‘So how’s it going?’ Flick said, as she and Kezzie transported another load of branches to the skip the council had provided.
‘The garden?’ said Kezzie. ‘It’s fantastic. I’ll ask Joel if we can go and look at it later, if you like.’
‘Durr!’ said Flick. ‘Not the garden, dummy. I’m talking about Richard. Have you heard from him at all?’
‘Oh,’ said Kezzie, heaving a particularly heavy branch into the skip. ‘Richard.’
‘Well?’
‘Well, nothing,’ said Kezzie. ‘I emailed him to ask for some advice about contacting gardening celebrities, which he did, but he also made it clear he doesn’t want any more contact. End of story. It’s over.’
‘Oh, Kez, I’m so sorry.’ Flick came over and gave Kezzie a huge hug.
‘Don’t,’ said Kezzie, her lip wobbling, ‘otherwise, I’m going to be a puddle.’
‘OK, OK,’ said Flick, backing off. ‘Did you at least get any contacts out of it?’
‘I’m working on it,’ said Kezzie, as they wandered back to pick up more garden rubbish. ‘Couldn’t find anyone to help us with the Memorial Gardens, but I have been talking to Anthony Grantham’s agent – you know the guy who presents Dig It! – and he may do a piece on Edward’s garden at the Summer Fest.’
‘See,’ Flick dug Kezzie in the ribs, ‘there’s always a silver lining.’
‘I suppose,’ said Kezzie, dragging a massive branch back to the skip. ‘I just need to work out a way of getting over Richard permanently.’
‘What you need is to get out there again,’ said Flick. ‘Surely there must be someone interesting here.’
‘In Heartsease? I don’t think so!’ said Kezzie.
‘What about Joel?’ argued Flick. ‘He seems nice.’
Kezzie sighed, ‘Been there, done that, realized it wouldn’t work. Joel’s great, but we’re friends, nothing more.’
‘What about him?’ Flick pointed over to Troy, who was helping Gavin dig up a flowerbed. He’d taken his top off to reveal a sixpack which was both toned and tanned to perfection.
‘Troy? Puh-lease!’ snorted Kezzie. ‘He’s Lauren’s ex, and very very bad news. Wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Nothing,’ said Kezzie. ‘I’m just going to wait till I’m over Richard. It has to happen sometime.’
Lauren had had a great day. To begin with she’d been helping Flo and June planting the bedding plants with the twins. The girls had enjoyed digging and got thoroughly muddy. Flo and June had been immensely patient with them, and let them help plant the bedding plants, while not appearing to mind too much that a lot of the flowers had been decapitated by the time they went in.
‘Oh well, saves us dead-heading them,’ Flo had twinkled. ‘And they’re so enthusiastic, the pets, I wouldn’t like to stop them helping.’
Enthusiastic. That was one way to describe the way both girls threw themselves wholeheartedly into every activity, whatever their ability.
Later on Lauren had worked with Kezzie and Flick cutting down bushes, and enjoyed some rare girlie chat, most of which centred around Flick and Gavin’s athletic sex life.
‘You did what?’ giggled Lauren. ‘How on earth did you manage that?’ as Flick described one particularly gymnastic kind of manoeuvre.
‘Well, what can I say?’ grinned Flick. ‘That man is an animal.’
‘Grrr, tiger, watch him roar,’ said Kezzie, and they all collapsed in fits of laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ Gavin wanted to know.
‘Oh, nothing,’ Flick said innocently.
‘Grr,’ said Kezzie, and the three of them laughed some more.
‘Honestly,’ said Lauren, tears streaming down her face, as Gavin walked away puzzled. ‘I don’t know when I last laughed like that.’
She wiped the tears away.
‘You’ve got a smudge now,’ said Kezzie. ‘Really, Lauren, you need to get out more.’
‘Well it’s not that easy,’ said Lauren.
‘I know,’ said Kezzie. ‘But now he’s here, why don’t you make more use of Troy? If he means what he says, he should take a bit more responsibility for the girls.’
