The Secrets of Ivy Garden

by Catherine Ferguson

  ‘What the hell did that skanky witch say to her?’ demands Layla.

  ‘She didn’t say anything.’ Selena shudders. ‘It was just the look on her face.’

  I take Layla’s arm. ‘Look after things here. I’ll go after her. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.’

  ‘Thanks, Holly.’ Relief washes across her face as I race off after Prue.

  THIRTY-TWO

  I find Prue in Ivy Garden.

  She’s sitting bolt upright on the tree stump, hands tucked under her thighs, staring into the distance. Tear tracks mar her perfect make-up. When she sees me, she holds out her arms in a helpless gesture, her face full of anguish. ‘Oh, Holly, it was dreadful. I should never have let Layla persuade me to do this. I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself.’

  I sit down on the mossy ground beside her and take her hands. She’s trembling.

  ‘Prue, you were very brave coming here today,’ I tell her gently. ‘I know it was the last thing you felt like doing, but Layla’s really proud of you. I expect Jack is too. Did Robina threaten you in some way?’

  Prue shakes her head sadly. ‘It’s stupid, I know, but when she started walking over towards me, I thought I was going to faint. I haven’t seen her for years, not since—’ She breaks off and swallows hard.

  ‘Not since?’ I prompt softly.

  Prue shakes her head.

  ‘You can tell me. It won’t go any further and maybe I’ll be able to help.’

  Still she hesitates, although I sense she wants to trust me.

  I repeat in a whisper, ‘You haven’t seen Robina since …?’

  Prue clears her throat. ‘Since … since she labelled me a whore. She put up posters of me in just my underwear all over the village.’ She swallows and tears well up. ‘The posters said I was unfit to be a mother to Jack and Layla.’

  I stare at her, shocked.

  ‘She was right, of course,’ Prue whispers. ‘I didn’t deserve to be a mother. Not then. William had just died and I went completely off the rails. Layla was just a baby and poor Jack had to be a mum to her and a virtual carer to me, because I just went totally to pieces.’

  ‘Oh God, poor you.’ My heart goes out to her. ‘But it wasn’t your fault, Prue. It was no-one’s fault. Obviously you weren’t yourself.’

  She’s staring sadly into the distance. ‘But it was my fault. All of it. I should have found the strength to cope. Other people do. But instead I let the situation get on top of me and we all suffered.’

  ‘So what actually happened?’ I ask her gently.

  I don’t want to pry but it might help her to get everything off her chest. How terrible that she’s been blaming herself and holding on to all this guilt for so long. I know from my own experience that talking about the bad stuff, getting it all out in the open, can make you feel a hundred times better. Talking to Connie about Mum and Dad’s accident made all the difference in the world to me. I’m determined I’ll never bottle things up like that again.

  Prue gives a shaky sigh. ‘William’s death was so sudden. It knocked me sideways. It felt like my whole world just ground to a halt. Except I couldn’t afford to give in to the overwhelming grief because I had Jack who was thirteen at the time, and I was pregnant with Layla.’ She smiles grimly. ‘Those pregnancy hormones probably didn’t help my state of mind one bit. There were times I honestly thought I was going insane. I can barely remember Layla’s birth. My sister came up to be with me and completely took over, apparently, demanding all the pain relief available because she was so worried the birth might tip me over the edge.’

  ‘That must have been so bittersweet,’ I murmur. ‘William gone and you giving birth to his child. I just can’t imagine …’

  ‘Later, I started drinking to numb the pain. I made myself stay completely sober while I was weaning Layla, but once she started taking a bottle, I fell off the wagon completely and was drinking an embarrassing amount of gin every night after the children had gone to bed. It was the loneliness and because I missed William so desperately. And it was so hard trying to make my benefits stretch so that the kids didn’t go without.’

  ‘Your benefits?’ I asked, surprised. ‘Didn’t William have life insurance, then?’

  She shook her head. ‘The silly man kept putting it off, never imagining he was going to fall off his perch so suddenly. Every penny he earned went into the upkeep of Rushbrooke House, so there was no personal pension plan or insurance or savings of any kind. A house like this just eats cash. All the same, I had no idea he was so disorganised financially.’ She laughs sadly. ‘I used to tell him he never stopped surprising me – in a good way. Little did I know he was saving the biggest shocks till last!’

