The Garden of Memories

Chapter 23

Flora thinks the evening is turning out to be one of the best she can remember. Sally has had her well-deserved celebration, the food is superb, and James has got on famously with her friends. He has, she thinks, become a little obsessed with the idea of painting the jasmine, however, declaring it to be the prettiest flower he’s ever seen. Flora acknowledges he’s had a few glasses of wine, but nevertheless, she can tell he won’t be happy until he’s accomplished his goal.

The other day, when they came here with the express intention of painting, they found they’d talked for so long that they only managed a rough sketch each before it was time to go. She doesn’t regret it, though, because the time was used to learn so much about each other. Flora smiles to herself as she remembers how afterwards, she boosted James from the friend camp into the kindred spirit camp, members of which total precisely one – James. This is purely because, in their youth, they were both dealt a similar bum hand, but managed to make a royal flush of them in the end. A long, rough road, but well travelled.

Flora decides to find Rose and ask what might be a convenient time for James to come and paint the jasmine. She imagines Rose would say whenever he likes, but she will do the polite thing and ask. Rounding a corner, Flora spots a gloomy Rose hurrying away from Daisy, who, if she’s not mistaken, looks a bit dejected. This strikes her as very odd. Flora knows the two women are each other’s oldest friends, so she wonders what’s happened. Rose is pouring herself a drink by the trestle table as Flora approaches. She looks like she’s having a good time as she’s laughing with Sally and Angus, but Flora knows Rose well enough now to see through the pretence.

‘Hello, all!’ Flora does her now-perfected chuckle while she scrutinises Rose’s face. ‘What a wonderful evening it is.’

‘It really is!’ Sally says, hugging Flora, which is a surprise but appreciated. ‘Thanks to this one.’ She elbows Rose. ‘And thank you for coming, Flora. It’s so wonderful to see so many friends here for me.’

Flora can see that Sally is on the way to being legless, which accounts for the hug. ‘It’s a pleasure.’ Then to Rose she says, ‘Can I have a quick word?’

When they are away from the main party, Rose frowns and takes Flora’s arm. ‘What’s up with you? You look a bit glum.’

‘It’s not me who’s glum.’ Flora indicates they sit on the grass next to the lavender. ‘I saw you and Daisy looking like you’d had an argument and thought I’d check on you.’ While Rose is thinking about that, she adds, to lighten the mood, ‘Oh, and I wondered if you could let me know when James could come up and paint the jasmine.’

‘Oh, whenever he likes. He’s a very lovely man, Flora.’

‘Yes, he is, isn’t he.’ She doesn’t like the knowing look that’s found a home on Rose’s face. She glances away, as her own face feels too hot all of a sudden. Most puzzling. ‘Anyway, what’s going on with you and Daisy?’

Rose frowns and Flora isn’t sure if she’s going to tell her anything, as she shuffles on her bottom as if she’s ready to get up and go. Then she sighs and tells Flora all about Tristan, an old boyfriend, how he relates to the wild garlic day, and that he’s here right now in the little band that Daisy’s organised. She also tells her that she’s worried Daisy is trying to match-make and that if she agrees to sing in the band, she’ll be going along with it.

‘Are you likely to have any romantic feelings towards this man?’

‘Of course not!’

‘So I don’t see the problem.’

‘Okay. But that’s not the worst of it.’ Rose frowns and takes a mouthful of wine. ‘There’s also the fact that I’m completely terrified that if I do sing, I’ll dry up, forget the words, or both.’

Flora takes a sip of her wine and thinks that Rose needs a push. She’s a strong woman who has coped admirably with some huge changes recently. She’s still coming to terms with the loss of her husband and her career, but she’s risen to the challenge and made new inroads into the rest of her life. A life that she imagined after retirement would be dull, lonely and boring. For the past forty-odd years, Rose has given of herself to the community, her family and friends, willingly and unselfishly. Her next steps going forward are supported by a belief in the power of nature, the tranquillity and healing ability of this growing space, and enabling it to help herself and others. The memory of the wild garlic day had set her on this new path … and singing was a big part of that, so why is she putting up barriers against it?

‘I think I have the answer,’ Flora says slowly a few moments later. ‘It’s because you’re afraid of sharing your experience with those who don’t fully understand it. It’s personal to you. You once said that you thought people shared too much these days – social media and so forth – and you preferred to keep some things private. I was exactly the same, remember? I was brought up to keep everything in, Mother preferred it that way. And is there any wonder? God knows what would have happened if I’d opened up to people about how I felt about the old witch. But, as a rule of thumb, people did keep their thoughts under lock and key back then. When I did open them up to you and Daisy that evening, I said it was the influence of this place, remember?’

