by Kate Hardy
‘Living in London, the quickest beach for us to go to was Brighton,’ Hugh said. ‘I was fascinated by the Pavilion and the pier, but I was always a bit disappointed that the beach was stony. My mother’s parents lived in Suffolk, and I loved going to visit them because they lived near this enormous sandy beach and I could spend hours and hours searching for shells and building sandcastles.’
‘So what kind of sandcastle does an architect build?’ she asked.
‘Traditional. Moat, four towers with a flag made of twigs and seaweed, a drawbridge lined with shells, and windows of sea-glass.’
She could just imagine Hugo as a small, intense child, searching for shells and sea-glass to fill his bucket, then making his sandcastle; it made her heart feel as if it had done a backflip.
‘So what kind of sandcastle does a butterfly expert build?’ he asked.
‘Rather less elaborate than yours,’ she said with a grin. ‘But my gran always went to the beach with flags in her handbag, made from cocktail sticks and pictures she’d cut out of magazines. There were butterflies for me, ponies for my cousin who loved horses, and kittens for my cousin who loved cats.’
‘It sounds brilliant,’ he said. ‘Are you all still close?’
She nodded. ‘Grandad’s no longer with us, but everyone else is. They all think I’m a bit weird, because I’m the only one in the family who went to uni. My Uncle Jack makes the same terrible joke every single time he sees me about Dr Alice diagnosing someone with butterflies in their tummies, but he doesn’t mean any harm by it.’
‘It must be nice having a big family,’ Hugo said.
‘It is. I had a “blink and you’ll miss it” spot on a Sunday evening TV programme, last spring. Mum told everyone, and I guess it was a good excuse for a family gathering because she made me come home for the weekend, and everyone came over to ours to watch it and eat cake and drink bubbly.’ And Alice had been moved to tears by the pride on their faces as they’d nudged each other and cheered when her face had flashed up on the TV screen.
‘That’s so nice,’ he said.
‘I love my family. And I need to make more effort to go up to Yorkshire, because my flat’s too small for more than a couple of people to stay at a time.’ And maybe, just maybe she could ask Hugo to join her.
Maybe.
Because it was still early days, and she didn’t want to get her family all excited at the idea of her finally settling down, when she still didn’t know exactly where this thing between herself and Hugo was going.
‘So—afternoon tea,’ he said when they were back at the car. ‘My mother makes the best scones ever, and my father’s got some photos and documents he thought you might be interested in.’
When it registered with her, Alice went cold. ‘We’re going to see your parents?’
‘For afternoon tea.’ He frowned. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?
Oh, help. They’d met each other’s best friends and it had been fine, but she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to meet his parents.
‘Alice? What’s wrong?’
‘I, um...just wasn’t expecting this.’
‘They’re not going to give you a hard time about Rosemary’s house,’ he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. ‘I was always the one in guard dog mode, and I’m on your side. Pa’s thrilled about Viola’s biography and the journals, and I know he and Ma would love to hear about your plans for the garden.’
What would they think of the scruffy scientist with the messy hair and faded jeans? Hugo came from a posh family. Would they expect cashmere and pearls, the way Barney’s family had? Alice remembered the whispers she hadn’t been supposed to hear, the disapproval.
Really, Barney, couldn’t you have found someone better?
And, although Alice didn’t think that Hugo’s parents would mock her behind her back, the way Barney’s social set had, she was worried that they’d be disappointed in her.
‘Uh-huh,’ she said, but she was quiet all the way to the village where the Greys lived. And she was quieter still when she realised that they lived in an old rectory—an enormous place at the end of a really, really long driveway.
You don’t belong here, oik.
The words echoed in her head, spinning round and round.
‘Alice?’ Hugo asked.
Belatedly, she realised he’d parked the car. She had no idea what he’d said to her or how long he’d been waiting for an answer.
‘Sorry. Bit of a headache,’ she fibbed. And then she had to support the lie by hunting in her handbag for paracetamol.
