Summer Season (28 page)

Joel had taken Sam to pick up his mum for lunch at his house, as he was keen to show her how the garden had progressed. He was intrigued by the letters he and Kezzie had found and wondered if his mother could shed more light on them.

‘I’ve never seen any of this before,’ his mother said, as she read through them. ‘But Connie always kept things close to her chest. I had no idea she’d hidden all this stuff away. I presume it was her; everything’s labelled in her writing. And from what I remember of her, she did rather see herself as the guardian of the family honour. Mother always said there were hidden secrets here.’

‘I wonder why she didn’t destroy all this, then,’ said Joel.

‘She was very close to her father,’ said Mum. ‘Perhaps she couldn’t bear to.’

‘So what actually happened to Lily? How did she die?’

‘Well, I know she drowned, but apart from that nothing. There was always some great secret about her death. Everyone referred to her in hushed tones, if at all.’

‘What about Edward? What happened to him after wards?’

‘I think he became quite reclusive,’ said his mother. ‘He locked up the garden and retired from public life. He came to stay with us sometimes and we visited a few times, when Connie was out, because Connie refused to have anything
to do with either my mother or my grandparents. She was never keen for us to come.’

‘I’m guessing it’s because Tilly went off with her fiancé?’ said Joel, who’d read it in Edward’s diary.

‘Is that what happened?’ said his mother. ‘That would explain so much. Again, it was never discussed. I knew there was a great divide of course, but not why. My mother always tried to make it up to Connie, but Connie wouldn’t have it, and hated us coming to see Edward. I remember once almost sneaking in to see him. And Mother insisting on taking him into the garden, because Connie always kept it locked up. I picked a bunch of pansies for him and gave it to him. I was probably three or four years old. I remember it so clearly because he cried, poor man. I suppose he was thinking of Lily.’

‘That’s sad,’ said Kezzie, who had joined them for lunch. ‘Do you think he ever got over her death?’

‘From what my mother said, no.’

‘What about Connie and Tilly? What happened there?’

‘Well, they never made up, and then Tilly died not long after the Second World War,’ said Joel’s mum. ‘Connie married Uncle Phillip sometime in the twenties, but it wasn’t a happy union, and their son Jack was very isolated. My mother saw him only rarely. Connie was quite scary and bitter, from what I remember of her.’

‘The plot thickens,’ said Kezzie. ‘I feel quite sorry for Connie. She lost her first fiancé, then it looks like her sister stole her second. No wonder she was bitter.’

‘She softened a little in her old age,’ said Joel’s mum. ‘I think she liked the fact that I’d formed a bond, however small, with her father. And though she was never keen to have Mother in the house, I did visit her here quite often, when she was a very old woman, and I think she almost liked me in the end.’

The sun was streaming through the trees and Joel was keen
to show his mother the work Kezzie had done in the garden. The box, ivy and rosemary were thickening nicely, delineating the curve of the heart shapes clearly, and the flowers that Kezzie had planted in each of the corners were blooming beautifully. The smell of the hollyhocks and sweet peas which were an inspired late addition to the design, climbed the wall at the back of the flowerbeds, filling the air with their rich scents, and the roses in the centre bowed slowly in the breeze.

‘But it’s magnificent,’ said Joel’s mum, clapping her hands with delight. ‘It was still just about being tended to when I was here as a child, but I’ve never seen it looking as good as this. Well done, Kezzie.’

‘Thanks,’ said Kezzie shyly.

‘I think you’ve proved you’re worthy of entry to Chelsea now,’ said Joel.

‘Yeah, well, maybe,’ said Kezzie, but she looked pleased.

‘We’ll go to the Memorial Gardens after lunch,’ said Joel, ‘and show you how we’ve got on there.’

They sat out on the patio in the sunshine eating their lunch, with Sam wandering about, looking out over the Downs. Wood pigeons cooed in the trees, and a warm breeze wafted by. It was most idyllic, and Joel sat back and relaxed, feeling pretty content with life.

After lunch they decamped into the car, Joel’s mum not being able to walk that far, and again she was full of praise for what Kezzie had done.

‘It’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘I’m so impressed with what you’ve achieved. So when’s the great re-opening?’

‘At the Summer Fest in two weeks’ time,’ said Joel. ‘There are several other gardens opening up in the area, and someone from the RHS is coming to judge them. I hope you’ll be there.’

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ said his mum.

