Kitabı oku: «The Summer Season», sayfa 5

Chapter Six

Lauren pushed Sam up the road on her way back from the school run. It was nearly half term, the weather had turned from bright autumn golden days, to a wet, windy drizzle which was doing little to lift her spirits. She was dog tired. The phone call from Troy had unsettled her to say the least. Troy had spectacularly left her in the labour ward, claiming that because he lost his mother to cancer when he was very young, he ‘didn’t do’ hospitals, running out on her when she needed him the most. After which he had shown no interest whatsoever in meeting his daughters until he’d turned up out of the blue when they were eighteen months old. Lauren hadn’t wanted to see him, all the more so when it was apparent he was only after somewhere to crash after he’d lost the latest in a string of jobs and had no money and nowhere else to go.

Looking back now, Lauren couldn’t believe how naive she had been to be taken in again by Troy. But he had this trick when you were with him of making you think you were the only person in the world who mattered. It was terribly beguiling, and the months of loneliness without him had left her unprepared for the sheer animal magnetism of his presence. He had a sensuality about him that was hard to resist. She had told herself that it would be good for the twins if she let him move in. Lauren’s parents had split up when she was young, and she’d been desperate for her own children to have a stable family life. Lauren couldn’t admit to herself that she still had the hots for Troy, so had made the mistake of letting him stay a while. And if she was totally honest with herself, despite everything he’d done to her, she was still a little in love with him, even now.

It turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. The twins were unsettled by this strange man who sometimes wanted to play with them, but often shouted at them for no apparent reason. It was clear to Lauren, too, that he was quite happy to sponge off her, pay no maintenance, and had no intention of getting another job while his life was this cushy. In the end she’d had enough and chucked him out, and apart from the odd message via mutual friends, she hadn’t heard from him since. The twins barely remembered him, and used as they were to Sam not having a mummy, didn’t appear to find it odd that they didn’t have a daddy. And now their daddy was back and apparently he wanted to see them.

She had played the phone call with Troy over and over in her head all night.

‘Why?’ Lauren demanded. ‘Why now, after all this time? You can’t just waltz back into our lives and expect to become a dad when it suits you. I have to protect them.’

‘I know,’ Troy had pleaded. For once he sounded really sincere. ‘I’ve been useless, but I’ve changed, really I have. Look. There’s been stuff going on in my life. Stuff that’s made me realize I want to be a proper dad to them. I know what I’ve been missing and I want to make it up to them and you.’

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ said Lauren, ‘I’m not about to let you turn the girls’ lives upside down.’

‘I’m their dad, I have a right to see them,’ said Troy.

Lauren was silent. That was something she’d always promised herself. If Troy ever came back and wanted to see the girls, she’d let him. Whatever she thought of Troy, he was their dad.

‘You’ve taken me by surprise,’ she said eventually. ‘You haven’t seen the girls for over two years, and you’ve never paid a penny towards their upkeep. How can I be sure that you have changed?’

‘Oh, but I have,’ Troy said hurriedly. ‘I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, but I want to put them right. Please let me.’

There was a pleading, desperate note in his voice that she’d never heard before. God knows, maybe he really did mean it.

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Lauren.

Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they? Troy had sounded sincere, and she didn’t want her girls growing up not knowing their dad. But did a leopard really change its spots? Troy hadn’t been reliable in the past, why would he be now?

Lauren was roused from her reverie when she noticed Eileen Jones walking towards her waving enthusiastically. She smiled. Lauren liked Eileen; not only was she kind and thoughtful, but she occasionally sat for the girls when her mum couldn’t. Her husband Ted had, as Eileen put it, become a cliché and run off with his much younger secretary, leaving Eileen on her own at fifty-two. And on top of all that her youngest son, Jamie, was soon off to do a tour of Afghanistan.

Lauren had really hit it off with Eileen, despite the difference in their ages. While she’d been left holding the babies, Eileen had brought hers up, a devoted wife and mother, and still ended up alone. Although recently, Lauren had noticed, she was spending a lot of time with Tony Symonds, who was the new Chair of the Parish Council. Eileen had a real twinkle in her eye and Lauren was pleased to see her so happy.

‘Lauren, I’m glad I caught you.’

‘Don’t tell me … the fete?’ said Lauren.

‘How did you guess?’ said Eileen.

‘Something about the determined way you were making a beeline for me,’ said Lauren, laughing.

‘It’s just to let you know we’ve got our preliminary meeting coming up in a couple of weeks, and I wondered if you’d had a chance to talk to Joel about it yet.’

