“Like what?” he asked.
“Well, like ....last week I scratched my arm on a sharp branch and it bled a little. Well, a little blood is no big deal ...but my body used to stop things like that pretty much instantly, and I’d heal like that,” she snapped her fingers to indicate the speed. “This time it took longer and the scratch became infected,” she saw his face tighten with concern, “No, it’s all right now. I washed the wound with an agrimony tea and poulticed it with plantain and comfrey to help the healing.” She paused before adding, “But that’s not all,”
“And?” He gestured for her to go on.
“Well, I haven’t been feeling particularly well.” For some reason he couldn’t fathom, she looked a little embarrassed. “I don’t believe I’m ill but I’ve experienced cramps and an aching lower back for the last day or so and I’m sore here,” she didn’t point specifically but simply stretched one arm across her breasts.
“What?” His worried look was back ... then the penny dropped, “Oh ...and you’ve never had symptoms like these before?”
“No, never.” She echoed the same sentiment she’d expressed when she had caught the cold. “I’m not sure what to make of it.” She didn’t sound too impressed. “I could certainly do without the pain ...and my herbal teas don’t seem to help very much.”
“I’m going supermarket shopping later this morning, I’ll see what I can find that might help,” he answered, trying to remember what Elaine had used to help calm her PMS symptoms. “Meantime, a hot water bottle against your tummy might help. I’m sorry, there’s not much else I can suggest right now. Would you like me to boil the kettle and fill one for you?”
“No, I’ll be alright, I’m not dying ...I just feel like I am.” A trace of a smile showed that her wry humour hadn’t completed deserted her.
He left her then, to go and do the shopping. First stop was a Boots pharmacy. When he’d explained what he was looking for, the grey-haired chemist, a motherly sort who was a Scot like himself, was most helpful, suggesting several remedies, some of them herb-based that might help. “It’s a bit of an individual thing,...she might need to try several before she finds one that works for her,” she explained kindly, “The first few periods can be a bit traumatic sometimes for the wee dears,....is it your daughter then?” She didn’t wait for a reply, “You know, it may help to make a bit of a celebration out of it, pop open a bottle of champagne and offer her a wee drink, or something special, to mark the occasion ...then she might regard it all in a more positive light. After all, as I explained to my eldest daughter when she started …you’ll never have babies if you don’t have periods.” She smiled happily. “I have three lovely grand-children now.”
Sound thinking, thought Hamish, not bothering to explain that he was shopping for someone who was having her first brush with menstruation in ...who knew how many? ..., years. Still, he took the chemist’s advice and stopped by a wine shop to add a bottle of Taittinger to his shopping. The chemist’s comment about babies set him thinking. The first night they had talked, one of the things that Liana had mentioned had been her inability to conceive, and how that had pained her throughout each of her marriages. Perhaps, now, things could be different? He didn’t think he would bring it up just yet, though. She had too many ghosts in her past to let go of before she could possibly contemplate a future with anyone.
In these last weeks, Hamish had found his thoughts turning more and more towards his unusual guest. For now, he decided that he would continue to keep a low profile, hoping that she would allow happiness to creep back into her own life, as he had, eventually, into his.
When he arrived home, she was appreciative of the remedies,....he left her to read the instructions and sort out the intricacies of the various treatments, issuing the dinner invitation for that evening, should she feel up to it. When she appeared in the kitchen of the ‘big’ house, as she now described it, it was obvious that she felt more in control again. Hamish had put the bottle of champagne on ice, but chose to open it, ostensibly, in celebration of Liana moving into her new home, rather than that suggested by the chemist.
***
What Hamish did not know was that in the weeks just gone, while the builders had been busy and Liana had been absenting herself from the glade, Green Jack had reacquainted himself with her. Like the proverbial serpent in Eden he had slithered up one afternoon during the building works, approaching while she sat on the wall overlooking the churchyard where her beloveds were buried in their cold graves and tombs. As Liana had sat staring into the quiet churchyard with its century’s worth of grave markers, many marking the burial sites of generations of friends and acquaintances she had once known, he had been caught in the act of furtively advancing, the foxes slinking along by his side.
“You may as well approach more brazenly, Jack,” turning her head slightly, she spoke over her right shoulder. “For I know you are there …and stealth will serve you not at all, should I take offence at your unbidden reappearance in this garden.”
“I was merely showing a modicum of caution,” he candidly replied. “Hardly surprising, taking into account our last encounter.”
“You did a grievous wrong to the villagers,” she reminded. “Your punishment was decided upon by powers higher than me and richly-deserved.”
“Since when is death, dismemberment and decay richly deserved by such as us?” he questioned.
She swung her feet over the wall to face him squarely, eyes narrowed as she surveyed what he had become. “You brought about your own demise by your despicable behaviour.”
He shook his head at that, sending a crown of leaves shaking. While Jack could appear almost human to mortals, to her his true form was apparent. Where he had once been covered from head to toe in oak, elder and rowan leaves interspersed with sweetly fragranced wild meadow flowers, now he was clad in the rancid leaves of the vine that had knit him back together. The overall effect was not pleasant to behold.
