The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,96
so I went out, locking the door behind me.
I could hear the phone ringing away in the office again, but I felt I’d had enough of being a secretary and PA and went to join the others. By the time Charlie left late in the afternoon, the slats of the walkway had been screwed down into their supports and the bridge almost completed.
It wasn’t really worth bridging a stream so narrow you could step across it without a stretch, but it looked pretty in a Monet’s water garden kind of way and would lead people to the gazebo … when we’d put that together, too.
After finishing the bridge and exhausting his Sonic Screwdriver, Ned and I began sorting through the pots of damp-loving plants that lined the nearby gravel path – marshmallow, chervil, milk thistle, meadowsweet and more – and moving them into position before digging them in.
We worked in happy and mostly silent amity until the sun dipped below the encircling hills and, as Shakespeare didn’t quite phrase it, all the birds bogged off back to the rooky woods for the night.
Ned’s spade stopped moving suddenly and he exclaimed: ‘It’s Tuesday!’
‘Is it really? You amaze me,’ I said. ‘You’ll be telling me next that it’s April.’
‘No, I meant, if it’s Tuesday, then it’s the Friends of Jericho’s End meeting in the Village Hut at seven.’
I checked my slightly earthy watch. ‘You’ve still got enough time to clean yourself up and eat something, first.’
‘I do if I get a bit of a shift on. You should come, too,’ he suggested. ‘I’m surprised Elf hasn’t already roped you in.’
‘I think she did mention the meetings, but I’ve only just got here, so I’ve hardly been absorbed into the community yet.’
‘The quiz was a good start – everyone knows who you are now – and Elf’s always looking for new blood.’
‘So it’s a society of vampires?’
‘Ho, ho,’ he said. ‘Nothing so exciting. It’s run by Elf and Gerald and they arrange the regular events, like the Annual Fête, the Christmas pantomime and the Easter egg hunt, which is the next thing coming up. There are occasional litter-picking days, too, when most of the village turns out.’
‘That doesn’t sound too taxing. What other things do they do there?’ I asked, curiously.
‘Well, there’s the book group once a month, and occasional talks, and a jumble sale. Oh, and a mother and toddler group meets one morning a week.’
‘I was wrong, it’s a positive riot of dissipation. When do you have the Easter egg hunt?’
‘Sunday morning at eleven, but the Easter Bunny goes out early and leaves chocolate eggs under all the bushes in the ground round the Hut. In fact, you can be the Easter Bunny, if you like.’
‘No thank you, I’ve never fancied the floppy ears and fluffy tail look. Anyway, I’ll be working.’
‘It’s a Sunday,’ he pointed out. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘Don’t be daft. Like today, I’ll be there whether you pay me or not. We’ll need to do a lot of our work in the mornings in future, too, once we open to the public, won’t we?’
‘It would certainly be easier to trundle barrows up and down and that kind of thing without the visitors on the paths,’ Ned agreed. ‘And thanks – but I’ll pay you for any overtime.’
‘How about I give you my time free this Sunday and we see how busy the garden is and whether an extra pair of hands is needed?’
‘OK – thanks. Though actually, it’s amazing how much work you’ve already done. You just set to and get on with it, like I do, without being told. It’s almost as good as having two of me.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ I said. ‘Hadn’t you better get going, if you don’t want to miss the meeting?’
As we headed back to put our tools away, I asked curiously, ‘Who else goes to these Friends meetings besides you, Elf and Gerald?’
‘Sometimes Myfy and Jacob … and Gert, James and Steve, of course. The vicar, if she can make it …’ He frowned. ‘I’ve missed someone out … Oh, yes, Cress comes, too. The first Lordly-Grace to take any interest in village affairs for centuries.’
‘That sounds almost irresistible, but I think I’ll pass,’ I told him.
But then, not five minutes later, Elf accosted me as I made for the stairs to the flat and, after thrusting a box of blueberry ice-cream into my still somewhat grubby hands, insisted I join them at the FOJE meeting that evening.