Read Online Meanwhile Gardens by Charles Caselton - Free Book Online Page A

when he was too busy to come to the dining room. Despite his recent knighthood she still addressed her boss as ‘Mr’ Edwin, a fact that both endeared her to him as well as annoyed him. It was easy work and Gem enjoyed it.
    Walking down the canal on her way to work this Monday morning she was struck at how her daily life so often turned her thoughts to the Queen of Hearts.
    Ollie’s dog Hum made her think of Diana. His eyes, large, trusting and sometimes sorrowful were so like the princess’ – especially when he looked up at her through his heavy eyelids. Could human souls move into animal souls?
    Could they?
    Auntie Gem wondered. Afterall Ollie had said Hum had been born on the tenth anniversary of Diana’s death.
    Had the soul of the Diana, Princess of Wales, somehow moved into Ollie’s dog?
    Such a bizarre notion was too weird, especially for Mondays. Auntie Gem immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thing. She quickly crossed herself and carried on.
    Another reminder of Diana was the heron she almost always saw on the way to and from Peters & Peters. If she didn’t see the heron she felt disappointed and strangely abandoned. Seeing the slightly sinister looking bird always took her back to the eve of Diana’s funeral, a clear, cool Friday evening in early September at least ten years before, when she had gone with Emma to Kensington Gardens.
    Auntie Gem remembered that painful time so well. She had taken a week’s leave, spending most of it in the tribute-filled gardens in front of the palace, and had especially wanted to be there for the princess’ last night in her home.
    As the sun set over Kensington Palace Emma had pointed out the heron, wings closed over its body like a monk’s cowl, beneath one of the three enormous stone urns on the roof above Diana’s apartment.
    At first they had taken it for a decorative sculpture until it changed position and shook its pointed beak at them – right at them! Silhouetted against the dying sun the birdremained guarding the princess until night fell and they watched it slowly fly northwards – northwards to this section of the Grand Union Canal.
    Since that time Auntie Gem had wondered if what she now called ‘her heron’ was indeed the one atop Kensington Palace that night.
    Was it? she asked herself. Could it really be the same bird?
    As if to confirm this the ring of a bicycle bell interrupted her musings. As the cyclist sped past Auntie Gem looked up and there, watching motionless from the opposite bank, was the heron.
    But that wasn’t all that got her attention.
    Auntie Gem saw that she was now just further on from the gasometers. With a shiver she looked over at the opposite side of the canal, at the tightly planted saplings lining the cemetery wall.
    And then she heard it. A young girl’s tuneless singing. All Auntie Gem could think of were the lost and lonely warblings of Ophelia before she threw herself in the river and drowned. The words were indistinct, the voice unclear as it dipped then grew in intensity, seemingly lacking in rhythm or rhyme.
    More proof of the wandering soul of the poor young girl.
    Ollie had heard the otherworldly laughter, she herself had seen the spectral, virginal figure and now here was further proof.
    Auntie Gem kept her eyes straight ahead. She blocked her ears and quickened her step, relieved to see the chimney of Peters & Peters beyond Mitre Bridge in the distance.
    Unaware of the ghostly status she had attained Rion sang along to her favourite songs, playing and replaying the same tunes but now, she realised sadly, the battery in her ipod was fading.
    Remembering batteries can be recharged if left in the sun Rion took the headphones off, removed the powerpack from the music player and placed it in the brightest bit of sunlight.
    She had had another good night, finished Jake’s last apple and now wondered what she was going to do. Even though she had no money she knew something would turn up, besides Tanya would