As the gardener had said, it was all a hive of activity there. A photographer was frenetically taking shots of a beautiful woman, tall and thin, her russet-toned hair bound into an elaborately plaited bouffant style studded with flowers and dressed in a voluminous gown of green tulle, the skirt of which reminded Hamish of the paper honeycomb balls that fold out to make party decorations. Another model stood ready, out of camera range, talking to someone behind one the tall conical-shaped Irish yews, her back to Hamish and Liana. She was clothed in a strapless short red gown teamed with black tights and high heels, with her long auburn hair caught up under an enormous red and black floral-inspired head-dress. A third waif-thin model who looked barely old enough to work was sitting on a garden bench just outside the open door of the cottage, barely clad in a short white shift dress covered in blue poppies and tugging on a pair of vertiginous heeled white leather boots. Hamish thought the models were probably using the building to change their clothes for the shoot. Given the styling, Hamish could understand why they had chosen this location and, why the gardener had mistaken Liana for another model. She could have easily taken the place of any one of the women. Without disturbing the group and before they were noticed, Liana and Hamish moved on.
Reaching the end of the Lime walk, they circumnavigated a small triangular bed, and went through a gap in yet more clipped hedges, to find themselves at the head of the moat walk, with its much-photographed crescent of Buxus sempervirens graced by the ageless elegant curves of a Lutyens bench, a design so popular that it could be found, copied from the original that Lutyens had made for Gertrude Jekyll, in gardens all over the world. The hedge was tall for box, though still low enough that it allowed them to see over the top into the cottage garden. There was no sign of the fashion-shoot crew other than a lone teenager with a camera. He was younger than the photographer Hamish had seen working a few moments before and occupied on the far side of the space, idly taking shots of a grouping of bright yellow euphorbias. Possibly, Hamish surmised, someone’s assistant taking a moment’s respite from their duties. Later, Hamish knew from previous visits to the garden, this corner of the garden would overflow with crocosmias, knifphofias, dahlias, irises, and verbascums, among others, in all the shades of a summer sunset, but for now few of these were evident.
From the crescent, a path to their left, lined with rose-tinted hellebores could have taken them straight to the orchard but he and Liana ignored it, choosing instead to continue down the steps and along the wide grassed walk that ran towards what was left of the moat. This body of water had presumably been part of the protection for the original manor house. Now, the statue of Dionysus on the far bank stared across at them as they approached. Azalea’s, all along the right-hand side of the walk on the bank that separated them from the nuttery would be spectacular in another week or two, sapphire seas of bluebells nodding at their feet, yellow, orange-red and coral flowers above, but for now, early-flowering wallflowers and small ferns decorated the medieval wall, their mauve petals toning beautifully with the wall’s ancient brickwork. The wisteria and clematis that would partially hide the lead urns placed at intervals along the top of the wall were still awaiting their turn,...Hamish was pleased that he had the opportunity to admire these Georgian decorations without them being shrouded in vines. At the end of the walk, he led Liana, her hand still firmly in his own, back to the western entrance to the herb garden, half-hidden in its corner site at the end of the nuttery.
Many of the plants that would grace the herb garden were still being grown-on in the greenhouses and nursery. The rest were little more than green shoots, peeking out from their winter’s bed and waiting for more sun before they would burst back into life. Still, in common with much of the garden, with or without flowers it was a charming and serene space, positioned as it was at the end of the long walks, with its evergreen walls of yew, and square planting beds enclosed by more Yorkstone and brick paths. By tacit agreement Hamish and Liana lingered there for a few minutes, enjoying the sun’s warmth. Liana, relaxing with her long legs outstretched before her on the oak bench seat that nestled in an alcove in the hedge, watching a bee lazily circling the garden; Hamish, taking the time to have a closer look at the wide marble basin set on an old mill stone in the centre of the garden and supported by a trio of stone lions. After examining the basin and circling the garden once more, Hamish suggested they leave, keen to show Liana the orchard.
They sauntered through a break in the yew that led through the centre of the small thyme lawns, then back around the end of the moat. The path disappeared around the end of the old wall in a series of shallow flagstone steps. On the far side of the moat, old oak trees raised still bare branches to the blue sky as a reminder that winter was not far gone. Then, as they rounded the end of the wall, spring suddenly arrived again with sweet vengeance; the paving giving way to close-mown grass, where they were met by the sight of thousands of nodding daffodils, with drifts in every colour a daffodil can be, bright in the morning sun and stirred by a slight breeze that came out of nowhere and left as quickly as it had come. The grass here had been mown only where necessary, paths leading in three direction from the spot where they stood. One wider straight path cut a swathe through the longer grass directly back to a gap in the parallel hedges that bordered the lower courtyard. It had been along this line of sight that they had caught the first glimpse of the Dionysus statue, through the tower archway. The other two unformed paths meandered, one back along this side of the moat wall, the other alongside the moat itself in the direction of a small white-painted gazebo with a conical roof that resembled a miniature oast house at the far end of the orchard. It was this third path that most attracted Liana.
“This is more White Briars’ style.” she said enthusiastically, waving a hand to encompass the flowering trees and carpet of narcissi.
