Chapter 17
Gemma’s first thought of the day was that she must not cry and now, two hours later, she was still urging the tears to stay away.
It was her birthday. It should be a good day…
it could be a good day as long as she let it be, and tried not to think about it too hard.
Because it was also her mother’s special day, the one they shared between them, and the one she had been dreading the arrival of for weeks.
She had planned to spend the day in Flora’s garden – everybody else called it her garden, but Gemma would always think of it as Flora’s – and although, at first, Ashley had planned to be with her, she had messaged the night before to say that something had come up and she could no longer make it.
On the one hand, that was disappointing.
Ashley was good company and her cheerful chatter would almost certainly have helped with the way Gemma was feeling.
But on the other, the thought of solitude was also appealing.
There was comfort in being able to let her guard down, to feel whatever she was feeling without the need to hide it from others.
She had done forced jollity to death over the years.
So it was with the resolution to let the day be whatever it wanted to be that Gemma headed out.
With the pathways which divided the garden into quadrants now fully uncovered, she had begun to clear the beds which lay on either side of them.
It was painstaking work. If anything had survived of Flora’s planting then it would be a miracle, but it would also be delicate, tentative shoots struggling towards the light against the mass of vegetation which covered it.
It would be so easy to rip out new shoots along with the old, to think they were just as unwanted as the rest. Only the strongest things had gained mastery over the garden: the thickest stems, the hardiest plants, those with an invasive nature.
It was time to let the weaker elements have their moment, if she could find them.
The nettles were the worst, along with the ever present brambles. They sent down huge networks of roots which had sprawled in all directions, deep and unyielding. And leave one little piece behind and more growth would spring up, overpowering whatever might be beneath it.
Her hair was not dissimilar from the weeds, growing in length, her natural curls springing to life now they were no longer being ruthlessly cut away.
She tucked it back behind her ears, and peering closer at the patch of soil she had uncovered, picked up the small hand fork she was using.
In her back pocket was a list of the plants which Flora had grown here, and every now and again she pulled it out to study it, trying to bring to mind everything she knew about each of them, particularly the shape of the leaves.
She paused, scrutinising the fledgling plants in front of her, the palmate design, with almost feathered edges.
Larkspur? No… Her heart quickened. Delphinium, she was sure of it.
She sat back on her haunches. Could they really have been here all this time?
Every year sending out new shoots in the hope that they would reach maturity, and every year beaten back by the thicket of brambles? Well, not this year.
Gemma worked as quickly as she could, pulling at anything which wasn’t one of her beloved flowers.
Some of the plants were tiny, only just pushing their heads from beneath the soil, whereas others were a few inches taller, but by the time half an hour had passed, she had uncovered a patch of them.
Now all she had to do was wait, because the best bit was yet to come, and she hugged the thought to her.
Would they be darkest purple, or a rich royal blue?
Palest lilac, or pearlescent pink? Vibrant magenta or blushing coral?
Only time would tell. And time knew no boundaries out here.
A single year or fifty, it made no difference; the circle of life continued.
A sudden sob rose swiftly in her throat, spilling tears down her cheeks and catching her unawares. How her mum would have loved to see them. Delphiniums were one of her favourite flowers too.
She didn’t hear the movement behind her, only felt the dog’s presence when it pushed a gentle nose under her arm.
It pushed again, asking to be let under, and she lifted it wide, allowing him to come closer.
She sat back, unfurling her legs from underneath her so she could sit cross-legged, knowing that the moment she did so Mulligan would be in her lap, no matter his size.
He sat facing forward, pressing the warmth of his back against her chest, but twisting his head so that his nose was inches from her own, his soft eyes on hers.
He was watching her, waiting for her signal, every inch of him wanting to offer comfort but only if she allowed it.
Whether it was some softening of her expression, or a slight adjustment in her posture, she didn’t know, but the moment she thought about throwing her arms around him, he pushed his body harder against her, his broad head nuzzling her chin, catching her teardrops as they fell.
