Summer Season

by Julia Williams

At last. We have a son. A beautiful, healthy, baby boy. I feel so different this time. When Connie was born, I looked at her little, scrumpled, red face, and my heart was torn in two, so sure was I that she was not long for this world. But despite my fears, she has thrived, is thriving now, and God has seen fit to bless us with a brother for her. A gift that I had not dared hope for. I shall call him Harry after his grandfather. Now I feel my life is complete. After the years of pain and heartache, at last Edward and I have our family, and I can sit in the sunken garden Edward made for me and not feel the need to weep. The sun is shining, summer is here, and my future has been restored to me.

  Part Two

  Spring Fever

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘The girls go to bed at 7 p.m. sharp,’ said Lauren nervously. It was a month since Christmas, Eileen’s first proper meeting about the summer fete, and the first time she’d allowed Troy to babysit. Over the last few weeks, Lauren had allowed Troy to regularly make the half an hour trip from Crawley, to visit the twins. Lauren had even included him in a very awkward and uncomfortable Christmas lunch with Lauren’s mum (who’d just about been able to keep her thoughts about Troy to herself) and the girls were gradually getting used to their dad being on the scene. Lauren might never have been ready for Troy to take charge for an evening, if her mum hadn’t gone away for some winter sun, leaving her without a babysitter. Troy had been adamant she had nothing to worry about, and Lauren was hoping that her negative thoughts would prove unfounded. If she was going to let Troy back into her children’s lives he had to be alone with them sometime. ‘They really must go to bed then, or they’ll be too tired for school tomorrow.’

  ‘I know you think I’m useless,’ said Troy, ‘but I think I can manage to get two four-year-olds to bed.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re useless – well not entirely,’ said Lauren, ‘but you aren’t used to four-year-olds, and I’ve never left them with anyone but Mum and Eileen before.’

  ‘I’m their dad,’ said Troy, ‘and I’m going to prove to you that I’m worthy of them and you. You’ve got to learn to trust me.’

  Despite herself, Lauren had to smile. It was quite funny seeing Troy being so keen to please her, and rather charming in a way. It had always been the other way round before. And Troy was right, if he was going to play a part in the kids’ lives, she had to learn to trust him.

  The doorbell rang. It was Kezzie.

  ‘All ready then?’ she said.

  ‘Yup,’ said Lauren, firing last minute instructions until Troy pushed her out of the door.

  ‘You know when you were telling me about Troy, before he pitched up again, you never once mentioned how good looking he was,’ said Kezzie teasingly.

  ‘Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind,’ said Lauren. ‘Part of the charm of course. Give me an ugly man any day of the week.’

  ‘So you’re not planning to get back together?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Lauren. ‘I’ve let him stay over a couple of times when he’s come to see the girls, because it’s a long way for him to get back to Crawley, but that’s it. He keeps threatening to get a job and move over here, but I’ll believe it when I see it.’

  ‘I know he came for Christmas lunch,’ said Kezzie, ‘so I couldn’t help wondering, and we haven’t had a chance to catch up since.’ Kezzie had disappeared to Spain to see her parents for a fortnight, and had come back looking bronzed and disgustingly healthy.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’d have been just as nosy if it was the other way round,’ said Lauren. ‘Christmas was only just about bearable. I was treading on eggshells between Troy and Mum and hoping the girls didn’t pick up on it. I don’t think I could cope with a relationship with him. I’m glad Troy’s back for the girls’ sake, but it’s early days, and I’m still not sure it’s going to work.’

  They walked down the hill towards the Parish Hall.

  ‘So is this going to be dreadfully stuffy and dull?’ said Kezzie.

  ‘Probably,’ said Lauren. ‘But you never know, we might get them to perk up their ideas a bit.’

  Eileen was already there when they arrived.

  ‘Let me introduce you to some people.’ She reeled off a list of names – Lauren knew most of them, having helped out at village fetes before – but Kezzie was clearly slightly overwhelmed by the number of people involved.

  ‘Is there anyone here under the age of sixty?’ she whispered. ‘We’re the youngest here by centuries.’

