The Garden of Memories

Chapter 13

Rose puts the finishing touches to Bella and the children’s room – a tall speckled blue vase of Daisy’s freshly cut oxeye daisies, and the painting she’s done with Bella’s old paints. Looking at the painting now on the dresser, Rose wonders if it’s worth displaying. A woodland scene with the suggestion of a woman ghosting through a sunny glade. Does the woman look more like a mistake on the canvas that Rose has tried to disguise? Maybe. She is about to take it down, but a resolve to go with her gut and stop worrying about what people think lets her hand fall. When Rose painted it, she felt exhilaration – just as she had when she was in the wood on the wild garlic day. This painting is a nod to that experience, and as such, it should stay where it is.

Bella should be here any time now with Molly and Wesley. Rose has missed them all so much and she’s sure she’ll see a marked difference in three-year-old Wesley and five-year-old Molly. It’s only been four months, but little ones grow so fast, just like the flowers in her garden. The idea that they’d grow stronger and sturdier in Cornish soil rather than Birmingham’s can’t help pushing its way into her mind, but she pushes it back again. We can’t have everything, can we? Nigel got a promotion, and they couldn’t turn down a hike in salary like that. She got it. She really did. But getting it and liking it were two different animals.

Rose reminds herself that they have been in Birmingham just over two years and Wesley, especially, won’t have any memories of his Cornish roots – but that’s where grandmas come in, she supposes. They have enough memories stored up for everyone to share. As she straightens the pillows on the two little ‘rollaway’ beds for the children, not for the first time recently, Rose wonders if everything is okay between Bella and Nigel. He was supposed to be taking five days off to come down too – but at the last minute, said he was needed at work, as a colleague had come down with some bug or other. Bella often painted quick-brushstroke answers over Rose’s questions concerning Nigel, the family and if Bella was happy. Yes, they were all fine; no, Nigel had no problems at work, he was probably working too hard, but that went with the territory; and then she’d change the subject.

* * *

A squeal of joyful excitement from Molly heralds their arrival and Rose hurries outside to greet them. Molly’s a carbon copy of Bella at her age, so much so that the likeness steals Rose’s breath. Wesley is climbing over the luggage, chuckling to himself, in his patchwork dungarees, bottom in the air, light-brown curls ruffling in the wind. Bella locks the car and as she looks up, squinting in the full sun, Rose thinks there are more lines around her eyes than she remembers, and she seems older than her thirty-five years, but the new blonde look suits her.

‘Mum! You’re looking fantastic.’ Bella envelops Rose in a big hug. ‘Have you joined a gym or something?’

Rose laughs. ‘Yes, it’s called doing the garden.’ She waves a hand at the blooms, leaves and flowers shooting up from every available space.

‘Wow! I’ve never seen it looking so … so … I don’t know. Alive, I guess.’

Rose has to agree. ‘What a great description! It’s had a reawakening – a rebirth.’ Then Wesley stops clambering on the luggage and runs over to his grandmother on his chubby little legs. ‘Hello, Granny. Can I have an ice cream?’ He holds out his arms to be picked up.

Rose picks him up, noting how heavy he is and how much he’s grown. She relishes the touch of his soft skin against her cheek and the lemony smell of his hair. ‘Ice cream?’ she asks, pecking him on the chin. ‘What about lunch first, gorgeous boy?’

Molly slips a warm little hand into hers. ‘Wesley has been banging on about ice cream ever since he saw a sign with one.’ She rolls her eyes and pulls an expression exactly like her mother’s. ‘Mummy said Cornwall makes the best in the world.’

Rose puts Wesley down and gives Molly a big hug. ‘We do indeed, my lovely. And after lunch we’ll go and get one from the ice cream van at the beach, yes?’

‘Yay! I have a new swimming costume, Granny.’ Molly turns hopeful eyes to her mum. ‘Can I swim after lunch?’

