The Garden of Magic (12 page)

‘What’s through there?’ Gwen gestured to the door behind the table.

‘That’s the pantry. It’s very small.’ Lily smiled again. ‘Go and take a look at the garden. I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.’

‘Right.’ Gwen left Lily moving comfortably around the kitchen and walked into the cold, dead air.
Place must be well sheltered; there’s no wind at all
. The garden was separated from the fields by a stone wall on one side and a line of trees at the bottom. Gwen identified rhododendrons in the corner, a giant spreading conifer thick with cones, holly, ash and hornbeam. A few fruit trees were dotted about the lawn. A lot of work, she found herself thinking. Around the corner was an untended vegetable plot. It had been cared for at one time, though, that was easy to see. Stone paths led along rows and the edges were defined with old red bricks. There were willow wigwams for peas or beans and fruit canes, but one was half pulled down by a mutant rhubarb that had clearly got ideas above its station.

The front garden offered more grass, many bushes, and wide borders filled with the seed heads and brown plants of a dead summer.

The crisp evening air cleared Gwen’s mind. What was Lily Thomas doing in her aunt’s house? The way she seemed so at home wasn’t that odd – especially if she’d been working for Iris for years – but why on earth was she here now? She hesitated, wondering whether she was overreacting, when some bundles of greenery caught her eye. Half-tucked behind the water butt, three tied-together collections of foliage. She recognised branches of ash and broom, and remembered her mother fixing something similar above the door to their flat; to ward off malignant forces, she’d said. Gwen dropped the bundle as if it were hot, and went back inside.

Lily was squeezing a tea bag against the side of a mug as if it had personally offended her.

Gwen sat down at the table, feeling slightly dazed.

‘I’ve made you a casserole but it’s down at my house. I’ll bring it up later.’

‘That’s very kind,’ Gwen said, ‘but I’m not sure –’

‘No need to thank me. Least I can do for Iris’s niece.’

‘Great-niece.’

‘Right.’ Lily popped open the lid on a plastic tub and arranged slices of fruitcake on a plate. ‘So, are you from the area?’

‘Not really.’ It was true. They’d lived in Pendleford for three years, but had moved around a lot before that. Gwen had never really felt like she was ‘from’ anywhere.

Lily frowned. ‘Somerset?’

Gwen shook her head.

‘Where do you live?’ Lily pressed on.

‘I’ve been in Leeds for the last six months.’ Gwen had a rule for dealing with people: never give away more than strictly necessary.

‘But where do you come from? Originally.’ Lily’s inquisitive tone reminded Gwen of every bitchy queen bee at every new school she’d ever had to start. ‘We moved around quite a bit.’

‘Oh, you poor thing.’ Lily pulled a face. ‘I wouldn’t have liked that.’

‘It was fine,’ Gwen said automatically.

‘I didn’t see you at the funeral,’ Lily said. ‘Were you close to Iris?’

‘No.’ Gwen didn’t feel like explaining that she’d barely known her great-aunt and had no idea why on earth she’d been given her house. She tried to gain control of the conversation. ‘Do you live in Pendleford?’

Lily nodded. ‘Just on the corner. I’m your nearest neighbour.’

Gwen opened her mouth to say that she wouldn’t be staying, but Lily was still talking, listing names of neighbours that Gwen knew she would instantly forget even if she were paying proper attention.

Lily stopped listing and said, ‘You look tired out, if you don’t mind my saying.’

Gwen felt a yawn coming on. She put a hand to her mouth and then apologised. ‘This is all quite sudden.’

Lily shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t say that. She’d been poorly for ages.’ She took a generous bite of cake before adding, ‘Bless her,’ through a mouthful of crumbs.

‘Why are you …?’ Gwen stopped. ‘I mean, did you have some sort of contract with my aunt? For this, I mean.’ She waved a hand, taking in the freshly cleaned kitchen, the tea, her presence.

‘A contract?’ Lily laughed, a bizarre, high-pitched laugh. ‘We didn’t need anything like that. She was more like a sister – well …’ – she wrinkled her nose – ‘… a mother – to me than an employer. I know she’d want me to keep an eye on the place. Welcome you properly.’ She paused, giving Gwen an appraising look. ‘I’d be very happy to stay on and clean for you, too.’

So she was angling for a job. Fair enough. ‘I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not sure what I’m doing about the house yet. And even if I did stay, I wouldn’t be able to afford to pay for cleaning.’