‘I did mention it to him,’ Lauren said, ‘but he was fairly noncommittal. I’ll talk to him about it this evening.’

‘That would be great,’ said Eileen. ‘It would be fantastic to have access to the house and gardens.’

‘It would, wouldn’t it?’ said Lauren. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Kezzie was back on the internet researching more about Edward Handford. She was interested to learn that he’d been something of a philanthropist, creating a little park in the village for the children of the poor. Originally known as Heartsease Public Gardens, they were renamed the Memorial Gardens after the First World War. Edward also paid for the village school, now very small and barely surviving. Most of the local kids were bussed into the bigger primary in nearby Chiverton. Lauren, with whom Kezzie was fast becoming friends, was unusual apparently in having opted to put the twins into the village school, but as she’d explained to Kezzie, ‘Someone’s got to support the local community and services, or we’ll lose them. Besides, the twins are too small to go on the bus, and as I don’t drive I don’t have much choice.’

Having lived all her life in an urban setting, Kezzie was coming to appreciate the pleasure of living in a small community, even if it meant people knowing all your business. She’d been stunned when she walked into Ali’s Emporium to be told by Ali how great it was that she was working on Joel’s garden.

‘That poor boy,’ Ali said, with a cheerful smile. ‘He needs something good in his life. It is wonderful what you are doing for him.’

Not wanting to point out that she wasn’t exactly doing it for charity, Kezzie had muttered, ‘Yes, it’s great to be working on it,’ and fled with her pint of milk and loaf of bread before she got the Spanish Inquisition.

Kezzie decided she’d done enough research for now. The one time she’d tried to visit the Memorial Gardens, they’d been locked and she’d only had a chance to glimpse through the gate. She wanted to take a closer look, as it might give her a better feel for the kind of vision Edward Handford had had. While wanting to give his garden a modern feel, Kezzie wanted to be faithful to that vision. Somehow, she felt that was important.

She walked down the hill into the centre of the village, as ever getting a little thrill as she turned the bend and saw Heartsease spread before her, nestling cosily in the lea of the hill. The broad tree-lined road that swept down into the village was now littered with fallen leaves, but there were still a few remaining on the branches, to brighten up the greyish day. Kezzie couldn’t have felt further away from London if she’d tried.

When she got down to the High Street, Kezzie followed the signs to the Memorial Gardens, past the butcher’s, Keef’s Café where Kezzie had learnt you could purchase a mean latte, the tiny chemist’s situated in the oldest building in Heartsease, and the baker’s. Heartsease wasn’t exactly big, but she’d not yet had time to explore it all. What she saw when she arrived at the Memorial Gardens was utterly depressing. A rusting, wrought iron gate, bearing the name Heartsease Memorial Gardens, screeched open onto a forlorn-looking patch of green. At the far end was a pavilion, which was in desperate need of repair. Raggedy bits of grass were covered in glass beer bottles and fag ends. Graffiti on the walls proclaimed that Daz Loved Zoe 4 eva. The rest of the village wasn’t like this. A cracked path ran down the middle of the grass, ending in a circle in which stood an enormous concrete plinth, which was empty. Presumably, it had been home to a war memorial. Kezzie vaguely remembered reading that Edward had erected one after the war. So where was it?

‘What a shame,’ she said out loud.

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Eileen was out walking her dog. ‘I’m really hoping we can persuade the Parish Council to restore it.’

‘Why have they let it get into such a state?’ said Kezzie.

‘It’s been a gradual thing,’ explained Eileen. ‘When my children were small we used to come here all the time, particularly in the summer. But then kids started to go on the bus to the school in Chiverton, so they stopped coming. And then the County Council built the big leisure centre in Chiverton and everyone went there, and before you knew it, the vandals and graffiti artists had moved in, so even if the locals still wanted to come they got pushed out. At least we don’t get the drugs any more. We had a spate of that but it’s stopped, fortunately.’

‘What happened to the war memorial?’ said Kezzie.

‘The local council took it away for restoration,’ snorted Eileen, ‘and never thought to bring it back.’

‘That’s terrible,’ said Kezzie.

‘I know,’ said Eileen. ‘We always used to have our Remembrance Day parade here, but now the Heartsease British Legion have to go to Chiverton.’

‘Someone should do something about it,’ said Kezzie.

‘Someone is,’ said Eileen. ‘Me. I’ve been writing to the County Council about it for months, and now my friend Tony is the Chair of the Parish Council I’m hoping I can get things moving a bit more. But we could always do with some new blood. Maybe you could help?’

