A Good Year for the Roses: A Novel

by Gil McNeil

  “Nothing springs to mind, but I’ll let you know.”

  “I’m going shopping with Dennis later on. Ivy’s given us another one of her lists. Anything you need Molly?”

  “Not unless Tesco have starting selling big bottles of Valium?”

  “Christ, what have you done to him? He’s gone all tanned demigod, and those eyes, they seem even more blue than the last time I saw him.”

  “I haven’t done anything to him. He’s been working outside, that’s all, helping Dennis and building a tree house with the boys.”

  “Well country living clearly agrees with him. Now you’ve got shot of the idiot architect, maybe you should consider something a bit closer to home?”

  “Please. All I want at the moment is to be able to lift both my arms up, and get dressed by myself, if that’s not too much to ask.”

  “I bet all the local girls are flocking.”

  “Pretty much. He’s got a gig at the local pub now, and Bella says they’re practically queuing up. Her son Arthur is in Alfie’s class—she was telling me and Sally all about it. Apparently he’s oblivious, which only makes them keener. One turned up here a few days ago with a CD for him—it was really sweet.”

  “Yes, I get that with Tre and some of his yoga girls—he’s fairly oblivious too. Talking of gorgeous but oblivious, he sent some special arnica ointment for you. It’s good for bringing out bruises apparently.”

  “I’m having enough trouble coping with the bruises I’ve got, I’m not sure I want any more bringing out—but tell him thanks, would you?”

  “Sure. So are we breaking you out of here, or what?”

  “Yes please, only can we give my tablets time to kick in? I only just took them.”

  “Of course. Does it hurt much darling?”

  “A bit. Quite a lot actually, but for God’s sake don’t tell Mum or Ivy.”

  “We can always get Eddie to carry you down, show me his knee-buckling routine.”

  “No, I can do it, I’m sure I can. I’ll go downstairs on my bottom, and the rest should be fine.”

  There’s another knock on the door, and this time it’s Celia.

  “Just checking if you need anything? Ivy says lunch will be ready in an hour. She’s making a rice pudding, because you need the extra calcium. We’ve been doing some research, and broccoli is very good for healing bones too. Ben’s been showing me how to look things up on the Interweb. Lots of Vitamin C—or was it K?—anyway, very good for you. So make sure you eat it all up. Do you like blancmange dear?”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever had it.”

  “Right. We’ll stick to rice puddings then.”

  “Thanks Celia.” She closes the door very quietly, like a sudden noise might startle me.

  Lola smiles. “Christ, I see what you mean.”

  “I’m bracing myself for calf’s-foot jelly.”

  Over the next few days I finally manage to find a position I can sleep in for more than half an hour without something starting to throb, and I’ve also realised that taking the painkillers the hospital gave me every four hours like they told me to is definitely the best way to get through the day. So I’m in a gentle semifogged state most of the time, which turns out to be rather nice. I’m not sure I’m very good at letting people take care of me. It’s not something I’m used to, but I’m trying to go with the flow and be more grateful, and it is very touching how kind everyone is being. Vicky is taking care of the gatehouse and Mum’s helping Ivy with the B&B guests, not that we’ve got that many due with Celia and Eddie booked in until next month. And thank God they are—they’ve both been such a help, particularly Eddie, who seems to have the great knack of noticing when something needs doing and just getting on with it with no fuss. The boys adore him, and he spends hours racing round with them keeping them busy. Mr. and Mrs. Collins are back next week for a few days, and a nice couple Ivy says come every year to go walking are due at the weekend. She says they’re no trouble unless it rains, when they tend to come back soaking wet with muddy walking boots. So fingers crossed the weather holds.

