Chapter 14
14
C ally had traded her usual uniform of short skirt and ballet flats for jeans and wellies. She also had one of Logan’s cashmere jumpers over her shoulders and a green estate travel mug with hot blackcurrant in her hand. The weather in Scotland performed. A clear blue sky with a scattering of puffy white clouds topped the beauty of the landscape. Her funny stick-y out-y fine baby blonde hair was scrunched up on top of her head in a clip and she had not a scrap of make-up on her face, just how she liked it. As she stomped along a path lined with heather, it was an understatement to say that our Cally loved the Scottish version of Lovely Manor. She didn’t just love it. An odd little part of her felt as if she was at home. Strange, but true.
As she walked along, lost in the spectacular scenery, it hit Cally how little she’d travelled. Like just about everything in her adolescent and young adult life, her care role had put paid to travelling around the world or anywhere at all, really. She’d not travelled for many reasons but mostly because there hadn’t been anyone else to take over the responsibility of her caring job, not enough money and even less time. Now, with hindsight, it felt worse.
To somehow try and make herself feel better about her sheltered life, she’d always half-heartedly told herself that she’d not really wanted to travel anyway, so what did it matter? To negate the premise that she might be missing out, she’d staunchly maintained that she liked staying put right where she was. She’d reiterated until she was blue in the face and had actually perceived it to be true that travelling was for other people; those who weren’t like her. She’d made herself believe that she probably wouldn’t like exploring anyway. That other places wouldn’t be nice and she’d be out of her comfort zone. She’d fed herself the same old, tired narrative so many times that she’d actually come to believe it in the end. She’d managed to make it through most of her life not going anywhere much because the story she’d told herself had clipped her wings. Now, her wings were spreading. By way of a Scottish estate, Cally de Pfeffer could feel herself flying high. Could she, in fact, give an eagle a run for its money? She’d have a damn good try.
As she walked along, blown away by the breathtaking scenery and loving the different far-reaching views, the change of outlook did her the world of good. She felt as if someone had picked her up by the top of her head, swiftly zoomed her up to the other end of the country and put her down again in a completely different environment altogether. Somewhere outstandingly beautiful that was making her reassess her life and existence. Our gorgeous Cally was experiencing that wonderful, almost discombobulating feeling of clarity when away from day-to-day life. It was breathing new energy into her left, right and centre.
As she pounded along, things floated and percolated through her brain. Her relationship with Logan and what she wanted from it, her job in the chemist and the promotion opportunity and whether or not she was going to accept it, applying for a mortgage, deciding whether or not to move in with Logan, looking for a flat. All of it whirred through her head as she walked along, taking in more beautiful scenery every which way she turned. She stopped for a minute and looked up at the ancient trees above and watched their tops swaying gently in the breeze. The whole area seemed to be slowly undulating and moving to its own little beat and somehow whispering to her at the same time. She blinked and shook her head as it went through her mind that the trees were having a conversation with her. Saying hello. She smiled and said hello back.
Half an hour later, making her way back in the direction of the cottage, she stopped outside the large conservatory greenhouse situated just along from the house and peered in. The beautiful old glass building with its old-fashioned panes, tall doors, and roof with gorgeous old fretwork appeared from the outside so perfect that it looked almost unreal. However, on peering in, it was more than obvious that the conservatory was very much a working part of the estate. Long lines of timber benches held various pots with plants at different stages of growth. An old copper watering system ran along the top of the roof, and on the left hand side, rows of luscious plants in hanging baskets stretched from front to back. Masses of terracotta seedling pots lined up by the windows held plant babies leaning towards the light, and line upon line of seed trays filled with soil were labelled with little wooden sticks.
As Cally peered into the conservatory, she squinted against the glare of the sun on the glass and made out a woman in green dungarees, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail under a green estate baseball cap. The woman looked up, catching Cally's eye through the window.
'Hi,' the woman called out, her voice muffled through the glass. She made her way to the door, its old hinges creaked, and the bottom scraped along the floor as she pulled it open. 'You must be Logan's Cally. I'm Morag; head gardener is my official title here at the estate. Or HOG for Head of Gardening. Really, it’s a fancy title for the fact that I get to mess around with plants all day.'
Cally smiled, extending her hand. 'Lovely to meet you. Yes, I’m Cally. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.'
Morag waved away Cally’s concern with a soil-stained hand. 'Not at all, lass. I was just tending to the seedlings up the back there. Would you like to come in and have a look around?'
'Oh, I'd love to. It’s so nice.’
As Cally followed Morag into the conservatory, she was hit by warm, humid air, totally in contrast to the crisp, fresh Scottish day outside. The scent of damp earth, greenery, and growing things enveloped her as she followed Morag down a narrow path between benches overloaded with plants on the far side. The masses of plants reminded her of the few pots of herbs she’d bought from B it takes a fair bit of upkeep. We had to replace most of the glass about a decade ago, but we kept as much of the original structure as we could. The elements up here make things work for their keep. This old place just keeps on going. Even in the winter, it’s gorgeous in here what with its own heating system and all. Can’t complain.'