Lily shrugged. ‘No problem. Just offering.’ She pushed back her chair. ‘I’ll let you get settled in and pop back later with that casserole.’

‘Well …’ Gwen thought about navigating the winding road back to the nearest shop and realised how tired she felt. Plus, she’d been surviving on cheap takeaways and supermarket sandwiches; a home-cooked meal sounded wonderful. ‘That would be lovely, thank you very much. If it’s not too much trouble.’

‘We’re neighbours now. That’s what it’s like around here.’

Gwen opened her mouth to say she wouldn’t be staying, but yawned instead.

After Lily left, Gwen took her tea and wandered through the house, opening doors and getting her bearings. There were two large front rooms, both with big bay windows. One was a living room, complete with overstuffed brocade sofa and a riotous carpet of flowers, vines and leaves. The vast dining room looked forlorn and unloved by comparison. An oak dining table with twisted spindle legs and six chairs was marooned in an otherwise bare room and covered in a thick layer of dust.

Behind the kitchen there was a downstairs bathroom, tiled in black and white and with what was probably the original washbasin and tub. A small back bedroom completed the downstairs, with three bedrooms upstairs.

Big house, she thought, looking around at the triple wardrobe, dressing table and chest of drawers that fitted comfortably in the master bedroom. Something was missing, though. The flowered wash bag. Either she was imagining things or Lily Thomas had swiped it while she was in the garden. Odd.

Gwen got her suitcase from the van and lugged it upstairs. She was bone-tired. She wanted to run a bath and get clean. She’d been making do all week – taking her toothbrush and flannel into public bathrooms and splashing out for a shower at a motorway service station just the once. But she was so tired. So tired that she actually felt sick.

Although that could be nerves. Being in the house felt so wrong. Illicit. Growing up with her free-spirited mother, Gloria, there had only been one rule: stay away from Great-Aunt Iris. Her mother had described Iris as ‘evil’, and since she herself was known around town as ‘Crazy Gloria’, Gwen had seen no reason to disobey her. She’d always figured that Iris didn’t want to know them, either. The thought gave her a jolt of guilt.

Gwen yawned again and lay on the bed, meaning to test it for just a moment. It was gloriously comfortable and after five nights on a camping mat it felt like heaven. She pulled the quilt over herself and closed her eyes.
Just for five minutes.

Gwen woke up disorientated and very hot. She executed an ungainly quilt-wrestle and went downstairs. The curtains had been drawn and a casserole dish sat warming in the oven. Lily had clearly been and gone. Gwen ignored the creepy feeling that gave her. She was being a suspicious modern urbanite; things were different in the country. People obviously still looked out for each other. Gwen still felt disorientated from her nap. The week of sleeping badly and the weirdness of the situation had caught up with her and she couldn’t summon up enthusiasm for food. Gwen turned off the oven and went back to bed. Tomorrow she would visit the legal people and straighten out the will. If she could sell the place straight away, she’d have the deposit to rent a flat and could get her business back on its feet. The money would save her life and she’d be duly grateful to Iris. She just wasn’t going to live in Pendleford. Not even for six months.

She dragged herself back up the stairs, every step an effort, and by the time she’d unpacked her overnight bag, she was yawning so long and so hard it was difficult to brush her teeth.

Some time later, she sat bolt upright. The room was pitch-black and her eyes strained with the effort of trying to see. Her heart was thudding as she struggled to work out what had woken her. A scratching noise almost made her cry out until it happened again and she realised it was the sound of a tree branch against glass. She forced herself to breathe deeply, to snuggle back down into the bed. Silence. No traffic, no sirens, no late-night revellers vomiting or fighting outside her window. It was probably the quiet that had spooked her. And the scratching. She clicked on the bedside lamp and climbed out of bed. The window was open and a brisk stream of night air flowed inside. Gwen swallowed. She had closed that window earlier. She had definitely closed it. Forcing herself forward, Gwen approached the window, feeling the cool air on her bare arms. She pushed the window open further and leaned out. The moon was riding high in the clear sky. She couldn’t see the offending branch, but there was plenty of greenery along the side of the house. She shut the window and latched it before getting back into bed and falling instantly asleep.

The next day, Gwen awoke to the sound of hammering on wood. She stumbled downstairs, trying to shake off the fug of sleep.

