“Hi!” the voice said in delight. “Wait, I’ll open up.”
Lilly heard the gate spring from its catch, and she gave the dogs a skeptical look. What were they called again? Skippy and Dotty?
Lilly decided not to speak to them as she carefully pushed the gate open.
Then she heard a shrill whistle. “Hey, you two, leave the lady in peace!”
Rufus, the gardener, was waving at her. Lilly gave a sigh of relief. The dogs always listened to him. After glancing once more in her direction, they charged over to him in giant bounds.
As she came nearer, she saw that he had gathered a few branches together for the shredder.
“Hello, Mr. Devon!” Lilly greeted the gardener, who drew a small ball from his bag and flung it, leading the dogs away from them in a rush.
“Hello, Mrs. Kaiser,” he replied, hurriedly wiping his hand on his pants before holding it out to Lilly. “Mrs. Morris told me you were coming. I’d hoped to have everything ready before you arrived, but these two rascals keep holding me back.”
Rufus Devon was a joker—and crazy about dogs. Somehow he managed to win over any dog, from the most timid to the most boisterous. He was from a family of dog breeders, and the animals were in his blood.
“I don’t think even David Copperfield could conjure violets from the snow,” Lilly said. “The fact that you’re here and looking after the garden this early in the year is plenty good enough—the growing season won’t really begin for a few months yet.”
“True, but I want to have everything ready by the time it does. I want this park to look good again.”
“It will, I’m sure.”
Lilly took her leave of Mr. Devon and turned toward the house. She breathed in deeply, savoring the air that was so different from that of Berlin. It smelled of wood shavings and humus, of rotting leaves and old snow. Pine needles, old beams, reeds, and pond water.
The shredder started up again behind Lilly with a noise that sent goose bumps down her spine. It was time to go inside. Fond though she may have been of Rufus Devon, she was almost allergic to noise. As she reached the steps leading up to the front door, she was relieved to know that it would soon be a little quieter.
Once again she felt something like envy as she looked up at the two turrets adorning the front of the house. She wondered if Queen Elizabeth I had ever used it as a hunting lodge. The distant past was still tangible.
Lilly had little time to think about it since she had hardly begun to climb the steps when the front door flew open. Ellen’s daughters rushed out toward her as if she were Father Christmas.
“Aunt Lilly!” they called as if from one mouth, embracing her so forcefully that she had to take care not to fall back down the steps. The girls had grown since she last saw them, but she held back from saying it out loud, remembering how she’d hated such remarks from her own aunts.
“It’s so lovely to see you!” she said in English, although she knew that Ellen had made sure they both spoke good German.
“It’s lovely to see you too, Aunty,” Jessie replied politely in German, causing Lilly to smile. “Mum said we should show you to your room as soon as you arrived.”
“Yes, you need to have a little rest before anything else,” Norma added.
“But I’ve been sitting down all this time—I didn’t swim the Channel, you know.”
The two girls giggled at her joke, then turned and ran on ahead.
As she followed Jessie and Norma through the house, Lilly noticed one or two pieces of furniture that had not been there on her last visit. The sugary candy smell of that distant Christmas had gone, replaced by a smell like glue that filled the hallway. One of the girls had probably been sitting down to a project for her homework.
The way the two girls ran down the corridor to her bedroom reminded Lilly of herself and Ellen when they were younger. They, too, ran with echoing footsteps through the halls of her parents’ house—the young girls not quite sisters, but something close to it. Ellen, with her long legs, had always been a little ahead, with Lilly sprinting to keep up.
“Mum said that we shouldn’t bombard you with questions,” said Jessie, the oldest. Although only eleven, she was almost as tall as Lilly.
“Well, isn’t that a strange rule?” Lilly replied. “That’s why I’m here, to be bombarded with questions. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you if you want to know about the latest bands in Berlin.”
“Mummy said you have a violin,” said Norma, who was not at all interested in bands and clothes. “Is that it there? Can I see it?”