She burrowed her face in his fur and curled her fingers into its soft depths.
And she let herself cry. For all that had gone, but also for all that she had found.
Her mum would have loved this garden, entranced by the thought of it just as Gemma was, and now she had another reason to finish what she had started.
Eventually, the sounds of the garden returned to her – the sharp warble of a robin close by, leading the birdsong which surrounded her, and the sound of a plane droning far in the distance.
She lifted her head, aware that another feeling was growing inside of her, replacing her thoughts of loss with those of hope, and she could feel it buoying her up so that she was no longer drowning, but swimming.
‘Where’s your master, huh?’ She ruffled the fur on Mulligan’s head.
‘I expect he’s wondering where you are.’ She got slowly to her feet, hampered by the dog, who was reluctant to move, and turned around, scanning the garden and the area around the old farmhouse for any sign of Leo, but there was none.
‘Go on then, Mulligan, off you go…’ She raised her eyebrows at the dog but he was suddenly playing dumb.
‘Okay, then, but don’t get me into trouble, will you?
’ She swiped a hand across her cheeks, wiping away the last of her tears, and bent to pick up her fork. It was time to get cracking.
She worked solidly for almost three hours before a piercing whistle split the air, and Mulligan, who had been lying nearby, scrambled to his feet with a loud bark.
The whistle came again, at which point he shot off, scampering out of the garden at speed.
With a groan at her protesting back, Gemma straightened and checked her watch. It was lunchtime.
Tempting though it was to carry on working, Gemma knew that if she did so she’d never make it through until dinner, so she scooped up the piece of cardboard she’d been using as a kneeler, together with the fork, and made her way slowly back to the house.
She could see Leo ahead of her as she rounded the corner of the farmhouse, Mulligan bouncing by his side, but the moment her feet sounded on the flagstones in the yard, the dog turned on his heels and hurtled back towards her.
Much to her chagrin, and despite her efforts to convince him to do otherwise, Mulligan glued himself to her side the rest of the way home.
Not surprisingly, Leo was waiting for her by the door with a smirk on his lips.
‘Seems I’ve been thrown over,’ he said, but his smile was warm.
‘He just appeared from nowhere, but…’ She had no idea whether Leo would have remembered her birthday or not.
And if he hadn’t remembered it was her birthday, he wouldn’t have remembered it was her mum’s either.
‘He’s been very good company,’ she finished, unable or unwilling to let Leo know quite how welcome Mulligan’s presence had been.
‘Well, you’re friends for life now,’ he said. ‘Have you had a good morning?’
Was there a slight edge to his voice? Some deeper meaning to his question than just the simple enquiry it appeared to be?
And despite her earlier tears, she could feel her face lighting up in response.
‘I did… I found some delphiniums, would you believe? Teeny-tiny things, quite buried. They’ll probably be leggy and might not even flower, but they’re there all the same and I…
’ She trailed off, unable to get the words past her throat.
‘I’m amazed I’ve actually found anything. ’
Leo looked past her, over her shoulder, as if he was able to see the garden from where he was standing. ‘Will you show me? Later? I’d like to see them. And I will come and help again. I’ve been meaning to, it’s just that Rowan and I… There’s so much to do, and we—’
‘Leo, you have your own work here, I know that. I don’t expect you to help, and Ashley would have been here today only she had to cancel at the last minute.
It’s lovely to finally find the proof that the garden was here, and even lovelier to uncover some of the plants, but I’m under no illusion that the garden is going to magically transform.
It won’t be this year. It might not be next year either, but that’s gardening for you.
If you’re looking for fast results then you probably ought not to be a gardener. ’
‘So you see yourself staying then?’
The question came so out of the blue that Gemma blinked in surprise. She was talking metaphorically more than anything, not suggesting for one minute that it would be her who would finish the garden but… who knew what the rest of the year would bring, let alone the one after that?