The Blue Rose (11 page)

Nearing Shaftesbury, on the A350, Kate caught sight of a road sign pointing to the village of Kingston Deverill. I wonder how
he's
doing she asked herself. She thought back to Kingston's last visit to The Parsonage. She smiled inwardly. It was no coincidence how he always managed to arrive at mealtimes – invariably staying for the rest of the day and evening, too. The limp excuse on his last visit for packing an overnight bag was that he planned to stay at the local, the George and Dragon. Of course, he ended up staying in their guest room.

That same evening, after dinner Kingston had launched into a long-winded reminiscing – mostly about his experiences in various far-flung outposts when he served as a captain in the army. Around ten thirty, Alex, who looked as though he might fall asleep any minute, finally excused himself, saying that he had to get up early the next morning. She and Kingston had continued talking, mostly about gardens. Another hour passed with Kingston showing no signs of tiredness. In need of a break, she asked if he'd like more coffee. The minute she did so, she regretted it. That'll keep him going for another couple of hours, she cursed to herself.

When she returned with the coffee, Kingston steered the conversation back to The Parsonage and Kate and Alex.

‘So, how did the two of you end up at the altar?' he asked out of the blue.

Kate was determined to make her answer as brief as possible. Now
her
eyes were starting to droop. Didn't he
ever
get tired?

‘Well, let me see,' she said rubbing her chin. ‘Alex told you how we met – all about the picnic.'

‘That's right.'

‘Well, for about six months after that I dated an army lieutenant. Coldstream Guards. James, his name was. He got an overseas posting, wanted me to go with him and I said no. The relationship would have fizzled out anyway. It wasn't going anywhere, not as far as I was concerned, at least. Nice chap, though.'

Kingston chuckled. ‘As they say, “Nice to the regiment, but rotten to the core.”'

She laughed and took a sip of the strong lukewarm coffee. ‘I must be boring you to tears, Lawrence,' she said with a faint smile. ‘You must be tired.'

‘No, I'm fine. You're not boring me at all. I find it all most interesting. Please, go on.'

Inwardly she groaned and managed to stifle a yawn just in time. ‘After that I didn't have a regular boyfriend,' she said. ‘The occasional date now and again but nothing serious. Then, by happenstance, I ran into Alex again. Of all places, at my shop in Bath.'

‘That must have been a surprise.'

‘It was, believe me. It was a Saturday. It was bucketing down that day.' Her eyes wandered off momentarily towards the windows, then back to Kingston. ‘I was in the back of the shop moving furniture, helping a customer get a better look at a large armoire. Suddenly, there was this awful sound of shattering glass. It sounded expensive. I went to the front to investigate. I was horrified to see a man there, sprawled on the floor. He was lying in a pool of broken crystal, the remains of eight of my Edwardian goblets. The smear of ice cream he had slipped on was clearly visible – the little boy who had dropped it had disappeared with his mother.'

‘He wasn't hurt or anything?'

‘No, only his vanity.'

Kingston smiled. ‘Poor bugger,' he chuckled.

‘When he looked up and I realized it was Alex, we both burst out laughing.'

‘That's hilarious, Kate.'

‘It really was. I still look upon it as divine intervention.'

‘Hope he offered to pay for the glasses.'

‘Absolutely. He left the shop a hundred and twenty pounds poorer, but not without talking me into a date for dinner the following weekend.'

‘So, when did the two of you finally get married?' Kingston asked.

‘It was about three months after the glasses episode. At a civil ceremony in Bath. I'm afraid I gave Alex conniptions – I dropped the ring and it rolled into a grating. It was another twenty minutes before the ceremony was able to continue.'

 

The rumble and buffeting of a passing truck jolted Kate back to the present.

She shifted in her seat to face Alex.

‘What are you smiling at?' he asked, glancing at her.

‘Oh, nothing in particular – mostly about Kingston. I wonder how he's doing?'

‘Who knows? Probably hot on the trail of the mysterious American by now.'

‘His own Professor Moriarty.'

