The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,109

loads of other visitors were hanging on every word.’

‘I don’t know … He says he’s had enough of that kind of thing and just wants to work in the garden now,’ she said doubtfully.

‘I realize he doesn’t want to be in the limelight any more, but once he gets going, he forgets he has an audience, he’s so enthusiastic.’

Then I remembered Cress’s friend Roddy Lightower, and told her about him and his offer to work in the garden as a volunteer. ‘He sounded perfect, because he can take on a lot of the things Ned doesn’t want to do, like the guided tours and office work.’

‘A few volunteers would be a godsend,’ Gertie agreed. ‘There was a couple I was talking to who wanted to help in the garden, too. They’re going to come back another day and I’ll show them the vegetable patch then.’

I didn’t think her vegetable patch was that high on Ned’s list of things he’d like more help with, but I smiled encouragingly and said many hands made light work, and if they were free, that was even better.

‘James heard someone asking Ned about a garden design too,’ Gertie said. ‘So maybe he’ll get more of those and he can go and hide in his office in the afternoons, when it all gets too much for him.’

She gave a grin and went off again, and I finished my tea and a large chunk of Bakewell tart (the lardy cake put out for the visitors had vanished down to the last crumb and the empty plate stood on the end of the nearest workbench), and went back to work, this time to tie up that honeysuckle I’d found and a vigorous rambling rose near the little temple.

And this time, no one took a bit of notice of me.

I still felt uneasy about my encounter with Saul Vane.

Ned and I were back on the old terms of trust and friendship, so what would he think if he found out I’d kept something like that a secret from him?

I really, really didn’t want him to find out …

It was after four when I went back to the courtyard to put my tools away before setting off for the River Walk. The last stragglers were coming out of the shop, past the depleted plant stands, clutching their purchases. Steve was waiting by the gate to let them out and then lock it behind them.

And it must have been an equally busy day for the River Walk, for the litter bins were full to overflowing and my haul from under the bushes, or stuffed behind rocks, was three plastic bottles, two cans and a pair of socks, one with a large hole in it.

The last, faint echoes of chattering holidaymakers, screaming children and crying babies seemed still to linger and the only atmosphere detectable up by the falls was one of hope that silence and peace would fall upon it some time soon, if it held its breath …

The litter picking and sorting had taken longer than usual, and by the time I’d returned to the Grace Garden, the shop had been cashed up and closed and Ned was just returning from a circuit of the garden.

Apparently even in the Grace Garden itself, one or two chocolate bar wrappers had been planted among the herbs and an empty Coke bottle placed on the sundial.

Perhaps someone had given it a libation?

Everyone except Ned had long since gone and I accepted his suggestion that we have a cup of coffee in the office, because he was obviously dying to go over the whole afternoon in exhaustive detail.

But it was good to sit down for a bit and chill after the eventful day. I assured him everything had gone wonderfully well and we discussed the volunteers. Roddy had talked to him and, as I had expected, Ned was delighted at the prospect of unloading most of the jobs he didn’t like onto him.

‘And he’s an old friend of Cress’s, so I know he’s OK,’ he added. ‘She was so pleased to see him again, she could hardly take her eyes off him!’

I had wondered if Ned was aware of Cress’s blind adoration. I knew he was fond of her, but he didn’t seem to mind her sudden switch of affections in the least!

‘Well,’ he said finally, putting down his cup, ‘there’s nothing more to do tonight, except feed the peacocks and the fish, so you get off now, Marnie, and I’ll see you later