  Being out of action has given me lots of time to think, and I’m struck by how much safer I feel here, much more than I did with Pete. It feels like we’re part of something, and if it really does take a village to raise a child, then I’ve definitely got at least a hamlet’s worth of people surrounding us here, far more than we ever had when I was doing the Mr.-and-Mrs. thing with Pete, ticking all the boxes for a proper family life before we realised it wasn’t quite what we thought it would be. A bit like those wedding cakes they used to have in the War made out of cardboard, so you got the proper three-tier wedding cake for your photographs, and then lifted the cardboard cover off to reveal a small fruit cake underneath, which was often a bit on the dry side, as eggs and butter were still rationed.

  I’m starting to get the hang of using the crutches, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper when Dan rushes in, looking excited.

  “Come and see what we’ve done Mum. It was Eddie’s idea, but we’ve all done it. You’ll love it, honestly you will.”

  Dennis and Eddie have tracked down a minitrailer, which attaches to the back of the ride-along lawnmower, and filled it with cushions and blankets so they can take me out into the orchard.

  “See you won’t need to walk Mum. Anywhere you want to go, you can just get in and we’ll take you.”

  “That’s great.”

  Ivy is not impressed.

  “Mind you don’t tip her out Dennis.”

  “Thank you, I’d never have thought of that. Honestly, what do you take me for?”

  “You can see our tree house Mum. It’s nearly finished now—isn’t it great?”

  Alfie runs along beside me with Tom, both begging for a ride when I’ve been settled in my chair.

  “Yes love, it is.”

  And it is. Even the chickens seem impressed and are clucking around by the ladder keeping an eye on the proceedings while the pigs race up and down in the hope we’ve brought food.

  “I told you she’d love it. So can we go surfing now?”

  “I’m not sure the mower can get all the way to the big beach Dan, sorry.”

  “No Mum, we thought you could be here with Alfie and Tom, and then Eddie can take me and Ben surfing, if that’s okay?”

  “I suppose so, only…”

  “Great, she says we can go Ben. Eddie, can we go today?”

  “I didn’t say today Dan, I was thinking maybe tomorrow?”

  “Can’t we go for an hour this afternoon, please? I told Robbie I might see him.”

  “Oh, right, well, I suppose if it was just for an hour.”

  “Great, I’ll text him.”

  He races back to the house to find his phone.

  “Eddie.”

  “Yes Molly?”

  “You’re a total pushover—you know that, don’t you?”

  “On the subject of being pushed over, there is one other thing I should probably mention. We’ve invented a new game, a version of Simon Says, but you get squirted with the hosepipe if you forget what Simon said. It’s been so hot, and they love it—the pigs love it too. The chickens aren’t that keen, so they tend to take refuge in the tree house, but I’m not sure you’d make it up the ladder.”

  “If you squirt me with the hosepipe, I’m telling Ivy, and Celia.”

  “Yes, I thought you might say that.”

  “How have you got a hosepipe all the way out here anyway?”

  “We bought an extension—well, two actually—to reach the tap in the stables.”

  “Right, and whose bright idea was that then?”

  “Patrick’s, to keep the pigs cool, but then it sort of escalated from there.”

  “I see.”

  “So if they ask you to play Simon Says, just say no, okay? I think that’s probably rather crucial.”

  “I think I can do better than that. Boys, can I have a word please. Alfie, stop running for a minute.”


  “What Mum? I’m busy, and we’re going to do the hosepiper in a minute, and it’s great Mum, it really is.”

  “No we’re not Alfie—that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You too Ben. When I’m in the orchard, we can’t have the hosepipe on, okay? My plaster will get wet and then I’ll have to go back to the hospital, and I’ll get very annoyed. And then I’ll come home and cut the hosepipe into small pieces and you’ll be annoyed. Is that clear?”

  “But…”

  “I mean it Alfie.”

  There’s the sound of united tutting.

  “Eddie invented the game, so you only play it with him, okay?”

  Eddie mutters something under his breath.

  “Eddie?”

  “Yes Molly?”

  “Let’s not invent any more games involving hosepipers.”

  “Good plan. I had to get changed twice yesterday, and Ivy told me off for making extra washing, even though I’ve told her I’m happy to do my own.”

