The Summer Season

Kezzie stood outside Joel’s house wondering whether she’d made a mistake. She felt absurdly nervous. Having rashly declared to Lauren that she was going to take on Joel’s garden for him, she’d decided she should go round and just tell him that’s what she was going to do. Logically she knew all that could happen was that Joel would say no. But somehow it mattered to her more than she thought possible that she restore the garden. Not only had the magic of the place infected her, but if she could do this, and do it well, she might be halfway to her dream of getting a show garden ready for Chelsea, just as she and Richard had always planned. And she did want to fulfil that dream. If only to show Richard what he was missing.

‘Come on, Kezzie, are you a woman or mouse?’ she said out loud, then pushed open the creaking gate, and walked up the cracked path. Now she was up close to the house, she could see there were evident signs of occupation – a pair of boots by the front door, a child’s plastic scooter hidden in the privet bush that jammed its way up against the bay windows, a light faintly shining through the stained-glass window. But it had a sad, lonely air, as if it were a house that had been left to its own devices for a very long time. Even the wisteria bush which clung to the front of the house looked lost and untended.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked hard on the door. There was no reply, so she knocked again. Still no reply. Oh well, perhaps she should come back another day. She was about to leave when suddenly the door was opened and Joel was standing there. Taller than she remembered, with dark, floppy hair, and kind blue eyes. Her heart gave a little flip. He was more attractive than she’d realized on their previous encounter.

‘Right, here’s the thing,’ she said, ‘I want to restore your garden for you.’

‘Sorry?’ His voice wrapped itself round her like dark velvet. She hadn’t noticed how warm and deep it was.

‘It’s me, Kezzie. I did tell you my name was Kezzie, didn’t I? I’ve decided I want to restore your garden. May I come in?’

‘Er. OK,’ said Joel, looking and sounding bemused. ‘If you just give me a minute. I’ve just put my son to bed, and I’d better just check he’s settled down. Go on straight through to the kitchen.’

‘No problem.’

Not that she was interested in Joel, but he was the only halfway decent male she’d met in the bruising months since Richard had ditched her. It had occurred to her she needed a nice uncomplicated fling to get Richard out of her system, but attractive as Joel seemed, she had a feeling he’d be very, very complicated.

She walked through the hall noticing the unfinished floors, and unpainted walls. It all felt so terribly sad. She was surprised when she turned left into the kitchen, that it was shiny and new, with the latest modern gadgets, and a dazzling array of equipment. It was a kitchen to die for, and yet somehow it seemed to lack soul. She sat down on a bar stool, which she found tucked under the breakfast bar, and sat at the kitchen window looking into the dark. What was she doing here? She didn’t know this man from Adam. If Joel had wanted to do something about his garden he’d have done something about it by now. She was just interfering in something that she had no business interfering with. Kezzie sat there, irresolute, her heart churning, her palms sweating.

‘Sorry about that,’ said Joel, interrupting her thoughts as he came silently into the room. ‘So what is it you want exactly?’

Kezzie took a deep breath. He hadn’t told her to get lost, maybe this could work. It was worth a try at least. ‘I know we didn’t exactly get off to a good start, and you probably think I’m interfering, but I really would be interested in doing up your garden. I want to exhibit at Chelsea at some point and I think restoring your knot garden would be a fabulous project to work on. And Lauren said you always wanted to restore it …’ her voice trailed away. ‘Look, I’ll understand if you say no, it’s just an idea.’

‘No, you’re OK,’ said Joel. ‘I did – do – want to restore it. Life’s got in the way a bit, that’s all. I’d like you to do it, if you still want to.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Kezzie. ‘I’d love to.’

‘I can’t pay you,’ warned Joel, ‘or not much. And I can’t help except at weekends. I have to go to work.’

‘I’ve some money put aside from my redundancy, and I’ve got some freelance work, so I can survive for a bit. Besides, it could be my showcase garden, and help me get other business. You would be doing me a favour. And I can look into the possibility of getting a grant to help restore if you like,’ said Kezzie, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. ‘Edward Handford is of historical significance, I’m sure someone would be prepared to help with the restoration. I really am keen. I’ve been looking into Edward’s work. He adapted a lover’s knot garden from an original Elizabethan design and made his own version, which was more in keeping with Victorian times. But that might seem a little over the top for modern tastes, so I thought I could stay true to the basic vision, but simplify it a bit, and have heartsease at the heart of the garden. It seems appropriate.’

