The new interior was already taking shape and Don said a few more days and he’d seal off the shop side of the blocked doorway with plastic sheeting and open it up.
‘Put a bit of support in and a new, wider lintel,’ he said. ‘We’ll knock through into the old outside visitor toilet at the same time. You’ll have to manage with the staff one, till it’s done.’
‘At least it’s a fairly quietish time to do it,’ agreed Ned, and we left them to get on with it.
‘There’s nothing quite as romantic as a nice chat about sanitation, is there?’ I said brightly as we walked towards the bridge – we were having lunch in the Devil’s Cauldron restaurant.
‘You’re the one who was so keen on discussing the loo situation in the first place,’ he pointed out. ‘Look at it this way – I’m giving you everything you ever asked me for.’
We decided to walk off our very good lunch and Ned suggested we go up the track by the Village Hut and along the top of the hill above the woods, to the path back down to the falls.
‘We can take in Jacob’s barn on the way. You haven’t seen it yet and even if he’s out, there’s lots to look at outside.’
This proved to be an understatement, for strange kinetic sculptures were everywhere: driven by the breeze, or the power of a nearby stream. Some of them made faint, melodic noises, or whirred, chimed and fluttered.
‘Jacob’s a magician,’ I said. ‘I suspected as much.’
There was no sign of him, so we decided not to knock on the door in case we disturbed his work, and carried on up the steep, rough path till we came out above the woods.
It was fairly level going after that and eventually we reached the road that led to Angel Row, then turned off and made our way down the side of the falls.
‘It’s good to have the place to ourselves – no tourists today,’ Ned said, as we stopped on the flat viewing area by the source of the river. ‘Marnie, I—’
But I’d caught sight of something over his shoulder and alerted by my fixed, astonished stare, he turned suddenly and exclaimed, ‘Wayne!’
It was that familiar carroty head I’d caught sight of, emerging from the cave by the waterfall, which was more exposed than usual, because the weather had been so dry for ages. Only now did I notice a brown rope hanging down from the top. Wayne had grabbed it and was using it to help pull himself out onto what was left of the ledge underneath.
This was a mistake: it unravelled in an instant and I had one brief impression of Wayne, poised with a ragged stump of rope in one hand, before he plummeted backwards towards the pool way below.
‘Oh God,’ said Ned, leaning over the rail to try to catch sight of him. ‘If he’s hit the rocks on the way down … No, he’s just bobbed up again, but the current’s got him! Come on.’
He grabbed my hand and we scrambled down as quickly as we could, then ran along the riverbank, trying to spot him.
We’d gone quite a way before we found him, washed by an eddy into a backwater half-enclosed by rocks, floating face down.
Ned pulled him out and turned him over. ‘You see if you can get hold of Elf while I try a bit of artificial respiration,’ he said, and began working on the unconscious Wayne.
I managed to get a signal on my phone by running a few yards downstream. Elf answered straight away.
‘Wayne’s had an accident. He was climbing out of that cave at the top of the waterfall and he fell in and was swept downstream,’ I told her. ‘We’ve got him out and …’
I paused and looked over my shoulder as various uncouth noises told me Ned had managed to get most of the water out of Wayne. ‘He’s not drowned – he’s just brought most of the water up.’
‘I’ll be right up to have a look at him. See you shortly.’
I waited where I was, till Wayne had finished retching and was sitting up against a rock, before I went back. Elf arrived only a few minutes later and she had James with her.
‘What have you been doing?’ asked Elf, looking down at Wayne like a bright-eyed sparrow eyeing a not very savoury worm.
‘He’d tied a rotten piece of rope to a rock up at the top of the falls and managed to get across that bit of ledge to the cave,’ explained Ned. ‘Then he put his weight on the rope when he was getting out and it gave way – and down he went.’
‘That bloody book going on about treasure!’ Wayne spat, looking accusingly at Elf. ‘There was nothing in that cave!’
‘I could have told you that, lad,’ said James, surprisingly, and we all turned to look at him.
