The Sea Garden

by Marcia Willett

  ‘Just think,’ Jess is saying, ‘if I hadn’t won the Award I’d never have known.’

  ‘All these little links,’ says Kate, marvelling, ‘all interconnecting. And now you’ve got a huge new family.’

  Jess heaves a sigh of huge happiness. ‘Some of them will be home for Christmas, if they can make it.’

  ‘So you won’t be going to Brussels for Christmas?’

  Jess shakes her head. ‘I’d already told Mum that I might be spending Christmas in this part of the world or with friends in Bristol. She’s fine with that. They have a very social Christmas. I haven’t told her about Freddy yet. I want to do that face to face, not that she’ll mind much. After all, we never really knew Mike, and it’s not her side of the family. Still, I don’t want to do it on the phone. And I love Freddy’s cottage, Kate. Wait till you see it. It’s so sweet and looks straight across the river to the sea garden. And you won’t believe this but he does beautiful little sketches. Mostly different kinds of boats, nothing big, but I’m sure I’ve got my love of drawing from him. He’s getting a bedroom ready for me in case I need it but I’m staying in the sail loft just for now. Will can be there with me when he breaks up on Thursday. His parents and little sisters are coming over from Geneva.’

  ‘Well, that answers my question about whether you’ll be needing this cottage.’

  ‘I don’t think I will but I’m so grateful. If you hadn’t offered it I might never have come down here.’

  ‘Well, it’s the most amazing thing. So you’re right in the story now.’

  ‘I am, aren’t I? I wanted to be a part of it and now I really belong. I felt it all along. It was really weird. When you talked about the sea garden and the parties and stuff I could really, like, see it. And the sail loft, I can kind of feel Juliet there with me. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true.’

  ‘So you’ll be staying on for a while?’

  Jess nods. ‘And I want to get down to some serious work. I haven’t done anything much, though I’ve got a little idea about something.’

  ‘Oh?’ Kate raises her eyebrows.

  ‘Mmm.’ Jess grins at her. ‘But I’m not saying anything yet. Wait and see.’

  * * *

  ‘Freddy?’ Tom says incredulously for the third time. ‘Young Fred? I mean, can you credit it, Cass?’

  Johnnie and Oliver have gone back to the Tamar, collecting Jess from Chapel Street on the way. Oliver has packed a bagful of casual clothes and Cass has given him his Christmas present.

  ‘Lucky I did my wrapping early,’ said Cass, giving it to him when they were on their own for a moment.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you, Ma?’ he asked, giving her a hug. ‘Look, the truth is that Sophie and I have got a bit of a thing going so I’ve decided to stay, since they’ve asked me.’

  ‘Sophie?’ Cass was pleased. ‘Well, of course you must stay. It’s hardly as if you’re miles away. It’s only this wretched weather making everything so difficult.’

  ‘That’s why I grabbed this chance in Johnnie’s Discovery. I can’t get my car up the drive. I’ll see you again as soon as I can get out. Gemma and I Skyped Guy while Johnnie was telling you the family secret and he’s catching a flight out on Friday.’

  ‘Thanks for helping them out, lovey.’ She kissed him. ‘And have a happy Christmas.’

  ‘I shall. How’s Pa taking the news about the lovely Juliet?’

  Cass made a face. ‘Ructions later,’ she said.

  And now Tom is pouring himself a drink and saying disbelievingly, ‘Freddy, of all people.’

  Cass stops herself from saying provocatively, ‘You mean when it could have been you?’ and says instead, ‘But Freddy was a very attractive man.’

  ‘Man!’ Tom snorts contemptuously. ‘He was barely shaving.’

  ‘You weren’t that old yourself.’

  ‘I was older than Fred,’ he protests. “Everyone was older than Fred. Anyway, what d’you mean, “attractive”? He was thin and gangly.’

  ‘He was tall and elegant,’ Cass corrects him. ‘He still is. I’ve always rather fancied Freddy. Great legs. Anyway, what does it matter? Clearly Juliet fancied him, too. That’s the point.’

  Tom shakes his head, swallows down some wine.

  ‘And it’s lovely for Jess,’ says Cass. ‘And the other news is that Oliver and Sophie have got a thing going between them. That’s why he’s spending Christmas there.’