‘If you say so,’ said Joel looking amused.

‘Sorry, running away with myself again,’ said Kezzie. ‘Bad habit I have. But look, I’ve printed off some stuff that I thought might be interesting.’

She showed Joel everything she’d found so far along with a plan of an Elizabethan knot garden, which Edward had apparently used as a guide.

‘This is amazing,’ said Joel. ‘I had no idea of any of this. You’ve really inspired me to start again with it.’

‘I’m really frustrated that I haven’t managed to track down Edward’s actual design,’ said Kezzie. ‘Having that would be an enormous help.’

‘You can just about see the shapes of the original,’ Joel said. ‘It has been semi maintained over the years I think. But in the latter years, poor old Uncle Jack couldn’t cope any more and it fell into a complete state of disrepair. So now it’s full of weeds as you’ve seen, and needs cutting back and starting again. I only got as far as trimming back the box hedge.’

‘I think it was beautiful, what Edward Handford did for his wife,’ said Kezzie. ‘All that effort to create a garden that spelt a message of how much he loved her.’

‘I don’t really know an awful lot about Mum’s side of the family,’ said Joel, with a frown. ‘My Uncle Jack – well not so much an uncle, more of a second cousin, we just called him Uncle Jack – lived here alone. I think his mother was one of Edward’s children, but I’m not sure. I should ask Mum about it. She must know something.’

‘So how did you end up with this place?’ said Kezzie.

‘By dint of being the only one left,’ said Joel. ‘My mum’s got Parkinson’s so though Uncle Jack left it to her, Claire and I did a deal where we took out a mortgage on this house, and bought Mum a warden-assisted flat in Chiverton. She always used to go on about the garden here, and I was intrigued. I came here a few times when I was a small child, and I remember breaking into the knot garden. It was like a secret place, all locked up. When Jack died there was no one else but Mum and me to leave it to. I fell in love with it immediately. Claire and I had so many plans …’

His voice trailed off wistfully, and Kezzie felt as if she’d walked in on some private grief. She wished she knew him well enough to give him a hug.

‘Claire never liked it though,’ he continued. ‘She thought it was gloomy. I took out the heavy oak panelling in the hallway and made it lighter, but what with work and looking after Sam, I haven’t really had time to finish what I started.’

He looked sad, as if something pained him.

‘You’re right about the garden of course, that was the one bit of the place Claire really liked. I should have got it sorted.’

‘Well, now you’ve got me here, you can,’ said Kezzie.

‘Really?’ Joel looked as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

‘Really,’ said Kezzie.

‘It’s masses of work,’ said Joel, ‘and I won’t be able to help you much.’

‘I know,’ said Kezzie. ‘But I think it would be amazing to restore it, a huge privilege. Please let me.’

Joel stood for a moment looking as if he were battling with some inner demon, then he gave Kezzie a huge, and charismatic grin.

‘You’re on,’ said Joel, and it was all Kezzie could do to stop herself from punching the air in delight.

It was a quiet evening in the Labourer’s Legs, only a few punters had wandered in. It was the middle of the month, so people were probably saving their money till pay day, there wasn’t any football on and the darts match scheduled for the night had been cancelled, leaving the sandwiches that Sally the landlady had laid on wilting on the bar.

‘Go on, take them home with you at the end of your shift,’ Sally said to Lauren, with a slightly patronizing, sympathetic tone, as if she’d never be so foolish as to have been left holding one baby, let alone two. She also seemed to assume because Lauren was young she couldn’t do anything for herself. Lauren had to bite her tongue from saying that it was most unlikely that two four-year-olds would be interested in stale prawn sandwiches, let alone risk a tummy bug. It was a battle at the best of times to get them to eat anything other than chicken nuggets and chips.

The clock dragged slowly towards 8 p.m. Two hours into her shift and already Lauren was losing the will to live.

‘Mind if I pop upstairs to put my feet up for a bit, love?’ Sally’s inevitable request came as it always did, early on in the shift. Then a bit later on she would wander down, and say, ‘You’re all OK for locking up, aren’t you, love?’ before disappearing again to leave Lauren cashing up alone.