‘Maybe I could,’ said Kezzie. ‘But I’ve got a lot on at the moment, I’m going to help Joel Lyle restore his garden.’

‘Lauren mentioned that,’ said Eileen, ‘and I think it’s wonderful. Lauren was hoping to persuade Joel to help out at next year’s summer fete, perhaps you could put in a word too?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Kezzie, laughing.

Joel was playing with Sam in the lounge. Sam had recently discovered peekaboo and a significant part of the bedtime routine now involved Sam hiding and Joel pretending to try to find him. It was silly but fun, and Joel was starting to really look forward to these precious moments at the end of a long day at work. He had, he realized, lost the capacity to laugh spontaneously, but Sam was slowly beginning to tease it out of him.

‘Two – two, Da-da,’ Sam clapped his hands over his eyes, as Joel mentioned the dreaded ‘b’ word just before bedtime, and this was Sam’s way of telling Joel it was time to play their hiding game.

‘Daddy hide, or Sam hide?’ asked Joel, tickling his son on his tummy.

‘Sam, hide,’ squealed Sam, delightedly, toddling off while Joel made a great show of shutting his eyes and counting to ten. Usually Sam’s hiding places were very obvious – and Joel spotted him within seconds, but Joel realized, when he opened his eyes, that Sam had squeezed through the lounge door, which was a bit ominous. He could just about get upstairs now, but was still a bit wobbly, and not very safe. Joel went out into the hall, and was relieved to hear Sam talking to himself in the little study on his left, which faced out onto the front garden.

Sure enough, he found Sam playing with his favourite rabbit, underneath the desk, the game momentarily abandoned.

‘Come on, tiddler,’ said Joel, swooping his son up in his arms, ‘time for bed, now.’

‘Two, two?’ Sam looked hopeful.

‘No more two, two,’ said Joel, ‘time for bed and milk and a story.’

He took Sam up to bed, got him changed, and sat down with him and read We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, which was one of Sam’s favourites. Having tucked him into his cot with a bottle of milk, Joel went downstairs to check on the carnage Sam had left behind, before settling down to another lonely evening in front of the TV. It never failed to amaze him how much havoc one small boy could wreak, so he went back to the study, which he rarely used, to make sure Sam hadn’t left anything else under the desk. Sure enough, he found a couple of bits of duplo, a baby board book, and bizarrely two spoons, which he presumed Sam had managed to swipe from the kitchen. Laughing to himself, he picked everything up and went to take them away, when he suddenly stopped and stared at the desk. He’d not paid it any attention for so long, and it was gathering dust, but he was suddenly struck anew by what a beautiful object it was.

It had been a real labour of love working on that desk, but then Claire died, and like so many other things, Joel hadn’t touched it for months. But since Kezzie’s arrival, Joel had felt something shift slightly. For the first time, he could see the point in moving on, making things better, if not for him at least for Sam.

He ran his hand over the rolltop desk lid. It really was a stunning piece of furniture, made of walnut, with several drawers on either side. When he lifted the roll top up, there were several little compartments. Joel recalled Uncle Jack sitting at it, on one of the few occasions Joel had visited as a child, and Uncle Jack had seemed very old, though he probably hadn’t been much more than sixty.

‘There’s a secret compartment in this desk, young man,’ Jack had said, tapping the side of his nose.

‘Show me! Show me!’ Joel had begged, but then they were interrupted, by his mum probably, as it was time to go home. When they’d first got to Lovelace Cottage, Joel had tried and failed to find the secret compartment, and concluded that Jack had been teasing him. For some reason tonight he had a sudden compulsion to see if it was there. He put Sam’s toys down, rolled the top back, and fiddled around in all the compartments, to no avail. Maybe there was something underneath?

He felt underneath the desk, but there was nothing. Then he opened all the drawers one by one. Still nothing. Oh well. He was about to turn and leave again, when a tiny, frayed edge of paper caught in the corner of the smallest compartment to the far right of the desk caught his eye. He tugged at it, and as he did so, realized that there was a slight indentation in the side of the desk, just small enough for him to get his fingers in. With growing excitement, he slid his fingers in, and found a knob, which he pressed. He was rewarded with a sudden click, and a small shelf swung out to greet him. On it was an old and dusty leather-bound book, the pages yellow with age.

