A Secret Garden: An utterly gorgeous feel good romance

by Katie Fforde

  He nudged her to acknowledge her attempt at a joke. ‘No. Although actually they do look wonderful in moonlight. You can see them by moonlight another time.’

  ‘Maybe not a moon as wonderful as this.’

  ‘A harvest moon. It’ll still be beautiful tomorrow night though. Now, I’m taking you home.’

  26

  By chance, Lorna had left a table lamp on so the cottage wasn’t in complete darkness when they got back. A couple more lamps and it looked cosy again. She collapsed on to a chair at the kitchen table.

  ‘I do want tea,’ said Lorna as Jack filled the kettle, ‘but you’re right, something stronger as well. I think we’ve earned it.’ She got up and went to her old corner cupboard and found a bottle of brandy and some glasses.

  ‘Oh – nice,’ said Jack, when he saw the bottle.

  ‘It is. A present from Peter. I make brandy butter for the pudding at Christmas and he supplies the brandy. He doesn’t want the rest of the bottle back.’

  ‘My mother just has brandy butter and no pudding. She says it’s either that or the pudding and she prefers the butter.’

  Lorna laughed. ‘I think I’m with her there!’

  ‘I’d like to take you to see her.’

  Lorna was horrified. ‘Don’t do that! She’ll think you’ve taken up with a cougar.’

  ‘No she won’t. She’d think: At last, Jack’s found the right woman.’ He paused. ‘Anyway I’ve already told her about you. How do you like your tea?’

  Lorna was floundering. ‘Oh, fairly strong, not much milk. But, Jack…’

  ‘Lorna – I was broken-hearted. I’d lost you. Mum and I had a lot of time together. It was natural I should tell her my problems.’ He paused. ‘She was quite encouraging.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘She said if I was really clever and attentive I might get you back. She saw your point about the drawing, a hundred per cent, but thought you might be able to get over it if I played my cards right.’

  Lorna sipped her brandy and laughed gently. ‘I do think I’d like to meet her.’

  Jack gazed at her for a few moments and then said, ‘You haven’t got anything to eat, have you? I’m starving.’

  Lorna nodded, still smiling. She got to her feet. ‘I have cake. Seamus is making Anthea’s birthday cake and he made some trial versions. Eventually Anthea went for a chocolate cake, so he gave me the fruit one.’

  ‘It really is quite like Christmas, isn’t it?’ said Jack. ‘Brandy and fruit cake?’

  ‘Mm.’ Lorna yawned hugely. ‘And feeling impossibly tired. When Leo was little, and it was just us sometimes, if we weren’t seeing my parents, I used to gather up other families and we’d do it together. It was huge fun but then suddenly I’d feel exhausted.’

  ‘Right. Finish your drink. I’m going to run you a bath.’

  Lorna left one lamp on and followed him up the stairs. She could hear water running into the bath and wondered if he was about to see her naked. She wished they could have made love in the garden, when the moonlight and the fragrance were so potent. Now she would be facing electric light unless Jack spotted the candles that were dotted about the bathroom. He probably wouldn’t. On the whole men didn’t notice things like that.

  ‘It’s ready!’ said Jack. ‘Come and see if it’s too hot.’ She’d put on her best dressing gown, vintage silk and one of her favourite items of clothing. The one she usually wore was a bit stained with hair colour and not terribly flattering.

  She went into the bathroom and was delighted to see that Jack had spotted the candles, so instead of harsh but economical LEDs the room was softly lit. She went to the bath and put her hand in it. ‘That’s the perfect temperature,’ she said. ‘Just slightly too hot for comfort so it’ll be a little while before it gets cold.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Are you going to join me? It’s a big old bath.’

  He shook his head and looked a bit embarrassed. ‘Oh, Lorna – I’m afraid I can’t. I’m so sorry but I have to go.’

  Immediately she felt abandoned. She’d been nervous about taking off her dressing gown – just as she’d felt nervous taking it off all those years ago when she’d done nude modelling for art students – but she’d been prepared to do it. Now he was leaving her. Well, she wasn’t going to ask twice.