Rose nods. ‘Yes, and I felt compelled to do the same – but you and Daisy are my friends – you get me. You’re so wise, Flora. And absolutely right. If I sing with Tristan again, I think I’m worried that I’ll get too emotional, I’ll forget the words, dry up, or all three. Then the old days will be trashed by a stupid attempt to recreate them. The special memory of my long-ago sixteenth birthday will be tarnished, forever changed by it.’

Flora is thrilled that Rose thinks her wise and counts her as a friend. She can tell it’s genuine, it came from the heart. So why is she always worried that she’s not really part of this new community? Concentrating on Rose’s dilemma now, she asks, ‘Is that what you think you’ll be trying to do? Recreate those days?’

‘It feels like that’s what’s expected.’

Flora laughs. ‘And you always do what’s expected of you?’

‘Well, no.’

‘Exactly.’ Flora knows she’s making sense and perhaps getting somewhere. ‘I love your voice. It makes me feel uplifted, I can feel the positive energy coming from you in waves. Why not share it? And having been around a bit longer than you, I think you’ll be creating new memories actually, not reliving old ones. The old ones are safe in the past. This is the Rose now, not the Rose then. You’ll bring everything you have become, all your life experience, to the songs tonight … but you’ll always carry that sixteen-year-old with you. Don’t worry about that.’

Rose blots under her eyes with a napkin and pulls Flora into a tight hug. ‘Are you trying to turn me into a blubbering mess, for god’s sake?’

‘Yes. It’s my speciality.’ Flora laughs and finds she might benefit from a napkin too.

* * *

Daisy looks like she’s won the lottery when Rose agrees to sing. ‘Really? I’m so thrilled!’ She gives her a big hug. ‘I couldn’t bear to think I’d caused all this upset – I was just going to suggest we packed up and headed off.’

‘Yes, I was going to suggest you did too, until Flora had a word with me. Look, it will all be fine. Just me having a wobble.’ Rose doesn’t want to go into the ins and outs of it all again. She’s had enough emotional soul-searching for one day – it’s bloody exhausting and this is supposed to be a fun evening.

‘Right. I’m sure you’ll love it. Just first-night nerves.’ Daisy leads her up to the pergola where the three men are sitting on a bench looking a bit deflated. They all look up at her like meerkats when she walks over.

‘Hi, Rose. Okay?’ Tristan asks with an uncertain smile.

‘Yes, all good. If you let me know the songs, I’ll give the vocals a go.’

* * *

A little while later, it’s Daisy’s turn to tap a spoon against her glass. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I—’

‘And children!’ Molly shouts. Rose has to laugh. Her granddaughter is high on party atmosphere and too much sugar.

Daisy smiles. ‘And children, I do beg your pardon. Can we put our hands together for our fantastic band this evening – Phoenix! And on guest vocals, our very own Rose!’

Phoenix, really?Rose inwardly cringes as she taps the microphone, but gives a bright smile as the little gathering whoop and clap.

Tristan steps up to his mic and introduces himself and the others, counts down the drummer and then launches into ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac. As the first few guitar chords soar up into the pink-and-lilac sky over the ocean, Rose is glad she has to concentrate on her cue, or she’d be a blubbering mess for the second time tonight. She closes her eyes, releases a deep breath and lets her voice free, sending it soaring up to join the music.

She opens her eyes and sees the joyful expressions on her friends’ faces as they wave their arms in the air. Just like the day earlier in the year, when she sang in the woods, almost independent of her control, Rose’s arms rise and stretch, and she’s lost in the music. All her nerves subside and she’s lost in the moment too, and the memory, twirling and dancing through the bluebells and garlic, her head tilting from side to side, hair falling across her face. This time, though, she’s in her own haven, her own Eden, her lungs filled with the perfume of honeysuckle and jasmine, and the overwhelming positive energy of this space and of those gathered.

Glancing to her left, she shares a wide smile with Tristan. She can tell he’s similarly overwhelmed too, and yet again, she catches a glimpse of the young man he once was. Flora, as usual, is absolutely right. Rose is bringing everything she has become, all her life experience to these songs tonight … but she’s also acutely aware of the sixteen-year-old she carries within her.