Chapter Thirteen
Over the weekend, Shaun and I work tirelessly on the garden. We toil and we dig and we sweep until finally, the fruits of our labour start to show.
The garden is much tidier than we first found it, and yet, the untamed nature of it still remains, with wildflowers of every colour scattered across the grass, vines of wisteria mingling with dark ivy up and down the stacked stone walls and the unruly rose bushes are beginning to bloom. There’s still a lot of work to be done - according to Shaun’s meticulous plan, we’re only just in the middle of Phase Two, but it’s very rewarding to get to a point when I can begin to see how far we’ve come in just a couple of short weeks.
Taking a break, Shaun and I sit on the lichen-covered plinth beneath the arbour, sharing the picnic I packed for us. Colin lingers nearby, chirruping away in his jovial fashion as he inspects the ground for grubs and worms. He’s started to bring me ‘gifts’ every time we cross paths now, and today, he’s blessed me with a shiny chocolate wrapper. Once again, I’m grateful for the gesture and pop it into my pocket.
I’ve been keeping his little offerings in an old biscuit tin I found at the back of the kitchen cupboards in the cottage, and I’ve accumulated quite the collection. It’s mostly just rusty nuts and bolts he’s found in the garden shed, but now and then, he digs up something like this wrapper from the mud. You never know, maybe one day I’ll end up with a ring or something equally as valuable.
It’s a gorgeous day - warm, but with a pleasantly cool breeze, absolutely perfect weather for gardening. With the soft rustle of the trees overhead and the tuneful chorus of birdsong, it truly feels like springtime. I pour steaming tea from a thermal flask into two cups and pass one to Shaun.
‘Thanks.’ He blows on the liquid and takes a small sip. ‘So, how are you finding life in Lily Vale so far?’
Pursing my lips, I hold my cup in both hands, savouring the warmth emanating from it.
‘It’s been interesting, to say the least. So different to what I’m used to, but I think I needed that, you know? A change, something to shake things up a bit. Everyone here is so friendly and welcoming.’ I throw him a wry, sidelong glance. ‘Well, almost everyone.’
‘Do you think you’ll stick around?’
Lifting the cup to my lips, I muse over the question, lazily dragging my gaze around the partially finished garden.
‘I don’t know, maybe? It’s been a nice break from the norm, but at some point, I’ll have to pull myself together and face reality, you know?’
His mouth a taut line, Shaun nods, looking down at the clovers. ‘You know, you never said what brought you here.’
Shaken by the query, I choke on my tea, causing me to launch into an embarrassing coughing fit. The humiliation continues when Shaun has to pat me on the back as if I’m a gassy baby who needs burping.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t pry,’ Shaun mumbles abruptly.
Still croaky, I stifle one last cough. ‘No, it’s okay.’ I finger the edge of the cup, considering how much I ought to share. ‘My husband - ex- husband, he said he wanted a divorce. We’d been married for four years, but … well, it wasn’t exactly out of the blue, let’s put it that way.’
‘Ah.’
‘I didn’t know what else to do, I couldn’t stand the idea of moving back in with my parents, but we had to sell the house, and there was nowhere else to go. So the very week our buyers closed on the deal, I packed up all my crap and got the hell out of Surrey.’
‘What made you think of Lily Vale?’ Shaun asks, that rare, curious glimmer in his eyes once more. ‘It’s a bit of a random spot, most people who aren’t around here don’t even know it exists.’
‘It was Lucy who suggested it,’ I tell him, taking the opportunity to pour more tea into his half-empty cup. ‘You know, Lucy Middleton, the local author?’
‘Ah yeah, I’ve collaborated with her boyfriend Alex on a few jobs before. He’s the one who lent me the gear to secure the wall, actually.’
‘Well, we’ve been friends for a year or so, strictly online until now. I was hired to illustrate her book covers and our friendship just blossomed from there. I ended up spilling my guts to her over a video call, and she told me her neighbour Victor owned a cottage he was keen to rent out. Within a couple of days, I was driving into Lily Vale Village.’
‘That was pretty brave of you, to up sticks and move across the country to a place you’d never even visited before, all on your own.’
I scoff. ‘Yeah, brave or stupid?’
‘Definitely brave.’
The intensity of his gaze stoppers my tongue, and I struggle to locate the right words to speak.
‘T-Thanks.’ I clear my throat, finding it a little raw from the coughing fiasco. ‘What about you, then? What’s your back story?’
In his signature casual manner, Shaun lifts his shoulders. ‘Don’t really have one.’
‘Oh come on!’ I jeer, shoving him so he nearly topples off the plinth. ‘Everyone has a back story, even if it’s a really boring one.’
‘Fine. I always loved gardening and knew I was going to do it as a career from the age of six. Dad left when I was a teenager, and I haven’t seen much of him since. Mum still lives in the village, and Gran is still hanging in there too. They live together in our family home, it’s nice having them so close.’
‘That’s lovely,’ I smile gently. ‘So are you an only one like me?’