  ‘So along with everything else, you had no money? What on earth did you do?’

  She shrugs. ‘I did the only thing I knew I could do well. I started auditioning for dance roles in the London theatres. I had a friend in Stroud who was kind enough to babysit for me and I stayed the occasional night in London, when I was trying to get work, with an old friend from college days. But of course I was kidding myself. Theatre hours are so ridiculously unsociable. It would never have worked, even if I’d managed to get a job.’ She sighs. ‘So Carol – my London dancer friend – suggested I lower my sights and go down the same route she had.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘The men’s clubs. Exotic dancing.’

  I nod, trying to look as if I found this a completely logical thing to do. ‘At least it would be regular money.’

  ‘It was very good money. I found that, with the tips I was getting, I only needed a few nights a month to make a real difference to our income.’

  ‘Who took care of Jack and Layla?’ I ask.

  ‘Well. I had to drive them all the way down to my sister’s and she’d have them overnight. I’d then get the train up to London, go to work, stay over at Carol’s, then get the train back to collect the kids next day. It was exhausting but at least I was able to put food on the table and pay the bills.’

  ‘But then Robina found out how you were earning a living?’

  Prue nodded. ‘She’d always hated me, ever since William fell in love with me in New York. When we were married and I moved into Rushbrooke House, she started spreading rumours about me to anyone who would listen. She implied I’d lived a high old life in New York, sleeping around to get the good jobs, and while William’s friends, once they knew me, didn’t believe her, there were plenty of others who did. Especially the older generation. They took all the tales of sleazy goings-on on board and whispered behind my back. It was horrible. But then, of course, I managed to play completely into Robina’s hands by starting work as an exotic dancer after William died. It must have been a red letter day for her when she found out what I was doing to earn a crust!’

  ‘So she stuck up posters of you all around the village?’ I whisper, horrified that anyone could have so little compassion for someone in Prue’s vulnerable state.

  ‘Yup! She managed to get her hands on a photo of me with very little on, except for ear-rings and a saucy smile, and she got the image printed on a big poster with the words, “Fit To Be A Mother?” emblazoned underneath it. Then she had dozens of copies run off and presumably in the dead of night, stuck them on all the lampposts and the shop windows, and posted one through every door in Appleton!’

  ‘Phew! Now that’s dedication to a cause,’ I breathe, shaking my head in horror.

  Prue’s mouth quirked up at the side. ‘You’re telling me.’

  ‘And did she have any friends left after that little stunt?’

  ‘God knows.’ Prue sighs heavily. ‘I went into the village that morning and saw all the posters, and it felt like the end of my world all over again.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ I murmur. ‘What an utter cow!’

  ‘Having my shame announced to the whole world like that – all the people I knew in the village – was just … horrible.’

  It’s all so hard to take
in.

  Prue obviously went to hell and back after her husband died. It was almost impossible to imagine this proud and elegant woman working as an exotic dancer. It would have crucified her, I’m certain, but she did it all for the sake of her children. And then a scorned woman took out her anger on Prue – and basically sentenced her to a life in hiding, unable to rise above the shame and humiliation, terrified to face the woman who hated her enough to wreak such a nasty revenge. Prue already felt she’d failed as a mother, and to have it so cruelly stated for the whole village to witness must have done huge psychological damage.

  Damage that Prue was even now failing to move on from …

  ‘If it had just been me, it wouldn’t have mattered. But what my babies had to go through, especially Jack. I’ll never forgive myself.’ A tear leaks out but she leaves it unchecked. ‘The thing is, in a way I felt I deserved people’s censure. Robina was saying I was a bad mother, and I actually agreed. I was so ashamed of the direction my life had taken, I just gave in and hid from the world.’

