Epilogue
It seemed fitting to have the party in the garden where it all started.
The summer air still carried the scent of orange blossom from the choisya bush, which had burst into a myriad of white star-shaped flowers just as Dorothy had promised, and the bedding plants provided splashes of rainbow colours throughout the flower border.
Even the weather had been obliging: there was barely a cloud in the sky this afternoon.
Rosie carried out the last of the plates and glasses, and smiled contentedly at the assembled guests.
They had borrowed Dorothy’s (larger) patio table for the occasion and its owner was chatting animatedly to Martina and Lilian, as Sophia danced around the garden telling everyone several times that Rosie was her fairy godmother.
Bob stood near the barbeque at the far corner of the plot, chatting with Connor who was sporting a black chef’s apron with the words Licensed to Grill emblazoned on it.
It had been a present from Rosie, and she’d taken a photo of him posing in the kitchen earlier this morning – it was too good an opportunity to miss – and posted it online for his followers.
There had already been dozens of shares including one with the added caption: Licensed to Thrill.
Jacob’s offer of helping with the barbeque had been politely declined on grounds of health and safety, but it didn’t prevent him from hungrily eyeing up the burgers and sausages.
Martina called out, ‘Remember what I said, Jacob, we don’t want any burns so don’t stand too close!’
Connor gave Martina the thumbs up sign. ‘We’ve instigated the one metre rule,’ he shouted back, ‘just to be on the safe side.’
Rosie laughed as Jacob waved around the evidence: a cut-to-size bamboo cane from her tool store, to which she had added sturdy rubber tips in the interests of not substituting one type of accident for another.
Thirty minutes later, Connor gave Sophia and Jacob the job of telling everyone the food was ready, and they got down to the business of eating.
Connor’s additions to the standard barbeque fare – corn on the cob, plus prawn and mushroom kebabs – proved popular.
‘Pages thirty-nine and forty from Recipes Made Simple,’ Connor informed Rosie.
Everyone was eager to hear about Connor’s new job, and Rosie could tell from his easy manner and relaxed smile that he was loving being back in the business.
He was off to Verona next week for the first leg of the overseas filming schedule, and had been working hard behind the scenes, studying the grape varieties and produce of each region he was visiting, as well as the local geography.
The attempt at online language lessons was slightly less successful, with Connor grumbling that it was like going back to school, even though Rosie had maintained it was never too late to learn something new.
Sensing a temporary lull in the conversation, Rosie seized the opportunity, tapped a knife against her glass and got to her feet.
‘Thank you all for coming and sorry for interrupting your chat, but I have something I want to say to all of you.’ She looked around at the expectant faces.
‘As most of you know, a little under two years ago my husband died suddenly, and back then it felt like my life had fallen apart. I found it hard, starting again on my own, and after a period of grieving and getting firmly stuck in a rut, I saw an advert to rent this garden and—’
‘The rest is history!’ added Dorothy.
‘It was certainly a godsend. It gave me something new and exciting to focus on.’
‘Not to mention its owner,’ added Bob with a sly wink.
‘He’s definitely worth focusing on,’ Rosie agreed.
She waited for the burst of good-natured laughter to die down.
‘I’ve enjoyed feeling like I was part of a little community, and it seems significant that I met each of you through a connection with our gardens.
It certainly feels longer than nine months ago that I was wrestling brambles into sacks.
’ She looked over at Bob and raised her glass.
‘With a little help from my kindly neighbour.’
‘Keeps him out of my way!’ joked Lilian. Everyone laughed, but knew she didn’t really mean it.
‘Well, I can see he’s been busy in your garden too,’ replied Rosie pointing over the fence.
Where a neglected playhouse had once sat in the corner, there now stood a handcrafted wooden pergola with open trellis to the sides and a closed roof. Underneath was seating for four with an assortment of patterned cushions for relaxing afternoons, plus a wooden table to enable outdoor dining.
‘I spend a lot more time out there these days,’ Lilian admitted.
‘It’s a fabulous new addition,’ agreed Rosie.
‘And I have some news of my own,’ she continued.
She and Connor had already had their own private celebration, but it had been a real struggle not telling anyone else, and a huge relief to now share her news.
‘As you all know, I moved in with Connor over the summer, and after all the upheaval of the last year, we both wanted a bit of permanence. So…’ Rosie paused and beamed at her audience, ‘I persuaded Patrick to let me buy the flat off him using the proceeds from the sale of my place. We exchanged contracts three days ago, and therefore as of next week, I’ll be the new owner of 15d Mickleborough Gardens. ’
Amid the collective gasps and congratulations from the assembled group, Connor reached behind him and produced the bottle of Moet of children laughing, kicking a ball, the sharp repetitive snap of someone’s secateurs, the distant sound of music playing.
Rosie smiled. ‘It’s because it feels like home. Our home.’ She sighed happily. ‘But I do have one important question for you.’
A small frown creased Connor’s forehead. ‘Oh yes? What’s that?’
‘Fancy a cuppa?’
Connor laughed. ‘Hey, you’ve pinched my line! I’ll go and put the kettle on.’ A few minutes later Connor returned carrying two mugs, handing one to Rosie. ‘Here’s to new beginnings,’ said Connor raising his mug of tea.
Rosie clinked her mug gently against his. ‘To new beginnings and homecomings.’