Summer Season (5 page)

‘I know you’re really busy,’ said Eileen, ‘but I really do need some help. You see next year it’s the 140th anniversary of Edward Handford’s birth, and we want to celebrate it. He did such a lot for the village – from giving us the Memorial Gardens, to the village school, and we’ve got a lot of projects we want to fund. Quite frankly our last summer fete was a bit of a disaster, and the Parish Council is keen not to have a repeat.’

‘Oh, you mean someone noticed the fact that Andy drank more Pimms than he served?’ said Lauren with a grin. It had been a source of great amusement to her when her irritating boss from the pub had keeled over while holding court in front of half the village.

‘That was only the half of it,’ said Eileen. ‘Thanks to Cynthia Green, we had that wretched bore from Radio Chiverton opening proceedings, and he gave the longest speech I have ever heard. Plus the stalls were so drab and
uninteresting, and the weather was so lousy we hardly made any money. The problem is, everyone thinks so small. We need to make it more of an event if we want to make any serious money. So Tony Symonds, who’s Chair of the Parish Council this year, has suggested we shake it all up a bit. And he asked for my help.’

‘So where do I come in?’ said Lauren. ‘I don’t have a lot of spare time.’

‘I know you don’t,’ said Eileen, ‘but we could do with some young blood, and as one of the restoration projects we’ve got in mind is the Memorial Gardens, particularly the play area, I thought a mum like you might be perfectly placed to tell us what’s needed.’

‘That’s blackmail,’ said Lauren, laughing.

‘I know,’ said Eileen, ‘but could you help? It would be great if you could.’

‘Oh go on,’ said Lauren. ‘And I’ll try and see if I can get Joel Lyle involved. You know Edward Handford was his great great grandfather, don’t you? Joel was planning to restore the garden at Lovelace Cottage when he and Claire moved in, but he’s not got round to it yet.’

‘How stupid of me,’ said Eileen. ‘I dabble a bit in local history, but I hadn’t made the connection. I’ve always been fascinated by Edward’s story – he created that garden for his wife, when they got married. I’d love to see it.’

‘I’ve only seen it once, but it’s a bit of a mess,’ said Lauren. ‘I think it needs a lot of work.’

‘Hmm,’ said Eileen, ‘I wonder how Joel might feel if I suggested we helped him restore it.’

‘I don’t think he’s much of a committee person,’ said Lauren. ‘And since Claire died, he seems to have lost heart a bit with the house. I’m not sure he’s going to want to help, but there’s no harm in asking.’

Kezzie poked her head out of her bedroom window. The dawn chorus had woken her up again. She still couldn’t get used to the fact that she could hear their chatter, which would have been drowned out in the noisy bustle of London. Apart from the sounds of wildlife, it was much quieter here though, and sometimes the stillness drove her a bit mad. But she loved the cottage, which like her aunt was quirky and homely, and full of trinkets Jo had acquired on her many travels abroad. She was grateful for Jo’s impetuous generosity. It hadn’t occurred to her to ask anyone for help, knowing she’d get none from her parents, who were in their own loved-up retirement cocoon in Spain.

But thanks to Jo, Kezzie now found herself buried in the Sussex countryside. The plus side was she did find the quiet soothing, and enjoyed living so close to nature. The downside was that she knew no one and the contacts she’d cultivated in London with the aim of setting up her own freelance gardening business, now seemed a long way away. The redundancy she’d willingly taken from her job at the website company was enough to tide her over for the time being, and she had some freelance web design work, so getting a gardening contract wasn’t urgent. But she’d have to get a job soon, so her plan today was to get down to it, and start planning her future.

Kezzie got dressed and ate her breakfast in Jo’s kitchen, looking out at the garden. She loved this room, which was dominated by a huge Aga, and decorated in muted yellows and oranges, which gave it a cosy, warm feeling. It felt very much the hub of the house, and Kezzie spent a lot of time here.