  ‘You were much too hard on yourself,’ I murmur, squeezing her hands gently. ‘As far as I can see, Jack and Layla don’t seem to have been scarred by this in any way. You’re their mum and they love you, full stop. It was just a horrible, horrible time after your husband died. Everyone reacts differently. But you’re strong and you can get through it. You can’t let someone as small-minded and pathetically vengeful as Robina hold you back.’

  She stares at me sadly. ‘I know I’ve got to be braver, but over the years, it’s just seemed easier to let my world shrink to the size of a pea and allow Jack to carry on being the man of the house, like he did when his father died. I despise myself for relying on him so much and I really want to change things but I’m frightened I won’t be able to. I look at you and what you’ve been through, losing your parents so young and then your lovely Ivy.’ She gazes at me, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘You’re an inspiration to me, Holly. Really you are.’

  I feel the hot sting of my own tears. I inspire Prue? I’d never have believed it. Almost as touching is that she seems to have dropped the deafness act and is now calling me Holly instead of Polly!

  ‘You can rise to the challenge, Prue. I know you can.’ There’s a lump in my throat. ‘Why don’t we go back to the fete and show Robina you absolutely refuse to be bullied any longer?’

  She gives me a watery smile but I can sense the struggle going on inside her. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out to be as brave as you, Holly.’

  ‘You took your first step today,’ I remind her. ‘Okay, you might have faltered a bit, but next time, you won’t.’

  Prue takes a paper hanky out of her pocket and delicately blows her nose.

  ‘We can help you,’ I tell her firmly. Then I remember with a little shock of dismay that I won’t be here in Appleton for much longer. But I draw a deep breath and say determinedly, ‘Jack’s brilliant. And Layla’s definitely got your back. She’s a force to be reckoned with, that girl.’

  ‘Very true.’ Prue smiles fondly. ‘It’s funny how a crisis like this can actually bring you closer. Layla’s been really lovely with me.’ Glancing down, she whispers, ‘I’m not sure I deserve it, though.’

  ‘Hey, that’s nonsense,’ I chide her gently.

  She looks up, her eyes full of pain. ‘But I’m much too hard on her. I’m terrified she’ll get in with the wrong crowd and go down the same slippery slope that I did, and I just couldn’t bear that. So I nag her. Constantly. Instead of making allowances for the fact that she’s a teenager with hormones.’

  ‘And she bites back.’ I smile. ‘You do realise that just makes you a typical family?’

  She acknowledges this with a tiny laugh.

  ‘Are you talking about me?’ Layla herself appears through the gap, and beside me, Prue jumps nervously. She laughs at her over-reaction, slapping her hand to her chest.

  ‘Lucy Feathers is looking after the cake stall, Holly,’ Layla says, before turning to Prue. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’

  Prue reaches out for Layla’s hand. ‘Yes, love, I think I am. In fact, I think I might be ready to go back to the fete.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Layla’s eyes open wide. ‘You ready to kick ass?’ she says in a terrible phoney American accent. ‘Show that evil witch you’re the boss?’ She holds out her hand, her mum takes it, and Layla hauls her to her feet.

  Prue’s laugh sounds strained. ‘Well, I might not go that far, darling daughter. On the other hand, I’m sort of thinking Robina’s been queen of the castle for far too long now …’ She links Layla’s arm – very bravely, I think. (Almost as brave as her decision to face Robina again.) Layla flinches away slightly at the unfamiliar contact but decides to allow it, and we prepare to head back to the fete.

  Prue stops at the gap in the hedge and takes a deep breath. ‘Ah, the scent of those lilacs! You know, this garden really is magical. When I arrived less than half an hour ago I was a complete mess, yet now, I’m thinking: Why have I wasted all this time allowing Robina to bully me?’

  ‘Quite right, Mum. Way to go!’ cheers Layla.

  ‘Thank you, Layla.’ Prue turns to me with a smile. ‘Of course, it might have nothing to do with the lilacs. I have a sneaky suspicion it was your lovely pep talk that worked the magic, Holly.’

  ‘Hmm.’ I pretend to weigh it up. ‘No, definitely the lilacs.’

  Smiling, we slip through the gap in the hedge and start walking in the direction of the village green.

  ‘Speaking of scents,’ says Layla. ‘You know that smell of freshly mown grass that everyone goes barmy over?’

