The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,30
was she free to meet me for lunch, in which case I could tell her all about my arrival in Jericho’s End then.
An email pinged back almost straight away, suggesting we could eat lunch at the cottage and then she’d help me load the car.
I had so much to tell her tomorrow – and I’d have even more after I’d seen Ned in the morning!
After that, I made a cup of coffee and began to trace the downfall of Ned Mars via the internet. I had a faint suspicion Myfy might have left out a couple of details. Perhaps, although this allegation of an affair had been untrue, he had previously been unfaithful, giving his girlfriend grounds for jealousy? That didn’t sound like the Ned I knew, but I suppose he could have changed in the years since I’d known him.
It was easy enough to track the story back to the original Sunday tabloid article, which was full of innuendo and short on facts, but much as Myfy had said. There was plenty of speculation and a lot of social media slurry, then the paper printed a retraction and apology in the following week’s issue. I suspect there had been a threat of legal proceedings from Ned’s director and her husband. It would all probably have died down after that, had Sammie Nelson not stuck her oar in by selling that nasty little piece to a gossip column. After reading it, I could only suppose she must have done it for money, whipping up something out of nothing. The word ‘paydirt’ sprang to mind and it certainly left a nasty taste in my mouth. There seems to be an art to implying things, without coming out and saying them in a legally actionable way.
Anyway, I just couldn’t believe they’d printed this stuff, because it left their readers with the impression that Ned had not only dropped Sammie from his life when fame beckoned, but she had been pregnant at the time – plus, worst of all, they hinted he’d been violent to her!
My memories definitely didn’t include any of Ned getting her pregnant, socking her in the eye and then dumping her and I’d have been prepared to go into a court and swear it! All the students in my year would know the truth of what happened and the whole class was there when Sammie gave herself that black eye, by standing on the end of a rake. I even remembered Sammie joking at the time that it looked as if Ned had been beating her up, except everyone knew he was so soft he wouldn’t even hurt a fly.
But then, since it was all only implied, I don’t suppose Ned could have sued them for slander, or libel or whichever it was.
It all died down fairly quickly, but so many people are ready to believe anything they read, especially on Twitter.
I felt profoundly sorry for Ned, who hadn’t deserved any of this. He’d been so popular too, since he was very open and good-natured, with a genuine enthusiasm for gardening.
I could see that clearing his name, and proving it was all untrue, was one thing, but the taint lingered and I understood why he felt he had had enough and retreated to Jericho’s End.
The jealous vindictiveness of Ned’s ex-partner had disturbing echoes of Mike’s behaviour towards me. He’d certainly blackened my name with the Heritage Homes Trust … and now it seemed with everyone else on the gardening grapevine.
There had been a new series of This Small Plot, though with a different garden designer presenting it every week, but the ratings had sunk like a stone and, though it was still going, it was now put out on daytime TV.
I was sorry for Ned, and understood what he’d gone through, but still, it rather irked me that while I’d immediately felt he was innocent of any wrongdoing meriting what had happened to him, he hadn’t seemed to have had the same faith in me. But I suppose while I knew for a fact that Sammie’s allegations were all untrue, Ned only had his recollections of me to go on. How much would I have to tell him about my relationship with Mike, which wasn’t something I was exactly proud of, before he believed me? If he did, of course. I wasn’t looking forward to the interview.
I switched off the laptop, the internet connection vanishing with a grateful whine, and got ready for bed.