to turn dutifully for home when something took hold of me and, instead, I went on beyond Angel Row and through the wicket that I knew led to the path down the falls. My heart beat with terror, as if my father could see what I was doing, but the longing to see an angel, something free and beautiful and outside what I knew, drove my feet onwards.
And when I stood at the spot near the mouth of the river, which sprang from the rock face, I knew I had found what I sought and a great peace and happiness fell on me.
28
Angels and Demons
The builder had already arrived at the shop when I got there next morning and Ned had moved away a shelf unit that was hiding the blocked-up opening that had once led through to the lean-to building on the other side.
‘Don, this is my new gardener, Marnie, who came up with all the bright ideas,’ Ned introduced me. ‘We just need you to tell us if they’re practical or not.’
Don, who was a skinny, fair and freckled man, totally unlike my idea of a builder, gave an engagingly gap-toothed grin. ‘We’ve looked at the outside lavs already and the plumbing part would be easy enough,’ he said. ‘And I’ve seen the blocked doorway, so let’s go round and look what it’s like from this outbuilding.’
We went out of the visitors’ gate and Don cast a critical eye at the outside. ‘Those stone roofing slabs tend to stay put, but the walls need pointing up and that door and the window frames replacing. That’s a wide door frame, though,’ he added. ‘I reckon they must have kept animals in here, at one time.’
‘A wide door is good from the point of view of getting wheelchairs through,’ I said, and he agreed.
‘Get one through there easy.’
He examined the interior carefully, especially the blocked doorway and the rafters, which, luckily, were dry and sound. Then he did some measuring, scribbling on a rough tablet of paper.
We watched him, then when he seemed to have finished and was contemplatively scratching his head with the end of his biro, Ned said, ‘So, how easy would it be to make this part of the shop – and add a toilet at the back?’
‘Oh, easy enough,’ Don said breezily. ‘Like when we did the shop, we’d take up the flags and damp-proof under them … replace the door and windows … electric update. I wouldn’t even try turning on that single bulb – it’s a deathtrap …’
He paused and scratched his head again.
‘Knock through that old opening into the shop, but with some good supports and a proper lintel overhead, then make good all walls … install a ceiling …’
The list seemed endless and expensive, but he hadn’t finished yet.
‘Then there’s the plumbing to the new big toilet compartment suitable for the disabled that you want and with a baby-changing area …’
‘Is that all possible?’ I asked.
‘Yes, no problem. You need a good turning circle in the compartment for a wheelchair, so the partition wall would come to …’ he pointed to a spot, ‘about there. Maybe with an entrance through a partial stud wall in front of it, because you’re going to have a display of garden stuff in the rest of this side, Ned says?’
‘Yes, sort of a mini museum,’ I agreed.
‘Pictures of the garden through the ages and a few antique gardening tools in a glass case, maybe,’ said Ned. ‘The shop displays can extend into the other end, near the door.’
‘The idea,’ I explained, ‘is that the visitors come into the garden through the gate past the ticket office, as now, but they’ll have to exit by the new door on this side – meaning they have to pass through the shop to get to it, with all the tempting things on offer.’
‘Smart idea!’ Don gave me a look of approval and made a couple more notes. ‘You’ll need a small ramp outside both doors – the steps are low, anyway – and you’ll have to leave a path clear that’s wide enough for wheelchair access, right through the shop.’
He put the pen and pad back in his pocket. ‘I’ll put all that on the computer later, break it all down for you.’
‘It sounds expensive – and it’ll make a mess in the shop while you’re doing it. We’re closed only on Tuesdays.’
‘Shouldn’t cost too much. I’ll give you a quote when I’ve worked it out. I’ll have to