As they turned at the end and walked along the central aisle, Morag pointed out various cuttings. She gestured to a row of small, leafy plants. 'These are herbs for the kitchen. Rosemary, thyme, basil – all grown right here on the estate. We dry them now too and they’re sold in a shop in town. We have another lot of greenhouses on the far side, too. This one here is good because of its position. They knew what they were doing when they built this. Someone had their head screwed on the right way around.'
Cally inhaled the scent of the herbs, closed her eyes for a second and felt a bit pathetic about the few straggly pots on her balcony. 'I bet they taste amazing fresh from the garden. I have a few at home. I snip them into things, and it’s been an eye-opener. Nothing like this, though, obviously.’
'That they do,' Morag agreed. 'The cook swears by them. Says they're what makes her cooking so special.'
They moved on to another section, where long lines of larger plants were growing in thick old terracotta pots marked with time and age. Morag pointed to another long bench. 'These are some of our medicinal plants. We've been growing them here for centuries. Some of these plants have literally passed down through the generations.'
'Medicinal plants? Like what?'
'Oh, all sorts. Chamomile for sleeplessness, peppermint for digestion, and echinacea for all sorts. Lavender, stevia, borage, and suchlike. Anything and everything. You name it, we’ve tried to grow it.'
Cally nodded, impressed. 'It's like having your own little pharmacy right here in the garden.'
Morag smiled. 'That's exactly what it is. In the old days places like this were essential, apparently. Some of the people of the house would often act as the local healers, using plants grown right here in the conservatory.' Morag nodded. ‘Yeah, I read all about it in one of the books in the library there.’
As they continued the little impromptu tour, Cally couldn’t quite get enough. Fascinated by the history and knowledge embedded in the glass structure, she could feel her wings spreading just that little bit more. Fly high, our Cally, fly. ‘Amazing how plants are medicinal when you think about it.’
Morag nodded. 'Aye, that's it exactly. Medicine's come a long way, but there's still wisdom in these old ways, I reckon.’
‘For sure.’
Pointing to a large plant tucked in the corner, Morag smiled. 'This is my fave. A cutting from a plant that's been in the family for over two hundred years. Legend has it that it was a gift from a visiting member of royalty from faraway lands.’
Cally's eyes widened. 'What kind of plant is it?'
'A type of rose,' Morag explained. 'Doesn't look like much now, but when it blooms... Well, you've never seen anything like it. The flowers are a deep, deep red, almost black in some lights. And the scent is like nothing else on earth.'
'Ooh, how interesting. I'd love to see it in bloom.'
'Well, if you're lucky, you might just catch it. Keep your eyes peeled.'
As they made their way back towards the entrance, Cally loved it. The conservatory had caught her eye when they’d arrived, but now she’d been inside and chatted to Morag, it felt so much more than just a pretty glass building, almost as if it was breathing goodness, history and tradition. Helping her to spread her wings.
‘Nice job you have.’ Cally smiled.
‘I’ve had worse jobs in my life.’ Morag chuckled.
‘Oh really. So, you’ve not always worked here?’ Cally asked.
‘No, no. Gosh, no, I’ve done some dead-end jobs in my time.’
‘Oh right.’
‘I moved up here about twenty years ago. Best thing I ever did.’
‘Ahh. Where did you move from? I thought I heard a twang of a different accent.’
Morag sucked air in through her teeth. ‘No one can ever place me by my accent. I was born in London, then raised in Suffolk, then we moved to Cheshire, then Somerset and then via an ad in a magazine, I found myself here. And I’ve never looked back and I won’t be going back anytime soon. Not ever.’
‘Aww. Nice story.’
‘You?’
Cally chuckled. ‘Nothing quite as exciting as that. I’ve lived, worked and mostly stayed in the same county my whole life.’
Morag clucked. ‘Right you are. So the trip up here is a good place to start your travelling bug, eh?’
‘Indeed. I loved it from the moment the train crossed the border.’
‘It happens.’
'Thank you so much for showing me around. It's been fascinating.'
'My pleasure. Just pop in whenever. We’ll have a nice wee cup of tea, Scottish Breakfast, of course.' Morag pointed in the direction of the far corner. ‘That’s a little suntrap down there. Lovely to bring in a cup of tea and look out over the gardens while you toast your skin. Let me tell you, sometimes if you sit there it's so warm you might as well be in Marbella, or so I kid myself.’
‘Ha, I might have to take you up on that.’
Morag chuckled. ‘Be my guest.’
As Cally stepped back out into the crisp air, she looked up at the glass panes glinting in the sunlight and felt her wings spread. She’d be taking a nice cup of tea back to the conservatory to enjoy the little spot in greenhouse Marbella that she knew for sure.