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Authors: Linda Gillard
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obviously happy there.’
‘Was your offer never genuine then?’
‘Of course it was! I wouldn’t waste your time.’ He heard himself, then added, ‘Well, not again .’
‘So you did actually want to buy Garden Lodge?’
‘Yes, I did, but that was my best offer and I fully expected it to be rejected. It represented all I have – and quite a lot that I don’t, to be honest – but I thought if I actually made an offer, it would clarify matters. For me, at least.’
‘You must have been very surprised when Phoebe accepted.’
‘I thought it might be you, putting pressure on her to move somewhere more practical. But that didn’t really add up.’
‘Why not?’
‘It was obvious you didn’t really want to sell. I mean, you didn’t try very hard, did you? The business potential of that place is tremendous, but you didn’t push it.’
‘I didn’t think you were a serious buyer.’
‘Are you sure that was why?’
I hesitated, then said, ‘I was sure at the time, but I realise now neither Phoebe nor I are ready to sell up. She only accepted your offer so I could get her settled elsewhere. In her misguided way, she was trying to be kind. She wanted to relieve me of my responsibilities – I suppose because she so loathed being responsible for me when I was young and she was a single parent.’
‘Do you see her as a big responsibility?’
‘No, that’s what’s so silly. I was horrified to discover she felt guilty enough to give up her home. But I’ve persuaded her to stay put. I think she could with my support. I’d been thinking of selling my flat in Bath, but I hadn’t decided what to do. Staying at Garden Lodge has given me a lot of time to think. And remember, I suppose.’
‘What do you remember?’
‘Oh, just how happy the garden used to make me when I was a child. It sounds ridiculous, but I’d like to make reparation in some way.’
‘That’s an odd term to use about a garden.’
‘I know, but I can’t think how else to explain it. And I thought you might understand.’
‘Perhaps I will if you tell me more.’
‘It was all so… sad . The garden went to rack and ruin after my father left and now I feel guilty about all the neglect. But I was just a child. There was nothing I could do.’
‘When was this?’
‘1976. I don’t remember much about that time and Phoebe’s always refused to discuss it. He just went out one day and never came back.’
‘Did he stay in touch?’
‘No. We never heard from him again. I don’t even know if he’s alive.’
‘That must have been painful for you.’
‘I really don’t remember. But I can remember the garden as it used to be. Well, perhaps I don’t, maybe it’s just that there are photos. Sylvester took lots of the garden.’
‘Sylvester?’
‘Sylvestre Esmeraldo Luis de Freitas.’
Connor laughed. ‘Wow! Portuguese?’
‘Madeiran.’
‘So that’s where you get your exotic looks from.’
It was my turn to laugh. ‘Yes. And my love of plants.’
‘So I’m guessing what you’d really like to do is restore the garden. To how it was in Sylvester’s day? Or how it was in its Victorian heyday?’
‘I don’t think I mind. I’d just like the garden to look loved . And I’d like to feel less guilty about it. I also wondered whether a big project would help reconcile Phoebe to her disability. She can’t really paint any more, not since she had cancer. The chemo wrecked her nervous system and she’s in constant pain.’
‘That’s why she likes mysteries, isn’t it? Something to distract her. Keep her brain occupied.’
‘Exactly. I wondered if I could get her involved in planning the restoration of the garden. I mean, it’s all about colour and shape, isn’t it?’
‘Have you heard of Gertrude Jekyll? She was a famous Edwardian gardener who had to abandon a career as a painter when her eyesight began to deteriorate. Her designs for flower borders were actually influenced by the Impressionists. I
‘Was your offer never genuine then?’
‘Of course it was! I wouldn’t waste your time.’ He heard himself, then added, ‘Well, not again .’
‘So you did actually want to buy Garden Lodge?’
‘Yes, I did, but that was my best offer and I fully expected it to be rejected. It represented all I have – and quite a lot that I don’t, to be honest – but I thought if I actually made an offer, it would clarify matters. For me, at least.’
‘You must have been very surprised when Phoebe accepted.’
‘I thought it might be you, putting pressure on her to move somewhere more practical. But that didn’t really add up.’
‘Why not?’
‘It was obvious you didn’t really want to sell. I mean, you didn’t try very hard, did you? The business potential of that place is tremendous, but you didn’t push it.’
‘I didn’t think you were a serious buyer.’
‘Are you sure that was why?’
I hesitated, then said, ‘I was sure at the time, but I realise now neither Phoebe nor I are ready to sell up. She only accepted your offer so I could get her settled elsewhere. In her misguided way, she was trying to be kind. She wanted to relieve me of my responsibilities – I suppose because she so loathed being responsible for me when I was young and she was a single parent.’
‘Do you see her as a big responsibility?’
‘No, that’s what’s so silly. I was horrified to discover she felt guilty enough to give up her home. But I’ve persuaded her to stay put. I think she could with my support. I’d been thinking of selling my flat in Bath, but I hadn’t decided what to do. Staying at Garden Lodge has given me a lot of time to think. And remember, I suppose.’
‘What do you remember?’
‘Oh, just how happy the garden used to make me when I was a child. It sounds ridiculous, but I’d like to make reparation in some way.’
‘That’s an odd term to use about a garden.’
‘I know, but I can’t think how else to explain it. And I thought you might understand.’
‘Perhaps I will if you tell me more.’
‘It was all so… sad . The garden went to rack and ruin after my father left and now I feel guilty about all the neglect. But I was just a child. There was nothing I could do.’
‘When was this?’
‘1976. I don’t remember much about that time and Phoebe’s always refused to discuss it. He just went out one day and never came back.’
‘Did he stay in touch?’
‘No. We never heard from him again. I don’t even know if he’s alive.’
‘That must have been painful for you.’
‘I really don’t remember. But I can remember the garden as it used to be. Well, perhaps I don’t, maybe it’s just that there are photos. Sylvester took lots of the garden.’
‘Sylvester?’
‘Sylvestre Esmeraldo Luis de Freitas.’
Connor laughed. ‘Wow! Portuguese?’
‘Madeiran.’
‘So that’s where you get your exotic looks from.’
It was my turn to laugh. ‘Yes. And my love of plants.’
‘So I’m guessing what you’d really like to do is restore the garden. To how it was in Sylvester’s day? Or how it was in its Victorian heyday?’
‘I don’t think I mind. I’d just like the garden to look loved . And I’d like to feel less guilty about it. I also wondered whether a big project would help reconcile Phoebe to her disability. She can’t really paint any more, not since she had cancer. The chemo wrecked her nervous system and she’s in constant pain.’
‘That’s why she likes mysteries, isn’t it? Something to distract her. Keep her brain occupied.’
‘Exactly. I wondered if I could get her involved in planning the restoration of the garden. I mean, it’s all about colour and shape, isn’t it?’
‘Have you heard of Gertrude Jekyll? She was a famous Edwardian gardener who had to abandon a career as a painter when her eyesight began to deteriorate. Her designs for flower borders were actually influenced by the Impressionists. I
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