“Of course, I’ll show it to you later. Let me unpack first.”
The girls stopped in front of a carved door, one of the few that had been preserved in their original condition. Lilly’s heart thumped for joy. It was the room where she always stayed when she was here. It reminded her so strongly of her grandmother’s house that she had a strange feeling of returning to one of her childhood haunts. The high bed, the rough beams, the old furniture.
The two girls opened the door, and Lilly saw that hardly anything had changed. The big, heavy bed that she remembered had not changed, and the antique wardrobe that had come from Dean’s deceased parents’ bedroom was still there. The room was watched over by an old stag’s head, “Henry” as Lilly mockingly called him after a children’s book she had bought in East Berlin a few years before the wall came down. Standing before this stuffed monstrosity for the first time, she had thought it creepy, but now the sight of it hardly fazed her. It was merely a part of this room, like the wainscoting or the red silk wallpaper that had been restored by a specialist from Oxford.
What was new was the long box that lay on the bed.
“That’s a present from Mummy!” Jessie said with as much pride as if she had chosen it herself. “She brought it yesterday and told us not to look inside.”
“Can we look now?” Norma asked immediately.
“Yes, you can. But first let me put my things down.”
The girls stood expectantly by the bed, watching with curiosity as Lilly set her suitcase down in front of the wardrobe. Lilly had to smile. She could hardly believe that they were both obeying their mother’s instructions. She, and Ellen, too, would most likely have taken a peek as soon as their mothers’ backs were turned. Or were the two only bluffing now?
Whatever the truth, Lilly turned her attention to the box and opened it carefully. Nestled in lime-green tissue paper patterned with leaves was a bottle-green dress—the very color that went best with the red of her hair. It took her breath away.
“Oh, doesn’t it look pretty?” Norma said in amazement.
“Please can I try it on?” Jessie asked.
At first Lilly didn’t know what to say. She usually dressed rather simply; she didn’t need more than jeans and a blouse, or a black turtleneck sweater in winter, and maybe the occasional pantsuit for when she visited trade fairs. She felt best in jeans and T-shirts.
Shining in the afternoon light, the dress was better than anything she had in her wardrobe. She would feel hopelessly overdressed in an ordinary pub or on the street.
“Don’t you like it?” Jessie asked as if she wanted to make off with the dress herself.
“Yes, it’s . . . ” Ridiculously expensive, she thought, but quickly added: “It’s wonderful!”
She carefully ran a hand over the fabric. It felt every bit as soft as it looked. She could comfortably have been seen in Buckingham Palace in it, or at Ascot. Ellen was probably planning to take her to such places. All right, perhaps not to the palace, and it was a bit early in the year for the races, but who knew what she was planning?
“When I’m grown up, I want one of those!” Norma said, clapping her hands. “Or will you lend me yours, Aunt Lilly?”
“By the time you’re old enough to wear something like this, I’m sure fashion will have moved on.” Lilly gazed at it once more before replacing the lid on the box.
The two girls looked at one another, and then Jessie asked, �
�Should we bring you something to drink, Aunt Lilly?”
The perfect hostess.
“Thank you, that’s very kind, but first I’ve got something for you two.”
She went to her suitcase and got out their gifts. She had found some hand-printed T-shirts and bags in a lovely little shop. The sales assistant had assured her that this kind of thing was popular with young people at the moment.
“What’s in there?” Norma asked, feeling the parcel.
“Berlin air,” Lilly laughed. “You’d better open it and see—and try it on, of course.”
Her suggestion obviously appealed to the girls, since they disappeared into their bedroom with the booty. Lilly was once again reminded of herself and Ellen. They had always opened the Christmas gifts from Ellen’s foster mother together. That was probably what the children were doing now. Unusual children, Lilly thought as she moved the box to one side and put the violin case on the bedcover—a handmade quilt with dark red roses. Polite, unlike so many in Berlin.
