The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,42

word with you!’

‘Me?’ I said, startled.

‘Yes. You’re the new gardener they’ve taken on at the Hall, aren’t you?’

‘Well, yes, though I’ll be dividing my time between there and Lavender Cottage.’

His face twisted spitefully. ‘Gardener? New slave, more like, but you’ll soon find out. They work you to the bone for a pittance and then begrudge you a bit of fruit or veg to take home. I was giving Ned one day a week, but he fired me. Doesn’t need me, now he’s got you on the cheap, but I could tell you a few things about that Ned Mars …’

‘Do you know, I’d so much rather you didn’t, thanks,’ I said crisply and, sidestepping neatly round him, walked quickly over the bridge and turned right up the hill. I could feel his eyes on my back, but there was no sound of pursuing footsteps.

I quickened my pace anyway. On this side of the road there was a narrow pavement and then the drystone wall dividing me from the steep wooded drop to the river, which was a long way below. All the buildings seemed to be clustered on the other side, backed up against a steep rock face.

I glanced back and, to my relief, Wayne hadn’t followed me, but was making off in the other direction, towards the car park by the ruins. I wondered if he’d left his van there, or was heading back to Cross Ways Farm on foot … if he still lived there, with the rest of the Vanes. Mum had said she had an older brother and various uncles and cousins living nearby and they were all very clannish, though, of course, a lot of time had passed since then and things could have changed. Myfy had said that that strangely repressive religious sect her parents had belonged to, the Strange Brethren, had died out …

I walked on, feeling thoroughly unsettled, both by having come face to face for the first time with someone actually related to me, but more particularly by his attitude. He seemed to have a grudge against Ned, that was for sure, and now that I had, in his eyes, taken his job, that appeared to extend to me, too.

The road rounded a bend and I could see the rest of the village, a couple of shops of some kind, cottages, and what looked like guesthouses, but I decided to look at those on the way back.

To my right, the valley quickly narrowed into what was practically a ravine and it was a long, long drop to the river. At first I caught occasional glimpses of it through gaps in the trees, but it was soon hidden.

As the gradient of the hill grew ever steeper, the last cottages slowly petered out, until I came to a point where a farm track led off to my right, with a sign for Angel Row and Spout Farm, so I knew I must be above the falls, near the top turnstile.

The well-made road through the village now quite suddenly turned into a rougher-surfaced single track one, snaking sharply up into dark woodland.

I examined a thicket of signs on the other side of the road, which were clearly intended to discourage any adventurous or unwary motorists from attempting to get to Thorstane that way. They proclaimed:

Single track road

Steep hill

Hairpin bends

Beware falling rocks!

Unsuitable for large vehicles

If that didn’t put them off, the immediate deterioration in the road surface and a severe pocking of potholes probably would.

According to the signpost, Thorstane was amazingly close … or it was if you were a crow. Then I remembered the map and the way the lane to Jericho’s End by which I’d arrived had formed a narrow V with the main one up to Thorstane, so the top of the village couldn’t be that far from the outskirts.

As I stood there, a young rabbit skittered out of the bushes and, on seeing me, ran back again, and distant wood pigeons started up their throaty, repetitive song.

The light was now fading and the occasional large splodge of cold rain hit my head, or smartly slapped a leaf. Time to return, though now on the side of civilization, even if it did seem to be precariously clinging to a rock face.

Then it occurred to me that the houses had most probably been built with stone hacked out of that very rock face, which is why they looked as if they’d grown there.

There were little rows of terraced cottages, interspersed with foursquare detached