The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,32
my hair and examined myself in the full-length mirror set in a bleached wooden frame, which was fixed to the wall at the end of the landing. I thought I looked entirely sane and sensible: nothing there to frighten Ned.
It was now after eight, so I went downstairs, where there was no sound beyond the scullery door, and let myself out into the cottage garden.
It was a still, clear morning, though up in the trees a wood pigeon was giving it some welly.
The rambling crazy-paving path was damp with dew and the overgrown lavender and rosemary bushes sprinkled me with water as I brushed against them – they were more than ready for a good pruning.
I couldn’t see much beyond the high stone walls except trees, but I could just hear the sound of water rushing under the nearby humpbacked bridge and thundering down into the pool below, the Devil’s Cauldron, that Elf had told me had given its name to the pub.
I inhaled deeply as I walked slowly down the path: the air was cold and crisp and smelled of leaf mould as rich and delicious as plum cake.
Further along, the spiders had spread great jewelled webs between the bushes and from both sides of the steep, wooded valley more wood pigeons had woken and joined in with the first. Small, pale beams of sunshine lightly gilded the top of the greenhouse and, despite my mission, my heart suddenly lifted and I felt again a connection with this enchanting valley, and that I had come home.
‘Into each life, a little sunshine must fall,’ I said aloud, changing the trite saying to suit myself, since I’d already had the rain, not to mention the thunder, lightning and hailstones. Then I selected the rose garden key from the big ring, which Myfy had helpfully labelled.
I made straight for the gate to the Grace Garden on the other side of the pond: I might love old roses, but this was no time to linger, though as I skirted the dark pool, my weird imagination provided me with the image of a hand rising from the depths, brandishing aloft, Excalibur-like, a gilded garden rake.
That would certainly bring in the paying visitors! I was grinning as I left the overgrown and gloomy tunnel of roses for the light and tranquillity of the apothecary garden.
The early sun was burnishing the ancient bricks of the high, sheltering walls, and this time I noticed at the further end of the garden to my left, beyond the low beds bordered by hedges of lavender, what looked like a tall, black, metal cage.
This was intriguing, but then, so was the whole garden, because from this point I couldn’t really see much of it, what with the rising ground and the specimen trees and banks of tall shrubs.
It seemed entirely deserted, except for a pheasant, who was ambling aimlessly away down the path directly ahead of me, in the manner of his kind, and though I knew I should head to the path to the right, behind the Alchemist rose, where the entrance to the courtyard apparently lay, I instead impulsively followed the pheasant.
My path joined a wider one that curved away on either side, seeming to circle the central beds, which I now saw were planted with mid-height herbs and shrubs. I began to note the signs of recent activity – the paths all newly gravelled and neatly edged, to trace the pattern of what was once there. But there was also evidence of years of neglect.
If the lower half of the garden had been totally let go, then it would take a lot of effort to restore it to what it once was – the repository of healing and useful plants, gathered together in one place: the so-called apothecary, or physic garden. A little Eden … which reminded me of my purpose.
Instead of going in search of the heart of the garden, I took the next right turn that skirted the tall bed of trees and shrubs and went through the wide arch at the top of it, into a paved courtyard. A sign on one of the buildings opposite proclaimed:
Little Edens Garden Design
Small Plots, Big Ideas
The pheasant, who must have followed me in, had now been joined by a slightly bedraggled-looking peacock and his mate, but I barely took them in, for my attention was all focused on the task ahead.
A glimmer of light shone through the slatted blinds over the windows, so I knew Ned was