“Yes, this is about as informal as Sissinghurst gets ...I was pretty sure you’d like this part of the gardens,” Hamish agreed. “There’s a dovecote over there, but no inhabitants that I’ve ever seen.” They continued past the gazebo, Liana as uninhibited as Hamish had ever seen her, practically dancing alongside the daffodils. They cut their way, this way and that, with little regard for direction, along the paths that crisscrossed between the trees until Hamish once again caught Liana’s outstretched hand and led her off to the opposite corner of the orchard. Here was another gateway in the double line of yews that were the orchard’s western boundary.
Liana stopped to peer down the narrow gap between the hedges, and then stepped through the entrance into the white garden, where the beds were defined by more low box hedges. She immediately wandered off down the southern end of the garden to gaze at the statue of the little virgin while Hamish went to the opposite end, making his way carefully through the maze of box hedging, first, to stare out at the countryside through the north gate then round under the windows of the priest’s house and back to the central arbour to stand close by the large Chinese vase. Looking at the precisely clipped box hedges and the planting they contained, he could see the promise of a profusion of flowers,....but right now the garden was more promise than fulfilment,...the Regal lilies that would fill the air with their sweet scent later in the summer were only just appearing as soft green tufts through the ground and the garden was still more shades of green than the exquisite whites and silvers that it was renowned for. Hamish turned, thinking to say to Liana that they would have to come again, in the early summer, to see the garden at its best ...but the words died stillborn on his lips. He stood there …dumb and open-mouthed …transfixed by the scene unfolding before him.
Liana had moved from where she had been, looking down the short vista to the statue under its weeping silver pear tree and was now standing at the edge of the arbour, facing Hamish. She was about to speak when something in his look caused her to turn and glance back the way she had just come,.... “Whoopsie Daisy,” she said, putting her hands up to cover her mouth in consternation. For behind her, all alon
g the edges of the path from where she was now standing to the gateway they had come through from the lower courtyard, a profusion of flowers were forming and opening,... tall spikes of white lupins and irises, budding roses, Artemisia, Nicotiana, the delicate bonnets of aquilegias, snapdragons, cosmos, hostas,...all of them leafing up and flowering at once, reminding Hamish of a time-lapse film shots he’d seen in nature documentaries ....those farthest away were fully formed and opened to the morning light, their scent filling the air, while the closest were still growing and unfurling even as Hamish and Liana watched. Hamish had just found his voice again and was about to ask Liana to halt the out of season display when the Rosa mulligianii which covered the arbour started to flower,...the blooms beginning closest to Liana and quickly spreading across the entire surface of the metal work of the arbour until it was completely covered in blooms.
“I think you’d better do something. Fast!” he said, in an urgent tone. She ran back along the path, talking quickly and quietly ...so that by the time she returned to the arbour the effect had slowed and stopped.
“Well, there goes my suggestion that we come back to see the garden when it’s at its best.” Hamish said, trying not to laugh.
“I didn’t mean this to happen,” said Liana, a tremulous expression on her own face. “I was just standing there looking at the statue and sort of daydreaming that with the tower over there and the garden still half asleep that it reminded me of sleeping beauty before the prince arrived. I was just thinking how nice it would be to see everything in flower. It must be that these plants are more receptive to my thoughts than those at White Briars. Anyway, you must admit,” she shrugged artlessly, smiling ingenuously; “...it does look pretty now.”
“Yes, but what happens when someone else wanders in here?” Hamish waved his hand to indicate the band of fully flowering plants either side of the path and the rose-covered bower above them. “I don’t want to be the one who tries to explain my way out of this.”
“Well, I can’t undo it, but it will fade back to what it was over the next day or so ...I’m sorry. I meant no harm.” Her smile was fading. “This whole thing of being away from White Briars is too strange. I want to go back. Now.” She rubbed her temples and looked so woebegone that Hamish felt his heart melt. He put his arms around her and pulled her close.
“It’s all right,....you didn’t know it was going to happen,....at least now you know that in the future you’ll have to be a wee bit more careful with your thoughts when you’re outside the garden.” He alluded to her earlier comment. “If anyone knows about sleeping beauty it would be you. You’re still the closest thing I’ve ever seen to that fairy story.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, sleeping flower fairy at the bottom of my garden,” at her look of protest he held up a hand, “I know, I know. You’re not a fairy. No wings ...I remember.” He looked down at her, “It’s a pity you weren’t sleeping beauty though, you’re certainly beautiful enough ...and since I was first on the scene, I could have made like Prince Charming and kissed you awake.”
At this, she stepped backwards out of his arms, but at least, he thought, she was smiling again. She raised her chin and said, “I think you’ve got your fairy tales a little mixed up mister,...Prince Charming wasn’t part of Sleeping Beauty,...he was the prince in Cinderella,...and that tale was very chaste,...no kissing at all until after the wedding.”
