Chapter Sixteen
I toss bits of stale bread into the water, sending the flock of ducks scrambling and bickering for a precious morsel.
The park is quiet this morning, I’ve seen a group of mums with their prams amble by and a couple of runners out for a jog, but apart from that, it’s just me and the ducks. Putting the bag of bread beside me on the bench, I open my sketchbook.
First, I etch in a rough outline of the pond and the ducks, then I begin to draw in details such as the reeds and long grasses. Of course, I take a little creative license, adding a few lily pads and a friendly little frog who perches upon one, and then it’s time for the stylization. My illustrations are not exactly cartoon-like, but you couldn’t lump them in with realism art, either. I’d say my style is somewhere in between the two, and I always use a dreamy, vibrant colour palette that really allows each subject to pop.
When I’m all done, I hold the sketchbook before me, appraising my work. It will fit perfectly into the part of Jimmy’s Red Balloon when he happens upon a family of ducks and asks them if they’ve seen his treasured balloon. I should be feeling accomplished, and I am, but there’s a heaviness weighing down on my chest, anchoring me to my anxieties.
Yesterday has left me with even more questions, and I’ve no idea how to go about getting answers. One thing is for sure, Maude Hanson definitely has something to hide, I mean, why else would she rush off like that? She knew I was sniffing around for clues, she might have told Shaun she knew nothing about the garden, but she’s obviously covering something up. Does she know what happened to Rosemary? Maybe there’s a reason she’s trying to conceal the truth, a nefarious reason.
Though the mystery of Maude and her secrets is troubling me, truth be told, my last interaction with Shaun is what’s bothered me the most. Everything was fine, we were having a good time, I actually felt him open up … and then off he went, with no explanation.
I did think about texting him to see if he was alright, but the more I mulled it over, the more stubborn I grew. Why should I reach out? He was the one who dashed off, leaving me alone on the dance floor baffled and bewildered. So I’m waiting it out, seeing if he’ll call or message me. It’s only been a day, and yet, I’m irritated that I’ve heard nothing from him. We’ve still got a ways to go on our garden project, so one of us will have to break the silence soon enough, but I’m adamant that it won’t be me.
Rrrrring! Rrrrring!
My heart leaps into my throat at the insistent trill of my mobile phone. Could that be him now? Keenly, I grab it from my bag. Okay, it’s not Shaun, but when I see whose name has flashed up on the screen, my spirits lift in an instant.
‘Preet!’ I beam wide as I answer the call.
‘Hey, girl!’ My best mate’s larger-than-life energy radiates over the phone waves and it feels like the hug I so desperately need. ‘Guess what? I’m back in Blighty, which obviously means we need to catch up!’
‘We so do, so much has happened since you’ve been away.’
Well, that’s an understatement. I don’t even know where I’d begin to explain all the crazy changes I’ve had to deal with this last month.
‘So, are you at your folk’s house now? Or did you find a flat or something?’
Ah, I guess I should start with the obvious.
‘Actually, I found somewhere.’ I nibble at the skin around my thumbnail. ‘It’s a cottage. In Lily Vale.’
‘Where?’
I gulp, my voice lowering to mouse-squeak levels. ‘It’s this small village … about one hundred and twenty miles away from Surrey.’
I was expecting a big reaction, what I didn’t expect was for Preet to literally scream down the phone.
‘What?!’ she cries, my ear drum all but bursting. ‘I’m sorry, you’re one hundred and twenty miles away from home?’
I shrug. ‘Give or take.’
‘How the hell did that happen?’
I dither with my response, realising just how mental it all sounds to an outsider. I mean, I knew it was a wild decision, but saying it out loud makes me truly start to question my sanity.
‘A friend of a friend had a cottage to rent, so I took the offer.’ I let loose a hard, trembling sigh. ‘I needed to get away, Preet. I couldn’t be around all the things that reminded me of … of him , you know? I needed to leave, at least for a while.’
It’s so silent, I wonder whether she might have hung up. But then I hear her mirror my sigh.
‘I get it, Ruth. It’s just … well, it’s a shock. You could have messaged me, you know!’
‘I know,’ I giggle weakly. ‘Sorry. But if you don’t mind the travel, I’d love to show you around the village. It’s such a cute place, Preet, you’d love it.’
‘Hey, travel’s no issue for me, babe, you know that!’ she laughs. ‘Alright, you’re on! Free this weekend?’
‘For you? Always.’
‘Then it’s a date. Text me the address and I’ll make the arrangements. Oh, can I stop over?’
‘Of course! Though the spare bedroom isn’t very big, I’m afraid.’
‘Eh, I only need it to sleep in, it’ll be fine. Listen, I’ve got to dash, but I’m so excited to see you! Even if you are in the back end of nowhere.’
‘Me too.’ A ray of sunshine washes me in its golden warmth, and I picture my friend’s grinning face before me. ‘See you then.’
*
That evening, I tuck myself into bed with a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits, settling down for some nighttime reading. Rosemary’s journal is every bit as interesting as any novel, and each page grips me with tales of her art, her musings over life in the village and of course, the elusive R.C.
Captivating though it is, the diary still hasn’t got me any closer to uncovering the secrets she left behind more than three decades ago. Tonight’s entry, however, proves to be particularly illuminating:
Dear Diary,
I’m so overjoyed, I’m close to tears. R.C. gave me the most wonderful gift today - the gift of a garden!
He led me along the Heather Hills, took me far into the woods and when we reached the clearing on the other side, I was puzzled to see a wall with an ivory gate at its centre. R.C. just smiled and passed me an ornate key.
‘Try the lock, my dear,’ he said, so I did. Inside, was the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen. ‘I wanted you to have your own special place to paint.’
It is the most tranquil, wonderful place, blooming with flowers of all kinds and even fruit to forage. There’s a huge cherry tree at its centre which I suspect is why R.C. picked this plot - he knows how much I love cherries.
It is truly the sweetest gesture, and I fall deeper and deeper every passing day. I know it’s dangerous, but my heart is weak. Surely today he has shown how much he cares for me, surely now he will let it be known to the world.
I can only hope … it seems I live for hope these days.
Rosemary.
Mouth agape, I slowly close the book as my mind attempts to process what I just read.
So the lost garden was a gift from R.C.
Right, there’s no doubt in my mind now - there was clearly something going on between those two beyond simple friendship. If only I could figure out just who he is, he might know what happened to Rosemary.
Or maybe … maybe he had a hand in her disappearance?
I wrap the blankets tight around myself, hugging my knees to my chest. She’s mentioned multiple times that it’s unwise - dangerous - to get involved with him, what if he did something that caused her disappearance? A cold shiver creeps over my shoulders like a spider made of ice. Perhaps that’s why Maude doesn’t want to talk to me, could dredging up the past put her in harm’s way too? From the journal entries, I get the impression that R.C was a powerful man, if he’s still around, it’s possible he could wield that power to deal with pesky investigators that attempt to shed light on Rosemary and her garden …
With a nervous titter, I shake my head and stuff the diary into my bedside drawer. I’m being silly, working myself up over literally nothing. There’s no evidence to suggest anything terrible happened to Rosemary, or that R.C. was even involved.
Still, I just can’t shake the feeling that whoever he is, he’s a key part of the mystery.