  ‘Oh, OK. Just close the front door on the way out. I’ll go down and bolt it later.’

  He didn’t move. He seemed to be looking for the right words and then he sighed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said eventually. ‘I really am. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He leant in to kiss her cheek but she turned away so he got her hair instead.

  ‘Bye!’ she said. She waited until she’d heard the front door close before she went back downstairs and added more brandy to her glass. Then she bolted the door and went back to her bath. At least the combination of tiredness, alcohol and hot water would make sure she slept. At least for a while.

  She awoke at five. The moon was still visible but it was some time before dawn. She knew she wouldn’t go back to sleep – she had far too much on her mind. She got up and, after a quick breakfast, set off for the secret garden.

  She didn’t take the car. She wanted to walk through the main garden, get some exercise, get her blood pumping, so she could face the day.

  It wasn’t going to be easy. First, she had to clear up the mess in the grotto and then replace the missing shells, although she couldn’t do that until she could get hold of some cement. But also she had to face Jack. Somehow, after their passionate kissing his rejection of her seemed a hundred times worse. It was so confusing – he’d wanted to introduce her to his mother, which did indicate some sort of serious intent. But then he’d walked away, left her, just as she was about to take off her dressing gown. Maybe the thought of her naked body put him off at the last minute. It was like a knife stabbing at her.

  A sparrow cheeped from somewhere as she arrived at Anthea’s and in spite of everything her heart lifted a little as she opened the gate to the secret garden.

  It wasn’t quite as sensuous as it had been last night but it was still glorious. It was lovely being in it alone. She imagined once again the woman who had created it. She imagined her wanting to get away from the claims of a household, a demanding husband or brother who wanted her to devote her life to his needs or his family’s needs. Here was where she could escape them all.

  Lorna was only escaping them for a relatively short time. In a couple of hours other people would start appearing, she’d have to face the grotto, explain to Anthea about the disaster. If she couldn’t repair it, and make sure it was safe, they may have to tell people they couldn’t go in. There would have to be tape and notices about it. It would spoil the whole effect and be desperately disappointing. She couldn’t even start until she had some cement.

  To distract herself for a little while, she went first to see the statues, the ones she’d been going to see with Jack.

  Whatever else in her life might be confusing, the statues were beautiful. When she’d last seen them they’d been lying in sections on a bit of tarpaulin, like bodies at a crime scene. Now they were complete, and if the joins were obvious, their beauty was too. Jack had done a brilliant job with them.

  Someone, probably for the sake of the party guests, had written cards with their titles. There was Flora, holding a garland of flowers, Ceres, with a cornucopia for flowers and fruit, and then Pomona, with a basket of apples.

  She took out the torch she always had with her and inspected them closely. From a distance they looked perfect but with the aid of the torch and the fading moonlight she could see lines where broken pieces had been cemented together. The softly curving limbs, the drapery, the expressions on the beautiful faces: all were as near to how they must have looked originally as possible.

  Although she had thought she was fully in control, tears started to trickle down her cheeks as she looked. Then, unexpectedly, a robin began to sing from somewhere and the sound jolted her and she moved away, heading for the grotto and
the mess that awaited her.

  She switched on her torch and went in, and thought she’d made a mistake. Where last night there’d been a heap of shells and ammonites, some of them broken, all of them jumbled, there was now a beautifully patterned roof. It wasn’t quite the same as it had been but it was complete. The elves had been in the night!

  Feeling tearful all over again, she went back out and looked to see if the elf in question was still there. He was looking into the ornamental pond. She came up behind him but he saw her reflection in the water. Turning, he put his arm round her waist and pulled her into his side.

  ‘You did that,’ she said. ‘You redid the grotto’s ceiling.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘You didn’t use Polyfilla, did you? I think that was my mistake. Anthea made me use it when I ran out of cement.’

