Summer Season

by Julia Williams

  ‘The plot thickens,’ said Kezzie. ‘I feel quite sorry for Connie. She lost her first fiancé, then it looks like her sister stole her second. No wonder she was bitter.’

  ‘She softened a little in her old age,’ said Joel’s mum. ‘I think she liked the fact that I’d formed a bond, however small, with her father. And though she was never keen to have Mother in the house, I did visit her here quite often, when she was a very old woman, and I think she almost liked me in the end.’

  The sun was streaming through the trees and Joel was keen to show his mother the work Kezzie had done in the garden. The box, ivy and rosemary were thickening nicely, delineating the curve of the heart shapes clearly, and the flowers that Kezzie had planted in each of the corners were blooming beautifully. The smell of the hollyhocks and sweet peas which were an inspired late addition to the design, climbed the wall at the back of the flowerbeds, filling the air with their rich scents, and the roses in the centre bowed slowly in the breeze.

  ‘But it’s magnificent,’ said Joel’s mum, clapping her hands with delight. ‘It was still just about being tended to when I was here as a child, but I’ve never seen it looking as good as this. Well done, Kezzie.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Kezzie shyly.

  ‘I think you’ve proved you’re worthy of entry to Chelsea now,’ said Joel.

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe,’ said Kezzie, but she looked pleased.

  ‘We’ll go to the Memorial Gardens after lunch,’ said Joel, ‘and show you how we’ve got on there.’

  They sat out on the patio in the sunshine eating their lunch, with Sam wandering about, looking out over the Downs. Wood pigeons cooed in the trees, and a warm breeze wafted by. It was most idyllic, and Joel sat back and relaxed, feeling pretty content with life.

  After lunch they decamped into the car, Joel’s mum not being able to walk that far, and again she was full of praise for what Kezzie had done.

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘I’m so impressed with what you’ve achieved. So when’s the great re-opening?’

  ‘At the Summer Fest in two weeks’ time,’ said Joel. ‘There are several other gardens opening up in the area, and someone from the RHS is coming to judge them. I hope you’ll be there.’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ said his mum.

  Lauren had had a lovely, lazy morning with the girls, but they were getting restless, so she decided to take them to the park. They seemed to have adapted pretty quickly to Troy’s disappearance from the cottage. He had managed to see them a couple of times, but the girls reported that his rented room smelt ‘stinky’, and Izzie let slip that he’d smoked when Lauren had been out, and ‘we didn’t like it, Mummy,’ so Lauren concluded they weren’t too traumatized by recent events. They clearly missed the fun side of their dad, but his quick, volatile temper, and ability to get bored with them quickly, was enough to worry them; they seemed easier now he wasn’t there. Lauren had to admit life was less fraught. She hadn’t realized till Troy had left she had been tiptoeing around him much of the time, fitting in with things the way he wanted them. That was no way to live your life or have a relationship.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and play Pooh sticks by the stream,’ said Lauren.

  ‘Yeah!’ said Izzie.

  ‘Yeah! Yeah!’ said Immie, and the three of them set off halfway down the hill into Heartsease, to the bridge which spanned the little brook that ran out of the town and fed into the wider stream that ran at the fields at the bottom of Joel’s house.

  It was baking hot again – this summer seemed to be endlessly sunny – and the children soon ran out of steam, so Lauren let them have ice creams along the way.

  Eventually they got to the bridge over the little stream, which was looking distinctly dry and stagnant. There was a light breeze, but it wasn’t enough to affect the sluggish current, so the girls’ sticks didn’t get far.

  ‘Mine’s stuck,’ wailed Izzie.

  ‘Mine’s not.’ Immie gleefully pointed out that hers was moving at a gentle pace under the bridge.

  ‘I won! I won!’ said Immie.

  ‘Not fair,’ pouted Izzie.

  ‘Come on, don’t fight,’ said Lauren. ‘Let’s have another go.’

  But the girls had got bored.

  ‘Can we go to the playground?’ they said.