‘That’s true,’ said Lauren, ‘but it is still early days. I want him to get to know the girls better before I start leaving them with him too often. That’s why I got him to come along today.’
‘Doesn’t look like he’s doing too badly,’ said Flick. They watched Troy take a break from digging and play around with the girls, taking it in turns to throw each one over his shoulder.
‘It doesn’t, does it?’ said Lauren with a smile. Maybe Troy would be here for the duration after all. She was beginning to allow herself the small smidgeon of hope that he would. And in her weaker moments the flame of attraction that she had felt when he first showed up was growing stronger. She was wondering if she shouldn’t perhaps fan it some more.
‘You are coming round to mine tonight, aren’t you?’ said Kezzie, over fish and chips, which Gavin and Flick had gone to get for lunch.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Lauren. ‘I haven’t got a sitter.’
‘Bring the girls,’ said Kezzie. ‘It’s only informal drinks. I told Joel to bring Sam.’
‘You won’t be smoking anything funny, will you?’ said Lauren. She’d recently spotted the little plastic bag that Flick had given Kezzie on the kitchen window sill and clearly disapproved.
‘No. Cross my heart and hope to die,’ said Kezzie. ‘I know what I told you about Emily, but really, I wouldn’t do that round kids. Come on. It’ll be a laugh. It won’t be the same without you.’
‘Oh go on then,’ said Lauren, ‘you’ve twisted my arm.’
‘It will do you good to have some fun for once,’ said Kezzie.
Lauren sat back in the sunshine munching her chips, watching the twins running around with Troy. Kezzie was right, it would do her good to get out. Today had been great fun, and the evening should round it off nicely.
Edward and Lily
1916–1917
Lily’s diary, October 1916
Life has changed for us since this terrible war started. No one talks any longer of it being over soon. We were naive, I think, to imagine it could ever be over by Christmas.
Edward takes the train every day to work at the Ministry of Agriculture, and Connie and I help out at Chiverton Hospital. It is hard work, and often distressing. I find I am not very well suited to bandaging the men’s wounds; Connie has the stomach much more than I. But I can sit and listen to their stories. Many of them suffer terribly with their nerves. I understand their pain very much, even if I cannot imagine their experiences. At first I thought I could be no good to them, but happily I find I can help.
When war had come Edward was grateful that Harry was still too young to fight. He had hoped, initially, that the war would be over before he was old enough to join up, but since he’d turned eighteen, Harry had been desperate to go and do his bit, but Lily kept begging him to stay. And the stories that came back from the Front were growing ever more desperate. Though Edward wanted Harry to do his duty for his country, he was under no illusion as to what that might involve. And when Connie brought home George Forrester, one of the convalescent soldiers whom she’d met in Chiverton, Edward fretted for her future happiness.
It is clear to me that Connie is very much in love with George, who is a fine and upstanding young man, whom on discovering his own parents are dead, we have happily taken under our wing, he wrote in his diary. In former times, this would have been a source of great happiness to me. Loath as I am to lose my daughter, I can only rejoice if she has found a man who can make her as happy as Lily makes me. But I fear her happiness may be shortlived. George will soon return to the Front, and who is to say what will happen then?
But seeing how Connie flourished and sparkled in George’s presence, his love bringing her a confidence and happiness he had never before seen in her, Edward coul
d not deny his daughter. When, one sunny evening, the young lovers emerged, radiant and shining from a tryst in the sunken garden, Edward immediately knew the question George was going to pose him, as well as the answer he would give.
‘George is returning to the Front shortly,’ said Connie, ‘so we will wait until his return to marry. After all, the war cannot go on forever. He’ll soon come back to us.’
His brave, pragmatic, sensible daughter. How little any one of them understood how necessary those qualities would be in the coming months.
Edward was sitting at his writing desk, looking out of the window one sunny day in July, when he espied a small figure toiling up the hill on a bicycle. As the figure grew nearer, he recognized the boy who delivered telegrams and his stomach plummeted.