“Well, I didn’t ask to be back any more than you,” he shot back at her.
“No. I suppose you did not,” she acknowledged. “And yet, here we both are.”
“An interesting turn of events, wouldn’t you say?” his tone turned oily. “I hear on the breeze that things have changed for you.”
“None of your business Jack,” she spoke abruptly.
“Then whose business is it?” he asked, his hands held wide, palms upwards. “Are we here as nothing more than pawns in someone else’s game?” as he spoke he twirled a single finger in the air to indicate higher powers. Seeing that his question had hit its intended mark he left her with that thought, slinking back into the woods with his companions but returning at regular intervals in the following days to continue the conversation he’d started.
Now that he had planted the seed of doubt regarding their mutual benefactor …well, truth be told, more hers than his …he wanted to keep it watered, fed and growing.
Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers
That open now their choisest bosomed smells
John Milton
Chapter Seventeen
The fifteenth came around all too quickly. Although Hamish knew that Sissinghurst was perfectly located for what he wanted to try.... it was after all, only a short distance from White Briars should anything go amiss, he still felt butterflies forming in his stomach as he drove the Austin along the driveway towards the road gate. Liana, with her gorgeous locks confined under a head scarf was sitting belted into the passenger seat at his side, looking every bit as tense.
“You will tell me the minute you feel anything wrong, won’t you?” he said, for what had to be at least the tenth time that morning, as he accelerated cautiously away from the gate.
“My, my, aren’t you the positive one?” she replied. “It’s like I told you, if nothing’s changed, you’ll know as soon as I do,...” her smile had more than a hint of mischievousness, “it’s just as well that you have leather upholstery in this car,...at least
it will wipe clean.”
Hamish chose to ignore her jibe, putting it down to a bad case of nerves. Still, the first fifteen minutes of the drive were particularly nerve-wracking for him too. He had no wish to see Liana fail at this experiment, especially since the idea had been his. He kept stealing quick glances across at his passenger, checking for any signs of discomfort or impending illness. It wasn’t until he had parked the car in the Sissinghurst Castle car park, had got out and they were strolling in the early morning sunshine towards the entrance to the castle garden that he allowed himself to take a deep breath and relax his tense shoulder muscles. Liana was quick to notice.
“I was starting to wonder how long you could hold your breath for.” she said. “You know, if anything was going to happen, it would have happened in the first ten or twenty minutes ....at least, that’s the way it’s always been.”
“Thanks for telling me that. Now.”
“I was enjoying watching you suffer far too much to say.”
“Fair enough.” He thought for a moment; trying to imagine what it must have been like for her trapped within the confines of White Briar’s stone walls for so long. A question occurred to him. “So tell me, how were you able to attend the church at Thornden? It is, after all, outside the garden walls,” he asked.
“The churchyard wasn’t always outside the garden ...that land was gifted to the church centuries ago. At one time the land that both the churchyard and the vicarage now occupy was part of the original garden. So I was still within its boundaries. Simple really,” she replied, her voice wavering as her attention was diverted by the row of oast houses and assorted farm buildings that they were walking past. Her smile now looked happier. “You know, it might be quite interesting to see things and places that I’ve only ever known about second-hand from books, or heard of from other people.”
Hamish thought … if she found old oast houses interesting, she was going to have a lot to look forward to when she saw what else the wide wide world had to offer.
Approaching the castle forecourt, they saw no one. A sandwich board sign in front of the arched entrance, stating that the garden was closed, stood on the paved surface between four 19th century bronze urns planted with heavenly scented purple hyacinths but there was no other hint of life. The wide timbered outer door was shut with only a smaller door let into its expanse left ajar. “I suppose we might as well go in,” said Hamish. “We can explain who we are to whomever we meet first.” They ducked through the narrow doorway and walked through under the entrance into the top courtyard. Liana was immediately entranced by the sight of the rose red tower, rising in its solitary splendour at the end of a wide pathway of Yorkstone pavers, with the statue of Dionysus in the distance beyond the moat on the far side of the orchard marking the end of the vista. Early daffodils provided a splash of bright colour through the tower’s arch.
“I didn’t realise it would be so beautiful,” she exclaimed. “With all the stories I’d heard I expected something far more grey and forbidding than this.”
“Hmm … Yes it is considerably more Sleeping Beauty than Colditz Castle these days, although this was nothing more than a ruin when Vita Sackville-West and Harold Nicolson took it over in the nineteen thirties. Though personally, if we’re into fairy stories, that tower still reminds me more of Rapunzel than Sleeping Beauty, so perhaps it hasn’t lost all its associations with being a prison. Come to think of it, what was Sleeping Beauty’s castle, if not a prison of sorts for a sleeping princess?” Hamish mused.
She looked across at him with pursed lips. “Why do I feel like you’re talking about me? Just because you can’t leave somewhere, doesn’t necessarily make it a prison, you know. I’ve never looked upon my garden that way ...it has always been my home, my protector ...and it has always had my best interests at heart.” There was an underlying note of defensiveness in her voice.
“You mean like some sort of symbiotic relationship? You look after it, it looks after you?” he asked.
