The Garden of Memories

Chapter 15

Sally can’t remember the last time she really looked forward to something. Okay, she has a happy anticipation when her daughter Pippa comes over and they have a takeaway and movie-night. But they aren’t the kinds of ‘looking forward to things’ that make her a little giddy with excitement if she thinks about them for too long. She knows most people would say, it’s only pond building, hardly going on a round-the-world trip type of exciting, but there’s a fire in her belly and a determination – a challenge in her gut that hasn’t been there since, well, she can’t remember when.

With all her equipment loaded into her brother’s pick-up truck, she chucks her wellies in the back and slides behind the wheel. As she drives to Rose’s, she considers her feelings about the pond. Maybe she’s looking forward to it so much because it’s something she’s thought of by herself. When Paul was still with her, he was always the one who thought of things, decided on how they should be done, and then if the plan involved Sally, he made sure she carried out his instructions to the letter. Even if she did, there would always be something she’d done wrong, or fallen short on. Well, this pond would be all hers. She’s researched it exhaustively online and spoken to a nice man at the garden centre where she bought the pond liner. He explained about the best plants to get, too, when it was ready, to keep the water oxygenated. Sally also had her eye on some white and pink elegant water lilies, just like the ones that Grace Pentewan had in her garden pond all those years ago.

It’s a glorious day for it, and as the green, yellow and blue of the countryside zip past her window, Sally smiles as she thinks about her old neighbour. Such a wise lady, and a shame they’d moved house when she was twelve, because Sally was certain she could have learned so much more from her about wildlife and nature. There had been a real bond between them despite the difference in age, and Sally remembers to her shame, that she’d not even popped round to say goodbye the day they’d left. It wasn’t because she was being rude, but because she knew she’d cry. Crying was not encouraged in public by her parents, Dad especially. Neither was being overly emotional in any respect. A sudden flare of anger heats up her insides. It’s no wonder she had been so easy to control by her husband. Half the work had already been done, courtesy of her parents.

As she pulls up outside Rose’s, she thinks about the question Pippa asked her last week. Why don’t you build a pond in your own garden? You have plenty of room. At first Sally didn’t know, but she thought about it and eventually answered that she didn’t feel her garden needed one. It wasn’t the right place for it. She didn’t add that her garden had too much of Paul in it, that Rose’s garden was special, being there lifted her spirits, it spoke to her, and it had somehow suggested she make a pond, because that would have sounded slightly deranged. Maybe Sally is slightly deranged, but who cares? Not her. Well, not as much as she used to. There has been a bit of a shift inside her over the last while, a shift for the better, and she wants it kept that way.

Rose comes out to greet her dressed in green dungarees, her hair a messy golden halo, tendrils twisting in a futile attempt to escape from a multicoloured headband. This new look suits her. Sally tries to match the image of the smart not-a-hair-out-of-place efficient nurse, with this earth mother, and finds they won’t fit together.

‘Love the transport!’ Rose pulls Sally into a quick hug and then strokes a hand along the flank of the red truck. ‘You look like a proper handywoman in it.’

‘I am a proper handywoman. I’ve got all my tools and pond stuff in the back, these old jeans and a baggy T-shirt and a pair of new green wellies, so I must be.’

‘Yup.’ Rose smiles and nods at the equipment that Sally’s unloading. ‘Want me to get the wheelbarrow and help bring stuff in?’

‘Yes, please.’ Then Sally gets a bit of a prickle at the base of her throat. How does she tell her friend that she wants to do this all by herself, without sounding ungrateful? She tests various scenarios in her head as they shunt everything from the truck to the spot at the back of the garden where the pond will be situated. As Rose takes off her gardening gloves and wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, Sally clears her throat. ‘Um, thanks so much for helping … and for letting me loose on your garden!’ Rose laughs, but before she can reply, Sally plunges in: ‘I’m really excited about doing this all by myself. It’s the first thing I can remember having total responsibility for, and…’ Shit, she’s run out of the right things to say. She must look like a fish out of water, opening and closing her mouth, gulping for words instead of air.

‘Totally get it,’ Rose tells her with a slap on the back. ‘Over there is my shed, in case you need anything – watering can, pick-axe etcetera, if the ground is too hard to dig. In the meantime, I’ll stick the kettle on.’

Grateful for her immediate understanding, Sally watches her go and pulls her gloves on. This is going to be good.

* * *

Late afternoon slips into the garden almost unseen and presents Sally with a shower of rain and a dilemma. Does she stop work for the rain, or press on, as it’s later than she thinks? Her sore fingers give her the answer and reluctantly she downs tools and trudges towards Rose’s door. Rose ushers her in after she’s taken off her muddy wellies and they sit at the kitchen table, a pot of tea between them and a biscuit barrel to hand.

‘How’s it coming along?’ Rose asks.

‘It’s hard work, but I’m loving it. Just annoyed that the day has got away from me and my hands, despite the gloves, are developing calluses. I should have worked through lunch. Thanks for providing it, by the way. I’ll bring sandwiches next time.’

‘You will not! The least I can do is do lunch for you. You’re making us a lovely pond and have refused payment.’

‘I like the way you said “us” instead of “me”. You’re very generous, Rose.’

‘That’s the way I see it.’ She shrugs. ‘Gardens are for sharing, I reckon. This garden is for all of us to enjoy, and the pond will be a valuable jewel in the crown.’

