The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,111

on other farms nearby, though one, Job, was gardener at the local big house, Risings, and lived in the lodge there. The age difference being such, they took little notice of me. My mother, harassed and worn down by constant work and childbearing, paid scant attention to me either, save to teach me my letters, so I could read the Bible, the only printed word in the house. She herself, being the daughter of a corn chandler in Thorstane, had been to Dame School, but there must have been precious little other call for her smattering of knowledge, once she married my father.

My experience of the world away from the farm was confined to Sundays, when the entire day was spent in Thorstane, at the meeting house of the Brethren, or the home of my mother’s parents, who also belonged to this strict religious sect. This seemed quite normal to me at the time, of course.

There were many more Brethren then, and in bad weather my father would hold prayer meetings in the Red Barn on the farm, instead. It was even colder than the meeting house and no amount of threats that we would all burn in hell for our sins ever served to warm us.

26

Mr Mole

I woke early to what promised to be another warm, sunny spring day, but instead of heading up to the falls, or working in the lavender garden, I just pottered about the flat, playing with Caspar, until he vanished in search of his breakfast, and sat dreaming over mugs of coffee and a buttery croissant. They’re not exactly the same as fresh French ones, when you microwave them straight from the freezer, but good enough.

The previous evening, Ned and I had grown even closer. We’d won through our initial misunderstandings to the friendship we’d once enjoyed and now were truly allied in a love of the garden and a desire not only to restore it, but to put our stamp on it.

He regarded me as both friend and ally … and yet, there was still this one secret I should have shared with him long before.

I finished my breakfast, put on my anorak and picked up my rucksack, ready to go – and with my mind made up. I’d have to tell Ned today, because the longer I left it, the worse it would be if he discovered it from someone else.

The koi were circling hungrily just under the water’s surface when I passed the fish pond: Ned had usually fed them by now, but perhaps he’d been more tired than he admitted yesterday and was running late.

But no, when I turned into the courtyard there he was, waving his large fists about and turning the air blue, while the unfed peacocks skulked about his feet, unimpressed.

‘What on earth’s the matter, Ned?’

‘That!’ he said, dramatically pointing through the open gates to Old Grace Hall behind him and I saw at once that the usually immaculate small rectangle of lawn in front of the house was now pocked with large hillocks of dark earth.

‘Moles?’ I deduced automatically. ‘They have been busy!’

‘Not moles, unless they’re giant ones who’ve learned to use spades,’ he snapped. ‘You can see the straight marks at the edge of the holes. This was Mr Mole – and I think we can both guess his real name – Wayne.’

I stared at him, cogs whirring and then, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, said, ‘You think this was Wayne? But why – and when?’

‘Must have been last night, while we were at the pub. He came in very late, if you remember. And as to why, I should imagine he was treasure hunting with that metal detector of his.’

‘He looked muddy when he came into the pub, I noticed that,’ I said slowly. ‘And he was very interested in Nathaniel Grace’s treasure … But I told him it wouldn’t have been buried in the apothecary or rose gardens, because they were created after his time. So I suppose he thought this was the only place left to look where Nathaniel might have buried something.’

‘He’s mad – but I can’t see who else it would be and I’m going to have it out with him, even if I haven’t got any proof. If I had, I’d call the police,’ he added, still looking furious. ‘No Vane is ever putting a foot on any of my property again!’

My earlier impulse to unburden my bosom on the subject of being closely related to Wayne