure of that?’ Orla asked.
‘He’s a man of his word is Bill, isn’t he?’
‘But the others . . .’
‘I’m sure they’re all good people. There’s nothing to worry about.’
Orla wasn’t so sure and was beginning to regret her decision to come along with Luke, however well meaning it all was and no matter how many promises and assurances had been made.
It was Bill who greeted them at the door of Oyster Cottage, with Bosun by his side.
‘What a pleasure to see you, Miss Kendrick,’ he said.
Orla nodded. ‘Hello. Thank you for letting me come.’ She might be nervous, but she wasn’t going to forget her manners.
‘Our pleasure. Come and meet Margy.’
They were shown through to the kitchen, where Margy was hastily getting the tea things together.
‘Margy – this is Miss Kendrick.’
Margy put her polka-dot teapot down and her hands flew to her face. ‘My dear!’ she said, her face quite flushed now. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you. May I take your hat for you?’
Orla saw Luke visibly blanch and then look surprised as her hands reached up to remove the hat and smooth her dark hair around her face.
‘I’ll pop it on this hook by the door,’ Margy said, taking the hat and glancing only briefly at Orla’s face. ‘Why don’t you go through and meet everyone and make yourself comfortable?’
Orla almost laughed. The last thing she would feel tonight was comfortable.
‘Bill?’ Margy said as they were about to leave the room. ‘Take this up to Beth, will you? I promised her one.’ She passed her husband a plate with a large chocolate chip and raisin cookie on it, warm from the oven.
‘We have our granddaughter staying with us,’ he explained to them, ‘and she’s being spoilt rotten.’
‘Tell her to brush her teeth afterwards and to get straight into bed,’ Margy added.
Bill nodded. ‘I’ll just take these two through first.’
He led Orla and Luke through to the living room, where six other members were already seated. All looked up and smiled as they walked in.
‘Everybody, this is Miss Kendrick,’ Bill announced.
Orla, who was still wearing her sunglasses, turned to Bill. ‘I think you can call me Orla now.’
He nodded and smiled. There was a chorus of hellos from the room and she and Luke sat down on the sofa. Margy came through with tea and cookies for everyone and then sat down, picking up her knitting which, that evening, was sky blue and yellow. Introductions were made. Unsurprisingly, Orla had never seen any of these people before, but they all seemed friendly and polite and, thankfully, nobody stared at her. There was none of the awkwardness or fear in people’s eyes that she had been expecting and dreading and, for that, she was truly grateful.
Luke threw her a smile.
‘Okay?’ he whispered, and she nodded. So far, she was fine.
Once Bill rejoined them, the meeting started. Orla soon learned that it wasn’t a themed meeting, as Luke had told her the earlier one had been; it was more of an informal discussion about what people were growing in their gardens – the successes, the failures and what could be done even better. If there was one thing Orla soon picked up on from her neighbours, it was that gardeners were great optimists and, in spite of beasts, bugs and other natural disasters, they always planned ahead, with their hope and joy undiminished. She liked that and, much to her astonishment, she found she was smiling as the talk went on around her.
They talked about whether it was best to grow tomatoes in a greenhouse or outside, their favourite flowers to use when companion planting, the best way to keep pots hydrated when away from home during the summer and whose seed catalogues were the most beautiful and the best-value product – the two not often going hand in hand, it seemed – and Orla couldn’t help but make a few mental notes and determine to spend even more time in her own garden.
One of the older members of the group, George, sat forward on his chair. ‘So then, Luke – what are you growing in your garden?’
Luke wasn’t one to blush, but Orla could definitely see his face heating up at the question.
‘I’m ashamed to say that I couldn’t tell you. You see, that was my wife’s department.’
‘Plenty of time to learn,’ George told him.
Luke nodded. ‘I think there’s some lavender somewhere.’
There was a pause after he said this because nobody knew whether it was meant to be funny or not, and then Bill gave a chuckle and everybody joined in – including Luke, who was obviously able to see the humour in his ignorance.
‘Lavender’s a very good place to start,’ Margy said, and Luke seemed to relax a little. Orla smiled at him as he turned to look at her, then she did something that took her completely by surprise because she really hadn’t planned on doing it at all: she removed her sunglasses. There were a few quick glances, she noted, but more because of her sudden movement than because of what it revealed. Orla looked down into her lap, aware that she was causing a little ripple of sensation.
‘Any more tea, anyone?’ Margy asked, getting up and taking the attention away from her.
‘Oh, do let me help you,’ one of the other women said, and the two of them left for the kitchen.