Bella smiles and picks up the luggage. ‘Don’t see why not. Right, let’s get this lot inside, I’m dying for a cuppa.’

* * *

Lunch over, Bella’s upstairs putting things away in her room while the children are chasing each other around the garden and Rose looks on from the stable door. Chortling children certainly add something to the scene. She thinks the flowers like the sound of laughter too – all the peonies are facing their way and ruffling their petals in pleasure. Or it might just be because of the direction of the wind, but Rose knows which explanation she prefers.

Molly and Wesley are rolling on the grass, play-fighting under the ‘bee pot’ containing the agapanthus. Wesley jumps up and Rose sees that the agapanthus is taller than him, though the blooms are still encased within their green pods. Molly notices her granny looking on and points at the long green stalks past her shoulder. ‘What are these called? They’re very tall.’

‘Agapanthus.’ Rose leaves the kitchen door and goes to stand next to them in the sun.

Molly repeats the word quietly to herself and Wesley watches the movement of her lips and says, ‘Panties.’

Rose and Molly giggle at him, which encourages a madcap whirling dance, punctuated by ‘Panties!’ on each 360-degree turn.

‘They were one of your grandad’s favourite flowers,’ Rose tells them.

‘Grandad had hair like mine and Mum’s, didn’t he?’ She touches her dark curls. ‘Well, before Mum made hers yellow.’

Pleased and a little surprised that Molly remembers, as she was only three when he died, Rose says, ‘Yes. Can you remember anything else about him?’

Molly screws up her face in concentration. ‘I think he used to let me jump up and down on the sofa in my shoes, but Mummy said he shouldn’t?’

Rose has to swallow down tears and finds a bright smile. ‘That’s right! He thought the world of you.’ There’s a tell-tale wobble in her voice, and Rose hopes Molly won’t see beyond the smile. Seems like the acceptance she found in the shed with the Danger Mouse trowel last week has abandoned her today. How Glen would have adored watching these little people grow up.

‘It makes you sad talking about Granddad, doesn’t it, Granny?’ Molly slips a hand into Rose’s and sighs.

This kid misses nothing. Rose takes a moment to get her emotions under control and think of the right words. ‘Um, kind of, because he’s not actually here with us now. But happy too, because he used to be, and he’s left lots of good memories behind. Does that make sense?’

A solemn nod. ‘Yes. I wish he was here still. He would have liked Wesley’s silly dancing.’

Rose nods, because that’s all she can manage. And hand in hand, they both watch Wesley turn in ever tighter circles until he collapses in a heap.

‘Who painted this, Mum?’ Bella’s voice carries from the kitchen door.

Rose turns to see her daughter holding her painting up. ‘I did! And guess what I painted it with?’

‘Er, paints I’d guess.’ Bella angles the canvas and tilts her head. ‘Love that ghostly woman.’

‘Thanks.’ So, it didn’t look like a mistake. Good. ‘I found your old paint palette in the loft, that you had as a teenager.’

Bella frowns and stares into the distance, then her eyes widen. ‘Oh yeah! I remember now. I fancied Mr Proctor the art teacher and he said I had talent. That’s what prompted that little foray into the art world.’ She giggles and comes outside.

‘Mr Proctor, eh? He was the one with the long hair and beard. Hm, I can see the attraction.’

‘Ha! Yeah.’ She nods at the painting and sets it by the wall. ‘I think it’s great. What made you do it?’

‘You, actually. I was up in the loft, found the paints and had a really vivid memory of you as a teenager. You’d done a lovely picture, but you told me not to look at the canvas, but I looked anyway. It was the sunset over the ocean and it was good – really good. Mr Proctor was right. You had talent and I thought you might have taken it up seriously.’

‘Really? I don’t remember. Wonder why I didn’t want you to see it? I was probably being precious, as usual.’ Bella’s cheeks turn into roses.

‘Precious to me and your dad, that’s for sure.’