‘What do you mean – have you been in it?’ demanded Wayne. ‘Did you grab the treasure?’
‘No, you daft ha’porth, there wasn’t ever any treasure in it.’
‘I think you’d better tell us how you know, James, before we all die of curiosity,’ Ned said.
James scratched his head. ‘All right, but it was something and nothing. It was this way … There was a drought one summer when I was a lad and the waterfall was about half what it usually is, so your uncle Theo and me decided to have a look in the cave. But we weren’t daft,’ he added, giving Wayne a scathing look, ‘we used proper ropes and tied them round a tree up at the top. There was a bit more of the ledge back then anyway, so it wasn’t that difficult to get along to the entrance.’
He paused to make sure he had our full attention. ‘It’s narrow to get into, but then opens up a bit, and we could see straight away that there wasn’t any treasure there. But there had been something – or someone – there in the past because we saw there were a few bits of mouldering bones and the rusty imprint of a sword and helmet. Looked like someone managed to crawl in there to hide and never left.’
I shivered. ‘How horrible!’
‘I dunno, he was probably wounded and the effort of getting there finished him off,’ said James. ‘And he lay there peaceful enough for maybe hundreds of years. We didn’t disturb anything, just got ourselves out again. We decided to keep it quiet, so no one else would go poking around.’
‘Till Wayne,’ Ned said.
‘And I did say plainly in the book it was just another legend,’ Elf said defensively.
‘Like the other one about Nathaniel’s treasure being hidden at Old Grace Hall, that inspired you to dig up my lawn,’ Ned said grimly.
‘You can’t prove that was me!’ said Wayne quickly. ‘Nobody saw me.’
‘You’re a complete fool, Wayne,’ I told him.
‘You said it,’ agreed Ned.
Wayne hauled himself up, dripping and dishevelled. ‘I’m off home before I catch my death,’ he said belligerently, as if we were about to do a citizen’s arrest for illegal stupidity, then squelched off towards the turnstile.
‘Wet in more ways than one, poor boy,’ said Elf. ‘Well, James, I suppose I’d better get back to my ice-cream making and you to planting up the bicycle carrier.’
‘We’ll go back up to the top of the falls and remove what’s left of that rope, so no one sees it and gets any silly ideas,’ Ned said. ‘Come on, Ellwood!’
He sounded cheerful and, really, there was no reason why the incident should dampen our day.
‘We were wrong about the end of the plagues,’ I said, following him up the steep path past the source of the falls. ‘We forgot Plague of Idiots.’
Ned unknotted what was left of the rope, already half-frayed by the rocks, and coiled it over one shoulder like a mountaineer before we started back down again.
‘I’ll burn this on Gertie’s bonfire when I get back.’
‘Well, don’t let her see you, or she’ll say you’re a spendthrift for not using it to insulate a pot, or something. You know what she’s like on the subject of waste.’
‘I did hear her telling you the other day that if you left your crusts you’d never have curly hair,’ he said, halting on the flat rock by the river’s source to ruffle my hair with one big hand. ‘Bit late, though.’
‘I’d only saved a bit for Guinevere – she’s a peahen of character,’ I s
aid. I looked across at the gushing water and the dark, jagged slit of the cave entrance and sighed. ‘Do you think whoever died in there felt comforted by the magic of this place?’
‘I expect so. I think he must have been local to know about it.’
We watched the spray flung into the air to catch the last of the sun’s rays, before it dipped behind the high hills and the atmosphere around us seemed to change and shimmer too …
I had that feeling again that something winged fluttered just out of sight – and was that a faint, tinkling laugh, or just the sound of the water?
I turned to ask Ned if he’d heard it too – and found him looking down at me with such an expression of love that my heart seemed to stop and then start again, much faster.
‘I thought Wayne had ruined the moment I’d planned, but it seems he’d only delayed it for the right one,’ he said. ‘Marnie, will you marry me?’