Bill cleared his throat. ‘Talking of lavender,’ he said, ‘I’ve been thinking of growing Hidcote Pink. Any thoughts?’
A woman in her sixties shook her head and tutted. ‘To my mind, lavender is purple. Any other colour is a sacrilege!’
Bill grinned, as did Orla, and a few others scoffed at this declaration.
It was as they were debating purple lavender over pink that a young girl came into the room.
‘Beth! What are you doing up?’ Bill asked, obviously embarrassed by the interruption of his young granddaughter in a pair of pyjamas covered in red hearts.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Beth explained, looking around the room and deciding that things were much more exciting in there than upstairs. Then she saw Orla, and Orla saw the expression o
n her face change. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ shape, and there was an anxious moment when Orla wondered what would happen next.
Orla saw Luke glance at Bill, who looked as if he was about to say something, but Beth beat him to it, cocking her head to one side as she looked directly at Orla.
‘What happened to your face?’ Beth asked, without an adult’s filter to guide her.
Orla felt her throat tighten at the blunt question and her fingers twisted themselves into knots in her lap. But the child’s eyes held hers and there was something about that direct look that demanded complete honesty.
‘I was attacked,’ Orla said calmly. ‘Somebody threw something very nasty into my face.’
The girl didn’t flinch. ‘Did it hurt?’
‘Yes.’
‘And does it hurt now?’
‘No. Not now.’
There was a pause when Beth continued to examine her. ‘Will your ear grow back?’
Somebody to Luke’s right gasped at this bold question.
‘No,’ Orla told Beth. ‘It won’t grow back.’
‘Can I touch it?’
‘Beth!’ Bill cried in horror. ‘That’s enough now, darling.’
‘It’s okay,’ Orla assured him as Beth came forward, her small child’s fingers reaching out to touch Orla’s face. She could sense that Luke and the rest of the room were staring at her and Beth now, but that no longer worried her.
‘Does it make you sad?’ Beth asked at last.
Orla took a moment before answering. ‘Yes.’
‘But you’re still pretty.’
As the little girl smiled at Orla, she could feel tears pricking her eyes.
‘You’re pretty too,’ Orla told the girl as Margy came back into the room with the tea tray.
‘Beth!’ Margy cried. ‘What are you doing in here? You should be in bed!’ Margy looked around the room. ‘What is it? What did I miss?’
Orla saw Luke exhale a deep breath and Bill shook his head.
‘What?’ Margy asked.
Everyone looked at Orla and she gave Margy a little smile. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said.
‘You were amazing tonight,’ Luke told her as they walked through the darkened streets of Lorford.
‘Thank you and . . . thank you.’
‘I get two thank yous? What for?’
‘For making me do that. You were right – they’re really good people.’
‘They are, aren’t they?’
‘And I love that little girl.’
‘I think you’ve got a fan there.’
‘Well, she’s got one too,’ Orla assured him.
‘I don’t think Bill’s got over that yet. He was still a bit red in the face when we left.’
‘But Margy was so sweet.’
‘I think she was very touched when you told her your story.’ Luke smiled. They’d waited for the other guests to leave and then Orla had opened up to her hosts, answering their questions just as honestly and confidently as she had Beth’s.
‘It’s wonderful,’ Luke went on.
‘What is?’
‘How you’re growing in confidence all the time.’
‘Am I?’
‘Sure you are! You don’t feel it?’
Orla stopped walking and looked up at the star-spangled sky, inky dark and so inviting on that summer evening.
‘It’s happening so slowly, I’m not sure I’m feeling any confidence at all.’
‘But to even leave the castle – let alone go into a stranger’s house and not only talk to people, but to share your history with them – you’ve got to admit that’s pretty incredible. Compared to when I first met you and you wouldn’t even open the door.’
They began walking again.
‘I suppose.’
‘There’s no supposing about it, Orla. You’re opening yourself up to the possibilities of life again,’ Luke told her but, seeing her flinch, he asked, ‘What is it?’
‘It’s scary.’
‘What scares you?’
‘Just . . . everything! That phrase you use – opening yourself up – that scares me because, well, I might be experiencing lovely things like trips out with you into the countryside and evenings with friendly neighbours, but I’m opening myself up to the other things too – the things I’ve tried to shut out.’
Luke sighed. ‘I don’t think you can have one without the risk of the other. I haven’t yet met anyone who’s had a trouble-free life. I’m not sure how you’d go about it, to be honest. What would you do – write a letter to the universe saying you only want to be sent all the good bits of life? I don’t think it works that way.’
‘No, of course not. And you’ve had more than your share of the bad stuff.’