  ‘Wonderful, some new blood. Just what we need,’ declared Tony Symonds, who was a retired bank clerk and chaired the Parish Council with scary efficiency. ‘We really do need to get something done about the Memorial Gardens. Eileen’s been nagging me about it for ages. It’s great that you’re all on board.’

  The meeting started late. Several people wandered in noisily at around a quarter to eight, mumbling apologies to Tony, who harrumphed before proceeding to talk about the fete.

  ‘So this year we’ve decided that the proceeds of the village fete will go to restoring the Heartsease Memorial Garden, in honour of Edward Handford’s 140th anniversary. And we’re delighted to have Edward Handford’s great great grandson, Joel Lyle here. Not only has he promised to open up the knot garden Edward Handford designed at Lovelace Cottage for the day of the fete, I believe he is also going to provide some wonderful and fascinating material for a Handford exhibition on the day.’

  Joel, who’d snuck in among the latecomers, looked mortified to have been picked out, but smiled graciously anyway.

  ‘All right, to business,’ said Tony. ‘Has anyone got any ideas about how the summer fete should be run this year?’

  ‘The same way we always run it,’ said Cynthia Green, the grumpiest woman in Heartsease. ‘It works, so why change it?’

  ‘Well, I was hoping we could do a few things differently,’ said Tony, ‘given that we’re celebrating Edward Handford’s 140th anniversary. I think we need to make it more of an event, shake it up a bit. Eileen, I believe you have some ideas?’

  ‘I do,’ said Eileen, looking a little pink and flustered. ‘I think we could be a bit more ambitious. In fact, a lot more. Rather than just have a fete for the village, why not widen its appeal and call it a Summer Fest like Chiverton does? We could make it an all day event. By all means let’s have the normal stalls, but why not close off the High Street, have street entertainers, get some music going, have a farmers’ market. Let’s really show people what Heartsease is all about.’

  ‘It will never work,’ sniffed Cynthia.

  ‘Why not?’ said Eileen. ‘We won’t know until we try.’

  ‘And we should have a celebrity to open proceedings,’ said Kezzie.

  ‘The charity I work for has some contacts with celebrities,’ said Joel. ‘I could always fish around a bit if you like, and see if we can get someone to open the fete for us.’

  ‘Celebrities!’ snorted Cynthia. ‘We don’t need nonsense like that.’

  ‘I think it’s a great idea,’ said Tony. ‘It will bring in the young people. Joel, if you’re prepared to find out about it for us that would be fantastic.’

  ‘We could run a competition for the best design for the play area,’ suggested Lauren.

  ‘And we could start planting out now, try and tidy it up,’ chipped in Kezzie.

  ‘What about Health and Safety?’ objected a little pinched woman sitting next to Cynthia. ‘There are those old oak trees in the Memorial Gardens that are a real menace. They should come down.’

  ‘So get a tree feller,’ said Kezzie. ‘I know a couple.’

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure,’ interjected a small man who was clearly attached like a limpet to the pinched-looking woman. ‘It seems like a lot of extra work.’

  ‘Well, that’s not a priority for now,’ said Tony. ‘Sorry, Kezzie, we’ll get to it later I’m sure. Now let’s move on to considering the kinds of stalls we want.’

  A good-tempered and long-winded discussion about the pros and c
ons of homemade ice cream ensued. Lauren caught Joel yawning and grinned. She knew there was a good reason why she’d resisted joining the committee …

  ‘Can you believe that?’ Kezzie was incandescent with rage. ‘They talked about the price of ice creams for half an hour. And no one made any decisions about the Memorial Gardens. I can’t believe we can’t just go and tidy it up.’

  ‘Welcome to village life,’ grinned Lauren. ‘At least we got through the idea of making the event bigger, thanks to Eileen.’

  ‘True,’ said Kezzie grudgingly. ‘I think we should show them what can be done though. Anyone up for a spot of guerrilla gardening?’

  ‘What, now?’ said Joel. ‘It’s dark, cold, and if you hadn’t noticed we’re still in the thick of winter.’

  ‘Yes now,’ said Kezzie. She opened the rucksack she was carrying and revealed some small forks and trowels and winter bedding plants. ‘Like a good boy scout, I always come prepared. Besides, spring is on the way. The snowdrops are already out, and you’ve got crocuses coming up in your garden you know. I’m up for it, if you are.’