It was a beautiful, sunny October morning and the birds were running riot in the hawthorn bush that belonged to her neighbour. Kezzie hadn’t spoken to her properly yet, though she had said hello once or twice to a rather frazzled-looking young woman with long, fair hair, pushing a buggy accompanied by two little girls. Blimey. Three children and she barely looked out of school. Kezzie couldn’t help but thank her lucky stars that she’d never made
that
mistake. It had been bad enough discovering that Richard had a daughter. Kezzie had had no desire to play stepmum to Emily, to Richard’s evident disappointment.

‘You have to grow up some time, Kez,’ he’d said, and Kezzie had laughed and said, ‘I don’t see why I have to.’ Now she wasn’t so sure.

Breakfast over, she opened the back door and scraped the crumbs of her toast out on the bird table positioned right by the hedge for the birds who so noisily woke her, and went back inside to get her laptop. She had so much to do: pitches for commissions, putting the finishing touches to her website, sorting out a leaflet to go out with the local paper, but she ignored all that. Kezzie had been so intrigued by the garden she’d broken into last night, the first thing she had to do was find out more about it.

She typed in Lovelace Cottage, and got a few matches, but nothing very concrete. So she tried again, putting Edward Handford into the search engine. Immediately a Wikipedia entry popped up:

There was a bit more about his later work, and a mention that much of his youth had been spent hunting exotic plants in India, but nothing much about Joel’s garden. To Kezzie’s disappointment, there was no plan. Kezzie printed off what she’d found and filed it for later use. It wasn’t much to go on if she was to restore the garden properly, but it was a start. Maybe Joel would have some more information about it. She’d have to ask him the next time she saw him.

‘So have you met my new neighbour yet?’ Lauren greeted Joel as he came to drop Sam off.

‘What new neighbour?’ he asked, yawning. He had found sleep hard to come by after his moonlit encounter the previous night.

‘She’s Jo Knight’s niece. Just moved in,’ said Lauren. ‘She’s very pretty. Just up your street.’

Joel at least had the grace to blush.

‘I’m not that bad.’

‘You so are,’ said Lauren teasingly, to hide the fact that the details of Joel’s love life made her feel uncomfortable.

‘Poor lamb, left all alone up there in that big house, it’s understandable he wants some company,’ she’d heard someone say recently.

Lauren was slightly aggravated by this. The one and only time she’d disastrously dated John Townley, who worked in the village garage, she’d actually heard the word ‘strumpet’ bandied about in the local high street. ‘And her with two little ones and all,’ as if by dint of having two small children she was condemned to be a nun for the rest of her life. And secondly, it made her so mad on Claire’s behalf. Lauren still missed Claire, who’d been a sane, calming influence on Lauren’s often chaotic life, and for the life of her she couldn’t see why Joel could apparently have forgotten her so easily. Or for that matter why local opinion seemed to think it was OK that he should. If it had been anyone else, Lauren would have thought he was a prize shit, but knowing as she did what a state he had been in after Claire had died, she knew the truth was more complicated than that.

‘What does she look like?’ he asked. ‘Not that I’m interested or anything.’

‘Well, she’s a bit hippyish,’ said Lauren. ‘I was teasing, she’s not really your type at all. She’s quite small – elfin looking – dark hair, brown eyes.’

‘Oh—’ Light dawned in Joel’s eyes. ‘It’s the guerrilla gardener.’

‘The what?’

‘I found her in my garden last night,’ explained Joel. ‘She told me she was doing a spot of guerrilla gardening and then had the cheek to have a go at me about leaving it to rack and ruin. She thinks I should restore it.’

‘Well you should,’ said Lauren. ‘That was the plan, right?’

‘Yeah, well, plans change,’ Joel mumbled, and a look of such sadness shot across his face that Lauren felt her heart contract. Perhaps she was too hard on him. Her experience with Troy had left her a little too eager to be unforgiving with men. They weren’t all selfish bastards.