Luke didn’t say anything. The truth was, he was doing a pretty good job of shutting out the bad stuff while staying at Lorford Castle, which was ironic really because he was quite intent that Orla should get out of the castle and open herself up while he was happily shutting himself away in this little corner of Suffolk.
‘Sorry,’ Orla suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘That came out wrong.’
‘What did?’
‘It sounded awful – I didn’t mean to dismiss Helen’s death as bad stuff.’
‘But it is.’
‘Yes, but those words weren’t right.’
‘No words are right for it.’
‘I know.’
They walked in silence for a few moments, Luke desperately trying to shut out an assault of upsetting thoughts about Helen. She would have loved a night like this, he thought – an indigo sky full of gentle starlight and a cool breeze following the warmth of the summer day. And how she would have loved a place like Lorford, with its pretty homes and quirky residents – like Margy with her ever-present knitting. He just knew she’d be fascinated by it all. Luke smiled and blinked away a rebellious tear, glad the darkness shielded his face from Orla.
When they reached the castle, they were greeted by One Ear, who was thrilled to see them both.
‘I’ll just give him a quick run in the garden,’ Orla said, leaving Luke alone for a few minutes. He needed that time. He needed to collect his thoughts and settle his agitation because he’d come to a realisation and knew that, in helping Orla with her problems, he was successfully shutting out his own.
Bill arrived at his usual time to attend to the garden at the castle the morning after the meeting but, for the first time in the two years he’d been gardening for Miss Kendrick, it felt different. He had now met his employer and oh, how lovely she was. He still couldn’t believe the events of the evening before and how she’d not only attended the meeting in the first place, but had sat amongst them all, hat and glasses removed, and had openly answered all of Beth’s questions. He’d never forget the initial feeling of horror he’d felt when his little granddaughter had come into the room and clocked Orla. He’d had a moment of pure terror, wondering if the girl was going to scream or make some kind of scene. Well, she’d made a scene of sorts, that was for sure, but everyone had been riveted by it, and Bill had a feeling that those innocent questions had done Orla the power of good to answer. It had certainly broken the tension between everyone; they had all, he felt, been made a little anxious by Orla’s presence – not because they didn’t like her, but because they were being overly careful not to say the wrong thing or to look at her in the wrong way. Orla had marked herself out as different by hiding away from them all for so long and everybody had been moving around her with care and caution.
He glanced up at the castle now as he began work and wondered what she’d made of them all. He’d liked that she’d stayed behind after everyone had left and had told Margy what she’d missed when she’d been making the tea, and Bill’s soul had ached for Orla when he’d heard her story. No wonder she’d closed herself off from the world and feared the whole of mankind. He really couldn’t blame her. He might well have done the same thing.
B
ending down to pull out a couple of dandelions that really should have known better than to grow where they knew they wouldn’t possibly be allowed to stay, Bill thanked his lucky stars that he’d never really known true fear, as Orla must have in her relatively short life. There’d been the time Margy was rushed into hospital with appendicitis. That had been scary, but she’d been young and strong and he’d been surrounded by family. He’d lost his share of friends over recent years, but that was life, wasn’t it? No, he didn’t have cause to complain. He was a lucky man.
It was as he was trimming the edges of the lawn after mowing it that he saw her, and he did a double take, imagining it was a mirage in the summer heat. But, no, it was definitely Miss Kendrick and she was walking straight towards him. She wasn’t wearing her sunglasses today, although she did have a straw hat on to protect her face from the sun, which was already hot and high in the sky. The hat had a pretty sky-blue ribbon tied around it and shaped her face perfectly.
Her face.
Bill looked at it again, his stomach twisting in anger at what had happened to her. If he could get his hands on the people who’d hurt this lovely young woman . . .
He took a deep breath. Violent thoughts weren’t the answer, he knew that, but he couldn’t help thinking them all the same.
Now, as she crossed the grass to greet him, he tipped his cap in his old-fashioned way.
‘Good morning, Miss Kendrick.’
‘Bill, you really must call me Orla.’
He scratched his chin. ‘That’ll take some getting used to.’
She smiled, and it lit up her whole face so beautifully and, once again, he felt sad that she’d hidden away for so long.
‘I wanted to thank you for last night,’ she began.
‘Thank me? It should be me thanking you.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘For being there.’
‘Did I shock everyone?’
He took a moment to consider this. ‘I wouldn’t say shock so much as surprise.’
‘Well, I hope it was a pleasant surprise.’
‘Very. I hope we’ll see you again.’
‘I hope so too.’
He smiled and was just about to turn back to his work when she surprised him yet again.
The Beauty of Broken Things Page 16