As she laid out her things on the shelves of the wardrobe, Lilly wondered what Peter would have said about the dress. He never liked to see Ellen giving her expensive gifts, but Ellen had managed to convince him that she expected nothing in return.
“Lilly and I have known one another much longer than you two,” she had always said.
Peter had been won over in the end by her charm. And he would certainly have liked the dress, even though she still had no idea when she would wear it.
The humming of an engine and crunching of gravel beneath approaching wheels pulled Lilly from her thoughts. That must be Ellen! She went over to the window and pushed the heavy curtain to one side to confirm her suspicions.
With a smile, Lilly watched Ellen get out of the car, hurry around to the trunk, and pull out two packed shopping bags. With her arms full, she climbed the steps and disappeared into the house. Jessie and Norma were bound to tell their mother immediately that she had arrived.
Lilly moved away from the window and left her room, carrying the gift she had brought for Ellen. Out on the landing she heard Ellen puttering in the kitchen. She had clearly returned so early because, as always when Lilly came to visit, she wanted to cook for her.
“Hi, Ellen.”
Her friend started and almost dropped the package of meat she was stowing away in the fridge.
“Lilly, you’re awake? I thought you’d want to lie down for a while after the flight.”
“Why should I need to? I haven’t flown in from Singapore. And I’m far too wound up to sleep—I wanted a word with you . . . ” She looked at Ellen reproachfully but couldn’t hold the expression for long before breaking into a broad smile and giving her friend a hug.
“Ah, you found it,” Ellen said, holding Lilly tight. “Go on, you can say it—you don’t like it.”
“Of course I like it! But it must have been ludicrously expensive. And when do you think I’m going to wear it?”
Ellen released her, a broad grin on her face. “Come on, do you think I’d miss an opportunity to take my friend, whom I only see once or twice a year these days, to the Ritz? Or we could go to one of those outrageously expensive shops that have opened recently. There are some really stylish restaurants around here where you’ve a good chance of bumping into a celebrity or two.”
Was that what she wanted? At that moment, strange though it might seem, the only person Lilly wanted to see was the man from the airplane, whether in a pub or a chic restaurant.
“Well, the gift I’ve brought for you looks a bit shabby in comparison.” Lilly handed her the box she had wrapped in paper decorated with real pressed flowers she had collected years ago during a trip into the mountains.
Ellen shook her head as she took the box over to the table. “Nothing’s shabby to me—you know that. What have you brought me, then?” The tone of Ellen’s voice sounded like the fourteen-year-old she had been once.
Lilly had spent a long time wondering what her friend would like. Bringing something from her own shop seemed cheap, so she had gone to the competition and bought a silver candelabrum that would look good on the long table in the dining room. Now she was a little doubtful whether Ellen would like it, but when she opened the parcel, a genuine smile sprang to her lips.
“It’s wonderful. Is it from your shop?”
“No, from a competitor downtown. It’s a wonderful shop. I’m amazed I still have any customers.”
Faint worry lines appeared on Ellen’s brow. “Isn’t your shop doing well?”
Lilly waved away her concerns. “Just a temporary lull. It’s usually like that after Christmas. Things will pick up when the tourists arrive. I’ve wondered about ordering heaps of cuckoo clocks—the Japanese are particularly keen on those.”
“Naturally; they’re typical of Berlin.” Ellen laughed, then wrapped her arms around her friend. “I’ve missed you so much. Next time you’re not going to leave it as long as six months, OK?”
“I’ll see what happens. If the shop gets busy, I can hardly leave Sunny there alone.”
“Is she still helping you?”
“Yes, she’s back. It’s a pity she’s got other ambitions. She seems born to be an antiques dealer.”
Ellen knew Sunny from her last visit to Lilly. It had been summer then, and so many customers had been pouring through the door that Lilly would never have coped alone. She would have been in a real fix without Sunny. And thanks to her, she had even been able to enjoy Ellen’s surprise visit a little.