  ‘I really have to get back and make sure everything’s OK with Troy and the girls,’ said Lauren, turning to go. ‘Sorry. Another time maybe.’

  ‘And I should get back to Sam,’ said Joel, looking at his watch. ‘Eileen’s daughter is babysitting for me.’

  ‘Oh go on, live a little,’ said Kezzie. ‘It’s only eight thirty, what time will she be expecting you? I’m sure Christine won’t mind. This won’t take long. I’ve already dug over the bit of ground I want to plant these winter pansies in. At least it will give some colour till the spring.’

  ‘When did you start digging in the Memorial Gardens?’ said Joel.

  ‘I went out a couple of mornings last week,’ said Kezzie. ‘I couldn’t sleep and so I thought I may as well do something useful.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Joel.

  ‘Come on then, what are we waiting for?’ Kezzie strode purposefully towards the playground, while Joel stood slightly irresolute behind her.

  ‘Oh OK,’ he said, ‘but only for a bit.’

  ‘That’ll do,’ said Kezzie, with a grin.

  It was early in February, and the evening air was still cold. The gardens were in pitch darkness when they arrived. The rusting iron gates were padlocked and looked forbidding and unfriendly. For a moment even Kezzie felt a little daunted.

  ‘So how do we get in then?’ demanded Joel.

  ‘Oh ye of little faith,’ said Kezzie. ‘We get in the same way as whoever’s vandalizing the playground does. If you follow me round the corner, you will observe that there is a gap in the fence.’

  Joel shook his head in amusement.

  ‘Does nothing faze you?’

  ‘Not much,’ said Kezzie, as she squeezed through the gap. ‘Careful, it is a bit narrow.’

  Once in, she marched towards one of the beds to the side of the plinth.

  ‘This shouldn’t take long,’ she said. ‘We’ve got some plants to bed in.’

  In fact they were hard at it for nearly an hour, but by the time they’d finished they’d transformed a bed that had been full of weeds into a vibrant patch of colour. Or that’s what Kezzie had assured Joel it would look like in the morning. It was difficult to tell in the dark.

  ‘Well done, partner,’ said Kezzie with a grin, and slapped him on the back. ‘How does it feel to inflict criminal damage in a public place?’

  ‘Fun,’ admitted Joel, who had been unprepared for the illicit thrill he’d got from their activities. Kezzie was amazing. And she was having a transformative effect on his life. Ever since she’d arrived in Heartsease, he felt that he was being propelled out of his grief-induced torpor to face up to life in the real world once more. She’d made him look at his house and garden, and reminded him what he’d planned before life had dealt him such a body blow. And learning about Edward and the history of the place had piqued Joel’s interest. Despite himself, he was finding he was beginning to engage in life again. He had to admit, it felt good.

  ‘You’ve got mud on your nose,’ he said. ‘Here, let me.’ Gently, he wiped it away with a hankie.

  Kezzie looked at him with a slightly wistful expression on her face, and for a heartbeat he thought she might kiss him. But then she said, ‘Time to go,’ and started packing up her things.

  ‘Best get home,’ she added, as if by way of explanation. ‘I have work in the morning and I have a very demanding boss.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Joel. ‘I think you could change that to soft-touch boss, who goes along with your crazy schemes.’

  ‘Does my soft-touch boss require a nightcap before heading home?’ Kezzie said, when they reached her cottage.

  Joel looked at his watch – not quite 9.30 p.m. – ‘Oh, go on then,’ he said, and followed her into the cottage.

  Kezzie went to the fridge in the compact but cosy kitchen. ‘Red or white?’ she asked. ‘I have both. Or beer.’

  ‘I’ll have a beer actually,’ said Joel, while Kezzie poured herself a generous glug of white wine.

  ‘Go easy on that, otherwise the boss might have to be very tough with you in the morning.’

  ‘Do you mind if I have a smoke?’ said Kezzie.

  ‘It’s your house,’ said Joel. ‘Do what you want.’ He wasn’t keen on women who smoked, but he had always had a live and let live attitude about that kind of thing.

  Kezzie, it appeared, rolled her own, but it was only when she lit up that he realized what she was smoking.