At first, he recorded in his diary, I thought the telegram might not be for us, but then the boy climbed off his bicycle and turned down our path. I knew the telegram would be for Connie. I couldn’t bear to think of her going through the heartache so many other families had endured. I leapt to my feet to get to the door before Connie did, but I was too late …
Edward flung open the door of his study to see Connie standing pale and motionless, the door still held open for the boy, who was now making his way back down the path. She clutched the telegram to her breast. Her breathing was laboured, but she stood so still, she might have been a statue. Seeing her father, she mutely held the telegram towards him.
‘George?’ he said gently.
‘Missing, presumed dead it says,’ said Connie, a slight tremble in her voice the only sign of emotion. ‘That means he might still be alive.’
‘Of course,’ soothed Edward, privately thinking it very unlikely, as he held his daughter in his arms. ‘We mustn’t give up hope.’
Lily came in from the garden just then, holding a spray of freesias she’d picked. Seeing Connie in her father’s arms, she gave a slight scream of ‘No!’ Lily had come to love George as another son, but Edward suspected the fears she’d had for his safety were somehow bound up in her fear that Harry, too, would ultimately go off to fight.
Connie laid herself against Edward’s chest, not saying anything, and Lily came over and hugged her daughter close, in an uncommon sign of affection. She looked at Edward with tears in her eyes. ‘Why?’ she said. ‘Why poor George? Why poor Connie?’
But Edward had no answer for that. He wished he could wipe away Connie’s pain, the way he had wiped tears, and patched up wounds, when she was a child. Now there was nothing he could do, and he watched helplessly as Connie moved away from him and stayed, staring mutely out of the window all that day and the next. She couldn’t be persuaded to eat, or sleep.
‘Why doesn’t she cry?’ Lily said. ‘I couldn’t stand to be so silent and still. I don’t think I could bear it, if it were me and you. And if anything ever happened to Harry …’
Her voice broke off and she looked away. Edward, knowing how real and vivid the fear of losing Harry was to her, took her hands and caressed them. ‘Harry will be fine,’ he soothed, ‘and Connie is grieving in her own way. We should let her be.’
But even he was astonished when, on the third day after receiving the telegram, Connie rose as normal, and started to write letters to anyone and everyone who might possibly know what had happened to her beloved George. As the weeks went by and George’s name had still not turned up on the prisoners’ lists, Edward tried to prepare his daughter for the worst. But stubbornly she wouldn’t listen, staying up late at night, wearing herself to the bone, reading and writing letters till she was hollow-eyed and quite thin. Edward worried that she was making herself ill, but if he tried to tell her to ease off, she would look at him blankly and say, ‘I have to do this, for George. Until I know for sure.’
And the day eventually arrived when she finally heard from George’s commanding officer.
Dear Miss Handford, the letter read,
In response to your request for further information in regard to George Forrester I can now be sure of the following.
On the night of --- July the ---- Platoon were engaged with the enemy for the duration of twelve hours. During this time several men witnessed George in the thick of the action, but no one reported any sighting of him after 0600 hours. It was said that he fought with exceptional bravery.
In the course of the battle we were heavily outnumbered, and the retreat was sounded. But half the platoon was caught behind enemy lines, and of those we know, a substantial number to have been captured. For the rest we must assume the worst.
After nightfall a daring group was able to make a hazardous escape over the river. But sadly, George was not of their number.
Although George’s body was never found, I have to conclude that he perished in that battle in the early hours of the morning of June --- Rest assured that he died a hero.
Yours …
Connie put the letter down, and for the first time in months her facade crumbled.
Lily and Edward both caught her as she fell, and Lily gently took her up to bed.
This wretched war, Edward wrote in his diary, when will it ever end? I fear so badly for Harry. He keeps saying he wants to enlist, and though I know it will break Lily’s heart, I also know he wants to do his duty. How can I stop him from doing what he believes to be right?