Sally wonders what the biggest and best jewel is in Rose’s personal crown. Indeed, if she owns one. Sally guesses she has two of her own and they have to be Pippa and Angus. Her children have turned out pretty well, considering. Maybe Bella is Rose’s. Because there’s a lull in the conversation and Sally has never felt comfortable with those, she asks, ‘How’s Bella and family doing?’

‘Hmm. Not too great at the moment, if truth be known.’ Rose dips a biscuit in her tea and gobbles it downs in one. ‘She’s in a similar situation to the one you were in – domineering husband. I’ll not say more, because it’s her story to tell. Suffice to say, I told her about your regrets about having accepted second best and told her to be careful she didn’t end up in the same position. I’m hoping she and Nigel can work things through though, or come to some arrangement or other. I’m hoping for a phone update soon, because not knowing is driving me nuts.’

‘Sorry to hear that, and if she ever wants to talk about anything, just let me know.’ Sally’s stunned by her own words. She would never have offered advice like that in the past, as though she’s an aficionado on domineering husbands. Then again, perhaps she is, after twenty-five years of it. Maybe Rose is growing some confidence plants in her garden and Sally’s inhaled a few of their seeds today.

‘Thanks, Sally. I’ll let her know.’

The rain taps multiple fingertips against the kitchen window, indicating it’s too wet for more digging and time for Sally to go home. Climbing into the truck after promising to come back on her next day off, and though she’s only managed about a third of the digging, she feels like she’s accomplished so much more. Her hands are red and sore, her arms are aching and there’s a niggling twinge at the bottom of her spine that feels like it could become a problem if she doesn’t watch out. Not as young as you were, eh, Sal? Listen to your body, plan your movements and take it steady, she tells herself. Not a bad mantra for life, to be honest.

* * *

Sally’s only been gone a few minutes when the phone rings.

‘Hey, Mum. How are you doing?’

‘Bella! I was just thinking about you today when Sally came over. You know Sally from the surgery? She’s building us a pond, isn’t’ that lovely?’ Rose is aware she’s nattering on. But even though her daughter is miles away, she detects in her ironed-out tone that something’s happened, and not in a good way.

‘Yeah, really nice of her.’ The ironed-out sentence pulls silence after it, adding a sniff as a full stop.

‘What’s happened?’ Rose sits in ‘Glen’s’ ancient but comfy chair by the log pile next to the burner, instantly soothed by the feel of the dip in the cushion under her bottom that her husband’s weight had made over the years.

‘I talked to Nigel, and at first, he just laughed off my ideas. Said it was too late for all that – we couldn’t come back to Cornwall, as we’d chuck away a stable financial future. He expected I’d let it drop, as I usually do if he says no to something, but I kept bringing it up. And last night … last night we had the mother of all rows. I stood my ground and … and…’ Bella takes a moment to find her voice. ‘I said if he didn’t come back to Cornwall, then I’d come home by myself – well, I’d bring the kids, obviously.’

Rose strokes her finger along the impression of Glen’s elbow in the leather arm of the chair and wishes for the umpteenth time he was here with her. ‘Oh, love. What did he say?’

‘He said I was a cold-hearted bitch, and didn’t I realise I was breaking up the family on a stupid whim? Ruining the children’s happiness? It all got out of hand and I said I couldn’t live with him in Birmingham, and the way things were going, I wasn’t sure if I could live with him anywhere.’ Bella lets out a gasp which twists her mum’s stomach. ‘Mum, can I come home to you? I’ve nowhere to go and can’t afford rent until I get a job there.’

Rose makes sympathetic noises which Bella can’t hear, because she’s breaking her heart on the other end of the line. Howls of anguish mix with sobs of despair and Rose wishes she was here with her too. Though this was the last thing she expected she’d be saying when she got out of bed this morning, she replies, ‘Of course you can, my darling. You know you always have a home with me.’

‘But it’s a two-bedroomed cottage, and there’ll be four of us living there. It might be a while before I’m on my feet again… Shit, I don’t want to put on you like this … but I don’t have another way. Oh, Mum, I’m so, so miserable here.’

Rose hadn’t a fortune in the bank, but there’d be enough to get by, and everything was fine when they came to visit, with Bella and the kids in her old room. It was a bit cosy, but it wouldn’t be forever. In the end, if this was what Rose could do to help her daughter put the next phase of her life into place, she would do it, gladly. ‘Listen, love. You just get yourself home and we’ll go from there, okay? Stop worrying about everything – we’ll manage, and maybe you and Hannah can start that business from the VW camper that you dreamed of, eh?’

There’s a huge sigh of relief and a sob. ‘Thanks, Mum. Thanks so much. I’ll try and be there tomorrow. The sooner I leave the better, because he was in a vile mood when he left for work this morning.’

‘You think he’d hurt you?’ Rose’s stomach is turning over and over.

‘No. I don’t think so. He’s never lifted a finger to me, but then I’ve never said I’m leaving before and taking his kids.’

‘Right. Get your stuff and get out right now. Keep in touch on the way down, yeah? I’ll make you something nice for dinner.’ As if a roast will make everything better, Rose. Dear Lord.

‘It might be a bit late for dinner when I get there, but I think you’re right about leaving now. Okay. I’ll keep in touch. Love you, Mum.’

‘Love you too, sweetheart.’