The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,85

that,’ he said. ‘You never know.’

‘At some point I’ll go through all the papers,’ Ned said. ‘There’s a large wooden box full as well as the chest – and one of the library window seats is full of old accounts books and paperwork, too. My uncle had a rummage about in everything, when he was thinking of writing a family history, so it’s all very jumbled.’

I’d quite have liked a rummage in there myself: who knew what other garden-related treasures might lie within?

Luke looked at his watch and said perhaps he and Treena had better be heading back.

‘I’m taking the evening surgery at the clinic,’ Treena explained. ‘I’ve got Good Friday off, so I can come to the opening of the garden, but then I’m on call for twenty-four hours over Easter Sunday.’

We donned our coats again in the hall, where we’d piled them onto an old oak settle, and Luke and Treena thanked Ned for letting them see the house.

‘And me,’ I said. ‘I was expecting it to be in a much worse state than it is, but it only really needs some redecoration and a lot of TLC.’

‘Shabby chic is in!’ Treena said with a grin.

‘See you later, Marnie,’ Ned said to me, as I left with the other two, and for a minute I was flummoxed, until I remembered I’d said I’d go to the family Sunday dinner at Lavender Cottage that evening.

I said goodbye to Treena and Luke by the bridge. There were still lots of visitors about, mostly coming out of the River Walk, rather than going in, for it was less than an hour till closing time.

Several people were still sitting at the tables outside the café, too, despite the chilliness of the air, eating ice-cream and drinking coffee. The main road through the village looked quite busy, as well, which all gave me some idea of what the place would be like in summer!

Not, perhaps, quite the quiet little hideaway I’d originally envisaged.

At least today it wasn’t me picking litter up on the River Walk, so I went back to the flat, where a familiar bubbling snore alerted me to the fact that Caspar was there, asleep on the sofa. He opened his eyes when I went in and changed the snore to a throaty purring noise.

I started sorting and unpacking some more of the things I’d brought over from Treena’s and found my box of childhood treasures – a shell box from some long-ago seaside holiday, a packet of photographs of me growing up, taken by Mum, and one or two of us both together. She was tall and vibrantly glowing, Titian-haired and full of life. It was so cruel that it had been taken away from her in that way.

There were no pictures of her earlier than a few snaps taken when she was a student nurse, looking younger and more serious. There were pictures of me with Aunt Em and a baby Treena. They’d become fast friends at antenatal classes and Aunt Em had looked after me with Treena when Mum had gone back to work. And then, once Mum was facing her final battle and knew she wasn’t going to win it, they arranged between them that the Ellwoods should adopt me …

For the first few months after Mum died, I’d repaid them by being the teenager from hell. The hurt, angry child I’d been stayed hidden inside me long after, stirred up again when the family had moved to France, which had seemed like another abandonment, however illogical I knew that to be.

Then Mike had come along and so skilfully worked on and exploited that inner insecurity …

I shook off the past resolutely: understanding meant I could move on. I had moved on. I put the photos back in the envelope and into the chest I was using as a coffee table.

Then I found a few of Mum’s ornaments in the next box, though she hadn’t been one for clutter, and arranged them on top of the bookshelf.

Time had passed and at some point, unnoticed, Caspar had vanished. He was probably in the kitchen next door, eating his dinner … and now I was conscious that the celestial chimes of the café door had ceased to ring out a considerable time before, and when I looked out of the front window, no one was to be seen. It was time to freshen up and go next door for Sunday dinner. By then I was ravenous and looking forward