A stab of protective tenderness came over Lauren and she touched his arm lightly. ‘Maybe it’s time they changed again?’ she said. ‘I was talking to Eileen Jones the other day, and she was saying the village want to honour Edward Handford next year for his 140th anniversary. I suggested she get in touch with you about restoring the garden. It might be just what you need and if your guerrilla gardener can help you …’

‘Maybe.’ Joel shook himself out of his reverie, looked at his watch and gave Sam a quick hug. ‘I must dash, see you later.’

‘Have a good day,’ said Lauren.

He set off, leaving Lauren thinking that her new neighbour sounded intriguing. She’d never met anyone before who’d broken into gardens at night. Jo was a lot of fun, so maybe her niece would be too.

It wasn’t long before Lauren got her opportunity to say hello properly. She’d just got back from the school run and was unclipping Sam from his buggy, when there was a knock on the door, and the small elfin girl she’d glimpsed through the garden hedge was standing there, looking very apologetic.

‘I’m so sorry, you’re going to think me very stupid, but I’ve managed to lock myself out. I know I left the back window open, and I’ve noticed there’s a gap in your fence. I was wondering if I could shimmy through it and hop back in.’

‘No need for that,’ said Lauren, lifting Sam up. ‘Come on in. Didn’t your aunt tell you I had a spare key?’

She ushered Kezzie into the kitchen, where she kept all her keys in a little wooden box above her wooden spice rack.

‘I’m Lauren Callan by the way,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to meet you at last.’

‘Kezzie Andrews,’ said Kezzie, looking embarrassed. ‘I’m such a dope. Jo did mention it and I completely forgot.’

‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ said Lauren, who had only been planning to bake cookies with Sam. He was quite happy when she put him down, and he pottered about, putting magnetic letters on the fridge. Lauren knew that she’d be searching underneath the fridge for half of them.

‘That would be lovely,’ said her new neighbour, with a smile.

It would be nice to have someone young living next door, thought Lauren.

‘I’ve been meaning to come over and introduce myself properly, but I’ve been so busy sorting myself out since I got here, I haven’t had a chance.’

‘Yes, I gather,’ said Lauren. ‘Do you often break into people’s gardens in the middle of the night?’

‘Oh my God, how did you know about that?’

‘Small place, Heartsease,’ grinned Lauren, flicking on the kettle and getting her favourite Cath Kidston mugs from the cupboard. She motioned to Kezzie to sit down at the cosy kitchen table.

‘Blimey,’ said Kezzie, ‘this country living is going to take some getting used to. I expect the whole village knows by now.’

Lauren took pity on her. ‘Actually, I only know about it because Sam here is Joel’s son.’

‘Joel?’ said the girl.

‘The guy who owns the garden. He’s quite discreet, I’m sure he won’t tell anyone. I look after Sam for him. Here, have a muffin.’

She opened a Tupperware box and offered Kezzie one of the blueberry muffins she’d made a few days earlier.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ said Kezzie. ‘So all those children I’ve seen you with don’t belong to you then?’

‘Just the two girls,’ said Lauren, ‘they’re my terrible twins.’

‘Twins. Must be a handful,’ said Kezzie.

‘Sure are,’ said Lauren, ‘particularly when you’re on your own.’

‘I take my hat off to you,’ said Kezzie. ‘I can barely look after myself, let alone twins. If you don’t mind me saying, you’re very young to have kids.’

Lauren grimaced. ‘I was twenty-one, way too young. It’s the old old story. I fell for the wrong guy at uni, who promised me the world and then left me literally holding the babies.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Kezzie.

‘Don’t be,’ said Lauren. ‘We’re well shot of him, and even though he doesn’t pay anything towards their upkeep, I manage. I look after Sam for Joel, who’s very generous, and then work in the pub a couple of evenings a week, while my mum looks after the girls. Luckily she lives nearby. Anyway, tell me about breaking into Joel’s garden. I’d have loved to have seen his face!’