  Tom gapes at her. ‘Oliver and Sophie?’ He thinks of the attractive, fair girl, athletic and strong: one of Betjeman’s tennis girls. First Juliet and now Sophie; he groans aloud with envy and Cass begins to laugh.

  ‘Cheer up,’ she says. ‘I think it was very nice of Johnnie to come and tell us himself. Pour me a drink and stop behaving like a prat.’

  ‘Who’s behaving like a prat?’ asks Gemma, coming in. She puts an arm round Tom’s shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing,’ says Tom shortly. ‘Only, apparently, that Oliver and Sophie are about to become an item.’

  ‘Oh, great,’ says Gemma. ‘Guy noticed that something was going on. I really like Sophie and I suppose it’s about time Oliver committed to someone. I shall be jealous but at least she’ll be a part of the team. Listen, Guy should be with us by Saturday if this weather doesn’t get worse. It’s a pity that he’ll miss the end-of-term service but it’s just so great that he’ll be home for Christmas, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ agrees Cass. ‘Shall we drink to it?’

  * * *

  At the end-of-term service, the church is packed. The snow lends a very special effect; children’s faces glow with the knowledge of trunks and tuck boxes packed and waiting, with the prospect of going home, and of Christmas presents. The atmosphere is charged with joy and the organ prelude sounds even more beautiful than it usually does.

  How odd it is, Kate thinks, to be sitting with Gemma and Cass and Tom, whilst Oliver sits across the aisle with Sophie and Johnnie and Jess. Will’s blond head bobs beside Jess’s dark red-brown one as she bends to hear his whisper.

  Kate smiles down at Ben – Julian is in the choir – who beams up at her, and more ghosts appear at his shoulder: Guy and Giles at nine years old, suppressing their excitement, turning to see who is coming down the aisle. On Ben’s other side Gemma sits staring forward, her hands clasped on her lap. Just for this moment she is preoccupied; thinking about her family and their future, wondering where they will live and how Guy’s dream will work out in reality. She looks slightly vulnerable, thinner; she’s lost weight in these last few months. She turns her head, smiles quickly as Ben whispers to her, alert to his touch and his needs, putting her own fears to one side.

  As Kate watches Gemma an idea crystallizes in her mind and in that moment she makes her decision. As she does so, her anxieties fall away and she is filled with peace. Oliver glances over his shoulder, catches her eye and winks at her, and she remembers his message: ‘Home is where the heart is.’ Cass sees him and turns to smile at Kate.

  ‘It’s going to be such fun,’ Cass said earlier, as they gathered in the porch. ‘I wish you were coming back with us this afternoon, Kate. You’re just being stubborn.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Kate shook her head firmly. ‘Come on, Cass, it’s still ten days to Christmas.’

  ‘Well, Tom’s worried about the weather.’ She peers about her, looking for him. ‘I hope he’s managed to park the car. They’re forecasting a white Christmas, you know. I don’t think the white stuff’s just going to go away.’

  ‘Well, I’ll have to take my chance.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ Cass looked more closely at her old friend. ‘It’s all good now, isn’t it? Guy coming home, Oliver backing this enterprise of theirs. Thank goodness you’ve bought the cottage so that you’ll be close to us all again. It’ll be like old times. I thought you were thrilled to bits that Guy is sorted?’

  ‘I am,’ Kate said. ‘You know I am. It’s just been a bit odd lately.’ She gave an amused, dis
missive snort. ‘I think I’m going a bit mad. I’ve been seeing the ghosts of Christmases past.’

  ‘Oh, lovey,’ said Cass, looking suddenly sombre, ‘we all do that. Poor little Charlotte, Kate. There isn’t a day when I don’t think about her, wonder what she would have been like. Whether her children would have been here today with Ben and Jules.’ She clutched Kate’s arm. ‘I have quite a battle with my demons. I have to remind myself about what my old dad used to say: “Don’t let the buggers get you down.” I still miss him.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Kate sadly. ‘How I loved him. Oh God, Cass. All these ghosts.’

  And then Jess suddenly appeared beside them, beaming, delighted to see them, and the ghosts vanished in the face of her vitality.

