The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,104

that once he’d got some food and a couple of pints of Gillyflower’s Best Bitter inside him, the old enthusiastic and optimistic Ned would probably re-emerge.

24

Fêted

I think the food and beer, over which we slumped in exhausted but not unamicable silence, followed by an early night, must have done the trick for both of us. Next morning I woke up full of bounce and although naturally a little tense, Ned was much more his usual self again.

While he was pulling the rope barriers across the paths, I washed away a copious amount of peacock poop from right under the arch, where the ribbon was to be tied. It wouldn’t exactly have created the look we wanted to achieve.

James, Gertie and Steve all arrived together later and had the shop ready to open long before the Clara Mayhem Doome party were escorted through the rose garden and up to the office by Myfy and Elf. At least I’d ensured they’d be offered decent coffee there!

Gerald and Jacob followed them, bearing the big, covered jugs of lemonade and paper cups, which they set on the small table to one side of the courtyard, next to Gert’s lardy cake, while James looped the yellow ribbon across the archway.

I was interested by my first glimpse of Clara, who was a very tall, strongly built elderly woman, with a bold Roman nose, bright dark eyes and a lot of curling dark grey and silver hair. She was dressed in a long, quilted scarlet velvet coat that had a sort of Old Russian vibe going for it and her earrings were wooden matryoshka dolls. I’d seen photos of her on the book jackets, of course, but they didn’t do the reality much justice – or reflect the impression that she was almost crackling with energy.

Gertie told me that the angular, middle-aged woman with short, pepper-and-salt hair who’d accompanied her was Tottie Gillyflower, last of the brewing family.

‘Friend of Elf’s and runs the Thorstane Bee Group,’ she added.

When Steve opened the visitor gate briefly, to let in the TV cameraman and a businesslike-looking young woman who might as well have had ‘Reporter’ stamped on her forehead, I could see visitors queuing outside.

I moved back behind Gertie, out of sight of any filming. Gertie was humming that ‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree’ song, though in this case it wasn’t a person coming back, but a garden.

The sun shone with surprising warmth, the ribbon and all the bunting fluttered gaily, the cameraman placed himself for a good angle and Steve came out of the shop and swung open the entrance gate.

A steady stream of people flowed past the ticket window, until the courtyard was almost full and Lancelot, over-excitedly displaying himself on the Potting Shed roof, had had his photograph taken a thousand times.

Then everyone fell quiet as Clara, escorted by Ned, came out of the office. A path cleared like magic in front of her and she made her way to the allotted spot at one side of the arch.

I was glad to see that Ned had remembered the large pair of scissors, which he now handed to her, before making a short speech welcoming everyone and hoping they would be as interested in the ongoing restoration of this important apothecary garden, as he was.

‘Now, I’m delighted to hand over to the renowned epigrapher and crime novelist, Clara Mayhem Doome,’ he finished, and there was a lot of enthusiastic clapping.

‘Our big local celebrity,’ whispered Myfy in my ear, making me start, since I hadn’t noticed her come up behind me. ‘Opens everything within about a twenty-mile radius, so we all know her.’

Clara beamed at the audience, showing a lot of strong white teeth.

‘This is a fascinating project and I hope you’ll all continue to support it, by visiting again to see the progress they’ve made – I certainly will,’ she said. Then, turning slightly so that the cameraman got a full view of her profile with that strong Roman nose, she added: ‘It gives me great pleasure to declare the Grace Garden open.’

She snipped the yellow satin with a satisfying scrunch and stepped back as everyone clapped again.

Then there was a general surge forward through the arch into the garden – except for the journalist, who made a beeline for Clara.

The cameraman seemed to have vanished the moment he’d filmed the opening ceremony, which was a relief. Mind you, I thought they probably wouldn’t use any of the footage they’d shot in the garden