Lily’s diary, September 1917
Today Harry left for the Front. He looked so noble in his uniform; I declare he was the most handsome young man there. But oh! He looked so young. Too young to be going off to fight. I cannot bear it. He was so cheerful and jolly as he left, giving me a hug and a kiss and promising to write soon. He thinks it is all one big adventure. His father and I know so different. And as I waved him off, trying to fight back the tears so he could not see them, I was overcome with a cold terror. I feel as I did all those years ago when I lost my babies. I have let something precious slip through my fingers. What will I do if I never see my beloved boy again?
Chapter Twenty-One
The party was in full swing by the time Lauren got there. Kezzie had invited several of the committee, and Eileen was talking enthusiastically about the work that had been done.
‘Have you seen what these young people have achieved?’ she was saying. ‘The gardens haven’t looked this good in years.’
Lauren took the girls’ hands and wandered through the throng to find Kezzie pouring drinks in the kitchen and talking nineteen to the dozen. She seemed a bit merry already when Lauren said hello, but soon composed herself and pointed Lauren in the direction of the garden so the girls could run around.
Lauren got drinks for the girls and headed outside. Kezzie had lit up the garden with fairy lights, strategically placed among the bushes, and set her garden chairs out on the patio in between the planters, which Kezzie had recently planted up with heartsease, primula and a few petunias. It looked lovely.
‘Ooh pretty,’ said the girls, clapping their hands in delight. They were pleased to find Sam toddling outside, watched by an eagle-eyed Joel. She was pleased to see him too. Too often these days their exchanges were fleeting.
‘Where’s Troy?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Lauren, feeling put out that that should be the first thing Joel asked. It felt like she’d not seen Joel for ages, and she’d been looking forward to a proper chat. ‘Why should I?’
‘Oh. I thought you’d have come with him,’ said Joel.
‘Why would I do that?’ said Lauren, slightly puzzled. What on earth was Joel getting at?
‘It’s just that you seem joined at the hip these days,’ said Joel.
‘What?’ Now Lauren was really bewildered.
‘Just – I thought—’ Joel’s voice trailed off. ‘Never mind what I thought.’
‘Oh my God. You think Troy and I are back together,’ said Lauren, the penny dropping. She felt furious that Joel would assume such a thing, conveniently forgetting that in moments of weakness this didn’t seem such a bad idea. ‘Well, I can assure you categorically
that we’re not.’
‘He just seems to be around such a lot,’ said Joel. ‘I was worried about you. And I just assumed …’
‘Well don’t,’ said Lauren. ‘Don’t assume.’
There was an angry silence. Lauren was infuriated that Joel of all people should be interfering in her life.
‘I can look after myself you know,’ said Lauren.
‘I’m not saying you can’t,’ said Joel. ‘I was just worried that given your past with Troy, he might muck you around again. I care about you, Lauren – as a friend. I’d hate to see that.’
‘Well, a) Troy is the father of my children, so of course I will be seeing a lot of him,’ said Lauren, ‘and b) it is possible for a person to change you know, and c) it’s none of your damned business.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Joel, looking wretched. ‘I only want to help. I’m not sure that Troy is all that good for you.’
Lauren’s fury erupted. ‘You’re not jealous, are you? My God. I actually think you are. Come on girls, we’re going home.’
‘But we want to play with Sam,’ said the girls.
‘Five minutes,’ said Lauren. ‘And then we have to go.’
She glared at Joel, who looked back at her, unhappily. Why did he have to go and ruin things?
At 9 p.m. Joel decided to call it a day. Sam had crashed in his buggy and Lauren, the only person he really wanted to talk to, had long since gone. He’d tried to apologize again, but she wouldn’t have it. He was aware that in his misery, he’d probably had a bit too much to drink. Whoops. Drunk in charge of a toddler. At least he’d had the sense to walk; he should be able to make it home in one piece.
Joel was usually so circumspect with his drinking, worrying ever since Claire had died that if he got in the habit of drinking heavily he would be in trouble. But Lauren had rattled him tonight. It was as though a veil had been drawn from his eyes. Lauren was right. He was, he realized, very jealous. While Kezzie had come along like a catalyst, to open up his eyes to the fact that he could start to live again, he suddenly understood that all along there’d been someone special right under his nose.
Summer Season Page 20