  ‘No problem,’ said Lauren, though she rather felt as if she might wilt by the time she got there. Lauren followed them as they ran the rest of the way into Heartsease. Troy had been a huge mistake. But the girls hadn’t been. They were the one good thing he’d left her with. What would her life be without them?

  As she came to the playground she saw Joel and Sam. She stepped forward to say hello, and then paused. Kezzie was there, sitting on a bench with Joel’s mum, whom Lauren had met once or twice. They were deep in conversation and Joel came over to them with Sam bouncing on his shoulders. They looked for all the world like a happy family unit.

  Lauren felt a sudden pang of – could it be? – jealousy? She thought back to all those weeks ago, when Joel had made his clumsy declaration of love. She’d rejected him then, sure that Troy was what she wanted. But recently she’d revised her opinion of Joel, and come to see him in a different light. He’d been so sweetly supportive of her when Izzie was ill, and she had begun to think of him with something more than affection. Although her feelings were complicated by a sense of guilt about Claire, and she had been wondering if she was right to let herself be attracted to him. He had seemed quite distant to her in the last few weeks, and now she could see why. Who could blame him? Kezzie was attractive, nice and fun. It looked like Lauren had blown her chances.

  ‘Time I was off,’ said Kezzie, laughing as Sam careered straight into her legs.

  ‘We’d better get going too,’ said Joel. ‘I’ve got to get Mum home before she turns into a pumpkin.’

  ‘It’s not quite that bad,’ said his mother, laughing. ‘But you’re right; I do need to get back home.’

  They gathered up their things and left the gardens in high spirits. It was only as they turned out of the gate, and Kezzie glanced back once more to look at her creation, she thought she caught a glimpse of Lauren. How strange, why hadn’t she come to say hello?

  If it was Lauren, she was too far away now, and Kezzie had a few things to do at home for the Edward Handford display.

  Joel dropped Kezzie off and she went straight on to her laptop, importing images of the gardens Edward had designed for the rich and famous; the Lovelace Cottage knot garden then and now; family pictures, and a couple of photos of the war memorial.

  She inputted the text that Eileen had written, with information provided by Kezzie.

  Then she went through the latest lot of papers she’d taken from Joel’s house to see if there was anything she’d missed. It was then she found it. Picking up a book that had some of Lily’s sketches in, a piece of paper fluttered out. It was a letter from Lily to Edward.

  Lovelace Cottage

  November 11 1919

  My darling Edward,

  I have loved you for more than half my lifetime, and I love you still. But it is not enough to heal the hole in my heart left by Harry’s death. I fear I am a huge burden to you and the girls, and I cannot stand to be that any longer.

  Goodbye my love, and forgive me,

  Lily.

  Oh no. Kezzie felt a rush of horrified sympathy. Lily had committed suicide. That was the great family secret. Kezzie sat reading and rereading the letter in total shock. Poor, poor Lily, who had had to deal with so much, and ultimately been unable to cope. And poor Edward, left all alone without her.

  She wondered if she should show the letter to Eileen. All the available information about Lily implied she’d drowned by accident, but this letter suggested otherwise. Kezzie frowned. She and Eileen had already decided that some of the more personal letters and diary entries weren’t suitable for public display; it wouldn’t be right to show this either. If Edward had covered up Lily’s suicide, w
ho was she to reveal the truth? Let sleeping dogs lie, and let Lily have drowned in a tragic accident.

  She’d just finished for the evening and emailed the document over to Eileen for her to check it over, when an email dropped into her tray.

  To: kezziesescape@hotmail.com

  From: Rich@yahoo.co.uk

  Dear Kezzie,

  You’re a hard woman to track down. Given what you said in your letter, which incidentally, you didn’t address properly, so consequently took ages to arrive, I don’t know why you didn’t return my text. The last email address you gave me bounced, but Flick kindly forwarded your details. She told me about the garden you’ve been working on and I thought I’d come and see it for myself. I’ll be at your Summer Fest, if that’s OK with you?

  Richard

  Richard, here in Heartsease? Why did he suddenly want to see her now, after all this time? Her heart beat wildly. Maybe he was prepared to forgive her after all? But his tone sounded so formal. And businesslike. He probably just wanted to get her to do some work for a friend. But then, why not say so? And why come all the way down here? Her head was in a flat spin. She couldn’t have him here. Not on the most important day of her working life.