“Then try and convince her. I’m sure the prospects for arts students don’t look any better over there than they do here. At least she’d have a job.”
Lilly nodded. “I’ll see. If business picks up, I certainly want to employ an assistant so that I can visit you.”
“And don’t forget seeing the big wide world.”
Lilly lowered her head sadly. “Yes, the big wide world . . . If only Peter were still alive.” She stopped short, thinking it was the last thing her friend wanted to hear. But Ellen laid an arm around her shoulders in sympathy.
“Let’s go for a little walk before the sun disappears completely.”
5
The crunching of the gravel under their boots sounded loud in the winter stillness. Rufus Devon had finished his work with the shredder and there was now no sign of him or the dogs. As the sky turned a deeper shade of violet and the air grew colder, all that could be heard was a light rustling of the bare branches and the distant cawing of crows on the breeze.
Neither of them had spoken a word since leaving the kitchen.
Peter’s death had also shaken Ellen deeply, as if she had lost a brother. Whenever he was mentioned, they fell into a silence that could last awhile, as if any mention of him conjured up images in their heads that they needed a moment’s peace to contemplate.
Lilly almost regretted saying his name out loud. Yes, of course she missed him, with particular melancholy whenever the conversation turned to traveling. But the time was long since past when she felt unable to talk about it.
As her friend continued to say nothing, seeming to need the time to reflect, Lilly also stayed silent, regarding her instead.
Ellen didn’t look her age, and she exuded from her very pores the self-confidence that Lilly so envied. Lilly was often struck by the idea that fate seemed compelled to compensate her friend for all she had suffered when she was young.
When Ellen, whose name had then been Ellen Pauly, was a year old, her mother and brother had been killed in a car accident. She had never known her father, because her mother had never revealed his name, even to her own parents, and the secret had gone with her to the grave. The man himself probably didn’t even know he had a daughter.
Ellen had initially been brought up by her grandparents, but they had soon become too old and infirm to take proper care of their granddaughter. The fact that Ellen had been fostered had proved a stroke of good fortune, both for her and for Lilly. The two girls met at school in third grade.
Whenever Ellen spoke of her foster mother, she called her Mama, although she knew she had had another mother. But Miriam Pauly and Ellen’s brother, Martin, were no more than a faded photo to her and, as was her way, she gave her unreserved affection to those who were there for her and who had given her a feeling of security.
That was probably the reason their friendship was so unshakeable. Although it now felt as if Lilly was the one who was more in need, that had not always been the case. Lilly had once been the one who helped Ellen in difficult times and protected her from troublemakers. She and Ellen had a deep conviction that they were soul mates, a feeling that Lilly felt in full when she stepped out from the house onto the gravel path by her friend’s side.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Ellen said as she noticed Lilly watching her.
“I’m thinking how lucky you are in your life. You’ve got Dean, the girls . . . the house . . . ”
Ellen put her arm around her. “And you’ll soon have similar luck, I promise. One day your prince will come, whisk you away from your beloved shop, and take you off to travel the world.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Lilly replied with a trace of bitterness.
“Perhaps? You have to believe it will happen!” Ellen hugged her tightly. “How can you expect it to happen if you keep doubting?”
“I’m only human. I’d just like to be able to see the solution, to know where I’m heading.”
“But there are times when you simply can’t know. You can take an unexpected turn in the road and find something wonderful waiting around the corner for you.”
Or something awful, Lilly thought. That was how it had been with Peter. When he had encountered difficulties, he would keep them from her. Until the diagnosis, which had struck Lilly like a bolt out of the blue.
“Everyone has their own cross to bear,” Ellen added after a brief pause. “Of course some people’s load is a little harder to bear than others’, but we all have our problems. You should hear the way I curse the company sometimes! And sometimes even Dean when he’s up to something. The important thing is that, whatever rubbish the world throws at you, you don’t lose heart, and you make sure you always find a way to rid yourself of the bad stuff.”
The Moonlit Garden Page 4