Lauren had had a lovely, lazy morning with the girls, but they were getting restless, so she decided to take them to the park. They seemed to have adapted pretty quickly to Troy’s disappearance from the cottage. He had managed to see them a couple of times, but the girls reported that his rented room smelt ‘stinky’, and Izzie let slip that he’d smoked when Lauren had been out, and ‘we didn’t like it, Mummy,’ so Lauren concluded they weren’t too traumatized by recent events. They clearly missed the fun side of their dad, but his quick, volatile temper, and ability to get bored with them quickly, was enough to worry them; they seemed easier now he wasn’t there. Lauren had to admit life was less fraught. She hadn’t realized till Troy had left she had been tiptoeing around him much of the time, fitting in with things the way he wanted them. That was no way to live your life or have a relationship.

‘Come on, let’s go and play Pooh sticks by the stream,’ said Lauren.

‘Yeah!’ said Izzie.

‘Yeah! Yeah!’ said Immie, and the three of them set off halfway down the hill into Heartsease, to the bridge which spanned the little brook that ran out of the town and fed into the wider stream that ran at the fields at the bottom of Joel’s house.

It was baking hot again – this summer seemed to be endlessly sunny – and the children soon ran out of steam, so Lauren let them have ice creams along the way.

Eventually they got to the bridge over the little stream, which was looking distinctly dry and stagnant. There was a light breeze, but it wasn’t enough to affect the sluggish current, so the girls’ sticks didn’t get far.

‘Mine’s stuck,’ wailed Izzie.

‘Mine’s not.’ Immie gleefully pointed out that hers was moving at a gentle pace under the bridge.

‘I won! I won!’ said Immie.

‘Not fair,’ pouted Izzie.

‘Come on, don’t fight,’ said Lauren. ‘Let’s have another go.’

But the girls had got bored.

‘Can we go to the playground?’ they said.

‘No problem,’ said Lauren, though she rather felt as if she might wilt by the time she got there. Lauren followed them as they ran the rest of the way into Heartsease. Troy had been a huge mistake. But the girls hadn’t been. They were the one good thing he’d left her with. What would her life be without them?

As she came to the playground she saw Joel and Sam. She stepped forward to say hello, and then paused. Kezzie was there, sitting on a bench with Joel’s mum, whom Lauren had met once or twice. They were deep in conversation and Joel came over to them with Sam bouncing on his shoulders. They looked for all the world like a happy family unit.

Lauren felt a sudden pang of – could it be? – jealousy? She thought back to all those weeks ago, when Joel had made his clumsy declaration of love. She’d rejected him then, sure that Troy was what she wanted. But recently she’d revised her opinion of Joel, and come to see him in a different light. He’d been so sweetly supportive of her when Izzie was ill, and she had begun to think of him with something more than affection. Although her feelings were complicated by a sense of guilt about Claire, and she had been wondering if she was right to let herself be attracted to him. He had seemed quite distant to her in the last few weeks, and now she could see why. Who could blame him? Kezzie was attractive, nice and fun. It looked like Lauren had blown her chances.

‘Time I was off,’ said Kezzie, laughing as Sam careered straight into her legs.

‘We’d better get going too,’ said Joel. ‘I’ve got to get Mum home before she turns into a pumpkin.’

‘It’s not quite
that
bad,’ said his mother, laughing. ‘But you’re right; I do need to get back home.’

They gathered up their things and left the gardens in high spirits. It was only as they turned out of the gate, and Kezzie glanced back once more to look at her creation, she thought she caught a glimpse of Lauren. How strange, why hadn’t she come to say hello?

If it was Lauren, she was too far away now, and Kezzie had a few things to do at home for the Edward Handford display.

Joel dropped Kezzie off and she went straight on to her laptop, importing images of the gardens Edward had designed for the rich and famous; the Lovelace Cottage knot garden then and now; family pictures, and a couple of photos of the war memorial.

She inputted the text that Eileen had written, with information provided by Kezzie.

Then she went through the latest lot of papers she’d taken from Joel’s house to see if there was anything she’d missed. It was then she found it. Picking up a book that had some of Lily’s sketches in, a piece of paper fluttered out. It was a letter from Lily to Edward.

Oh
no.
Kezzie felt a rush of horrified sympathy. Lily had committed suicide.
That
was the great family secret. Kezzie sat reading and rereading the letter in total shock. Poor, poor Lily, who had had to deal with so much, and ultimately been unable to cope. And poor Edward, left all alone without her.