There was a rushing noise that might have been the water, or wings, or even birds taking flight towards their evening roost – or just the blood pounding in my ears.
I looked up at him uncertainly. ‘Are you quite sure you want to marry a Vane?’
‘I’m quite sure I want to marry this one,’ he said, then pulled me into his arms and kissed me.
As we slowly walked back along the river, arms entwined, he said, ‘Elf guessed – she gave me a ring that’s been in the Verdi family for generations. It’s a big flat ruby and looks a bit Borgia, so it might not be your cup of tea, but I’ll show it to you when we get back.’
‘I’d love a Verdi Borgia ring,’ I assured him. ‘I’d only wear it on special occasions, though, or I’d lose it in the garden, or in the pond, or somewhere.’
‘We’ll both have plain wedding rings we can work in and I’ll make sure yours is tight enough not to fall off,’ he said with a grin. ‘We’ll get married in St Gabriel’s – we could go up in a bit to ask the Reverend Jojo about putting up the banns.’
‘Just a little wedding, though – close friends and family,’ I said, then caught myself up. ‘Not Vane family. The Ellwoods, though – as many of them as can leave the château.’
‘It should be soon – early June, perhaps?’ he suggested. ‘Better weather, but before the main tourist season and the school holidays.’
‘All right,’ I agreed happily. ‘And let’s make it a Tuesday and instead of a reception, have a Grace Garden party, instead!’
‘Brilliant!’ he said, and squeezed my waist. ‘I’m looking forward to telling everyone – though I suspect most people have already guessed. There’s just one thing worrying me …’
I looked up anxiously into his serious face and asked, ‘What’s that?’
‘Who’s going to break the news to Caspar?’
Epilogue
Flaming June
It had been a perfect little wedding and the Angel Gabriel had looked down on us from his jewelled window, austere but, I felt, approving.
Uncle Richard had given me away and Lex Mariner had been Ned’s best man … and I hadn’t worn white, but ruby-red silk, to go with my Borgia ring.
One of the smaller angels in the window was wearing robes the same colour, which I thought was a good omen.
Now the sun shone warmly on the Grace Garden, the throng of guests, the food laid out on trestle tables and the remains of a tall white cake decorated with real roses.
The Coronation bunting fluttered bravely in the warm breeze and there were pots of scented geraniums up the sides of the steps that led to the gazebo. Inside was a knot of people and I caught a glimpse of Aunt Em’s bright turquoise linen dress. How lovely it had been to see her and Uncle Richard again and introduce them to Ned – and they’d got on so well. I suppose that wasn’t really surprising, since we all shared a passion for gardening!
Caspar sat under a lavender bush dismembering a smoked salmon sandwich and Lancelot and Guinevere hoovered up any crumbs.
‘You know, this is the perfect place for a reception,’ Cress said, towing Roddy towards us. ‘You could hold them here as a side-line. We could have ours here, couldn’t we, Roddy?’
‘Yes, but only on a Tuesday, when the garden is shut,’ he agreed, smiling at her.
‘You can have yours here if you’d like to, but I wouldn’t charge you,’ Ned said. ‘It’s an idea, though – it would be pretty lucrative, I should think.’
‘I expect so, but we might just want the occasional Tuesday off,’ I pointed out before he got carried away.
‘Marnie!’ Treena said, appearing suddenly from the sunken garden, flushed with either the sun or champagne – or possibly both. ‘Did Luke tell you he’s found evidence that the monastic site was a really, really early one and abandoned ages before the Vikings? So apparently it doesn’t matter if they haven’t found much there – Luke’s delirious.’
And when he joined us and slipped his arm around Treena’s waist, he beamed and said, ‘Just had an expert opinion on those bits of pottery back – I think this is the happiest day of my life!’
‘I thought that was my line?’ Ned said, grinning. ‘Come on, Marnie, let’s go and thank Jojo – I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the vicar give a speech at a wedding reception before, but it’s going to be imprinted on my memory for ever.’