  ‘I’ve got something for you,’ she said to Kate, drawing her a little to one side. ‘My way of saying thank you for making all this happen. It’s not a Christmas present. It’s more important than that. If you hadn’t invited me, and said I could use the cottage, and then taken me down to the Tamar I wouldn’t have known about any of this. How can I really hope to say a sufficient thank you for all of that? Anyway, I hope you like it. And, listen, I was thinking on the way here that you could come down for Christmas and share the sail loft with me and Will.’

  Kate burst out laughing. ‘Now that’s an offer I can almost not refuse, but no, darling. Thank you very much, though.’

  ‘Johnnie’s fine with it,’ said Jess. ‘And Sophie. But I told them I thought you’d rather be with your own family. Anyway, here’s your pressie, and thanks again, Kate.’

  She passed over a small package, and Kate took it, hefted it, raised her eyebrows at the weight of it.

  ‘Very mysterious,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Jess. We’ll get together for a jolly in the New Year.’

  And now, sitting in the church, Jess turns to smile at her and Kate smiles back and is filled with happiness and gratitude for this new flourishing of friendship and love that travels both backwards to the past and other loved ones, and forward into the future. She wishes David could have met Jess.

  The organ music changes from Bach to the opening chords of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ and there is a sudden expectant hush. The choir moves forward from the back of the church, the congregation rises to its feet, and Kate picks up her hymn sheet for the first carol.

  * * *

  The parcel remains on the big table until Kate has changed back into her jeans and some Ugg boots and wrapped herself in a cashmere shawl. She makes some tea and, still shivering, takes the mug along to the living-room. It’s been a tricky walk home through the deep, frozen snow, slipping and sliding along, clutching the little parcel.

  She puts the mug down on the table and, still standing, begins to pull at the Sellotape, which holds the thick brown paper in place. Having ripped the paper across she sees a box, handmade out of corrugated cardboard. She removes more Sellotape and the box falls apart to reveal a watercolour painting in a delicately carved wooden frame.

  Kate picks it up quickly, staring at the painting. A stretch of gleaming water at dusk and, on its far bank, a lawn upon which figures are just visible in the fading sunset: light brush-strokes – the sweep of pale chiffon and a swirl of scarlet silk – indicate slender girls, whilst darker shapes, with flashes of white shirt-fronts, show tall, elegant men. Tiny coloured lights are sprinkled over the scene and reflected in the water. The stone balustrade is sketched in, and here is a larger, bulkier figure, immobile and remote: Circe, gazing downriver. It is the sea garden.

  Sitting down, Kate tilts the little painting; she marvels at the way the twilight glow on the water has been captured, the suggestion of movement amongst the shadowy figures, the sense of magic. Now, looking more closely, she sees that there is some writing across the corner of the narrow grey mount: ‘Bless you for everything. It’s been perfect. Love J.’

  Tears well up and overflow. She wonders if Jess knows how hard it’s been to part with that other little painting which, by such odd ways, came into her own possession. It seemed right, somehow, to pass it on to Jess as a sign for the future. Now, Jess has responded to it.

  Kate balances the frame against a blue ceramic pot of hyacinth bulbs and looks at it again. She guesses that Jess has sketched the scene from Freddy’s cottage across the Tamar and then peopled it with those ghosts of the past about whom she has been told. She has stepped into the story and made it her own, and now she will become a part of it; a link in the chain that connects its past with its future.

  Kate raises her mug in a toast to Jess’s future and to her own. She drinks her tea and reaches for the telephone. Bruno answers very quickly.

  ‘Was it a good service?’ he asks. ‘A strong aroma of incense, old hymn books and small boy?’

  She laughs. ‘Small girl, too, these days,’ she says. ‘And hymn sheets.’

  ‘Ah,’ says Bruno. ‘Well, it’s a long time since I was at school. I wondered whether you might go back with Cass and Tom. More snow is forecast this weekend.’

  ‘I know it is,’ she says.

  She lifts the painting and studies it. She thinks of Cass and Tom, preparing the Rectory for Christmas, and of Jess and Will in the sail loft down on the Tamar, of Guy and Gemma and the twins.

  ‘Have you made your decision, Kate?’ asks Bruno.

  ‘Yes,’ she answers. ‘I’ve made my decision. Tell Rafe to get the Land Rover out, Bruno. I’m coming home tomorrow.’