With every step across the gravel, she felt worse. An impostor. The girl from t’pit; the oik from the council estate. The Northern version of Eliza Doolittle.
The front door opened and Hugo’s parents came out to greet them, a small black and white cocker spaniel with a madly waving tail following at their heels.
‘Ma, Pa, this is Dr Alice Walters,’ Hugo said.
Right now he sounded even posher than he did in London, and it worried Alice. Was this who Hugo really was?
‘So nice to meet you, Dr Walters—or may we call you Alice?’ Hugo’s mother asked, holding out her hand in welcome to shake Alice’s.
‘Alice, please,’ Alice said.
‘I’m Serena, and this is Charles.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Alice said, shaking his hand too.
‘And this is Soo.’ Serena gestured to the little dog. ‘Do you mind dogs, Alice?’
‘No, I like them,’ Alice said. At least that was one thing they had in common. She bent down to make a fuss of the dog, who immediately threw herself onto her back and waved an imperious paw to indicate that she wanted a tummy-rub.
‘I’ve put the kettle on,’ Serena said.
Just as Alice’s own mother would have done; that forced the voice in Alice’s head, which was yammering that she didn’t belong here, to drop down a notch in volume.
‘Hello, darling.’ Serena wrapped her arms round Hugo, who hugged her back and greeted his father just as warmly.
‘I’m so thrilled you’re writing Viola’s biography, Alice. I always loved those trays of butterflies in Rosemary’s study,’ Charles said. ‘I’ve been digging through the family archives and I’ve found some things that might be useful for you.’
Alice noticed that Charles’ breathing was a little ragged. Was this what Hugo had meant when he’d said his father was unwell?
‘Come and sit down, Alice,’ Serena urged. ‘It’s lovely in the garden right now. Would you prefer tea or coffee?’
‘I like both, but please don’t feel you have to wait on me. Let me help,’ Alice said.
Serena patted her arm. ‘Charles is dying to show you what he found. But I’ll say yes to some help later.’
This wasn’t a rejection, Alice reminded herself. ‘OK. Thank you.’
Charles had a box sitting on the table on the patio. ‘Viola’s letters—that is, letters people wrote to her,’ he said. ‘I’ve sorted them into bundles from the writers in date order. I thought they might be useful for the biography, so you can borrow them for as long as you need.’
‘Thank you—that’s wonderful,’ Alice said.
‘And there are photographs, some of which might be duplicates of Rosemary’s,’ Charles added. ‘Feel free to use anything that works for the book.’
‘That’s really kind,’ Alice said. ‘I didn’t realise we were dropping in to see you today, or I would’ve brought my file of photographs for you to look through, too. But I’ll be happy to bring them down at any time over the summer.’ She glanced quickly through the contents of the box. ‘These are wonderful. Thank you so much. I’ll credit you with anything I use.’
Charles looked pleased.
Soo was clearly Serena’s shadow, and her reappearance heralded Hugo’s mother arriving with a tray of tea.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t meet before, Alice,’ Serena said. ‘Rosemary clearly thought a lot of you, as she entrusted Viola’s biography and journals to you.’
‘I thought a lot of her,’ Alice said. ‘My condolences on your loss.’
‘I saw you at the funeral,’ Charles said. ‘In the background.’
Alice nodded. ‘I wanted to pay my respects—but, given what was happening at the time, I didn’t want to make things awkward for your family.’
‘That’s very thoughtful,’ Serena said. ‘But Hugo’s reassured us about what you’re both planning to do with the house—turning it into an education centre and a museum.’
‘Named after both Viola and Rosemary,’ Alice said. ‘Though we’re still waiting to hear from the planning people.’
‘This is what the butterfly house will look like, if the plans go through,’ Hugo said, taking out his phone and showing his parents photographs of his sketches.
‘The doors remind me of the Palm House at Kew,’ Charles said. ‘You fell in love with the place when Rosemary took you there. So did I, when I was a boy.’