He picked it up, and running his fingers slowly along the spine, he blew the dust off it. He opened it carefully and read: Edward Handford. His personal diary. A black and white sketch floated out to the floor. Joel picked it up and instantly recognized the girl in it, from her photographs. She was very young, very beautiful and laughing. Lily, June 1892 was written by hand underneath it. How lovely. Edward must have drawn her. Joel felt a pang. He had no pictures like that of Claire, but plenty of photographs, sad, stolen records of a far happier time.

He carried on leafing through the book. This was incredible. Edward Handford’s actual diary. A real connection with the past. For the first time in a long time, Joel felt excitement coursing through his veins. He sat down and read the first page, it was dated May 1893:

This is my last night in England, for tomorrow I leave Lovelace Cottage on a great adventure, he read. I am only sorry that Lily will not accompany me on my journey to India, but Doctor Blake thinks it would be foolish for her to travel in her condition. I will of course miss her, and am apprehensive of the journey ahead, but I cannot help but be excited by thoughts of the plants I may yet discover …

Wow. Edward travelled to India. How wonderful. Joel flicked through the diary to see if there was anything about the garden. He’d have to show this to Kezzie. Perhaps it could help her restore Edward’s layouts. Joel put the book down and laughed out loud. Despite his initial reluctance, he was hooked. Finding out about Edward Handford and restoring the knot garden was too intriguing a proposition to ignore.

Chapter Seven

It was Kezzie’s first morning working at Joel’s. She’d set off early and it was only just light. She shivered in the chilly autumn morning; winter would soon be on its way. Still, the icy rain of the last few days appeared to have eased off, and she walked up the hill, crunching through the autumn leaves, watching the sky turn from blue to metallic grey, feeling relatively cheerful. A feeble sun was trying to peep through the clouds when she finally reached Joel’s house. She pushed open the creaky front gate, and went to knock on the dilapidated front door.

‘Hi.’ Joel held Sam in his arms as he let Kezzie in. ‘You’re early. I’m impressed.’

‘I like the early mornings,’ said Kezzie, ‘you can get so much more done, particularly at this time of year when you lose the light so soon.’

‘Shows how wrong you can be about people,’ said Joel. ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as an early bird.’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ said Kezzie. ‘I may not look the part, but you will get your money’s worth out of me.’

‘Sorry,’ said Joel, looking embarrassed. ‘Can you bear with me a minute as I sort Sam out?’

Kezzie was still in the process of drawing up plans, but she’d agreed with Joel she would make a start on tackling the weeds in the garden and find out what lay underneath. Given that winter was on its way, it seemed a good opportunity to try and tidy things up.

‘Feel free to come in and have a cup of tea whenever you want,’ Joel added, as he expertly changed his son’s nappy. Gross, thought Kezzie. She’d been very grateful to discover that Richard’s daughter was already fourteen. She couldn’t have coped with a baby.

‘Right, that’s you done,’ Joel tickled Sam’s tummy and he giggled infectiously. OK, the nappies were gross, but Kezzie had to admit Sam was cute.

‘You’re very good with him,’ Kezzie said, as she followed Joel, still carrying Sam, cosy and warm in his winter coat, into the garden.

In the short time Kezzie had been in Heartsease, the leaves had fallen from the trees and she was now crunching them on the ground. She loved being outside this time of year, but preferred to garden in spring with the hope of summer and all the glories that were to come.

Joel pulled a face and Sam immediately giggled.

‘Do you think so? I feel fairly useless on the parenting front most of the time. Lauren is much better with him than I am. I used to leave it up to Claire, because she was so good at it. She was a natural mother right from the start, whereas I was all fingers and thumbs. Now she’s not here, I muddle through, but I wouldn’t say I was much cop at it.’

‘He doesn’t seem to be doing too badly,’ said Kezzie, as Sam gurgled contentedly in his dad’s arms. ‘And you’re probably doing better at it than I would. I’ve not got a maternal bone in my body. I wouldn’t know where to start with a toddler.’

Joel smiled. ‘It’s nice of you to say so, but I’m sure that can’t be true. Haven’t any of your friends had babies?’

‘A couple have,’ said Kezzie, shuddering. ‘But they’ve put me off for life.’

‘Surely you don’t mean that?’ he said teasingly. ‘I thought most women wanted children, underneath it all.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ said Kezzie, firmly. ‘This planet’s overpopulated enough without me adding to the numbers. Besides, I’m far too selfish to become a mum. I like my freedom too much.’

Joel took Kezzie down the garden towards the shed.