  TAMAR

  Snow falls heavily on the night before Johnnie’s birthday but the day dawns clear and bright. The sun rises, washing the frozen white fields with crimson and scarlet, spilling its light into the wooded valley. The lanes are blocked, airports in turmoil.

  ‘It’s going to be just us,’ Sophie says at breakfast, after Johnnie has gone out with Popps. ‘Fred will bring his little motor boat across but nobody else will get through. With the tide as it is, he won’t make it until just in time for tea. Never mind, we’ll have to make the best of it.’

  ‘But we could still have Grando’s tea party in the sea garden, couldn’t we?’ wheedles Will, eating bacon and eggs with relish. ‘He’d really like that.’

  Jess looks at Sophie wistfully. ‘It would be rather fun.’

  Sophie hesitates, concerned with the wellbeing of the oldest and the youngest of the family.

  ‘I know the temperatures are sub-zero,’ says Oliver, ‘but this sunshine will warm up the summerhouse. We could put heaters in…’

  ‘And string up the coloured lights like we do in the summer,’ says Will eagerly.

  ‘Why not?’ Sophie gives in. ‘I suppose it could get quite cosy in the summerhouse with the sun shining in all day, though it’ll be nearly dark by tea-time.’

  ‘But that’s what will make it such fun,’ says Will. ‘That’s why we need the lights.’

  ‘OK then. Tea in the summerhouse and then, when we’ve cut the cake and he’s opened his presents, we can have Buck’s Fizz to drink Grando’s health.’

  ‘Cool,’ says Will contentedly.

  He’s in that exalted state of mind that promises that nothing can be denied him. Jess is his cousin and an artist – he’s googled her and been really impressed by what he reads – and he and she have turned the sail loft into a real den. She’s teaching him to sketch and paint, and he’s done a really good little picture of the Alice for Grando’s birthday. He beams with the pure pleasure of it all and wipes his eggy plate with a piece of toast.

  ‘And you,’ Sophie says to Oliver, ‘have been selected from a host of applicants to put up the lights.’

  ‘I always get the good jobs,’ says Oliver, resigned, reaching for his coffee. ‘Are they like Christmas tree lights? Do they go neatly into the box in perfect working order on Twelfth Night, only to reappear the next Christmas Eve tangled and inexplicably bust?’

  ‘There’s miles of them,’ Will tells him gleefully. ‘Grando always says it’s like sorting out a bag of knitting.’

  ‘Well, thanks fo
r that,’ says Oliver. ‘Do I get volunteers?’

  Jess and Will both put their hands up and then grin at each other. Johnnie comes in with Popps.

  ‘It’s freezing,’ he tells them, his scarf still wound around his neck. ‘Exhilarating, though. There’s been more snow in the night and poor old Popps fell into a drift. I think she deserves a bic, Will. I know I’ve already had breakfast, Sophie, but I’ll have another cup of coffee if there’s any going. Warm me up a bit.’

  Will slips off his chair to minister to the expectant Popps, who waits imperiously for attention, and Sophie pours Johnnie some coffee.

  ‘Did I tell you that I had a text from Kate yesterday quite late to say that she’s safe at St Meriadoc?’ says Oliver.

  ‘Just in time, I should say,’ says Johnnie. ‘I think it’s very good of her to give her cottage over to Guy and Gemma. Solves lots of problems.’

  ‘I’m not certain that Kate’s heart was ever truly in it,’ Oliver says. ‘She really bought it because she felt she should get back into the housing market but I never could quite see Kate living in the town. Ma will be disappointed but it’s certainly a bonus for Gemma and Guy and the boys.’

  ‘And it’s such a lovely little cottage,’ says Jess. ‘Gemma must be so pleased.’

  ‘She’s ecstatic,’ says Oliver. ‘It’s lifted a great worry from her. She was so anxious about where they would all go, and this means they can start straight off all together as a little family without having to be dependent on anyone else. Kate had even put bunk beds in the smallest bedroom so that any of the children could come to stay with her. It’s ideal for the twins.’

  ‘Ben and Julian are coming down after Christmas,’ Will tells them. ‘I told them we can take the Heron out. We can, can’t we, Grando?’

  ‘Can’t see why not,’ Johnnie answers. He picks up his birthday cards and looks at them again, smiling at one, looking more closely at another.

  ‘There would be more if only the post could get through,’ says Sophie regretfully.