‘I was walking past the bottom of the garden and out of curiosity climbed up in a tree to see what was hidden behind the wall. I thought it wasn’t being cared for,’ said Kezzie, ‘so I went in for a spot of guerrilla gardening. I used to do it in London all the time, though admittedly there’s less cause for it here. I hadn’t realized that the garden belonged to the big house up the road. Joel should restore it. It’s criminal that he doesn’t.’

‘That’s what I keep telling him,’ said Lauren. ‘There’s a lovely history attached to the garden. The guy who designed it created it for his wife on their wedding day.’

‘I know,’ said Kezzie, ‘I looked it up on Wikipedia this morning. So I’m curious, why doesn’t Joel do something about it?’

‘He’s had a really difficult time,’ said Lauren. ‘His wife died very suddenly last year. She had an undiagnosed heart
condition that no one knew about. Joel was restoring the house and garden for her. I think he’s lost a bit of hope with it now.’

‘Oh, bugger,’ said Kezzie, ‘typical of me, I’ve gone and put my great clomping size 10s in it again. I told him he should restore it. God, I wish I’d known.’

‘Well you didn’t,’ said Lauren, ‘and I have been saying the same thing for months. Maybe it’s time he started to do something about it.’

‘I did offer to help him,’ said Kezzie. ‘I’m setting up a gardening business and maybe eventually planning to show a garden at Chelsea. If Joel would let me I’d love to recreate Edward Handford’s knot garden.’

‘That is a fantastic idea,’ said Lauren. ‘I think we should both work on him, don’t you?’

Later that day Joel was at home, thinking about what Lauren had said earlier about his guerrilla gardener. He wrapped Sam up snugly and opened the back door, stepping out onto the patio. The last throes of a crimson sunset set the trees alight, and a shiver ran down Joel’s spine as he stood looking out onto his garden properly for the first time since Claire’s death. It was neglected and overrun. It wasn’t just the sunken garden at the bottom that needed attention, the grass on the main lawn was too high, the flowerbeds that lined it were choked with brambles and ivy, and the bushes needed pruning badly. Even up here on the crumbling patio, where the remains of a little wall and some cracked steps bore the evidence of something previously much grander, the rose bushes that had once formed an arbour were wild and rambling, and could do with cutting back. Joel sighed. It was such a huge job. One more thing for him to think about, and one of many reasons not to tackle it. Everything had halted since Claire
died. The house and gardens were frozen in a time warp of his grief. And yet, and yet …

Despite the neglect, and the thought of hard work, for the first time since Claire had died, Joel was suddenly reminded of the vision he’d had when he came here, and saw the legacy he’d been left. This had once been a beautiful home and gardens, but because Uncle Jack had lived alone for many years, both house and garden had suffered. Joel had wanted to restore both to their former glory when Claire was alive, and had lost heart. But as he held Sam, and watched him laughing at the bats that were swooping and diving over his head, Joel felt something stir inside him. He’d lost Claire but he still had Sam. Maybe it was time to start again.

Since Claire had died, Joel had barely spent any time in the garden, and only had half-hearted attempts at the DIY he’d started inside. The ancient scullery, which he’d stripped out, extended and thoroughly modernized, with the intention of making it the heart of a happy home, had been finished for over a year. But far from being a heart, it felt like an empty shell, with its expanse of gleaming surfaces, and cupboards filled with pots and pans that Joel hardly ever used. The lounge, which had French windows that opened onto the garden terrace, had still to be redecorated, and he hadn’t had the heart to start on the dining room. When he and Claire had moved in, one of his first actions was to strip out the dark wooden panelling in the hall, which Claire had found gloomy. He hadn’t got round to replacing them with lighter wood, nor had he carpeted the floor as he intended, so every day the bare floorboards of the hallway were just another reminder of how the house was in limbo. It was no wonder. Kezzie had thought the place was empty, he realized, looking at the house through her eyes. The windows and front door needed painting,
and the back guttering was looking fairly crazy. He’d have to sort that out soon with winter approaching.