‘I think you’ll find everything you need here,’ he said. ‘Uncle Jack did have a sort of layabout handyman, who occasionally cut the hedges back, but clearly he didn’t know what he was doing, which is why the garden’s such a mess. I did have a go at keeping the weeds under control, the first summer we were here, but then Claire died, and …’ his voice trailed off. ‘Well, let’s say I’ve barely touched it since.’

‘Well, I’m here now,’ said Kezzie. ‘And I can’t wait to get going.’

‘I’d better shoot off,’ Joel said, anxiously looking at the time, ‘or I’ll be late dropping Sam off at Lauren’s. Can I leave you to it? There’s a spare key hanging up in the kitchen, if you need to go out. I’ll get you a set cut so you don’t have to come up so early next time.’

‘It’s no problem, really,’ said Kezzie, which was true, it wasn’t. She liked the feel of an early autumn morning, like this one, when the sun was beginning to peep through the mist, the crows were cawing mournfully in the trees and the air was crisp and clear.

As Joel left, she gathered together a fork, trowel, rake, spade, some garden shears, and bin bags and put them all in a wheelbarrow. She let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. She was going to enjoy this.

Lauren walked through her front door after the school run with the twins jabbering excitedly in her ear about their harvest festival, which was to take place the following week. Sam had fallen asleep in the buggy, so she left him in the tiny hallway that led into the kitchen. The girls were demanding to make cookies after lunch, which was often an afternoon treat for all of them. Lauren was on the point of agreeing, when she noticed her answer phone was flashing.

‘Just give me a minute, girls,’ she said, helping them off with their coats, which she hung up in the small understairs cupboard. ‘Why don’t you run upstairs and wash your hands while I get lunch ready?’

The girls thundered up the stairs, and Lauren clicked on the answer message while she took a bag of flour and a packet of chocolate chips out of the larder.

‘Hey, babe.’ Oh God, Lauren sat down quickly on one of her pine kitchen chairs, feeling her knees turning to jelly. Troy. Again. Lauren had still not decided what to do about him. She hadn’t rung him back, nor had she discussed the situation with anyone else. Mum was out of the question, she’d have flipped her lid if she knew Troy was trying to get in touch again. Lauren didn’t feel she knew Kezzie well enough to confide in her. That left Eileen, who was a reliable source of comfort, or Joel. When Claire was still alive, Lauren wouldn’t have dreamt of confiding in Joel. He was her friend’s husband, with whom she got on well, but it was Claire who knew all her secrets.

Lauren had met Claire out walking with Sam when he was a baby and the twins were two years old. The girls had been particularly lively that day, and Lauren had had another call from the CSA to say they hadn’t heard from Troy, and she’d been up to her neck in debt. Somehow, over a coffee in Keef’s Café, the whole story had come out. The two women had hit it off immediately. Claire was looking for someone to care for Sam when she went back to work, and somehow Lauren had come away agreeing to register as a childminder so she could look after him. Thereafter when she’d had a wobble about Troy or anything really, it was always Claire she’d turned to. Claire had been such a good friend to her, and Lauren felt a familiar gut-wrenching sense of loss, at the thought that she no longer had her friend for support. Claire had always been full of sound practical advice, and Lauren missed her wisdom. When she died, Lauren had on occasion found herself confiding in Joel, but it wasn’t the same, and she wasn’t sure if she should ask his advice on this.

She listened again to Troy’s message. ‘Have you thought any more about it, babe? I need to know soon. Call me.’ She clicked the answer phone off. She couldn’t face this right now.

Joel was so dog tired by the time he got home he’d completely forgotten Kezzie was there. For a moment, when he came in the kitchen and saw a half-drunk cup of tea on the drainer, and the kitchen door wide open, he’d had the sudden dizzying sensation that Claire was back, somehow returned to him. He’d had lots of those moments in the early months, but it had happened less often of late. He nearly called her name, but stopped himself in time, when a very dishevelled and rather muddy Kezzie appeared, divesting herself of her wellies as she went.

‘Mind if I leave these here?’ she said, putting them by the back door. ‘It seems a bit silly taking them back and forth each day.’

‘Yeah, no problem,’ said Joel, as he put Sam down and let him potter around the kitchen.

‘You look knackered, if you don’t mind me saying,’ said Kezzie. ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

‘That would be great,’ Joel yawned. ‘It’s been a long day. But first I need to get munchkin here into his bath.’

‘No rest for the wicked,’ said Kezzie.