  ‘Ooh, yes. I love it,’ says Prue.

  ‘Well.’ Layla pauses dramatically. ‘That scent is actually the grass yelling for help because you’re attacking it.’

  I laugh. ‘You just made that up.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ She stares at me indignantly. ‘It’s a chemical reaction, if you must know. It’s the plant trying to heal itself. A customer at the garden centre told me.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ breathes Prue, still holding on to her daughter’s arm for dear life.

  ‘I know.’ Layla grins. ‘So basically, every time you cut the grass, you’re actually committing GBH.’

  THIRTY-THREE

  As we draw nearer the colourful crowd on the green, the fairground music grows louder and the scent of warm caramel drifts up my nose.

  I can sense Prue’s anxiety levels rising.

  As we pass through the entrance, I glimpse Lucy Feathers laughing with Ben behind our cake stall. In all the panic over Prue, I’d forgotten about Lucy and how our conversation about the night of the dinner party had ended on a cliff-hanger. She was on the point of telling us about Ben’s love life.

  My insides shift uneasily.

  Do I really want to find out what Lucy is going to tell us?

  I glance at Layla and know I have no option. My partner in crime is like a dog with a bone. She’s definitely not about to let it go.

  It’s time to face the truth.

  With Mr H eliminated from our enquiry on the grounds he’d just moved to the area from Scotland, with his wife Penelope, it looks as if we finally have our answer.

  Ivy’s mystery man has to be Ben …

  I watch him now, telling a story, using his hands liberally to illustrate it and making Lucy crease up with laughter.

  A warm, tingly feeling spreads through me.

  Could he really be …?

  ‘Right, I must be brave,’ announces Prue beside me, clearly in the process of psyching herself up. ‘I need to do something symbolic.’

  ‘Like punch Ribena’s lights out?’ suggests Layla hopefully.

  ‘No. Like … having a go on the helter skelter!’ Prue glances at her watch. ‘Come on. We’ve got time before the dance contest starts.’

  She lets go of Layla’s arm and starts marching over, and after a brief look of disbelief at one other, Layla and I start hotfooting it after her. Prue is staring straight a
head, avoiding catching anyone’s eye, and I can only guess how terrified she must be feeling at that moment.

  I climb to the top with her, and Layla says she’ll catch her at the bottom.

  Once up there, though, Prue starts to have second thoughts and I can tell the stress of the day is really getting to her. There are bright spots of feverish colour in her cheeks and she seems restless.

  We keep letting other kids and parents brush past us while Prue takes big breaths to calm herself.

  Down below, Layla is hiding her worry at the delay by shouting encouragement, which is actually the last thing Prue needs, as it means an interested crowd of people are lingering to watch the entertainment.

  ‘Come on, Mum. I’ll catch you!’ Layla keeps yelling. ‘Just be brave and do it!’

  Behind Prue, I’m frantically drawing my finger across my throat and waving my arms to shut her up.

  Finally, Prue turns to me and says, ‘Bugger Robina Worsley. I’m going to do it.’ She arranges herself on the mat and pushes herself off.

  When I reach the bottom myself, several people have followed Layla’s lead and are still clapping and whooping at Prue’s triumph, although they probably aren’t quite sure why. I give her a little sideways squeeze and she beams at me.

  As we cross the grass to the marquee where the dance competition is being staged, I hold my breath as we drew near Robina’s stall. Prue, as she passes, turns to her tormentor, nods at the helter skelter, and – without slowing her stride – says airily, ‘You should have a go, Robina. Exhilarating. And you know what? I wish I’d done it years ago.’

  I sneak a look at Robina’s face, pleased to note that Prue seems to have stunned her into silence. There’s a ripple of laughter from the folks around us, and Layla remarks with a hint of pride, ‘I guess you’re not the only one who can’t stand her, then, Mum.’

  Jack has arrived – just in time to witness the impressive spectacle of his normally inhibited mother throwing off her fears in public. He wraps an arm round her and hugs her so tightly, she jokingly complains he’s blocking her airwaves. I watch them, my heart swelling with emotion.