  She felt his laugh rumble. ‘I used lime mortar. Luckily I had some at the yard.’ He paused. ‘I knew you must have felt it was odd me leaving you like that, but I knew it would take a long time to put those shells back up. If I’d said I was going to do it you’d have insisted on helping, and you were so tired.’

  ‘So you’ve been up all night?’

  ‘More or less. Well, yes, actually. I put a fine gauze over the ceiling because of course it’s still wet and I can’t be a hundred per cent sure the shells will stay up. They should do but—’

  ‘Well, mine didn’t,’ said Lorna. ‘That ceiling has previous.’

  ‘I know.’ He was silent for a few seconds and then sighed. ‘This garden is so beautiful.’

  ‘I’m very pleased with it. Lots of the plants are still in their pots because I got them from contacts of Philly’s – nurseries who’d provided material for flower shows and things.’

  ‘Give me the tour now it’s nearly light and then I must get some sleep.’

  ‘You can come back to mine, if you like,’ said Lorna, sounding casual, feeling bold.

  ‘Can I? That would be great – and very kind of you for many, many reasons.’

  ‘You can come, I’ve invited you, but I want to know why you were so intent on redoing the ceiling. I was going to try and do it today – it was why I came so early. Or it could even just have been tidied up.’

  ‘I wanted to do it to prove I wasn’t a useless so-and-so who just disappeared out of your life at a very bad time.’ He paused and took her into his arms again. ‘I love you, Lorna. And I wanted to prove it. Actions speak louder than words, and all that.’

  ‘That’s… I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘It’s too much to hope that you feel the same way but give me time and I’ll try to win you round, to convince you…’

  Lorna didn’t feel this would be too difficult for him but didn’t say it out loud. ‘Come on,’ she said instead, ‘let’s go home.’

  After they’d got to the cottage, Lorna left Jack having a shower while she went to the shop for bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes and a loaf of fresh bread.

  When she got back he was looking fresh-faced and happy, not at all like someone who’d been up all night. ‘I’ve put some coffee on,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course not. I’ll make breakfast.’

  Sometime during the process of frying and keeping things warm and making toast, a tissue-wrapped parcel appeared on her plate.

  He removed it so she could put her plate down. ‘It’s a present,’ he explained.

  ‘When did you have time to go and buy a present?’ she asked, pleased and mystified.

  He laughed and handed it to her. ‘I didn’t buy it! I made it – them. See what you think.’ He turned his attention to his breakfast, feigning a relaxed attitude to her reaction to his gift.

  She unwrapped the tissue and two carved wooden spoons fell out.

  ‘They’re Welsh love spoons – copies of, anyway,’ he explained. ‘I made them and, although I’m not Welsh, they’re a love token. They also have them in Scandinavia. While I was sitting by my father’s bed, or talking to my mother, I carved them. Kept my hands busy and you in my thoughts in a practical way.’

  ‘They’re beautiful.’ She examined the pair of spoons, carved with hearts, angels, chains and an anchor. ‘Does everything mean something?’

  ‘It all means I love you.’

  She realised she was crying again, so she didn’t speak for a while. ‘I don’t know what to say!’

  ‘Just say, “Let’s go upstairs to bed.”’

  She laughed. She had never felt so loved or so loving before. ‘Finish your breakfast first.’

  It didn’t take long before Jack took her hand and led her to the bedroom. The curtains were still half drawn from the previous night and she was grateful that there wasn’t sunshine streaming in. She hadn’t had a relationship for a long time and while she loved him and believed he loved her, she was shy.

  She needn’t have been. He took control of the situation completely. First he pushed her hair gently away from her face and kissed her. Then he took off her clothes one by one and looked at her.

  His look told her everything she needed to know but he said it anyway. ‘You were very lovely when you were eighteen but so much more beautiful now.’

  After that, no one said anything else for quite a long time.

  27

  Philly was helping Lucien in Anthea’s kitchen. It was large with plenty of work surface, especially as the table, usually a repository of all kinds of things, had been cleared. Now it was covered in large platters filled with food. A couple were green and silver with flecks of scarlet, laden with vast salads topped with chopped mint and parsley. Another brilliantly painted pair of dishes offered finely sliced tomatoes with onion and green peppers with walnuts. Everything was a delight to the eye and desperately tempting and the kitchen was full of the smell of aubergines and pomegranate.