Kate placed her hand on Alex's knee. ‘You know, we both kid about Kingston, but I sometimes wonder whether he knows a little more than he's telling.'

‘About what?'

‘That's the problem, I'm not sure. For one thing, I keep harking back to his not wanting us to take all the blooms off the rose as Adell suggested. Why would he object to that?'

‘I've no idea,' said Alex, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

‘It's when he talks about things like being watchful that I begin to get nervous. Isn't that what he said?'

‘Yes, I believe he did.'

‘Well, what does he mean by that? That we might be under surveillance? Followed?'

‘I certainly hope not. But with everything that's happening, who knows? When you think about the money involved, I suppose it's not entirely out of the question.'

‘I agree, but it seems out of character. Didn't you and Lawrence conclude that the American is a businessman of some kind?'

‘If you talked to him on the phone, you might not think so,' Alex countered.

‘Maybe Kingston's just overreacting. Next time we talk, I'll simply ask him if he's holding anything back.'

Nothing more was said for a couple of miles.

‘Roses,' Alex said, breaking the long silence.

She turned and peered at him over her sunglasses. ‘What about them?'

‘Are they as finicky as everybody makes out?'

‘No, not really,' said Kate, wondering where he was headed. ‘They've really had a lot of bad press over the years. Some modern hybrids are more susceptible to disease and insects, but as a genus the rose is a remarkably tough. Tougher than most, in fact.'

‘Good,' he said.

‘In fact,' Kate continued, ‘all over the world roses have survived, untended, for hundreds of years. I read, not too long ago, of a bunch of rose nuts in America who go traipsing about the countryside and backwater towns taking cuttings of old roses – most of them over a hundred years old.'

‘The rose nuts?'

Kate ignored the remark. ‘One of the more likely hunting grounds – or unlikely, depending on your point of view – is cemeteries. Not your everyday graveyards, but ones that have been abandoned or receive little care. The Texas Rose Rustlers, I think the group is called.'

‘Clever name.'

‘It is, isn't it? Often they can date the rose from the year on the neighbouring headstone.'

‘So is it reasonable to assume that a rose can be safely transplanted when it's in bloom?'

‘It's better to do it when it's dormant. But, yes, if you're careful and know what you're doing, it's fine.'

‘Well, then, let's move Sapphire to another garden. A secret location.'

Kate wound up her window and adjusted the barrette in her windblown hair. ‘Not a bad idea. I'm not sure–'

‘No, Kate, think about it for a moment. It may be the answer we've been looking for. If the rose is no longer in our garden, the next time these creeps contact us we can simply tell them to bugger off. Explain that we don't have it any more. There'll be no point in their snooping around our house or badgering us if they know the rose is gone. We won't even tell Adell where it's hidden. Remember he wanted to have it guarded? Now that won't be necessary. Only the two of us will know. Maybe we don't even tell Kingston. It'll take a lot of the pressure off. It's brilliant.'

‘So, who's going to take care of it in this secret location? It's got to be watered. You can't just go plop it in a field somewhere and forget about it.'

‘Kate, I realize that. I'm not a complete horticultural troglodyte.'

They drove in silent thought another mile or so. Deftly slipping the responsive Alfa into third gear, Alex slowed to negotiate a sharp bend in the road. On their right a collection of small buildings surrounding an old whitewashed barn came into view. Along the side of the barn was a gold-lettered sign on black background:
Pennyroyal Nursery
.

‘Yes, of course,' Kate said, suddenly. ‘Holly Hill Nursery – Vicky.'

‘What about her?' asked Alex.

‘She might know of a good hiding place.'

‘Good thinking, Kate. Why don't you call her tomorrow? I'm sure she'll be more than glad to help out – you two are like sisters.'

‘I will,' said Kate. ‘Then, if we can get Sapphire out of our garden, perhaps we can get our lives back to normal. Close to normal, anyway.'

Kate pulled the Trooper into the parking area at Holly Hill Nursery. She turned off the engine and, for a moment, sat in the car savouring the sight and smells. It had been a long time since she was last here and seeing Vicky again was going to be fun.