‘Oh, Mum.’

Rose gets another hug and tries to commit the moment to memory, to draw upon during those long months when her ‘little girl’ is far away. She notices Bella is a bit tearful at the mention of her dad, so steers the conversation back to her antics. ‘And guess what else? I went horse riding the other day!’

‘Wow! I knew you’d got the voucher thingy, but I never thought you’d go.’

Rose is interested to have her ‘box assumptions’ confirmed or denied, as they say in court. ‘Why not?’

Bella runs her hand gently along the petals of a yellow rose in full bloom. ‘Um … it’s not something that I thought you’d do, I suppose.’

‘Because I’m too old … set in my ways? Not something that your mum would do?’

‘No. Not at all.’ Bella frowns. ‘You’ve just never shown an interest in all the years I’ve known you, that’s all.’

That answer leans towards denial of her box assumptions. Refreshing. ‘Ah, but what you don’t know is that I’ve always wanted to go horse riding, but never got round to it.’

‘Really? Well, I’m glad you went. Did you enjoy it?’

‘No!’ Rose laughs and Bella joins in. ‘It was bloody scary and there was too much bouncing up and down like a sack of potatoes.’

‘Granny said a swearword. Bloody.’ Molly’s eyes dance with mischief as she looks from one adult to the other.

‘Yes, she did.’ Bella folds her arms, shakes her head at Rose in mock disappointment. ‘But that doesn’t mean you can repeat it, okay, Monkey?’

‘But Granny—’

‘Never mind what Granny said. Why don’t you go inside and get that packet of biscuits on the kitchen table and bring it out here?’

Molly didn’t need telling twice. ‘Nice diversion tactics,’ Rose says with a smile.

‘I learned from the best.’

The two women stand admiring the garden a few moments and watch Wesley rolling himself down the incline of the lawn. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ Rose nods at the yellow bloom climbing up the trellis in front of them, and dips her nose to inhale the heady perfume.

‘Ah, the Golden Gate Rose. It’s my favourite of all the flowers here, I think.’ Bella dips her nose too. ‘It reminds me of when I was little, and once the petals fell, you said I could make my “special perfume”, as I called it. I crushed the petals, mixed them with water and bottled it. Then every time we went anywhere special, I dabbed a bit on the inside of my wrists like I’d seen you do, sitting at your dressing table. It made me feel very grown up…’ Bella glances at Rose and away. ‘I always wanted to be just like you.’

Already trying to quell a surge of emotion, the last snippet of information floods Rose’s senses. A little ‘Oh’ is all she says, because her thoughts won’t stop whirling around long enough to become full sentences. Bella had wanted to be like her. That’s news to Rose. Bella always seemed such a self-sufficient little girl – headstrong, confident, and while not unaffectionate, she hadn’t shared many of her innermost thoughts with her mum. Not a heart-to-heart fan. A lot like her dad.

‘You sound surprised.’ Bella leads the way down the garden under the willow arch, alive with white passion flowers.

‘I am a little… I never realised you wanted to be a nurse.’ Rose thinks this must be what Bella meant.

‘No, not a nurse. I’d be a hopeless one. I meant—’

Rose never gets to hear the rest of it, as Molly runs up to them with a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits, the evidence of a sneaky partaking on her top lip. ‘Can I have some milk?’ This question sounds distracted and directed to the sky. Something has absorbed her attention. ‘Ooh, look – an eagle!’

The two women follow her finger and chuckle at the huge bird of prey hovering over the nearby fields. ‘It’s a buzzard. Not quite as big as an eagle, but beautiful nonetheless,’ Rose says, thinking how fantastic it is to have a child’s eye view. Everything is full of wonder and larger than life. A little sad nag sidles in, pointing out that Rose will miss so much of her granddaughter’s growing up. She refuses to listen to it further and hoists a rosy-cheeked Wesley up onto her hip, offering him a biscuit.