Lauren’s mother was always telling her to stand up for herself, but jobs for single mums didn’t come easy in Heartsease and she couldn’t afford to give it up, much as she frequently felt like telling Sally to stick her job.

Bored, she half-heartedly let her eyes settle on the TV screen in the corner, which was tuned in to Sky Sport, and began to clean the bar surface down.

Phil Machin, one of the regulars, walked up to the bar. ‘Barrel’s gone, love,’ he said smiling cheerfully. So off she went down to the cellars to change it.

When she came back, she spotted a missed call on her phone, which she’d left at the bar. It wasn’t a number she recognized. Odd. She wondered who it could be. It was probably a wrong number.

Around 9.30 the place started to fill up a bit. The lads from the cricket club were on a pub crawl, so it was nearly 11 p.m. before she spotted another two missed calls. Who on earth could be trying to contact her?

As it had got busy, Sally and her equally lazy partner, Andy, had made their way downstairs, and Lauren was relieved that for once they let her go at just after 11. At least she’d be on time for her mum.

As she walked back up the road home, the phone rang again.

‘Who is this?’ she said.

‘Lauren? Is that you?’

Oh my God. Lauren stood stock still, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, as she heard a voice she hadn’t heard in a very very long time. ‘Troy?’ she said incredulously.

Chapter Six

Lauren pushed Sam up the road on her way back from the school run. It was nearly half term, the weather had turned from bright autumn golden days, to a wet, windy drizzle which was doing little to lift her spirits. She was dog tired. The phone call from Troy had unsettled her to say the least. Troy had spectacularly left her in the labour ward, claiming that because he lost his mother to cancer when he was very young, he ‘didn’t do’ hospitals, running out on her when she needed him the most. After which he had shown no interest whatsoever in meeting his daughters until he’d turned up out of the blue when they were eighteen months old. Lauren hadn’t wanted to see him, all the more so when it was apparent he was only after somewhere to crash after he’d lost the latest in a string of jobs and had no money and nowhere else to go.

Looking back now, Lauren couldn’t believe how naive she had been to be taken in again by Troy. But he had this trick when you were with him of making you think you were the only person in the world who mattered. It was terribly beguiling, and the months of loneliness without him had left her unprepared for the sheer animal magnetism of his presence. He had a sensuality about him that was hard to resist. She had told herself that it would be good for the twins if she let him move in. Lauren’s parents had split up when she was young, and she’d been desperate for her own children to have a stable family life. Lauren couldn’t admit to herself that she still had the hots for Troy, so had made the mistake of letting him stay a while. And if she was totally honest with herself, despite everything he’d done to her, she was still a little in love with him, even now.

It turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. The twins were unsettled by this strange man who sometimes wanted to play with them, but often shouted at them for no apparent reason. It was clear to Lauren, too, that he was quite happy to sponge off her, pay no maintenance, and had no intention of getting another job while his life was this cushy. In the end she’d had enough and chucked him out, and apart from the odd message via mutual friends, she hadn’t heard from him since. The twins barely remembered him, and used as they were to Sam not having a mummy, didn’t appear to find it odd that they didn’t have a daddy. And now their daddy was back and apparently he wanted to see them.

She had played the phone call with Troy over and over in her head all night.

‘Why?’ Lauren demanded. ‘Why now, after all this time? You can’t just waltz back into our lives and expect to become a dad when it suits you. I have to protect them.’

‘I know,’ Troy had pleaded. For once he sounded really sincere. ‘I’ve been useless, but I’ve changed, really I have. Look. There’s been stuff going on in my life. Stuff that’s made me realize I want to be a proper dad to them. I know what I’ve been missing and I want to make it up to them and you.’

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ said Lauren, ‘I’m not about to let you turn the girls’ lives upside down.’

‘I’m their dad, I have a right to see them,’ said Troy.

Lauren was silent. That was something she’d always promised herself. If Troy ever came back and wanted to see the girls, she’d let him. Whatever she thought of Troy, he was their dad.

‘You’ve taken me by surprise,’ she said eventually. ‘You haven’t seen the girls for over two years, and you’ve never paid a penny towards their upkeep. How can I be sure that you have changed?’

‘Oh, but I have,’ Troy said hurriedly. ‘I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, but I want to put them right. Please let me.’

