Epilogue
Two Months Later …
I swipe a grubby hand across my perspiring forehead, likely smearing it with dirt in the process. You can’t half tell that summer is here now - for starters, it’s boiling hot - but the real telltale sign is Rosemary’s garden. It’s absolutely bursting with flowers that perfume the warm air and all the fruit bushes are bearing their precious, sweet jewels - the wild strawberries truly are to die for!
Noticing that I’ve turned into a sticky sweat-ball under the sun, Shaun tosses me a bottle of water.
‘Thanks,’ I beam at him before taking a swig. ‘Think it’s deep enough yet?’
Shaun peers at the hole I’ve been digging for a moment. ‘Nearly, just a bit more. We want to make sure the roots have plenty of room to delve down.’
I throw him a salute. ‘Right, you are, Captain!’
It’s gruelling work, digging and heaving soil in this weather, but it’s ever so rewarding. Shaun and I end up here in the garden almost every weekend - and often during the week, too. Although the restoration project is complete (I was starting to think we’d never get to Phase Four!), the maintenance of this place is brutal, but luckily, we’re never short of helping hands. The lost garden is no longer lost, in fact, it’s sort of become the community's oasis. It’s not rare to find Victor or Bill up here with a trowel, tending to the flowerbeds, and yet, it’s never overrun with folk. It still feels like the refuge it was when I first found it, except now, everyone is free to enjoy its magic and beauty.
It’s been a funny couple of months - a total whirlwind of emotion that’s gradually calmed and now, I know I’m where I’m meant to be. The cottage is beginning to feel more like mine - I hung some of my art pieces around the place (along with an oil painting that Rosemary gifted me) and I finally plucked up the courage to go through the monolith of cardboard boxes I’ve been ignoring since I arrived. And honestly, I don’t know what all the fuss was about - they didn’t contain the power to drag me back into depression - no, just simple, boring reminders of a time when I was married. No biggie, in fact, most of it was junk that I ended up donating. With the boxes gone and the house finally clear, that heavy weight on my shoulders is gone.
My life back in Surrey is a distant memory, one I’m honestly struggling to remember at times. Things are so different now. I’ve invited my parents to come down to Lily Vale soon, and though they weren’t thrilled that I’ve decided to settle so far away from them, I’m certain they’ll come around the moment they step foot into the village. I think they’re worried that I’m still pining over Nathan, though the thought of that is laughable now. Grinning, I glance over at Shaun, my cheeks glowing pink. I can’t wait for them to meet him.
I’m still in touch with Rosemary - we did exchange numbers, but we’ve found that we both prefer the lost art of letter writing. There’s something quite ceremonial about putting pen to paper and picking out the most important morsels of information to include from your life. So far, I’ve written to her twice, and she’s sent me tons of pictures of her gallery, insisting that Shaun and I come and visit sometime, perhaps this autumn.
Shaun comes close, the intoxicating aroma of salty skin and earth surrounding him as he inspects the hole.
‘That looks good to me, let’s go for it.’
Together, we lower the dainty orange tree into the ground, making sure it’s straight and secure. Then we carefully fill in the soil, taking time to pat it down smooth and flat. Once it’s in the ground, we take a step back to admire it.
‘What do you think?’ Head resting on Shaun’s shoulder, I thread my arm through his.
He hitches a breath and braves a sweet smile. ‘It’s perfect. Oranges were Lee’s favourite fruit, and colour, actually.’
My vision blurs with bittersweet tears. ‘It’s such a lovely memorial for him, Shaun. I bet he’s looking down right now, waiting for us to get lost so he can sample one of those delicious oranges.’ I produce a golden plaque from my handbag. ‘Would you like to do the honours?’
With a brisk nod, Shaun takes it and sticks the spike into the ground, just in front of the delicate tree. It gleams and glimmers in the dappled sun, its embossed lettering catching in the light:
In Loving Memory of Lee Henley - beloved son, brother and friend.
Hand in hand, Shaun and I take a stroll around the garden, breathing in the lush sights and smells of nature.
‘I can’t believe I ended up here,’ I muse aloud. ‘I never imagined my life turning out this way. I thought I’d be married, have kids and stay in the suburbs forever. I thought that was what I wanted.’
‘And now?’ Shaun asks, the whisper of a smirk playing on his lips.
We pause beneath the freshly repaired arbour, standing face to face.
‘And now, I just want to take each day as it comes. It’s kind of exciting, having a winding path of mystery before me, instead of one that was mapped out to the letter.’
‘Oh no, not more mysteries!’ Shaun feigns a groan. ‘Aren’t we done with those?’
‘Well, there’s one thing I know for sure about the future.’ I clasp my hands at the nape of his neck and hold his gaze. ‘I’m going to be sticking around here for a very long time. Think you can handle that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Teasing, he leans in, his nose brushing mine. ‘Do I get a moment to think it over?’
Clucking my tongue, I make to playfully shove him away but before I can, he grabs me by the hand and pulls me to his mouth, softly at first, but he grows more urgent as the heat climbs. As it always does when he kisses me, the world falls away, leaving only the burning desire and electric passion between us.
It’s funny, when I arrived in Lily Vale, I was lost, adrift on an ocean of uncertainty. Then I found this garden, put roots down and together, Shaun and I have begun to thrive and grow, side by side.
Everything has changed now, I’m not the docile, long-suffering wife I once was. No, I’m an artist, a nature lover and the girlfriend of the grumpiest yet sweetest gardener in all the world.
Just like this garden, I’ll never be lost again.
THE END