‘They both look so invigorated already, and they’ve only been here five minutes,’ Bella says.

‘I thought five minutes wasn’t that long, Mummy.’ Molly’s face is a puzzle. ‘We have had lunch and played and done lots of things. Much more than an hour, I think.’

‘Sorry to confuse you, it’s just a figure of speech.’

Rose notices a little strain in her daughter’s voice and can see she’s tired. ‘How about I tell you about those plants in the big red pot by the door over there, then I’ll pop inside and get you some milk, eh?’

‘And me?’ Wesley pulls himself up onto the wooden bench and Bella sits beside him.

‘Of course, my ’ansome.’

‘Then we’ll go to the beach?’ Molly chips in.

‘Yes. Okay, those flowers,’ Rose points at the red pot, ‘are called primroses. When your mummy was little, much littler than you, she called them prim-noses!’

Bella laughs along with Molly. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. It was so sweet to hear. Your dad and I were a bit disappointed when you eventually mastered the pronunciation.’

Bella’s about to reply, but Molly jumps in. ‘I love prim-noses and roses and bees and agapanties! I love this whole garden sooo much. I love, love, love it, so, so much!’ She dances around the picnic table singing a nonsense song about the garden, the beach and the flowers. Wesley joins in with the dance, laughing when his sister tickles him.

Rose is about to get the milk when Bella touches her arm lightly. ‘Mum, when the kids are in bed, can we have a chat?’

‘Of course, sweetheart.’ The quiet timbre of her voice tells Rose the chat might be a serious one. A rare heart-to-heart. Rose hopes it isn’t anything health-related. She knows that would be the end of her, if anything was seriously wrong with any of her little family.

* * *

Rose pours two glasses of red wine and takes them into the living room where Bella’s sitting on the sofa, legs outstretched, eyes closed. It’s been a lovely day, but the children are full-on, as all children of that age are, and Rose feels as tired as Bella looks after running up and down the beach, swimming, playing in rock pools and building sandcastles with the two of them.

Bella opens her eyes as she feels her mum’s presence by her side. ‘Oh, just perfect. Thanks.’ She takes the glass. ‘I could sink a good few of these, I can tell you – even a bottle. But I won’t, obviously, not with the munchkins waking at the crack of dawn.’

‘I’m here to help. I think you could do with relaxing a bit.’

‘If only. I never have a minute to myself. I’m in the supermarket part-time, as you know, then its nursery run, school run, shopping, cooking and being a general dogsbody.’ Rose is shocked to hear so much bitterness in her daughter’s voice. Then a huge sigh and an even huger gulp of wine are followed by pooling tears.

‘Hey, love. Don’t get upset. Just take a breath and tell me about it all.’

Bella nods and blows her nose. ‘I’m so unhappy, Mum… I don’t have time to breathe and Nigel does fuck all.’ A hollow laugh. ‘Well, not with the kids, me, or the house. He works stupid hours and everything is about the job. No … actually. I’m beginning to realise everything is about him, if I’m honest. What about me, what about my life? My happiness?’

Rose is unsure whether to say anything at this point. She can tell Bella needs to get everything out, and if she asks lots of questions, Bella might clam up again. Rose shakes her head in sympathy and says, ‘Oh love. I’m so sorry – I thought you were happy and settled up there.’

Bella drains her glass and bangs it down on the side table. ‘I hate it up there. Hate it.’ She grabs the glass again, jumps up and returns with a refill. ‘I agreed to go because he said it would be the making of us. More money and a stable position and all that crap. I didn’t want to go, I was distraught about leaving you, leaving Cornwall. But I couldn’t burden you with my woes, as it was only a few months after Dad died that he sprang it on me. You had enough to worry about. He gave me an ultimatum. Either I went, or he’d go alone. He wouldn’t allow me to hold him back – to hold our children’s future back, as he put it.’