She wondered if she should show the letter to Eileen. All the available information about Lily implied she’d drowned by accident, but this letter suggested otherwise. Kezzie frowned. She and Eileen had already decided that some of the more personal letters and diary entries weren’t suitable for public display; it wouldn’t be right to show this either. If Edward had covered up Lily’s suicide, who was she to reveal the truth? Let sleeping dogs lie, and let Lily have drowned in a tragic accident.

She’d just finished for the evening and emailed the document over to Eileen for her to check it over, when an email dropped into her tray.

Richard, here in Heartsease? Why did he suddenly want to see her now, after all this time? Her heart beat wildly. Maybe
he was prepared to forgive her after all? But his tone sounded so formal. And businesslike. He probably just wanted to get her to do some work for a friend. But then, why not say so? And why come all the way down here? Her head was in a flat spin. She couldn’t have him here. Not on the most important day of her working life.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. Should she have been a bit more friendly? Decisions, decisions.

‘Take the bull by the horns, Kez,’ she said. Then pressed send. Too late to change her mind now.

1919

Edward sat by Lily’s bedside, holding her hand.

‘I cannot believe it has been a year,’ she said. Her eyes were seeped with pain and her face looked gaunt. She had lost so much weight in the last year, but try as he might, Edward couldn’t get her to eat.

‘Harry wouldn’t have wanted us to grieve forever,’ he said. ‘And we aren’t the only family to suffer such a loss. We must look to the future and Tilly’s wedding.’

‘A wedding without her brother and sister?’ said Lily. ‘How can we look forward to that? Poor Connie, I thought
she and James would get married. Had I known what Tilly was doing, I would have made sure she was sent away.’

‘They’re young, they couldn’t help it,’ said Edward. Faced with the vision of his youngest daughter’s evident love for James, Edward had been unable to condemn the young lovers for long. ‘I’m sorry, too, for Connie, but there has been so much heartache, I cannot be sorry that James and Tilly have found happiness. In time, Connie will come to see it is better that she was not with someone who didn’t love her as she deserved.’

‘Do you think so?’ said Lily. ‘I don’t think Connie will ever forgive Tilly.’

Edward sighed. He feared that Lily was right. His eldest daughter was headstrong and stubborn, and she’d been besotted with James. Edward had been so happy that she had found someone after George. Neither he nor Lily had foreseen this. The garden he had built as a monument to love now seemed to be poisoned with despair.

He patted Lily’s hand and left her to go downstairs. On this, the eve of the anniversary of Harry’s death, he felt the need to stroll to the church and light a candle to his son’s memory. He left Lily sleeping, not intending to be long.

When he returned, the house was in darkness. The girl from the village who came to ‘do’ for them had long gone, Tilly was visiting James’ family, and Connie was working in a hospital in London, refusing to come home.

He called to Lily, but there was no reply. He went upstairs to their room and found it empty. Her white coat and galoshes were gone. By the bedside was a note. He read it with a growing sense of horror, and let out a howl of anguish when he realized what she intended.

No. No.
No
. He had often worried she might do something foolish, but never really believed it. Running through the house, calling her name, Edward thought frantically
about where she might have gone. Then he realized. It was obvious, she would have gone down to the river, where they had spent so many happy family times. He ran down to the riverbank calling her name in the wind. Then he saw her standing alone on the other side of the river, which was swollen with recent heavy rain.

‘Lily!’ he called over the wind and rain. ‘Lily, no!’

She turned. Had she heard him? Did she give just one last glance in his direction? He could never be sure. All he knew was that she cast herself in the river, and it bore her swiftly away.
There is a willow grows aslant a brook …
a line from Shakespeare came to him as he frantically tore up and down the the riverbank, but of Lily there was no sign.

It was three days before her body was discovered. Edward had walked the length of the riverbank searching for her – until finally he found her – her body finally at rest underneath the willow bank. In her hands she clutched a bunch of violets.

Edward took her body in his arms, and gently loosened the collar of her coat. She looked still and peaceful in death. Her skin was so cold and white, giving her an other-worldly air. Struggling with her body, he realized how heavy her coat was. Not just because it was sodden with water. She’d put heavy stones in her pocket. She’d never intended to come out of the water. It was, as he feared, a deliberate act. Frantically, he emptied her pockets. He could never tell anyone. No one must ever know. Everyone must think it was a tragic accident.

At her funeral Edward nodded, and accepted the gentle offers of condolence, agreed it was a tragedy, and was the image of a bereaved husband bearing his loss with dignity. Yet all the while a torrent swelled within him, as strong as the one that bore Lily away, as he raged at life, at love, at Lily, and the things he’d lost.