There was a pleading, desperate note in his voice that she’d never heard before. God knows, maybe he really did mean it.

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Lauren.

Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they? Troy had sounded sincere, and she didn’t want her girls growing up not knowing their dad. But did a leopard really change its spots? Troy hadn’t been reliable in the past, why would he be now?

Lauren was roused from her reverie when she noticed Eileen Jones walking towards her waving enthusiastically. She smiled. Lauren liked Eileen; not only was she kind and thoughtful, but she occasionally sat for the girls when her mum couldn’t. Her husband Ted had, as Eileen put it, become a cliché and run off with his much younger secretary, leaving Eileen on her own at fifty-two. And on top of all that her youngest son, Jamie, was soon off to do a tour of Afghanistan.

Lauren had really hit it off with Eileen, despite the difference in their ages. While she’d been left holding the babies, Eileen had brought hers up, a devoted wife and mother, and still ended up alone. Although recently, Lauren had noticed, she was spending a lot of time with Tony Symonds, who was the new Chair of the Parish Council. Eileen had a real twinkle in her eye and Lauren was pleased to see her so happy.

‘Lauren, I’m glad I caught you.’

‘Don’t tell me … the fete?’ said Lauren.

‘How did you guess?’ said Eileen.

‘Something about the determined way you were making a beeline for me,’ said Lauren, laughing.

‘It’s just to let you know we’ve got our preliminary meeting coming up in a couple of weeks, and I wondered if you’d had a chance to talk to Joel about it yet.’

‘I did mention it to him,’ Lauren said, ‘but he was fairly noncommittal. I’ll talk to him about it this evening.’

‘That would be great,’ said Eileen. ‘It would be fantastic to have access to the house and gardens.’

‘It would, wouldn’t it?’ said Lauren. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Kezzie was back on the internet researching more about Edward Handford. She was interested to learn that he’d been something of a philanthropist, creating a little park in the village for the children of the poor. Originally known as Heartsease Public Gardens, they were renamed the Memorial Gardens after the First World War. Edward also paid for the village school, now very small and barely surviving. Most of the local kids were bussed into the bigger primary in nearby Chiverton. Lauren, with whom Kezzie was fast becoming friends, was unusual apparently in having opted to put the twins into the village school, but as she’d explained to Kezzie, ‘Someone’s got to support the local community and services, or we’ll lose them. Besides, the twins are too small to go on the bus, and as I don’t drive I don’t have much choice.’

Having lived all her life in an urban setting, Kezzie was coming to appreciate the pleasure of living in a small community, even if it meant people knowing all your business. She’d been stunned when she walked into Ali’s Emporium to be told by Ali how great it was that she was working on Joel’s garden.

‘That poor boy,’ Ali said, with a cheerful smile. ‘He needs something good in his life. It is wonderful what you are doing for him.’

Not wanting to point out that she wasn’t exactly doing it for charity, Kezzie had muttered, ‘Yes, it’s great to be working on it,’ and fled with her pint of milk and loaf of bread before she got the Spanish Inquisition.

Kezzie decided she’d done enough research for now. The one time she’d tried to visit the Memorial Gardens, they’d been locked and she’d only had a chance to glimpse through the gate. She wanted to take a closer look, as it might give her a better feel for the kind of vision Edward Handford had had. While wanting to give his garden a modern feel, Kezzie wanted to be faithful to that vision. Somehow, she felt that was important.

She walked down the hill into the centre of the village, as ever getting a little thrill as she turned the bend and saw Heartsease spread before her, nestling cosily in the lea of the hill. The broad tree-lined road that swept down into the village was now littered with fallen leaves, but there were still a few remaining on the branches, to brighten up the greyish day. Kezzie couldn’t have felt further away from London if she’d tried.

When she got down to the High Street, Kezzie followed the signs to the Memorial Gardens, past the butcher’s, Keef’s Café where Kezzie had learnt you could purchase a mean latte, the tiny chemist’s situated in the oldest building in Heartsease, and the baker’s. Heartsease wasn’t exactly big, but she’d not yet had time to explore it all. What she saw when she arrived at the Memorial Gardens was utterly depressing. A rusting, wrought iron gate, bearing the name Heartsease Memorial Gardens, screeched open onto a forlorn-looking patch of green. At the far end was a pavilion, which was in desperate need of repair. Raggedy bits of grass were covered in glass beer bottles and fag ends. Graffiti on the walls proclaimed that Daz Loved Zoe 4 eva. The rest of the village wasn’t like this. A cracked path ran down the middle of the grass, ending in a circle in which stood an enormous concrete plinth, which was empty. Presumably, it had been home to a war memorial. Kezzie vaguely remembered reading that Edward had erected one after the war. So where was it?