‘So will you have butterflies there all year round?’ Serena asked.
‘Yes—we’ll have tropical butterflies, and we’ll buy the pupae from sustainable farmers,’ Alice explained. ‘The English ones will be in the re-wilded garden during the spring and summer.’
Serena and Charles were interested in everything she had to say about the re-wilding; finally, Serena asked, ‘So can you recommend things we can do here to attract more butterflies?’
Hugo groaned. ‘Ma, I know where this is going. Don’t let Alice talk you into giving her pots of stuff for my garden.’
‘If you mean that abomination of a square outside your patio, I’d be more than happy to donate pots of stuff,’ Serena retorted.
Alice grinned. ‘You’re out-womanned here, Hugo.’
‘Indeed. Come and see the garden, Alice. We’ll leave the men to their tea and we can talk about plants.’ Serena stood up, tucked her arm through Alice’s, and led her further into the garden.
‘At least Charles will sit down and rest with Hugo there to talk to him. He has COPD,’ Serena said, when they were out of earshot. ‘When he overdoes things he struggles to breathe. And then he gets cross. But will he sit down and rest?’
‘That’s hard,’ Alice said sympathetically. ‘My grandfather—the one who was a miner—had emphysema, so I know what it’s like.’
‘Men never listen.’ Serena rolled her eyes. ‘I also wanted to thank you, without embarrassing Hugo. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him look in nearly three years, and when he’s talked to me about the butterfly house he’s been designing for Rosemary’s garden it’s the first time he’s sounded enthusiastic about a project since—’ She stopped and bit her lip. ‘I assume he’s told you?’
‘About Emma? Yes, he has,’ Alice reassured her. ‘It must’ve been so hard for all of you.’
‘It was,’ Serena confirmed, looking sad. ‘And I’ve worried about Hugo every day ever since. He shuts himself away, and it’s so hard to reach him. There’s nothing I can do or say that will help. But you—since he’s met you, he’s sounded so much better. The light’s back in his eyes. He doesn’t look defeated all the time.’ She grimaced. ‘I apologise for being an interfering mother and making him bring you here. I just wanted to meet the woman who’s brought my son back into the world again, so I could say thank you.’
‘Hugo and I are very different,’ Alice warned.
‘That’s a good thing. It means you’ll broaden each other’s horizons instead of living in an echo chamber.’
No censure. No discreetly rolled eyes about Alice having the wrong accent and the wrong background. Here, she was accepted for who she was. Whatever barriers she and Hugo might face in the future, his family wouldn’t be one of them. She wouldn’t have to pretend she was somebody she wasn’t. And it felt as if a huge weight had been rolled off her chest, letting her breathe normally again.
Alice thoroughly enjoyed wandering round the garden with Serena and Soo, making suggestions of dog-friendly plants for particular corners and tiny tweaks that would encourage butterflies and bees.
‘I have to confess, I do have a gardener,’ Serena said.
Hugo’s parents were posh enough to have a gardener?
Maybe Alice’s uneasiness showed in her expression, because Serena grimaced and waggled her fingers. ‘Arthritis stops me doing as much as I’d like to do, and Charles has brown fingers, not green. And I couldn’t bear to be without a garden. So this was the compromise. Jacob lives in the village. He does all the stuff that makes my hands hurt, but he’s all about the vegetable patch and he’s terribly sniffy about my flowers.’ She smiled. ‘I had to bully him into letting me have a herb garden. But even he admits that home-made pesto is the best.’
It sounded, Alice thought, as if Serena and her gardener were good friends and bantered together a lot. So it wasn’t the same sort of thing as the way Barney’s family had looked down on their domestic staff.
‘How would Jacob feel about you having a wild corner in the garden?’ she asked.
‘He’ll stomp about, muttering about slugs,’ Serena said. ‘And we’ll have a huge fight about the damage caterpillars would do to the cabbages.’