  “But she’s told you not to touch the washing machine because it’s very temperamental?”

  “How did you know?”

  “She’s said the same thing to me when we first got here. She still restacks the dishwasher when she thinks I’m not looking.”

  He grins.

  “Oh good, I thought it was just me.”

  “No, it’s mostly you Eddie. Wait until I tell her and Celia you’ve invented a game which involves soaking people with hosepipes.”

  Ben gives me a shocked look.

  “You can’t do that Mum, they’ll go nuts.”

  “Well I better not ever get wet then—promise?”

  “We promise Mum.”

  “Good. Now help me get up love, I haven’t said hello to Bubble and Squeak for ages. Are they still playing football?”

  “Yes, they love it. They’re rubbish in goal though.”

  The weather gets hotter, and the roads are so packed with caravans and cars with surfboards balanced on top that instead of taking ten minutes to drop Ben and Alfie off for their scouts’ summer picnic it takes Dennis nearly an hour. The village shops are opening at half past eight now so the locals can get their shopping done before the holidaymakers wake up and the traffic grinds to a halt. Alfie swears he’s seen a grass snake, or possibly a python, on the path down to the cove, and the days pass by in a blur of sunscreen and sleeping in the afternoons, while I try to help out as much as I can by finding jobs I can do sitting down. Everyone is still being brilliant at helping out, and Sally’s even insisting on doing half an hour’s ironing every time she collects Tom, even though I’ve told her he’s no trouble and having him here means Alfie has someone to play with so he doesn’t traipse after Dan and Ben whining. I know how tricky it is for her and Patrick combining working full-time with the summer holidays, but she’s adamant. In fact the only person who isn’t going out of their way to be helpful is Pete. He’s due to collect the boys for a four-day holiday just before they go back to school, but now he’s making a major song and dance about my not being able to drive them up as planned.

  “My foot might still be in plaster, and even if it’s not, I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope with a long drive. I’m sorry Pete.”

  “It’s very inconvenient. Couldn’t someone else do it?”

  “I must remember next time I fall down the stairs that it will be very inconvenient for you.”

  “Your moving down there wasn’t my decision Molly.”

  “And your moving in with Janice wasn’t mine, so I think we’re quits on that front, don’t you?”

  There’s a silence. I’m usually more tolerant of his fussing, but on balance I think it’s about time that changed.

  “I’m exhausted Molly. Last term was so busy—you have no idea of the pressure I’m under as head. I think I’m developing an ulcer.”

  “For God’s sake, you’re having your sons to stay for four days, out of a six-week holiday—stop being such a total arse about it.”

  I can’t quite believe I’ve said this out loud. There’s a rather shocked silence. Bugger.

  “I’m sorry, but the boys are really looking forward to it Pete. It would be nice if you were too.”

  “I am, of course I am, but I hope they’re not going to be fussy about food, because I simply won’t have the patience.”

  “Feed them pasta and pizza and they’ll be fine—or don’t, it’s up to you. But if you shout at Alfie and try to make him eat things he doesn’t want, I’d watch out for Dan and Ben—they’re very protective about him on stuff like that. And this is meant to be a treat for them, a few days with their dad. You won’t get many more chances, so I wouldn’t waste them if I were you.”

  “And what precisely do you mean by that?”

  “Just that they’re getting older—they can decide for themselves who they want to visit, and if you carry on like this, they won’t want to come at all, which would be a real shame, especially for you.”

  I don’t tell him I’ve already had to persuade them that four days will go by in no time, and that it’ll be great. Dan is still adamant he’d rather stay at home, so I’m really hoping Pete does some fun things with them, or Dan will call and demand to come home. Mum’s already on standby, just in case.

  “Janice has planned a few little outings for them.”

  “That’s nice. But it’s you they want to spend time with Pete.”

  This isn’t strictly true either, but I’m trying to be encouraging, for the boys’ sake.

  “I’m sure we’ll manage. But do try to make sure you pack some proper clothes for them—we may have lunch with Janice’s mother on the way back, and I’d like them to look smart.”