Next to their own precious gardens, and perhaps those of others, there is one other sight guaranteed to send gardeners into the state of benign delirium she now felt – and that is a nursery. Not a garden centre – those plant supermarkets with car parks the size of airfields and ghastly fluorescent lighting where, if you inquire about
Leptospermum
, an acned teenager will send you off to the local chemist's. A proper nursery is unpretentious. In a manner of speaking it is a kind of garden but the plants are all in containers and tubs. It's where names of trees, shrubs and perennials are handwritten on wooden markers. Where pyramids of compost and other organic matter attest that here is where the propagating and nurturing is done. It is a retreat for all the senses, not just the eye. Where overlapping aromas – earthy, cloying, pungent and perfumed – commingle with every step. A ready source when you want reliable answers to serious botanical questions. A place that you never leave empty-handed.

Holly Hill Nursery was such a place. Its discreet sign,
Holly Hill Herbs and Scented Plants
, suggested specialization. But the nursery was jam-packed with all kinds of plants, alphabetically displayed. Gardeners who journeyed to Holly Hill for the first time – and they came from several surrounding counties – were rewarded with a marvellous, added treat: an old walled herb garden. Within its boundaries, box hedging corralled a superb collection of old roses, scented shrubs, climbers, plants and, of course, herbs.

Most of the plants in Kate and Alex's old garden at Bath had been purchased at Holly Hill Nursery. At one time, Vicky Jamieson was visiting their garden so frequently with deliveries and free advice that Alex had nicknamed her ‘Sis'.

Kate got out of the Trooper, stretched, and started towards the entry gate. Passing through it, she immediately saw Vicky up the path, loading plants on to a trolley. ‘Vicky!' she shouted.

Vicky stopped and looked in her direction. Despite the distance between them Kate could see the look of surprise register on Vicky's face.

Vicky took off her gloves and walked over to greet Kate.

‘What a nice surprise,' she said, hugging Kate with unrestrained exuberance.

‘Careful, old girl, you're going to crack one of my ribs,' Kate giggled.

Vicky was an inch or so shorter than Kate. She was smoothly muscled and evenly tanned from years of working outdoors. Her features were unremarkable, save for apple-red cheeks that accentuated her ice-blue eyes. Her eyes always reminded Kate of the glass marbles she had played with as a schoolgirl.

Vicky stepped back and looked at Kate admiringly. ‘You're looking well, Kate. What brings you here on a Wednesday, then? Don't you still have a shop to look after?'

‘Still do, yes, but I do get a day off now and then, you know.'

‘How's Alex?' she asked, running her fingers through her short-cropped bleached hair.

‘He's fine. He's in his element with the house. I think I've been replaced as his first love.'

Their conversation was interrupted by a question from a grey-haired man inquiring about a certain strain of hellebore. Vicky answered his question and pointed to the far corner of the nursery where he would find what he was looking for.

‘Let's go over to the office, Kate. We can have a good old chat there without being bothered. There should be some cold drinks in the fridge, if you'd like one. Megan can take care of things out here for a while.'

‘That would be good, because there's something rather confidential I need to ask you about.'

Vicky frowned. ‘Sounds intriguing. Come on then,' she said.

Vicky kicked off her boots and leaned back in an old oak swivel chair with her feet resting on another chair. Kate sat across from her, separated by a wooden desk cluttered with papers and plant markers. She poured the Malvern mineral water into her glass.

‘So how's that fabulous garden of yours?' asked Vicky. ‘It must look absolutely gorgeous right now.'

‘It does. You really must come over and see it.' Her eyes searched Vicky's face. ‘Actually, that's one of the reasons I came down today, Vicky. To ask you something – well, really to tell you something…'

‘You sound a bit muddled. What is this “something”?'

‘Sorry, Vicky,' Kate said taking a sip of water. ‘Let me start again. Alex and I have made a strange – let's say a very important discovery in our garden.' She looked Vicky straight in the eyes, ready to register her reaction when she told Vicky what it was.

‘Well, don't keep me in suspense,' Vicky said. ‘What is it?'

‘It's a blue rose.'

