The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,92

on, but Phases 2 and 3 didn’t provide any surprises: the low beds with lavender borders to be dug over and replanted, more mid-height planting in three of the central mid-level segments within the circular walk, and the long strips of vegetable-style beds created, with lawn walkways in the fourth.

All the usual weeding, hoeing and watering was taken for granted, a bit like breathing.

‘Feasibility of new visitor facilities, museum and shop area’ was still stuck in Phase 3, though it did have a red ring drawn round it.

‘I’ve been thinking about the loos,’ I said thoughtfully.

‘And a delightful thing to ponder over on a bright April morning,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Who could blame you?’

‘Get lost, Mars. I’m the sarcastic one, remember?’ I pointed out. ‘It occurred to me that the current outside visitor toilet might be incorporated into the new part of the building later, so you accessed it from inside the shop. You’d just have to block up the outside door and turn everything around. The new door would be the disabled loo.’

‘Oh – easy then! What about the staff one, don’t you want to drag that into your expensive alterations too?’

‘No, because it’s right on the end, so it can stay as it is, with the door onto the yard. I mean, if we’re muddy, we won’t have to traipse through the shop, which would be locked in the mornings anyway.’

‘I suppose we could look into it – if knocking the two buildings into one is feasible, anyway.’

‘Well then, get someone in to look at it and give you an estimate. We must have proper facilities for the visitors,’ I said, abandoning the wall and going to fill and plug in the kettle. I spooned a generous amount of ground coffee into the large red cafetière.

‘Help yourself,’ he said, still being sarky. ‘Eat my biscuits too – they’re in that Dundee Cake tin.’

‘I think you should eat some,’ I told him. ‘You’re so grumpy this morning that your blood sugar must be rock bottom.’

‘It’s just … all the extra little things that need doing before we open that keep cropping up. And then as soon as I got in here this morning, the phone started ringing!’

‘That’s only to be expected, if the number is on the website.’ I looked round. ‘It’s not ringing now … wherever it is.’

‘Under the sofa cushions. I shouldn’t have put that advert for the opening day in all the local papers. It wasn’t so bad until they came out.’

‘Yes, you should, if you want the garden to be a success.’

‘One of the local papers is going to cover the opening event, which I suppose is good,’ he admitted. ‘But this morning, someone from regional TV rang me and wants to film me in the garden, telling them about what I’m recreating here,’ he said, even more gloomily. ‘The last place I ever wanted to be again was in front of the camera.’

‘I expect it’ll only be a tiny bit of a local interest feature in the programme, won’t it?’ I consoled him. ‘They won’t be interested in last year’s something-and-nothing bit of scandalmongering. That’s old news.’

‘Old news,’ he repeated, then his narrow mouth quirked up at the corners into a smile. ‘Thanks, Ellwood – I think that cuts my life crisis and meltdown to size.’

‘Everything has its season. You’re hoeing a different row now.’

‘I suppose I’m being over-sensitive … and about the visitors to Jericho’s End who want me to pose with them for selfies.’

‘It’s the new autograph and you’re just a personality to be snapped with. I mean, they’re not shouting, “Oh, look, there’s the lecherous love rat, Ned Mars”, are they?’

‘Not that I’ve noticed recently,’ he agreed gravely. He ran his hands through the tawny mane of hair in a familiar fashion. ‘You’re right, and most people already know where I live. I’m not hiding out. There was a small piece in the local papers when I inherited Old Grace Hall, about my moving my garden planning business here and how I was looking forward to the longer-term project of restoring the old apothecary garden. Nothing about the scandal.’

I remembered that couple who had stared at him in the pub last Friday evening … but they hadn’t bothered him, just been excited to recognize someone fairly famous.

‘I’m sure your novelty value has long since worn off, but even if you were a notorious philanderer, it would still bring the punters flocking to see you, as well as the garden, so it