  To: Rich@yahoo.co.uk

  From: kezziesescape@hotmail.com

  I’ll kill Flick. Don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come. Can send you pics of garden. Then maybe later we can discuss other stuff.

  Kezzie.

  Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. Should she have been a bit more friendly? Decisions, decisions.

  ‘Take the bull by the horns, Kez,’ she said. Then pressed send. Too late to change her mind now.

  Edward and Lily

  1919

  Lily’s diary, November 1919

  It is nearly a year since we lost our beloved Harry. Not a day goes by without me thinking of him. Not a single day, not an hour, not a minute. I thought I could not bear the pain, all those years ago, when I lost my precious babies. But then Connie came and Harry and Tilly. I have been a poor mother and not loved Connie as I should. Perhaps saving all my fierce protective love for Harry was a sin, for it led me to neglect Connie. I see that now. Connie who is so brave, and strong, and a better person than I am by far. Well, if it was a sin, I am being punished. I think I will be in Hell forever.

  Edward sat by Lily’s bedside, holding her hand.

  ‘I cannot believe it has been a year,’ she said. Her eyes were seeped with pain and her face looked gaunt. She had lost so much weight in the last year, but try as he might, Edward couldn’t get her to eat.

  ‘Harry wouldn’t have wanted us to grieve forever,’ he said. ‘And we aren’t the only family to suffer such a loss. We must look to the future and Tilly’s wedding.’

  ‘A wedding without her brother and sister?’ said Lily. ‘How can we look forward to that? Poor Connie, I thought she and James would get married. Had I known what Tilly was doing, I would have made sure she was sent away.’

  ‘They’re young, they couldn’t help it,’ said Edward. Faced with the vision of his youngest daughter’s evident love for James, Edward had been unable to condemn the young lovers for long. ‘I’m sorry, too, for Connie, but there has been so much heartache, I cannot be sorry that James and Tilly have found happiness. In time, Connie will come to see it is better that she was not with someone who didn’t love her as she deserved.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ said Lily. ‘I don’t think Connie will ever forgive Tilly.’

  Edward sighed. He feared that Lily was right. His eldest daughter was headstrong and stubborn, and she’d been besotted with James. Edward had been so happy that she had found someone after George. Neither he nor Lily had foreseen this. The garden he had built as a monument to love now seemed to be poisoned with despair.

  He patted Lily’s hand and left her to go downstairs. On this, the eve of the anniversary of Harry’s death, he felt the need to stroll to the church and light a candle to his son’s memory. He left Lily sleeping, not intending to be long.

  When he returned, the house was in darkness. The girl from the village who came to ‘do’ for them had long gone, Tilly was visiting James’ family, and Connie was working in a hospital in London, refusing to come home.

  He called to Lily, but there was no reply. He went upstairs to their room and found it empty. Her white coat and galoshes were gone. By the bedside was a note. He read it with a growing sense of horror, and let out a howl of anguish when he realized what she intended.

  No. No. No. He had often worried she might do something foolish, but never really believed it. Running through the house, calling her name, Edward thought frantically about where she might have gone. Then he realized. It was obvious, she would have gone down to the river, where they had spent so many happy family times. He ran down to the riverbank calling her name in the wind. Then he saw her standing alone on the other side of the river, which was swollen with recent heavy rain.

  ‘Lily!’ he called over the wind and rain. ‘Lily, no!’

  She turned. Had she heard him? Did she give just one last glance in his direction? He could never be sure. All he knew was that she cast herself in the river, and it bore her swiftly away. There is a willow grows aslant a brook … a line from Shakespeare came to him as he frantically tore up and down the the riverbank, but of Lily there was no sign.

  It was three days before her body was discovered. Edward had walked the length of the riverbank searching for her – until finally he found her – her body finally at rest underneath the willow bank. In her hands she clutched a bunch of violets.