‘You're having me on,' said Vicky. Then she put her head back and laughed.

‘It's not a joke, Vicky. I'm serious. We've got this blue rose in the garden. We discovered it several weeks ago.'

‘Blue – meaning purple?
Kind
of bluish?'

‘No, it's a
blue
rose –
really
blue. Sapphire – that kind of blue.'

‘There's no such thing, Kate. Nobody's ever been able to breed one.'

‘Well, we have. Or, I should say – somebody has.'

‘Jesus! You aren't kidding, are you?'

‘No, I'm not. Do you want to see it?'

Vicky's eyebrows shot up. ‘Do I want to see it? You must be bonkers. Of course I do. If it's what you're saying, this is an enormous discovery, Kate. When can I come over?'

‘Hold on a sec, there's more.' She took a quick sip of water. ‘First, you can't tell a soul about this. I mean it, Vicky. Strange things have been happening. Strange enough, in fact, that Alex and I have decided that we must get the rose out of our garden – and soon. Move it into hiding where nobody can find it – or steal it, for that matter. We were wondering if you would help?'

‘You don't need to ask, Kate. You know I will.'

‘You're a sweetheart. Alex and I would be rather nervous trying to transplant a rose the size of this one. I was wondering if you'd mind taking some cuttings for us too. I'm such a klutz at that sort of thing.'

‘No problem, Kate. Who else knows about this, then?'

‘Well, we thought it was just the four of us. The four being Alex, me, a chap named Kingston – he's a retired botany professor, interesting sort, I'll tell you all about him later – and our solicitor, Christopher Adell. But yesterday we had a letter from a Japanese man representing an international corporation who wants to buy the rose and just before that a phone call from a mysterious American who seems to know all about it, too. I know it sounds crazy but I'll give you the all the details when you come over. Can you make it tomorrow? The later in the day the better.'

‘How about right after I leave here? Say six fifteen – thereabouts.'

‘Perfect. I'll make an early supper?'

‘Super. I'll bring a bottle of plonk.'

‘As long as it's not Blue Nun,' Kate said, laughing.

 

At first Vicky was speechless. Like Kingston, she all but crawled around on her hands and knees to examine every inch of the rose. It was all Kate could do to drag her back to the house.

Alex opened the bottle of burgundy that Vicky had brought and poured three glasses. ‘Well,' said Vicky, raising her glass, ‘here's to Sapphire.' She took a modest sip and put her glass down. ‘I still can't believe it,' she said, shaking her head.

‘We've had time to become accustomed to it but it still gives me the creeps every time I look at it,' said Kate, with a mock shiver.

‘I'm not surprised,' said Vicky. ‘So tell me a bit more about this Kingston bloke. He sounds like quite a card.'

‘He is,' said Alex. ‘He's a Joker.'

‘Oh, come on, Alex,' Kate said reprovingly, ‘he's very nice – and very intelligent.'

Alex gave a little sigh. ‘I suppose he has given us sound advice so far and spent quite a lot of his time trying to be helpful, but you've got to admit, Kate, he is a bit of a know-all. On more than one occasion you've even said so yourself.'

‘Soonest opportunity we'll make a point of introducing you, Vicky. Then you can decide for yourself. Matter of fact, you two would have a lot in common.'

‘I'd like that,' said Vicky. ‘By the way, that letter and the phone call you mentioned in the garden. I hope they're talking big money.
Really
big money.'

‘Yes, they are,' said Kate.

‘How would you like to have your own cottage, Vicky?' Alex said with a wide smile.

‘That big, eh?'

‘Exactly,' said Kate. ‘That's why, as I told you this afternoon, we want to move the rose out of here. Alex and I are becoming increasingly concerned that what's happened so far is only the beginning. There's a staggering amount of money involved. We're beginning to face up to the fact that things could even get a bit nasty. We have to be prepared, that's all.'

‘It's not that we're paranoid,' said Alex, ‘but frankly we'd both feel much safer if we get the rose out of our lives physically.'

Vicky had been toying with her wineglass as she listened. She had a thoughtful expression on her face. ‘You know, I think I may have the perfect place for you.' She put the glass down and snapped her fingers. ‘Yes, it would be ideal.'