‘And mine,’ I agreed. ‘Especially that joke about how we’d always stay true to one another, so neither of us would be tempted by the Poison Garden.’
‘That was a joke?’
‘I think so. Maybe it was inspired by the Borgia ring; she did admire it.’
The vicar had a smoked salmon sandwich in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. She beamed at us.
‘Everything has turned out beautifully, hasn’t it? No more mysteries, alarms or excursions, just a peaceful life in our little Paradise on earth.’
‘Actually, I suppose there is one mystery unresolved,’ I said. ‘Nathaniel’s treasure!’
‘Oh, I know all about that,’ she said, and we gazed at her in astonishment.
‘You do?’ said Ned, doubtfully.
‘Yes! It was one of those grisly and entirely spurious holy relics – St Peter’s finger, along with a fragment of the True Cross – kept in a crystal box.’
‘Yuck!’ I said at the thought of the shrivelled finger.
‘How do you know about it?’ asked Ned.
‘Because I found an account of it in one of my predecessor’s notes. He thought it ought to be recorded. Your uncle Theo’s father discovered it in a false drawer in a chest that must have been Nathaniel’s. They decided together that the finger should be decently interred in the family tomb and a few words said over it. The box, with the bit of wood in it, is still in one of the vestry cupboards, the locked one with some very old pewter candlesticks.’
‘So that was Nathaniel’s greatest treasure?’ I asked.
‘Spiritual things so often are,’ she assured me, and exchanged her empty glass for a full one offered to her by Charlie.
We moved away towards the sunken garden, to read the words on the sundial once more.
‘The sun is my treasure, it measures the hours in bars of gold.’
‘You’re my greatest treasure,’ Ned said, and then, as Caspar emerged from behind the sundial, expressing himself in a forceful manner and fixing us both with huge green eyes, added, ‘I suppose I have to share the honours with that cat!’
‘Got it in one,’ I agreed.
Recipes
Lavender Ice-Cream
300ml (10.5 fl. oz) double cream
200g (7 oz) light condensed milk
½ teaspoon fine ground dried lavender flowers
4 tablespoons lavender syrup
Splash of violet colouring
Whisk well
Put in ice-cream maker for 1 hour
(Sets very nicely. Very creamy. Strong taste, but nice. Quite a pale purple.)
Ginger Ice-Cream
300ml (10.5 fl. oz) double cream
200g (7 oz) light condensed milk
Whisk well
Put in ice-cream maker for 1 hour
Layer of crystallized ginger on top when done
(Came out very thick and rich. Less ginger might be better, and adding it in stages through the chilling?)
Mincemeat Ice-Cream
300ml (10.5 fl. oz) double cream
200g (7 oz) light condensed milk
100g (3.5 oz) mincemeat (Robertson’s Classic)
Whisk well
Put in ice-cream maker for 50 minutes
Sprinkle of sweet cinnamon on top when done
Mulled Wine Ice-Cream
250ml (8.5 fl. oz) brandy cream, extra thick
200g (7 oz) light condensed milk
175ml (6 fl. oz) reduced mulled wine (from 1 full bottle)
Whisk well
Put in ice-cream maker for 1 hour
Non-Dairy Coffee and Choc Chip Ice-Cream
250ml (8.5 fl. oz) single soya cream
300g (10.5 oz) sweetened condensed coconut milk
3 tablespoons coffee powder (strong)
Sprinkle of dairy-free choc chips (dark)
Whisk well
Put in ice-cream maker for 1 hour
Add more choc chips (and sugar snowflakes) half an hour in and on top when finished
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
Find us online and join the conversation
Follow us on Twitter twitter.com/penguinukbooks
Like us on Facebook facebook.com/penguinbooks
Share the love on Instagram instagram.com/penguinukbooks
Watch our authors on YouTube youtube.com/penguinbooks
Pin Penguin books to your Pinterest pinterest.com/penguinukbooks
The Garden of Forgotten Wishes: The heartwarming and uplifting new rom-com from the Sunday Times bestseller Page 38