  However, something was not right with Lucien, Philly thought. He seemed surprisingly edgy. She was observing him as she worked through the mountain of parsley he wanted her to chop.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said eventually, wiping her hands.

  He turned to her and she frowned. He’d looked less nervous than when they’d been about to open their bread stall to a critical judging panel and this meal, according to him when he’d told her the menu, was fairly straightforward. ‘Trouble is, I’m not very good at this!’ he said, looking down at her.

  ‘Good at what? Surely you’re not worried about the meal? You said it was easy. Besides, you’re brilliant—’

  ‘No, it’s not the food!’ He was indignant.

  ‘What then? If you gave me a clue, maybe I could help you?’

  He swallowed. ‘OK, I’ll just do it.’ He put one hand on her shoulder and with the other he groped in his back pocket and produced an envelope. ‘The thing is—’ He was clutching her shoulder. ‘Philly?’

  ‘What!’ Philly was really worried now. Why was he holding on to her so tightly? He was usually so confident and good with words but now he seemed incapable of finishing a sentence.

  ‘I went shopping earlier,’ he said.

  She was none the wiser. Had he forgotten something? ‘I know. You needed pomegranate molasses. Do you need me to get something else? I don’t mind.’

  He ignored this. ‘Oh God, this is terrifying!’ He fumbled with the envelope and got it open. ‘I got you this.’ He produced a tiny gold envelope from the larger one. ‘Philly? Will you marry me?’

  It took her a moment to work out what he’d said. ‘Marry you?’

  ‘Yes! Philly, I love you. I want you to be my wife. Will you?’ he added, quiet but urgent. He swallowed. ‘Wait a minute. You need to see the ring. Of course you can change it—’

  She looked up at him. He was her hero; she hadn’t seen him like this before: diffident, lacking in confidence. ‘Oh, Lucien! Of course I’ll marry you!’

  He gave a great sigh and took her in his arms, burying his head in her shoulder. ‘Thank goodness. I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d said no.’
r />   She had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘Of course I wouldn’t have said no. I love you.’ She had wanted to say this to him for such a long time. It was something she knew in every fibre of her body.

  ‘Oh, Philly! Now let me show you the ring. I’ve kept the receipt and the shop said we can change it if you don’t like it.’ He opened the little gold envelope that somehow he’d managed to keep hold of; then he took Philly’s hand and slid something into it.

  She gasped. It was a plain solitaire diamond ring but the stone seemed quite large.

  ‘Lucien!’ Her eyes were wide. She didn’t know if she was delighted or horrified at the amount of money it must have cost.

  ‘Try it on. Do you like it?’ Without waiting for her to reply, he took her hand and slid the ring on to her finger.

  ‘I’ve never seen such a beautiful ring!’ she breathed. ‘It must have cost a fortune!’

  ‘Don’t worry. I had a quick flutter when you weren’t looking. I did well! So tell me: what do you think about it?’

  Philly looked at the slim gold band with the diamond that now graced her finger and thought it was the most wonderful ring she had ever seen. ‘I love it. But promise me you’ll never gamble again!’

  ‘Anything!’ Then he kissed her.

  They were disturbed by someone coughing. ‘Sorry to interrupt—’ Seamus began.

  ‘Seamus! We’re engaged,’ said Lucien. ‘I asked Philly to marry me and she said yes. I’m so happy!’

  ‘So am I!’ said Philly, feeling slightly embarrassed at having been caught in such a passionate kiss.

  ‘Well, congratulations, the both of you.’ Seamus was obviously delighted. ‘Philly, I’ve never seen you look so pretty. Your eyes are sparkling like sunbeams on the water. And you, young fella, you look as if you’ve won the lottery.’

  ‘He did win some money on a horse,’ said Philly, ‘and he bought me this.’ She held out her hand so her grandfather could admire the ring.