‘Where's that?' Alex asked.

‘At my Aunt Nell's. Up in Shropshire. She lives just outside Market Drayton.'

‘Certainly far enough away,' said Kate.

‘Yes, and her house is quite secluded. Even better, the last time I was there, a couple of months ago, the garden was hopelessly overgrown. In places it's like a jungle. It's practically reverted to the wild. You could hide the crown jewels in there and nobody would ever find them.'

‘Like they say,' said Alex, ‘if you want to hide a tree – hide it in a forest. It sounds like we couldn't do better.'

‘Do you think she'll mind?' Kate inquired.

‘Not for one minute. She couldn't care less. Told me she rarely goes out into the garden any more. She gave up gardening years ago.'

‘Threw in the trowel, eh?' Alex quipped.

Vicky chuckled. ‘Nell's a treat. She's starting to get a bit frail now but you'll just love her.'

‘If you think it would be all right, Vicky, could we move the rose fairly soon?'

‘Whenever you say so, Kate. All I have to do is let Nell know we're coming up. It's going to take two of us, though, to transplant a rose that size. It'll require some muscle. Do you think you could come up with me, Alex?'

‘Absolutely. We can go this Saturday, if that's okay with you.'

‘Actually, Saturday would be perfect, I've got the day off.'

‘I wish I could go with you,' Kate said, ‘but I have to be at the shop on Saturday. They're delivering the things I bought at the auction last week.'

Vicky took a sip of wine and twiddled the stem of the glass on the table. ‘By the way, Alex, it might be a good idea if we plan to stay overnight. Do you mind?'

‘Not at all, as long as Kate doesn't mind me running off for the weekend with another woman,' he said grinning at Kate. ‘But you're right, it is a pretty good hike up there.'

Vicky smiled. ‘It makes sense, considering the time it'll take to plant the rose properly. Besides, I know Aunt Nell will insist on it and I wouldn't want to disappoint her. She'll really enjoy the company. She gets so few visitors these days.'

 

On Saturday morning, Vicky woke just before dawn. She had spent the night at The Parsonage so they could get an early start. Pulling aside the bedroom curtain, she peeked outside. There was enough light, she decided.

Before they got the blue rose out of the ground she wanted to take the cuttings. Now was as good a time as any. She put on her sweater and jeans and crept quietly downstairs, careful not to step on Asp, who was curled up at the foot of the stairs.

With sharp pruning shears, she removed a few of the blooms. Kate was going to attempt drying them. Next, she carefully snipped off twelve slender canes just below a leaflet, removing all the leaves save a couple at the top. She then dipped the lower end of each eight-inch cutting in a hormone rooting compound, after which she planted each of them in its own plastic pot filled with a specially prepared potting medium. After watering them, she enclosed each pot in a clear plastic bag to simulate a minigreenhouse. The whole procedure took less than fifteen minutes.

She carefully placed the pots in an old wooden crate and carried it up to the garden shed where Kate had made a space for them. On the way back from Nell's tomorrow she planned to pick them up and take them to the nursery for safekeeping. Eventually she would transplant them into larger containers.

Carrying the rose blooms for Kate in a basket, she went back up to the house to make a pot of tea.

 

Getting Sapphire out of the ground proved more difficult than they had imagined. Vicky stressed the importance of keeping the largest possible ball of soil around the roots, to avoid root damage. The less disturbance the better, she had insisted. To minimize shock to the rose when it was uprooted, and make digging easier, Alex had thoroughly soaked the surrounding ground the night before.

To begin with, the spade sliced easily through the soft, moist earth on the surface. But the deeper Alex dug, the harder the earth became. The roots were unusually thick and deeply anchored for a rose – even an old rose. As Vicky levered up the big root ball with her shovel, Alex gradually wrapped the sheet of burlap around the ball, securing it with twine around the main cane just above the crown. At times, his face was perilously close to the dense red thorns bristling on the branching canes. Seen from inches away, they took on a vaguely menacing beauty.