Alice smiled. ‘I’ll send you all the figures so you can guilt him into it.’
‘Done,’ Serena said. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind doing the cuttings yourself, you can have whatever you like for Hugo’s garden.’
‘Some of your honeysuckle,’ Alice said promptly. ‘I’d like some for Rosemary’s garden as well, please.’
‘Of course. Come to the potting shed.’ Serena grinned. ‘I know where Jacob keeps the spare key. Third stone from the left.’
Alice retrieved the key, and between them they sorted out some pots and some cuttings.
‘So Hugo’s actually letting you redo his garden?’ Serena asked.
‘I’m not giving him any choice,’ Alice said. ‘I brought lavender from Rosemary’s garden, and Kit and Jenny are giving me some plants from their garden next week. That horrible minimalist square is going to be a riot of colour by the time I’ve finished with it. Kit’s going to keep him distracted while Jenny and I sneak in and plant some spring bulbs. He’ll complain about it, but secretly he loves it. You can see it in his eyes.’
Serena’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Emma would have liked you so, so much.’ She hugged Alice. ‘I’m not going to say any more now. We’ll go and make afternoon tea.’
But Alice felt accepted. And that made all the difference in the world. Instead of worrying that she was going to say or do the wrong thing, she could relax and just be herself. And it made her hope that she and Hugo really had the chance of a future together.
Serena insisted on both of them taking scones and cake back to London, and the goodbye hug that Hugo’s parents gave Alice was very warm indeed.
‘Sorry I sprang that visit on you,’ Hugo said, once they were out of the village.
‘That’s the biggest “sorry, not sorry” I’ve ever heard,’ she retorted.
‘What, like the one you’re about to say about being sorry you raided my mother’s garden to put more pots into mine?’ he asked archly.
‘I’m not sorry about that in the slightest,’ she said. ‘Honeysuckle is one of life’s pleasures. If I had a balcony, I’d have a pot of it for there, too.’
He laughed. ‘At least you’re honest about it.’ He paused. ‘My parents liked you very much.’
‘I liked them, too,’ Alice said. And she intended to suggest a field trip to Yorkshire later in the summer so Hugo could meet her family, too. Because now she was confident they’d like each other.
CHAPTER NINE
ON MONDAY, ALICE came home from the university to discover an official-looking envelope in the po
st. The last time she’d opened an envelope with that particular return address, it had been bad news. Would it be different, this time?
This was so ridiculous. She was far from being a coward, and she’d never been afraid of getting exam results. Then again, she’d always had a good idea how she’d performed in exams. This was all completely out of her control—and of Hugo’s. She had absolutely no clue whether the planners were going to say yes or whether the letter would contain another rejection.
She rang Hugo. ‘Are you super-busy?’
‘Just wrestling with some figures,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
‘I think I’ve got a letter from the planning people.’
‘What does it say?’
‘I haven’t opened it, yet,’ she admitted.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m terrified they’re going to turn us down.’
‘Hang up and I’ll video-call you,’ he said, ‘so then we can open it together. Sort of.’
She ended the call, and he video-called her back.
‘Shall I hold the phone so you can see the letter?’ she asked.
‘For you to show me the whole letter on a phone screen I’d need a magnifying glass to read it this end,’ he said. ‘Just open it and read it out loud.’
She undid the flap and took out the contents.
‘OK. “Dear Dr Walters, Thank you for your revised planning application—”’ She stopped, because she couldn’t quite take in the next line.
‘Alice? Is everything all right?’
‘Yes.’ Dazedly, she looked at him on the screen.
‘Did they say yes or no?’
‘They said—’ and she still couldn’t quite believe it ‘—yes.’
He whooped. ‘Brilliant! We are so going out to celebrate tonight. If you call Ruth, I’ll call Kit, and dinner’s my shout. I’ll call you in ten minutes.’
But when he called back, they both had bad news. ‘Jenny’s got a work thing tonight.’