That could be arranged, he considered, but didn’t voice his thoughts. Instead he looked once more towards the tower, standing tall in the centre of the gardens. “Speaking of sleeping beauty’s tower, let’s hope no one opens a window and looks out that one while we’re down here. I think maybe we should cut this visit short and get back to the car before someone comes, ...with a bit of luck we’ll get out without being seen, then, if I’m asked, I’ll say that something came up and we didn’t make it here today, after all. We’ve only seen one gardener and he thought we were part of the fashion crew. Come on.” He took her hand and led her back down the avenue of newly opened flowers towards the Bishops gate. The lower courtyard was empty of any signs of life aside from a wheelbarrow left on the far side so they walked quickly around the flagstone paths and out under first the tower and then the entranceway to the forecourt and the car park. They encountered no-one and within minutes were back on the road heading away from the castle.
“It’s really much too early to head back to White Briars yet,” said Hamish. “We could be at Tunbridge Wells in time for lunch ...then we would be absolutely sure that you can spend any amount of time away from the garden without any ill effects. As long as you can damp down that thing you’ve got going between you and the flowers, we should be able to walk around and do some shopping, incognito.”
“Very well then, if that means I can shop for my own clothes, I’ll do it.”
Expecting resistance, her acquiescence surprised him.
“Spoken like a true female,” said Hamish. “I shop, therefore I am,” he intoned ecclesiastically.
“You would do well to remember that this ‘girl’ is old enough to be your great-great grandmother several times over, so show a little respect for your elders.” she chided, chin in the air.
“Hah.” He glanced sideways at her as he drove. With her wrinkle-free skin and air of naivety about the modern world that existed outside of the garden, she could pass for twenty and was still child-like in many respects, but, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time, she had probably been around when the Saxons had invaded Britain. True, her experiences were limited to second-hand information passed on to her by those who could move beyond the boundaries of White Briars, but she had still lived through a lot of history, all told. Certainly, a lot more than he. It was a pity, he thought, that she was so reticent about talking of her past. He mused on how he might encourage her to open up more to him, before heavier traffic forced him to drag his thoughts back to the road and the present.
The rest of the day was spent enjoyably, lunching at the pub Hamish and Sara had visited previously, stopping in for hot drinks at a café, shopping and wandering the streets of Tunbridge Wells. Once she recovered from an initial anxiety at being out among so many other people Liana was fascinated with the town and quickly found her feet. She needed little coaxing to stay out for the remainder of the day and it was dark by the time they returned to White Briars. Liana, tired from the nervousness and excitement of the day, had fallen asleep on the journey home and only woke as Hamish switched off the car’s motor. He helped her carry her shopping bags down to the summerhouse then left her and continued, alone, back up through the garden to the house.
The weather turned cool again by late evening. Sitting with a hot chocolate in front of the fire, Hamish fell to thinking, again, what life could hold for Liana, now that she was not bound by the garden’s borders and her altered status in relation to mortality.
***
Seeing Liana leaving the Garden with his own eyes had been another revelation for Green Jack. He had stayed waiting near the road gate, hiding among the trees and sure that she would return within minutes of departing but when that had not happened he had gambled on climbing up on the road wall himself, hoping that what was sauce for the goose might be sauce for the gander as well. It had not been a successful endeavour. Unlike Liana, he could not even go beyond the top of the wall before a force far stronger than he had shoved him back into the woods on the White Briars side of the wall. He’d picked himself up, shrugged his vine-covered shoulders and went off to make mischief elsewhere.
By now Jack was tired of watching through windows. While Liana and the human had been absent, he had let himself into the cottage and wandered around, searching in a desultory fashion for anything that might help his cause. He didn’t enjoy being indoors. He found the confining spaces and sharp lines of the cottage walls and floors offensive … to his way of thinking these human dwellings wasted precious resources and if he had his way they would all be levelled, to return to the ear
th from whence they had come.
He flicked angry green eyes over the man’s paintings, tempted to irreparably damage these daubs that were, to him, poor imitations of nature’s magnificent bounty but decided that it would serve him better to leave well enough alone …for now. It would have been a different story if Liana had shown any real interest in the man but so far Jack had seen little sign of a burgeoning romance that might encourage her to stay. In the unlikely event that this should eventuate, he would deal with it.
Finding nothing of real import, he left, having collected a single pretty bauble from an inlaid timbered jewellery box left sitting atop the upstairs dresser. The box had also contained a tiny Teddy bear and photographs that he leafed through but left behind. Jack had always been something of a magpie regard to shiny objects and was no respecter of the property rights of others. Not wishing his impromptu tour of the cottage to be discovered he returned Liana’s key to the hole in the high brick wall. She was not the only one who knew secrets about White Briars ...he had a few of his own.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
William Shakespeare
Chapter Eighteen
The uncertainty of the spring weather turned into predictably sunny days of a stiflingly hot summer. Before long the pretty blossoms of the cherry trees had given way to a verdant cover of bright green leaves. In advance of the drier summer weather taking hold and inspired by the visit to Sissinghurst Castle’s garden rooms Hamish decided to replant the herb garden beds with a combination of herbs and perennial flowers. Wanting to find excuses for Liana to take time away from the confines of White Briars he asked her to accompany him to Sara’s nursery to choose the plants.
Flowers in the Morning Page 31