  That sounds like a real treat.

  “Sure.”

  Dear God.

  I’m limping around the kitchen making tea and trying to calm down when Celia comes in.

  “Let me do that dear. Edward has just called and he says he thinks it went okay, whatever that means.”

  Sam has arranged for a couple of auditions for Eddie, so he’s gone to London for a few days.

  “He also said he should be back by Thursday.”

  “That’s good. I know he didn’t want to miss his gig at the pub—he’s building up quite a following now.”

  She smiles.

  “I hope something comes of this. He was so nervous before he left, I hope he did himself justice. He’s seeing his parents for supper this evening, and I’ve told him there’s a room for him at the cottage for as long as he needs it. We should be able to move in by the middle of September, if Mr. Stebbings doesn’t encounter any more major problems. He’s solved that problem with the drain, and the new boiler is in now, and the new doors.”

  “That’s good, but there’s no rush Celia, you know that. We love having you here.”

  “I’m not sure I’d have ever plucked up the courage to sell the house if I hadn’t been here you know my dear. I can’t wait to get started on that garden, years of neglect, but I think we can make something of it. I’ll still be here three afternoons a week though. Wouldn’t want to let things slide—there’s always so much to do. But coming here, and being made to feel so welcome, well, it’s been a lifesaver. It has for Edward too, given him time to think.”

  “Yes, Harrington does that. It’s a very special place.”

  “It’s not just Harrington my dear; it’s your influence, in so many little ways that add up to something quite remarkable. Helena never really had the knack. She was my oldest friend, so I can say it. She was inspirational in the garden, but the house was never her forte.”

  “What a lovely thing to say.”

  “Credit where credit is due. I mean it my dear. Quite remarkable. Now, I did want to have a word about the nursery catalogues. We do need to make some decisions about the new white border, and the planting around the fountain needs updating now it’s working again.”

  “Yes, I saw all the catalogues with the Post-it notes.”

  “Handy things,
aren’t they? Hadn’t come across them before. Just stick them on, and you can peel them off if you change your mind—excellent.”

  “I’ll look at them properly later, I promise.”

  “Good, can’t stand still in a garden, things need to evolve, keeps the spirit of the place alive.”

  “Right.”

  “Would you like a biscuit? I think Ivy has some in the tin. She’ll be back soon with the shopping, but I think there are some digestives. Can’t beat a digestive, in my opinion.”

  By week three of hobbling about on crutches I’m feeling far less tragic. The local doctor took the stitches out on Wednesday, and there’s only a tiny scar on my arm, so I can have a shower now as long as I remember to carefully wrap my cast in clingfilm and the variety of carrier bags Mum has been collecting for me. We’re planning a camp on the beach tonight as a birthday celebration for Dan, who’s announced he only wants money for his birthday this year, so he can buy a new surfboard. He’s really getting into surfing now—he and Robbie would spend every waking moment on the beach if they could. Eddie’s shuttling them backwards and forwards, and regaling us with tales of how packed the beach is now. He found himself paddling out with a merchant banker yesterday who was completely hopeless, and he was very gratified to be mistaken for a local when he and Dan helped him retrieve his board.

  The sea is as flat as a pancake today, so they’re all down at the cove making preparations for the camp. There’s an air show along the coast later on, so we’ll watch the planes flying in, and Dennis has finally persuaded Bertie not to fire any cannon salutes, just in case they’re mistaken for some sort of insurgent incident. Mum’s busy making sausage rolls with Ivy; they’ve managed to avoid falling out so far, mainly because Mum cleverly defers to Ivy over anything domestic. They’ve definitely become friends over the past few months, and Mum seems happier than I’ve seen her in ages.

  “Anyone want tea?”

  “You sit down, I’ll make it. I was just about to put the kettle on.”

  “I can make a cup of tea Ivy.”

  “Has she always been this stubborn Marjorie?”

  “Yes, ever since she was a little girl.”