She snaked an arm around Darren’s waist, hugged him. “Then I love it. But can we really afford it?”
Darren sighed, a huge release of pent-up tension, and she realised then just how worried he’d been. His voice shook as he answered, “Just about, love.” He gestured vaguely around him, frowning. “It needs quite a bit of work, which puts the price in our favour – but it’s going to take a lot of time to get right. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
She frowned. “I’m not as fragile as all that, you know; I can help.”
“I know you can, love,” he said, and squeezed her waist. “I just don’t want you overdoing it, that’s all. You know how you get.”
Lily had the grace to smile. She did have a tendency to get a little obsessed with whatever project she took up; she was sure this would be no different. “I do, but it’ll be worth it, won’t it?” She gazed once more into the garden, seeing not what was really out there but her ideal – a deck they could sit out on, flowerbeds, maybe a rockery… Her dreams flashed into her mind, and she shivered, then told herself they didn’t mean anything; this wasn’t the same garden. They didn’t even need to have a lawn if they didn’t want to, and the flowerbeds could be easily tended so they didn’t get overgrown. They could even use pots, if it came to that. She turned to Darren, hiding the fear she’d felt for a moment. “I mean, this could be our forever home.”
Darren nodded. “I think it could, yes.” He rested his hand gently on her stomach as he went on. “There’s certainly room to grow.” He smiled at her, then loosed himself from her grip and headed into the hall, mobile phone in his hand as he punched the estate agent’s number. Lily heard him start to talk, putting things in motion, and took a deep breath. Please God, she thought, let this work out.
It did work out, finally; after what seemed like endless wrangling and battles to beat the price down because of work needed (taming the jungle in the back yard, for a start) it was really little more than two months before it was theirs. Ten weeks after first viewing the house, Lily stood outside the front door of their new home with the keys in her hand, grinning as she realised this was it. This was theirs now, and if they could sort out the garden stuff it could be their forever house, where they would raise their family – should they get lucky enough to have one.
“Penny for them?” Darren stood just behind her, all proud of himself.
“Just thinking you did great, love.” She squinted up at the top floor, sunlight blinding her momentarily. “You did really great.”
“Thank God for that,” he said, laughing. “Come on, time to get on with it.” He took a measuring tape out of his pocket. “You got the notebook?”
She waved it in the air. “Yep, and the pen – let’s go measure up.”
A pleasant few hours passed as they measured the rooms for carpet where needed, and the windows for curtains – wary of anything going wrong with the purchase, they’d been too superstitious to do this until now. Lily could already see how it might look, given a little time and a lot of love. The splash of sun that had marked the hours’ passage was low on the wall when Darren walked back in, dusty and dishevelled.
“You ready, love?”
She looked up from her notepad and nodded. “All done, we can go home now.”
Darren smiled. “Not home. This is home now, or soon will be.” He headed out into the hall, out of her sight. “The flat doesn’t really feel like home anymore.”
He was right, it didn’t. Lily lay in bed there that night, listening to the murmur of next door’s TV and the sounds of the family upstairs getting ready for bed – and sighed. Living in a house of their own was going to take a bit of getting used to, she knew – and there was still the garden to worry about. She consoled herself with Darren’s promise that they could concrete it if she hated the tidied-up version. But she couldn’t wait to start this new chapter in their lives, and to move on from the sadness they’d endured here these last few months.
The house – this was their house, she knew; she could feel it even if she couldn’t see much – was bitterly cold, the air she breathed wet with condensation. Someone was sobbing in the dark, and she had an awful feeling that she should recognise this phantom; it was someone known to her of old. She reached for the bedside lamp (if she could only see…) but it wouldn’t work. She padded over to the wall and toggled the main switch, frustrated, but it was useless. Neither light worked, so a fuse had probably blown somewhere. She had very little choice now; get back into bed and wait in the dark for Darren to come home (where was he, at this time of night?) and tell her everything was alright; or head down to the kitchen, find the fuse box. She chose the latter and began to inch sideways, searching for the door handle. She regretted it almost immediately, as her foot crunched down on something unexpected on the bare wooden floor. She cried out in disgust as it scuttled away, chittering. What in God’s name was that? She shuddered, and – instead of stepping – started to slide her foot sideways on the floor even as her hand swept the wall in search of the door handle. Her hand scraped against the door jamb and she almost cried with relief when her fingertips brushed a handle almost immediately afterward. She grasped it firmly and turned, stepping forward before she could change her mind and crawl back into bed.
She walked out into the hall and things whispered in the darkness. She took a deep, sobbing breath and groaned at the feeling of its warm vapour pluming out in front of her; her heat being sucked out by the chill of the night air.
Now she was downstairs in the kitchen, just like that – no transition, just there. And the quality of the light now filtering through suggested it was dawn. Ah, I’m dreaming, then. That realisation should have brought relief, but menace hung heavy in the air and she was frightened to look out of the kitchen window, even though she knew she must. Slowly, she turned her head, every tendon in her neck screaming in protest.