  ‘Kezzie!’ Why was he surprised she smoked dope? It fitted in with everything else about her.

  ‘What?’ said Kezzie. ‘I did ask you. And like you said, it’s my house.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Joel, ‘I’m just not really used to this kind of thing.’

  ‘What kind of thing?’ said Kezzie. ‘It’s a spliff, not crack cocaine. Where’s the harm? I find it relaxing. I don’t do it very often; it’s not like I’m addicted. Alcohol’s a worse drug.’

  ‘I guess,’ said Joel, but he felt faintly disturbed. Kezzie was a mystery, an exciting, mercurial, volatile mystery.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘So, you’re going to trust me with the girls again?’ Troy asked Lauren the next time he came round to see the twins.

  ‘I expect so,’ Lauren had to reluctantly concede. She had been pleasantly surprised at the lack of chaos when she’d got home two nights previously. The girls were asleep, and later reported that they’d had ‘lots of fun with Daddy’, the house was tidy and Troy was sitting watching TV, looking completely relaxed. It seemed, despite her fears, he could be trusted to look after the girls.

  ‘Oh come on, Lauren, that’s a bit hard,’ said Troy. ‘I think I did a bit better than OK.’

  Laughing despite herself – annoying how he could still make her do that – Lauren was forced to agree that Troy had passed his first babysitting stint with flying colours.

  ‘So I really think it’s time you let me have them for the day,’ said Troy. ‘I could take them out on Saturday. Give you a break.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ began Lauren, when the girls came running in from the other room. ‘Daddy said he’s taking us out to the cinema on Saturday, please can we go, please!’

  ‘You sneaky sod!’ whispered Lauren. He’d already asked the girls, knowing she wouldn’t be able to refuse them.

  ‘I didn’t want you to say no,’ said Troy, ‘please let me have them.’

  ‘Please, Mummy,’ said Izzie.

  ‘We’ll be good,’ said Immie.

  ‘It’s not you I’m worried about,’ muttered Lauren to herself. She looked at the pair of them, so eager and excited. It was the first time they’d asked to do anything with their dad, she couldn’t say no.

  ‘OK,’ she agreed.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Troy, giving her an unexpected hug, which she resisted stiffly, trying not to inhale his intoxicating scent of tobacco and aftershave. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  But
come Saturday, of course, she did regret it. Troy arrived bright and early to take the girls away, promising to be back around five, and suddenly she was left with a long lonely day and nothing to do. She spent the first couple of hours scrubbing the house from top to bottom. Though she worked very hard at trying to keep the house clean and tidy, with two four-year-olds the reality was that there were usually toys in the wrong places, dirty clothes on the bedroom floor, towels put back crookedly, toothpaste smeared all over the sink and any number of gunky deposits on the kitchen floor. It satisfied her inner housewife to get the place up to scratch, and smelling all lemony and fresh.

  Once that was done, and trying not to clock watch, Lauren did a serious amount of baking, always her refuge in moments of stress. By the time another couple of hours had passed she’d made muffins, cupcakes, scones and shortbread and her cake tins were bursting full. Really, she should start a business doing this, Lauren thought. It was satisfying, enjoyable, and something she appeared to be really really good at. Having used up nearly all her baking ingredients and it still only being lunchtime, Lauren decided to see if Kezzie was in, as she fancied lunch in Keef’s Café. But Kezzie was out, and much as she loved the eccentricity of the place, Lauren couldn’t face lunchtime there on her own. She settled instead for homemade soup, a muffin, and a catch-up with a book her mum had given her for Christmas.

  The afternoon passed in a desultory fashion, and by four thirty Lauren was restless, and anxiously waiting for Troy to ring her. She tried calling him, but he’d turned his phone off. The minutes ticked away, and as dusk started to fall, she realized to her horror that he was late. Half an hour more went past, and still Troy wasn’t back. Lauren was teetering between frantic worry, and telling herself off for being so stupid. Where was he? He’d been gone for hours. Was he about to do another bunk? Had he just wormed his way into her affections, only to take off again? And this time with the children? After all that guff about how much he’d changed. Lauren couldn’t bear to think about it. She tried to phone his mobile again, but still there was no reply. She’d been an idiot to trust him, an absolute idiot.