Her sister’s voice cut through two doors like a razor blade through trifle. ‘Gwen? I can see your van!’

Gwen opened the door and stepped smartly back into the hall, the full force of Ruby being too much to take in a confined space.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. You were still in bed.’ Ruby shrugged off her jacket and put down her leather handbag. ‘You can’t open the door like that. I could’ve been anyone.’

‘Not really.’ Gwen turned and headed back up the stairs. ‘Put the kettle on.’ She had to be dressed to deal with Ruby.

After hastily pulling on jeans, a shirt and hoodie, she found Ruby in the kitchen.

‘This place is a museum.’ Ruby frowned at the painted walls. ‘It’s not even tiled.’

‘I like it,’ Gwen surprised herself by saying.

‘Really?’ Ruby raised her eyebrows. She looked around. ‘I suppose you could knock through and make a proper family kitchen.’ She wandered through to the dining room next door, then hastily returned. ‘Did you know the ceiling’s sagging in there? It looks like it’s about to come down.’

Gwen concentrated on pouring hot water onto tea bags.

Ruby opened some cabinets, ran a finger along the shelves. ‘She was very clean, anyway.’

‘She’s got a cleaner. Or a housekeeper. I’m not sure of the difference.’

‘Fancy.’

‘I think she needed someone at the end. I wish we’d known.’

‘It’s not our fault,’ Ruby said robustly. ‘She could’ve called.’

‘She might not have known you lived in Bath.’
What an awful thought. Iris all alone out here, her great-niece just down the road.

Ruby shrugged. Then she said, ‘It’s weird that she left you the house, though.’

‘I know,’ Gwen said, feeling awkward.

‘She always liked you the best.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Gwen said. ‘I actually can’t remember her at all. It’s a bit odd.’ Which was an understatement. Ever since getting the letter from Laing & Sons, she’d been thinking about Iris and finding a strange blank, like typed words snowed over with Tippex.

‘God, do you remember that chicken she had?’ Ruby paused, hand on hip and a faraway expression on her face.

Gwen shook her head.

‘Oh, you do. It was like her pet or something. You nearly stood on it, remember? Iris went mental, but it wasn’t your fault. I mean, who keeps a chicken in the house? Bloody disgusting.’

‘I don’t remember.’ Gwen closed her eyes. A wave of nausea, like she was riding a roller coaster, swooped through her stomach and she opened her eyes again.

‘You must,’ Ruby was saying. ‘You cried all the way home and Gloria took us for ice cream. She never did that. You must remember.’

Gwen’s mouth filled with saliva. She tasted strawberry at the back of her throat and almost gagged. ‘I remember the ice cream. Just not Iris. Not the house.’ She gestured around. ‘I don’t remember any of this. Not at all.’
And that couldn’t be right.

‘Well, we only came here once or twice. And you were young.’

‘Not that young. Thirteen, maybe?’ Gwen had a horrible feeling she knew why there was a blank in her memory. She’d probably asked too many questions and Gloria had solved the problem with a memory charm. Charms and hexes and simple casting were the kinds of thing Gloria had taught Gwen while other mothers were showing their kids how to bake fairy cakes.

Ruby shrugged. ‘Well, you’re not missing much. Apart from the chicken, it was pretty boring. Gloria and Iris talking and pretending they weren’t arguing.’

‘I don’t remember,’ Gwen said again, hating that she sounded so forlorn, hating that being back in Pendleford was reminding her of all the things she’d tried so hard to forget.

‘I don’t care,’ Ruby said robustly. ‘It’s all in the past. Gloria’s escaped to Oz and Great-Aunt Iris is dead; what does any of it matter?’

Gwen pulled a face. ‘I just feel guilty. I don’t deserve this place. I hardly knew the woman.’

‘Well, according to Gloria, we were better off without her.’

‘I guess.’ Gwen handed her a mug, then sat down at the table to sip from her own.

‘It’s not our fault,’ Ruby said. ‘Gloria’s the one who cut contact. We were just kids.’

They had been forbidden from having anything to do with Iris. In fact, sitting in her house was probably still a capital offence. Whether she had passed on or not. Gwen was just going to ask Ruby if she had any idea what had caused the schism between Gloria and Iris, when Ruby said, ‘Look, she was a grown woman with her own friends and family and life. We weren’t part of it, through no fault of our own, but that doesn’t mean we missed out or that she missed out.’ She looked around the kitchen again. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’