The turmoil inside Rose turned to boiling anger. How could Nigel do that? ‘What! That’s awful. You could have come to me, love – I would have coped. Please never keep things from me.’

Bella shrugs. ‘I’m used to coping with things. Or pretending to, so I told you we’d miss you, but that we were excited to go and it would be a great new life. Anything to put you off the scent.’ Bella wipes away tears. ‘I mean, if I’d told you the truth, you would have said, “Come and live with me, and we’ll work it out.” But I couldn’t be the one to break up the family – deprive the children of a dad… Turns out they hardly see him anyway. And when they do, he’s distracted or half asleep. I always pretend stuff is okay when we chat on the phone, because I want to spare you the misery. And if I started to tell you, everything would come flooding out. Like it has now.’ She breathes a sigh of what might be relief.

What a bombshell. Rose doesn’t tell her she had begun to wonder if everything was okay between them, as her daughter has obviously tried her best to spare her mum’s worries. There’s a quiet moment as Rose gathers her thoughts and hopefully the right words. ‘Bella, have you told Nigel how miserable you feel … and what you want out of life?’

‘I tried at first, when I realised how much I hated it there. I know it sounds silly, but as well as everything I just told you, I missed the smell of the sea and the salt wind.’ A big tear rolls down her cheek and she looks like the child from the prim-nose days. Rose would do anything to make the hurting stop.

‘Not silly at all.’

‘But he wouldn’t listen. Just said it’s early days and things would get better. A few weeks ago, I told him I had dreams that I put on hold to allow him to follow his own. I told him that Hannah and I had wanted to try and start our own cake and sandwich business from her converted VW camper – go round the beaches in tourist season. Vegan stuff too. She’s stuck in Costa part-time, which she hates. Remember me telling you about that a few years back?’

Rose did remember and thought it would be a great idea. Hannah (who had a catering degree) was Bella’s oldest friend and they thought they could work their hours around their children and weekends. If it took off, they would employ extra helpers.

‘Nigel just laughed and said we’d no chance. Too many others would be doing it.’ Bella stared at the photo of her wedding day on the shelf and shook her head. ‘He won’t listen. It’s all about him. I think he invented this story about a colleague’s illness so he didn’t have to come with us here. I don’t know what to do, Mum.’

Bella looks so lost and vulnerable. Rose wishes she could make it all go away. Kiss it better, put a plaster on it and give her a chocolate milkshake, anything to see her smile again. But the prim-nose days are long gone. It’s times like this that she misses Glen. Two heads are better than one and he would know what to say. Then something Sally told her when she came over the other day slips into Rose’s mind, and maybe she thinks she has found the right thing to say.

‘You have to make him listen, Bella. Make him realise you’re serious about it. Make him understand that you won’t put your life on hold, your dreams on hold, for him. That you certainly won’t put up with ultimatums. A friend of mine told me she’d had to settle for second best because of her husband, and now she very much regrets it. Don’t be like her. Act before it’s too late. I’ll help you in any way I can.’

Bella’s tears spill over again, but she smiles. ‘That’s what I meant when I said I wanted to be like you, earlier. It wasn’t to do with nursing. You have this calm strength about you, and when I’m with you, I feel safe. Yes, you were broken for a while after Dad went, but now you have this amazing garden that seems to have given you an extra energy, a lift beyond all expectations. I felt Dad’s presence there too – felt calm and at ease when I was amongst the flowers earlier, even though I was tired and stressed. I felt the salt air on my skin, and smelled the scent of honeysuckle and roses on the summer breeze. The children adored it too. And you’re the centre of it, Mum. Being with you is like coming home.’

Rose reaches across the space between them and grabs her daughter’s hand. They sit together on the sofa, overcome with emotion, lost in their own thoughts, many of which, Rose suspects, will share the same seeds. Tomorrow she’ll suggest they take the children to the garden centre to choose some memory flowers of their own. Then they’ll all plant them together.