‘None indeed,’ said Joel, with feeling. ‘Come on, Sammy boy, bathtime.’

‘Ba, Ba!’ Sam clapped his hands and giggled.

When Joel had first bathed Sam alone, he’d hated it. He worried about the slipperiness of a wriggly baby in water; he was scared the water was too cold or too scalding. Some of Joel’s tension had seemed to affect Sam and bath times had been neurotic, miserable affairs.

But one time, knowing he was going to be late from work, Lauren had offered to bath Sam for him. When Joel had come to pick him up, he had discovered Sam happily sitting in the bath blowing bubbles and pouring water over his head.

Joel had immediately invested in a couple of plastic cups and bubble bath, and bath times had been a cinch ever since. It was the one point in the day he felt he could really relax with his son.

He was sitting on the floor, singing stupid songs while Sam put bubbles on his nose, when Kezzie came up with a cup of tea.

‘That looks fun,’ she said.

‘Fun, fun,’ burbled Sam.

‘It is, actually,’ said Joel, ‘an unexpected but absurdly simple pleasure of fatherhood.’

‘Are you hungry?’ said Kezzie, ‘only you look half starved. Do you ever eat?’

‘I don’t often cook for myself,’ admitted Joel. ‘Lauren feeds Sam most days, and while I don’t mind cooking, there never seems much point for one.’

‘Thought so,’ said Kezzie. ‘You stay there. I’ll forage in your kitchen, and see if we can’t get you a square meal for once.’

Half an hour later, with Sam happily ensconced in his cot, cuddling his favourite toy rabbit, Snuffles, Joel emerged downstairs to the smell of something delicious on the stove.

Tears prickled his eyes. It was a long time since anyone had cooked for him. He came into the kitchen to find Kezzie stirring a bubbling pot.

‘I’ve rustled up some pasta,’ she said, ‘I hope that’s OK.’

‘That’s more than OK,’ said Joel. ‘It’s very generous of you.’

‘Well, I like cooking,’ said Kezzie, ‘but you’re right, there never seems much point for one. Sorry, you don’t think I’m interfering do you?’

‘To be honest,’ said Joel, ‘it’s nice to be cooked for, for a change. I can cook – but I can’t be bothered most of the time. I think I’ve got a bottle of red knocking about somewhere. Shall we open it and have a toast to the start of the garden project?’

‘Perfect!’ said Kezzie.

‘Talking of which,’ said Joel, ‘how did you get on today?’

‘It’s hard work,’ admitted Kezzie. ‘Harder than I thought it would be. I have managed to clear a very small corner in one part of the pattern, and I think Edward wove the ivy and rosemary into heart shapes, but the plants are so old, they’ve gone a bit scraggy and the trunks are too thick. I can’t imagine it’s actually how he designed it. I’d love to see his original plans. I’d like to put my own stamp on the garden of course, but I want to be as truthful to his vision as I could be.’

‘Oh, that reminds me,’ said Joel. ‘I didn’t have time to tell you this morning. Guess what I found last night?’

‘No idea,’ said Kezzie.

‘Edward’s diary,’ said Joel.

‘That’s fantastic,’ said Kezzie. ‘Where was it?’

‘There’s an old desk in the study, which I was restoring. I was having another look at it last night, thinking I should get it finished,’ said Joel. ‘And then I found a secret compartment, and there it was … Edward’s diary.’

‘How exciting,’ said Kezzie. ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Edward’s plans were in it?’

‘I flicked through it,’ said Joel, ‘but then Sam started crying, so I put it down and forgot all about it. Hang on a sec, I’ll go and get it.’

He came back a few minutes later, and they carefully pored over the yellowing pages together. Although there was plenty about his daily life at Lovelace Cottage, the diary appeared to have been started after he’d created the garden, so there was precious little to help them with their task.

‘Isn’t it incredible to think that Edward was sitting at your desk writing all this down?’ said Kezzie. ‘And that picture of Lily is gorgeous. It’s such a pity that there isn’t anything more about the garden.’

‘Couldn’t you find anything out on the internet?’ said Joel.

‘I’ve found some fascinating information about Edward but not enough about the garden plans,’ said Kezzie.

‘Are there any books about him?’

‘Nope. He gets mentioned a lot, but I don’t think he was prominent enough to have a book all about him. I’ve found out about the gardens Edward designed for other people – presumably they were his commissions – but he didn’t appear to share his plans for the knot garden. Do you know if there’s anything in the family? You don’t have a family archive do you? I mean, there might be other diaries.’