“Something like that ...although I think you’re still trying too hard to categorise everything,” now she sounded impatient and cross. “Some things just are, Hamish ...you don’t necessarily have to put them in neat boxes in order for them to be, you know.” It was the same point she’s tried to impress upon him in their earlier conversation when he’d wanted to put a label on her.
“O.K., I’ll stop attempting to define you ...if you’ll stop being so defensive about it. Deal?” He put out a hand for her to shake ...after a moments’ hesitation, she took his hand, intending a brief shake. Holding her hand he transferred in it to the crook of his arm, saying, “Come on, this is too special a day to waste it arguing. Let’s go look at the garden. I’ll take you this way to the rose garden first rather than under the tower. I think we’ll find most of the spring flowering plants alongside the Lime walk or in the Orchard, so if we head to the Lime walk now, we can save the orchard for later.” He pointed to their right and proceeded to lead her along the front of the main house in the direction of the Prussian blue iron gates that let into the high brick wall between the courtyard and the rose garden.
They had only just passed through the gate when they encountered the first person they had seen that morning. It was one of the gardeners, barrelling towards them at some speed with a laden wheelbarrow. He stopped short, obviously startled at finding people on a path he expected to be visitor-free, screeching to a sudden halt with his barrow loaded full of hedge clippings before him and narrowly avoiding running into Hamish’s left leg. Hamish was about to open his mouth to explain who they were when the gardener spoke first.
“Running a bit late, are you?” he enquired, stopping momentarily, then, eyes only for Liana and giving them no time to answer. “Aren’t we all though? I know what that’s like ...two of the staff off with spring ‘flu’ and we’re opening to the public this weekend.” He drew a quick breath. “Anyway, you’ll be looking for the photo crew?” He continued, barely drawing breath himself and giving no time for interruptions. “They’re all busy setting up among those tall yews in the cottage garden. See them there over the top of the Rondel ...the yews that is, not the crew. If you take that path you’ll be there in a jiffy.” He pointed to another stone path that ran along the far side of the rose garden, then he disappeared out the gate that led to the nursery, pushing his barrow with its unwieldy load as fast as he dared.
“He must have thought you were one of the fashion-shoot models,” Hamish said, raising his eyebrows at Liana. “I can see how he might make that assumption.” then, as he noted the rose-tinted colour flushing her cheeks... “Look at that, you can blush,” he teased. “I thought at your age you’d be able to handle a compliment.” She batted his arm and he grabbed the hand to pull her in the general direction the gardener had indicated they should go. “Let’s get on our way before he comes back ...it’ll save us explaining.” They stepped carefully over a large sheet of plastic lying on the path and covered in trimmings from the low box hedge that the gardener had obviously been clipping. He had set up a string line along the top of the hedge and had been using an electric trimmer for the job. This and a pair of ear muffs lay on the ground, awaiting his return. Hamish admired the precisely neat workmanship, wishing he had help of this quality in his own garden.
There was little to see in the Rose garden …so early in the season none of the roses were yet flowering, though a profusion of small green buds on several clematis trained over hazel structures and a cheerful combination of yellow Mahonia and lavender-blue Pulmonaria flowers gave hope of things to come. “I hope you won’t be disappointed with the lack of flowers,” Hamish said, turning to Liana, “It really is still too early to expect much of the garden here, but that wasn’t, after all, the main purpose of this excursion.”
Instead of following the gardener’s specific directions, they went along the central path that led to the Rondel. “I’ve always liked this space,” Hamish said, as they walked around the edge of the circular lawn tow
ards the exit that led to the Lime Walk. “I don’t know if it’s the artist in me or something more primitive ...you know, no corners for anyone to hide in or whatever. I’d like to do something like this in hedging at White Briars....that’s partly why I brought you here ...to show you something new and get your opinion for improvements to the garden. What do you think?”
“I haven’t seen that much yet and I’m not sure but perhaps this is all a little too planned and precise for White Briars ...there appear to be a lot of straight lines, well thought-out planting and carefully controlled views to perfectly placed statues. It’s beautiful but the level of control here is high …maybe too high, I’d say for our garden. If you were to try something like this there I think you’d meet resistance....the Garden will handle a certain amount of formality but it has a tendency to put extra curves back in when people try to get too clever with taming plants into overly formal lines.”
Hamish nodded his agreement. “I see what you mean ...I couldn’t quite see the serpentine hedge here, far too crazy an outline. Hmmm. Thanks for that, I’ll keep it in mind then.”
They stepped out onto the Lime walk. As Hamish had predicted, the spring floral display was well started, although the trees were still to come into leaf. Without the shade of the pleached trees the sun shone brightly on clumps of plump purple grape hyacinths and bulbs in bright primary colours crowded together along either side of the broad stone walk between clipped hedges of hornbeam. These were interspersed, here, with a group of white tulips, contrasting perfectly with the smaller heads of snowflakes and yellow jonquils and there, with blue and white anemones, forget-me-nots and rich red polyanthus. Hamish and Liana strolled the length of the allée, from the Bacchante statue to the Nuttery, stopping briefly to peek into the Cottage Garden.
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