The bushes outside were heaving themselves to and fro in the wind that shrieked through their leaves; rain slashed against the glass, running down the panes in torrents and she could hear scrabbling at the base of the back door as something tried to scratch its way through, or even get underneath. This was the source of her fear. This was where the danger lay, and it was doing its damnedest to get in. Lily tried hard not to breathe. Something was out there, in the middle of the maelstrom, something that stood quite still and dark in the middle of the madness and beckoned to her, its glacial eyes shining.
Lily woke up screaming, Darren holding her and rocking back and forth, his voice panicked as he shushed her. “Lily, it’s okay! Lily! Come on, it’s just a dream!” She collapsed into his arms and shut her eyes, held him tight as the sobs forced their way out of her.
“The garden again?”
She nodded, face buried in his chest. “It was trying to get in.”
“You’re safe, love; I’m here.”
She shook her head, a small storm of fear in his arms.
“No?”
She shook her head again, but wasn’t ready yet to verbalise her reasons. She hung on for a few more moments, allowing his touch to calm her and ground her back in the here and now, then she sat up and leaned into him. “What if it is our garden?” she asked.
“Eh?” The confusion in his voice was plain to hear. “You’ve lost me now.”
She sighed. “I keep dreaming about an overgrown garden, yes? With something in it; something not right. And this time someone was crying… What if it really is our new garden?”
Darren was silent for a moment, as he tried to digest what she was saying. “I know you’re scared, okay? I know you keep having this dream, and now we’re buying a house that just happens to have an overgrown garden and it’s freaked you out somehow – and I can see how you’d make that leap, I really can. But…” He hesitated as he looked for the right words.
“But?” Lily had sat up straight now, her back stiff and straight.
“But we’ve been through all this. It’s just a dream, love. There’s nothing
to be afraid of. You’ll see, once we’ve moved.”
Lily said nothing, but she was still frightened. She shivered, suddenly frozen again, and jumped when Darren laid a hand on her back.
“Besides,” he said, “I promised we could concrete the thing if you still hated the finished version, remember?”
She did. Lily allowed herself to be calmed, now, enjoying the feeling of Darren rubbing her back. “Okay,” she said, “okay.” She laid back down, feeling calmer about the move now. You couldn’t get lost in a garden that was cut right back, or covered over.
Darren turned towards her and snaked a hand across her stomach, a leg over hers. He kissed her cheek, but said nothing more, and Lily lay listening to his breathing as it gradually softened and became deeper. He was asleep. She wished it was that easy for her.
Moving day dawned bright and sunny. Lily took a last tour around their flat – a job of no more than a few minutes – and surveyed the pile of packing boxes stacked in the living room, the kitchen… hell, everywhere. The walls of the flat looked even dingier with all their pictures and bits and pieces taken down; brown marks stained the walls where they’d been, the wallpaper brighter where it had been protected. She was surprised to feel a twinge of sadness at the idea of leaving this place. It might not be much, with only one bedroom and a tiny kitchen, and it held some bad memories, but it had been home for quite a while now.
Darren walked into the living room and saw Lily standing framed in the light blazing through the window. She looked… not there, almost, and he shuddered at the prickle that ran up and down his spine. Silly sod, he thought. She’s right here, with you – you haven’t lost her, and you’re not going to. He forced a smile onto his face and crept up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist – and was shocked by how fragile she felt. Bones lurked just below the skin, no padding on them now; she felt brittle, easy to break.
As if in answer, Lily struggled round to face him, her expression half-happy, half-pained. “Not so tight, love; you’re hurting me.”
“You’re losing weight? How come?”
She dropped her gaze, then, and snuggled into his neck, her face hidden. “Not much,” she muttered. “I haven’t been that hungry lately.”
He loosened his grip and forced himself not to rise to this, not to try and force the issue. They’d be in the new house soon, and she’d start to put the dreams behind her once the garden was sorted to her satisfaction – it was just worry over the move, he reasoned. She’d be fine. “Come on, time to go.”
Lily eased herself out of his grip, and nodded. Picking up her handbag and a small holdall, she sighed – swaying slightly for just a moment before heading towards the front door. “I’ll miss this place, won’t you?” she said.
“In some ways,” he said. “Not in others. It’s too small; time for us to have a place we can spread out in, settle down and start a family, maybe.” He gazed towards the bedroom, his expression pensive. “Too many reminders here,” he said.
She nodded. “Yeah. Fresh start. I’m looking forward to that.” Then she was gone, and he heard her feet clatter on the wooden stairs as she headed for the waiting cab.
Darren took one last look at his old home, their first home together, and smiled as he slammed the door shut and locked it. “That’s the last I have to see of you,” he said, and turned to follow his wife.