‘No, I …’ He swallows hard. ‘I had a brother.’
The word had lingers between us, cold and final.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, reaching out to touch his arm. He tenses under my fingertips, then slowly relaxes, but only slightly. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘You didn’t know.’ He smiles wanly, then pushes himself up from the plinth. ‘Right, shall we crack on, then?’
Without waiting for my response, he strides off, picking up the spade where he dropped it by the garden wall. His cup is left half full, and he didn’t even finish his sandwich, despite claiming he was starving. As I watch him dig into the damp ground, an ache tugs at my chest. I had no idea Shaun had lost a brother, how terrible for him.
Though I couldn’t possibly have known, I could kick myself for bringing up the subject of family. He was really starting to open up, I caught a small glimpse of the true Shaun inside, and then just like that, he shuts down. Serves me right for being nosy, I guess.
Thankfully, the awkwardness passes, and after a while, it’s as if the tense conversation never happened. We’re laughing (well, I’m laughing, I do manage to raise one tiny snigger from him, though) and teasing one another like normal, and when exhaustion starts to kick in, we opt to call it a day.
‘Next time, we can start planting some flowerbeds here.’ He points to a neat little square of soil he carved out specially. ‘What’s your favourite flower?’
‘I’m not sure, I’ve never really known much about plants, until now.’
‘Well, that’s a first, I thought all girls had a favourite flower.’
Not me.
I bite my tongue, deciding not to say anything. I can’t remember the last time I received flowers, perhaps it was my first wedding anniversary, but they definitely weren’t a regular occurrence in my old household. Nathan wasn’t thoughtful like that, and I’d never dare ask for such treatment, for fear of being ridiculed and told I was too high maintenance.
‘I guess I’ll surprise you then,’ Shaun gives me a long look, one dark eyebrow arched.
I try to reply with a witty quip, but my tongue tangles around itself and ends up making a goofy sound that’s somewhere between laughter and blowing a raspberry.
God, why am I being such a dork today? Most of the time, I can banter with the best of them, but there’s something about those deep, bright green eyes that throw me off my rhythm. Christ, am I fated to forever behave like an idiot around this man?
*
When I get home, I soak in the claw foot bath for forty minutes, almost falling to sleep in the sweet-scented bubbles. This bathroom is smaller than the luxe, white and gold affair I had back in my old townhouse, and it doesn’t boast a shower, just an attachment that’s awkward to handle, but in my opinion, it’s much homier. The walls are lined with floral patterned tiles and though the grout is cracked and in need of repair in places, it’s utterly charming. The small, round window is certainly not double-glazed, but it’s adorable, especially compared to the soulless look of PCV. And the floor - real hardwood floorboards! Nothing like the glossy laminate the townhouse was paved in, I always thought the false wood grain looked a little too perfect. The flaws in the oak beneath my feet are what makes it unique.
After patting myself dry, I pad along to the bedroom and slip into a pair of fresh pyjamas. Crossed-legged on the bed, I reach for my journal resting on the bedside table and begin writing.
Dear Diary,
We’re making real progress with the lost garden now, Shaun reckons we’ll be able to plant some flowers next time! When he asked me my favourite one, I didn’t know what to say, but he claims he’s going to surprise me …
I don’t know for sure, but I think something happened to his brother. We got to talking about families, and there was a brief mention of a sibling, but then he just clammed up. I wonder if he has anyone to talk to about this kind of stuff … if it can’t be me, then I just hope he has someone .
Still no closer to discovering what happened to Rosemary, nor are we any closer to finding out the identity of the man in the portrait. Shaun promised he would speak to Maude Hanson next week when he mows her lawn, so hopefully that will shed some light on the whole mystery.
There’s been no sign of Rosemary’s journal key either, despite the fact I check the shed’s cabinet whenever I’m in the garden. I seem to find something new in there every time, but never that damn key.
I’ll keep you posted on any more updates.
Ruth x
There’s something wonderfully self-indulgent about writing in my journal, reflecting on my day and what I’m feeling. As I flick through the few pages I’ve filled, I can’t help but notice Shaun makes an appearance in almost every one.
A prickle of heat trails along my spine, like a finger made of flames. Well, why wouldn’t he be in there? We’ve been working side by side for weeks on the garden, it makes sense that he would get a mention or two. Still, I can’t deny that the contents of the entries are of a more intimate and inquisitive nature than simple recordings of the day, and the thoughts I’ve had about Shaun go beyond the kind one might have of a casual acquaintance.
With a satisfying snap, I close the journal and place it back on the bedside table next to the sea-green lamp, which I quickly switch off. I burrow my head under the blankets, trying to hide from my intrusive emotions. This is ridiculous, he’s just a gardener I hired to help me out, there’s no need to get all moony and silly over a cut-and-dry business transaction. Besides that, I’m getting divorced, I’m all broken and wounded, I’m not fit to be around humans yet!
Groaning, I toss and turn in the sheets, kneading my temples hard until it hurts. Something tells me I’m in for a long, restless night.