The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,87
past and learned from it.
I rose with the start of dawn, a silver-pink ripple along the hills, but not to work. Instead, I let myself out of the gate at the bottom of the garden and, as the light slowly grew brighter, headed upriver to the waterfall.
I thought of all the others over the centuries that had made their way up this path. Our human presence here inhabited not so much a fold, but a mere pucker in the fabric of time.
Up by the source of the falls, although I had that feeling that there might be another world close by, behind an invisible curtain, I had no sense that winged creatures of any kind kept me company, not even birds …
All was quiet, except for the sighing of the trees in the breeze.
It was a good moment for thinking things through and coming to terms with the past – and recognizing my hopes for the future. I realized then that I wanted always to be here, in Jericho’s End, where I knew I belonged.
Back at the flat I had toast and honey, having finished the last of the pain au chocolat. I wondered if Toller’s stocked them; I wouldn’t put it past them.
Caspar wandered in from the bedroom while I was drinking my second cup of coffee, said something that sounded distinctly like, ‘Where have you been?’ and then exited in search of breakfast.
I’m sure Treena’s cats never try to talk to her.
I left soon after, mentally gearing up to make an early onslaught on the narrow blunt tip of the rose garden, which I hadn’t even touched yet. It couldn’t extend very far, so I hoped at least to get the paths cleared all the way round today.
I was increasingly eager to get involved in the apothecary garden itself, now, but torn because a) I like to finish a job properly, once I start it, b) I love roses, and c) Ned was my boss and this is what he’d told me to do.
No one was about as I collected the tools I’d need from the Potting Shed, though when I came out with them, Guinevere the peahen was squatting on the shop roof, like a drab and badly constructed tea cosy. Then, as I looked up at her, wondering where Lancelot had got to, I heard voices from beyond the entrance gate, which I now noticed was ajar.
Curiosity killed the cat and would probably be my downfall too. I moved closer and unashamedly listened when I caught the unmistakable rumble of Ned’s voice and the higher and indefinably shifty tones of Wayne Vane. He sounded as if he was trying to be ingratiating.
‘I wasn’t doing no harm, just looking for a bit of chain I remembered seeing in one of the stables. Thought it would do for the gate across the track up past Jacob’s house. I was doing a spot of work on the hinges yesterday and the old chain’s broke and the padlock hanging.’
‘You were certainly having a good rummage round when I heard the barn door squeal and came out to see who was there,’ Ned said.
‘I’m interested in old buildings, aren’t I?’ Wayne said, sounding aggrieved. ‘And I’d have OK’d it with you before I took this chain away.’ Something clinked. ‘I knew you was usually in that office of yours early.’
‘Right,’ Ned said disbelievingly. ‘Well, you can take your bit of chain and get off my property. And don’t let me …’
Whatever else he said, I didn’t linger to hear, in case he came back and caught me listening. He didn’t sound in too good a mood, so I removed myself and my tools to the rose garden.
Time passed and I’d soon cleared the short stretch of path to the outer wall. I guessed it just curved back to the pond on the other side of a central bed, but there was another small marble bench here, too, entwined with variegated ivy.
The bushes at this end were much less rampant and overgrown, as if someone had paid them a little attention at some more recent point. Through a small gap behind the bench, I could see a bit of the wall, with railings set into it like a series of blunt and twisted pokers.
I leaned the rake against it, then after pulling off some of the ivy, sat on the marble seat to drink my flask of coffee.
A cheeky robin came and sat on the other end, but I hadn’t got any