The next few weeks passed quickly in a blur of painting, wallpapering, and generally putting their new home to rights. The repairs had been completed before they moved in; all that remained was to make it truly theirs. Darren watched his wife as she went about her work; she hadn’t said anything but she was still whimpering in her sleep, tossing to and fro as she fought to escape whatever demons were chasing her. He knew she was eating, he’d made a point of ensuring that – treating them to takeaways he knew she loved, cooking when she was tired, which was most of the time now – although he had to wonder whether part of that was an attempt to avoid having to go into the kitchen wherever possible, so she wouldn’t have to see the garden outside the window. Yet still the pounds kept falling off. Now, a month after they’d moved in, the interior work was almost done and the new house was finally starting to look more like home. He watched as Lily came in with a huge pile of cushions and started scattering them on the sofa and chairs. Lily and her cushions. As long as he’d known her, she’d loved to snuggle down into cushions and pillows, making a little bed for herself wherever she sat – a nest to watch TV from, or just to lay and chat to Darren, read a book. They were, in a very real sense, her haven, and gave her security.
There was something odd about how she was arranging them. He watched as she piled two or three into one corner of the sofa, and then stood back, surveying the effect. She frowned, before plumping them up so they sat higher, and hauling the sofa forward at one end so that it was sheltered from the light afforded by the window.
“Something wrong, love?” he asked.
“No, just getting the couch the way I want it,” she answered, not really paying much attention to anything other than the sofa’s position. She sat down, plumped up the pillows again, and sank into them. “Plus I can see the TV better from here, see?”
Darren frowned. She had a point about the TV, but small as she was, the height of the pillows and position of the sofa now meant she got no light from the window at all. “Too bright for you?” he asked again.
Lily scowled, but quickly turned it into a smile. “A bit,” she said. “Thought I might take a nap.” She made a show of snuggling down and closing her eyes, and Darren let her be. He’d be watching her, though, and a visit to the doctor was only a step away. He didn’t like the recent changes in his wife.
Not one bit.
Life settled back into its previous routine, pretty much – Darren went off to work in the mornings, leaving Lily to continue putting the house to rights; adding what she called the ‘finishing touches’, which he knew meant letting her buy pretty things to dot here and there around the house. He didn’t mind. She was always careful not to spend too much and there was no doubt she had the knack of making things comfortable. Lily talked sometimes of going back to work, and he made the appropriate noises, but that was something she’d do when she felt up to it, and he refused to put any pressure on her. She felt safe at home, and that was worth putting in some extra hours to bring a bit more money in. Her job was being held for now, and if it went – well, she’d find something else, he was sure.
One thing wasn’t the same. More often than not, now, when Darren came home the house would be empty – and Lily would be standing under the shade of a huge willow tree that stood halfway down the garden, staring nervously at the wilderness that marked the bottom end of it. They’d managed to clear that far, but the garden seemed to resist any effort on their part to get further. They’d gain a foot or so across its span, but somehow the next day the jungle was back up to the tree’s level.
Having done her best to ignore its presence up to now, these days the garden seemed to draw her to it, at least as far as that tree. And the nightmares, as a result, were getting worse. Night after night he woke to the sound of Lily screaming, begging him to find her, rescue her from the garden. “Don’t let it get me,” she’d sob, “please don’t let me get lost in it.” And there was nothing he could say or do to console her – yet still she couldn’t stay away.
They’d been in the house a couple of months when, one morning over breakfast, Darren announced: “I’ve got a gardener coming.”
“What?” Lily froze in the act of bringing a forkful of bacon up to her mouth; she just sat there, staring at him with wide eyes, food forgotten.
“To clear the bottom half. You know, like we talked about?” He kept his eyes firmly on his own breakfast, not wanting her to get too uptight about it.
“Wha… well… when’s he coming?”
He’d taken the wind out of her sails, he knew, but they had discussed this, and he couldn’t let her just ignore the garden foreve
r. The bottom half of the garden was still a swamp despite their best efforts, and they needed to clear it, see what was buried – literally – under the overgrown grass and weeds. It looked like there were rushes in there, too, which suggested water somewhere.
“Saturday. Not too early, we can lie in a bit – thought we could have a quiet weekend while he clears the ground.” Now he looked up at Lily, and smiled at her encouragingly.
Her eyes crinkled, and her lips moved in the right direction, but she didn’t look happy – not happy at all. “It’ll be nice,” she said, “to see what we’re dealing with.”
So why did she look frightened?
Saturday came far too soon. Darren seemed to have spent most of the preceding days trying to convince Lily that a gardener finishing the job they couldn’t was a good thing. Now the day was here, he didn’t want her to spend too long worrying. He woke long before Lily and crept down to the kitchen so she could rest. As usual, she’d been tossing and turning most of the night.
Lily woke around ten and wandered downstairs, sleepily accepting a cup of tea and some toast, which she took into the living room. She barely spoke, and Darren wasn’t in the mood for another argument about the garden, so he left her to rest. The gardener, a sullen forty-something guy called Nigel, turned up on time at ten thirty, ready to get to work.
Darren opened the side gate and led him through to the garden. The top half didn’t look too bad now, he and Lily had dead-headed and weeded for all they were worth, and Darren had invested in a lawnmower to bring the grass back under control – at least as far as the bottom half, where it had become overgrown on an epic scale and resisted all efforts made to tame it.
Nigel stood by the back wall of the house, surveying the task before him, and let out a sigh.
“Something wrong?” Darren asked.
“Nah,” the man replied. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He stared out at the undergrowth for a few moments longer before saying, “Might take a while, though.”
In Times Of Want Page 18
