Chapter Eighteen
It was hard saying goodbye to Preet on Sunday night, harder than I imagined it would be.
Our weekend in Lily Vale has been such a blast, and by the end of it, I could tell she loved this place just as much as I’ve grown to. She was supposed to sleep in the spare bedroom, but we ended up conking out on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a melted pot of strawberry ice cream between us, embodying teenagers trying to stay up all night at a slumber party.
Now, it’s Monday, and I’m spending the morning working on the final illustrations for Jimmy’s Red Balloon , but to say I’m distracted would be putting it lightly. Every five minutes, I check the time on my laptop screen, counting the seconds until lunchtime. I just hope Maude hasn’t had a change of heart about our little meeting and will agree to open the door to me.
As noon tiptoes nearer, I fiddle with my mobile, considering whether I should invite Shaun along. Maude insisted that I come alone, but he and I have been solving this mystery together, it would feel wrong to leave him out of it.
Before I can hesitate, I search through my contacts and call his number, my palm sweating as I hold the phone up to my ear. It rings out for half a minute before automatically disconnecting. No answer. My chest clenches painfully. Perhaps he’s just busy … or perhaps he’s avoiding me.
Either way, there’s no time to lament over the ifs and whys, I’m on a mission today, and it looks as though it’s time to get going.
Even though everywhere is walkable in Lily Vale, I punch the address into my car’s sat-nav, just so I don’t get lost. Within minutes, I’m pulling up outside a row of well-maintained terrace houses.
Number Six, there it is, the one with all the wind chimes.
I rap my knuckles on the door three times, and after a few moments, it opens just a smidge, allowing Maude to peek out.
‘Ah, it’s you.’ She clucks her tongue, then opens the door wider. ‘You best come in, then. Quickly.’
Her home certainly doesn’t look like it belongs to a super spy, in fact, it’s just like any other with its beige soft furnishings and tasteful patterned wallpaper in muted shades of mauve and teal. I take a seat on the comfortable sofa and she offers me tea in a floral china cup.
She plops down on the matching armchair, eyeing me warily. ‘You found the garden then, did you?’
I nod. ‘Shaun and I have taken it on as a sort of project, you should see what we’ve done so far.’
‘I … I’d love to.’
Her response surprises me, it’s the first time she’s shown any sort of emotion other than suspicion or mild disdain. A terse quiet settles over the living room and I clear my throat, eager to get back on track.
‘So, you were her housekeeper.’
Maude gives a slow, hesitant nod. ‘For five years. I started when I was seventeen, she was a good boss, very fair to me. But she was extremely private and reclusive, rarely inviting anyone into her home unless it was unavoidable. I was only permitted to come on Tuesdays and Thursdays, specifically never Wednesdays, that was a hard rule for her. And I never once broke it, until …’
Her voice trails away and she casts her gaze down to her lap. I lean forward, closing the distance between us.
‘Until?’ I prompt gently.
‘Until one summer afternoon. I’d forgotten my handbag the previous day cleaning. Silly, really, I could have waited to grab it, but I had a date with Timothy Stanton, and my favourite red lipstick was in there.’ Her soft brown eyes crinkle as she smiles at the memory. ‘I knew she kept the kitchen door open most days, so I climbed over the fence into the back garden and slipped inside. I knew where the bag was, in the drawing room, but when I crept up to the door, I heard voices.’
‘Voices?’ My curiosity climbs. ‘As in plural?’
Guiltily, Maude nods. ‘I couldn’t resist peeping through the keyhole, though I knew it was wrong to do so. And that’s when I saw her with him.’
‘R.C.’
She pales and stares at me in horror. ‘How do you know that?’
I ignore her question and ask one of my own. ‘Who was he?’
‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’ Maude stands up and shoos me her arms. ‘It isn’t fair. Rosemary isn’t here to defend herself from this … this scrutiny.’
‘Do you know where she is?’ Undeterred, I continue to grill. ‘Do you know why she left?’
‘I told you, I will not entertain this silly investigation of yours any longer!’ Her voice raising, she storms to the door and opens it wide. ‘Would you please leave now?’
I push myself up from the sofa and do as she asks, dejectedly traipsing out onto the street.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you so.’ I glance back over my shoulder to apologise. ‘It’s just … well, I feel like I know Rosemary, and I just want to find out what happened to her.’
‘Nothing happened to her.’ Maude purses her lips and begins to close the door. ‘Goodbye, Ruth.’
Alone with only the tinkling of the wind chimes to keep me company, I conclude that it would be unwise to stick around, and hop back into my car, unsure what to do next. I switch on the radio to quiet my mind, but it’s reeling from the secrets Maude spilt - and yet, there was still so much left unsaid. Perhaps if I hadn’t pushed her so far, I’d now know the identity of the mysterious R.C. and be one step closer to finding out what happened when Rosemary disappeared from Lily Vale that faithful day.
When I check my phone, I’m dismayed that I’ve received no messages, no missed calls, nothing. Surely Shaun would have had his lunch break by now, its well past time. I guess he really is ignoring me. Teeth gritted, I throw my mobile into the back seat and start the car. Well, that’s just fine, because I’m ignoring him too.
I park up on the side of a country road near the Heather Hills and though I’m hardly dressed for the trek, that’s never stopped me before. I clamber over the stile, nodding an awkward hello to a dog walker, and take the now well-worn journey to Rosemary’s garden.
These woods were so dense and frightening when I first wandered into them, but now I know them like the back of my hand. Still, I can see why no one has stumbled across the garden until now, you have to journey quite far in and take a whole lot of twists and turns to find your way out to that specific clearing. It was just utter chance that I happened upon it.
Before long, I’m out in the open, standing before those familiar ivy-covered walls. As I push open the creaky gate and step inside, I clap a hand over my mouth. The garden … it looks incredible .
The tangled weeds that once plagued every inch are gone, and yet, there’s still an untamed quality to this place, just as I wished. The swing has been fixed, secured with a brand new knotted rope that feels sturdy and safe. The air hums with the tune of birdsong and bees, and now that the roses and marigolds are free to bloom without choking weeds, perhaps more wildlife will flock here soon. Part of the wall is still in need of repair and the arbour is still cracked, but it hardly matters, not when everything surrounding it is so lush and green and alive.
And right where Shaun mapped out the flowerbeds stand rows and rows of crimson poppies. I get down on bended knee, admiring the beautiful flowers up close. My fingers brush the delicate petals and warmth permeates through my chest. He said he would surprise me, and he certainly has.
I wonder if poppies are his favourite flower, because I think they might be mine now.