  Edward took her body in his arms, and gently loosened the collar of her coat. She looked still and peaceful in death. Her skin was so cold and white, giving her an other-worldly air. Struggling with her body, he realized how heavy her coat was. Not just because it was sodden with water. She’d put heavy stones in her pocket. She’d never intended to come out of the water. It was, as he feared, a deliberate act. Frantically, he emptied her pockets. He could never tell anyone. No one must ever know. Everyone must think it was a tragic accident.

  At her funeral Edward nodded, and accepted the gentle offers of condolence, agreed it was a tragedy, and was the image of a bereaved husband bearing his loss with dignity. Yet all the while a torrent swelled within him, as strong as the one that bore Lily away, as he raged at life, at love, at Lily, and the things he’d lost.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘This is looking great,’ said Eileen. She had come over to Kezzie’s to go through the information for the exhibition. They had a succession of posters, with pictures of Lovelace Cottage and gardens, Edward Handford and his family and pictures of the gardens he’d worked on. ‘I think you’ve done Edward Handford proud.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Kezzie. ‘In a way I feel I’ve got to know him quite well. I think he was an amazing person.’

  ‘I think it was wonderful the way Edward paid for the war memorial,’ said Eileen, referring to a piece Kezzie had written about Harry Handford’s death.

  ‘From his letters, it looks as though Edward felt it was his duty to put up a memorial for all the other people in the village who’d also lost their sons,’ said Kezzie. ‘I think it was a lovely gesture. It’s a shame we can’t have the memorial back in time for the Summer Fest.’

  ‘I know,’ said Eileen. ‘But I’m hoping we’ll be able to get it back in time for this year’s Remembrance Day parade.’

  ‘That would be brilliant,’ said Kezzie. ‘Will your son be back by then?’

  Eileen’s son was due back from his tour of duty in Afghanistan soon, and everyone knew how worried she was about him.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Eileen. ‘I try not think more than a day or two ahead. Every time I see a soldier’s been killed out there, I think about Jamie. It’s enough to send you crazy. I’ve stopped watching the news.’

  ‘I wish there was something I could do,’ said Kezzie.

  ‘What can anyone do?’ said Eileen. �
�I just have to grit my teeth and get on with it, and hope for the best. Running the Summer Fest has been a great distraction. It’s really taken my mind off things.’

  The Summer Fest was less than a week away, and already the village was getting ready for it: bunting was going up in the High Street, and a marquee was going to be erected on the field on Friday night. Along with Joel’s garden, there were four or five other large gardens in the area opening up to the public. Eileen had arranged for someone from the RHS to come and judge them. And Anthony Grantham was planning to come down to do a feature on the knot garden on the day itself.

  ‘You never know,’ she said to Kezzie, ‘this could be your big moment. Someone might talent spot you.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be amazing?’ said Kezzie.

  However, there was one important person she wasn’t sure she wanted to come. Richard hadn’t replied to her last email, nor had he tried to ring her again. She felt as though she were in limbo. Part of her was excited by the prospect of potentially seeing him again, and the other half wondered why he had suddenly decided to get in contact now. It had been ten months since they’d split up. Richard had been very clear then about not wanting to have anything to do with her again, and although his email had sounded more conciliatory, she didn’t dare hope that he’d changed his mind. Kezzie didn’t understand why he wanted to come and see the gardens she’d restored, unless it was to offer her some avenues for work. But why would he do that? All in all, she felt it would be better if he didn’t come. She had no idea what he was up to.

  Lauren was covered in flour. She was busy baking shortbread and cupcakes for the cake stand she’d offered to run on Saturday, and beginning to think she had bitten off more than she could chew. With Sam in the house she’d been able to get something done, enlisting him to help stir the mixture when he was bored with playing with his toys, though of course more of the mixture had ended up in his mouth than anywhere else. But when the girls came home from school all hell broke loose. Both of them wanted to help, but neither of them was really much help at all. Lauren lost count of the number of eggs that ended up on the floor – at one point she had to prevent an all-out egg war, when Sam put his hands in the egg yolk with delight, and smeared it all over Izzie’s face. By the time Joel came to pick Sam up, she was run ragged.