‘What a shame,’ she said out loud.

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Eileen was out walking her dog. ‘I’m really hoping we can persuade the Parish Council to restore it.’

‘Why have they let it get into such a state?’ said Kezzie.

‘It’s been a gradual thing,’ explained Eileen. ‘When my children were small we used to come here all the time, particularly in the summer. But then kids started to go on the bus to the school in Chiverton, so they stopped coming. And then the County Council built the big leisure centre in Chiverton and everyone went there, and before you knew it, the vandals and graffiti artists had moved in, so even if the locals still wanted to come they got pushed out. At least we don’t get the drugs any more. We had a spate of that but it’s stopped, fortunately.’

‘What happened to the war memorial?’ said Kezzie.

‘The local council took it away for restoration,’ snorted Eileen, ‘and never thought to bring it back.’

‘That’s terrible,’ said Kezzie.

‘I know,’ said Eileen. ‘We always used to have our Remembrance Day parade here, but now the Heartsease British Legion have to go to Chiverton.’

‘Someone should do something about it,’ said Kezzie.

‘Someone is,’ said Eileen. ‘Me. I’ve been writing to the County Council about it for months, and now my friend Tony is the Chair of the Parish Council I’m hoping I can get things moving a bit more. But we could always do with some new blood. Maybe you could help?’

‘Maybe I could,’ said Kezzie. ‘But I’ve got a lot on at the moment, I’m going to help Joel Lyle restore his garden.’

‘Lauren mentioned that,’ said Eileen, ‘and I think it’s wonderful. Lauren was hoping to persuade Joel to help out at next year’s summer fete, perhaps you could put in a word too?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Kezzie, laughing.

Joel was playing with Sam in the lounge. Sam had recently discovered peekaboo and a significant part of the bedtime routine now involved Sam hiding and Joel pretending to try to find him. It was silly but fun, and Joel was starting to really look forward to these precious moments at the end of a long day at work. He had, he realized, lost the capacity to laugh spontaneously, but Sam was slowly beginning to tease it out of him.

‘Two – two, Da-da,’ Sam clapped his hands over his eyes, as Joel mentioned the dreaded ‘b’ word just before bedtime, and this was Sam’s way of telling Joel it was time to play their hiding game.

‘Daddy hide, or Sam hide?’ asked Joel, tickling his son on his tummy.

‘Sam, hide,’ squealed Sam, delightedly, toddling off while Joel made a great show of shutting his eyes and counting to ten. Usually Sam’s hiding places were very obvious – and Joel spotted him within seconds, but Joel realized, when he opened his eyes, that Sam had squeezed through the lounge door, which was a bit ominous. He could just about get upstairs now, but was still a bit wobbly, and not very safe. Joel went out into the hall, and was relieved to hear Sam talking to himself in the little study on his left, which faced out onto the front garden.

Sure enough, he found Sam playing with his favourite rabbit, underneath the desk, the game momentarily abandoned.

‘Come on, tiddler,’ said Joel, swooping his son up in his arms, ‘time for bed, now.’

‘Two, two?’ Sam looked hopeful.

‘No more two, two,’ said Joel, ‘time for bed and milk and a story.’

He took Sam up to bed, got him changed, and sat down with him and read We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, which was one of Sam’s favourites. Having tucked him into his cot with a bottle of milk, Joel went downstairs to check on the carnage Sam had left behind, before settling down to another lonely evening in front of the TV. It never failed to amaze him how much havoc one small boy could wreak, so he went back to the study, which he rarely used, to make sure Sam hadn’t left anything else under the desk. Sure enough, he found a couple of bits of duplo, a baby board book, and bizarrely two spoons, which he presumed Sam had managed to swipe from the kitchen. Laughing to himself, he picked everything up and went to take them away, when he suddenly stopped and stared at the desk. He’d not paid it any attention for so long, and it was gathering dust, but he was suddenly struck anew by what a beautiful object it was.