Читать книгу Julia Williams 3 Book Bundle - Julia Williams - Страница 26

‘Girls, do you remember who I said was visiting today?’ Lauren sat down with Izzie and Immie over breakfast. She’d told Troy that he could come around and meet them, but she still wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing. She looked from one to the other, so alike, and yet so different as they sat munching their toast in the homely kitchen. She’d worked so hard to make their home a haven for them, to make up for not having two parents. And in the main, she felt she’d succeeded. Was she about to destroy all that by letting him back into their lives?

In the last couple of weeks she’d gradually introduced the idea of Troy coming back, but she wasn’t sure how much the girls had understood about it, or whether they were upset at all. Having them actually meet him was a big step.

‘You know I told you that Daddy had come back after being away for a long time?’ said Lauren.

‘Ye-es,’ the girls chorused a bit doubtfully.

‘Daddy’s coming to see you today, isn’t that lovely?’

‘Oh,’ the girls looked blankly at her.

‘Where has he been?’ Izzie wanted to know.

‘I thought we might be getting a treat,’ said Immie looking disappointed.

This wasn’t going exactly to plan, but Lauren persevered.

‘Daddy had to work a long way away from here,’ she lied. She didn’t like lying to the girls, but how did you tell two four-year-olds their dad hadn’t wanted to know? ‘So he couldn’t come and see you before. But now he’s back and he really wants to meet you.’

‘I don’t want to meet him,’ said Izzie. ‘Silly Daddy.’

‘Yes, silly Daddy,’ agreed Immie.

Very silly, Lauren silently concurred, looking at her daughters and wondering how anyone in their right mind could have ever abandoned them.

‘That’s a shame,’ said Lauren, ‘because I’m sure you’d like him.’

‘Will he like us?’ Izzie looked at Lauren so anxiously her heart melted.

‘Of course he will,’ she said feeling her throat constricting. This was so bloody hard. ‘Come on, I’ll give him a ring now and ask him to come round. And if you don’t like him, we’ll send him away again. What do you think?’

The girls mulled it over for a few minutes, before tentatively smiling at each other and saying, ‘OK. Can we watch CBeebies now?’

‘Off you go,’ said Lauren, with relief. She picked up her phone and rang Troy.

Half an hour later she was ushering Troy into the lounge. His slightly scruffy appearance looked out of place in her calm and tidy lounge, with its comfy sofa, plumped up cushions and bright, breezy curtains with tie backs. Troy stood there, slightly uneasily, as if he were finding it difficult. He couldn’t have looked more awkward if he’d tried. The twins looked up at him, startled, as Lauren said, ‘Izzie, Immie, I want you to meet someone very special.’

‘Who’s that man?’ asked Izzie, pointing at Troy. It took all Lauren’s resolve not to clap her daughter instead of scolding her. She could see it all too clearly from Izzie’s point of view.

‘Don’t be rude, darling,’ said Lauren, very carefully. ‘This is your daddy.’

‘He’s not our daddy!’ said Izzie.

‘We don’t have a daddy!’ said Immie.

No you don’t, thought Lauren, your daddy wasn’t there to see you born, hasn’t acknowledged a single birthday, and has only seen you once. What kind of a daddy is that?

‘No girls, you do have a daddy,’ said Lauren. ‘Remember I explained it to you, Daddy was a bit busy and had to go away, and couldn’t see you. But now he’s back and he’ll be able to spend lots of time with you. Won’t you, Daddy?’

She shot Troy a warning look.

‘Yes, that’s right, girls,’ said Troy, his voice thick with emotion. ‘I’m going to stay around here and we can all get to know each other. Now which one of you is Izzie, and which one is Immie?’

Lauren winced. He couldn’t even tell them apart. This was never going to work.

‘We’re Izzie and Immie,’ the girls said defiantly.

‘Right, so let me guess – you’re Immie?’

‘No, I’m Izzie,’ Immie said, ‘that’s Immie.’

‘Girls,’ said Lauren warningly. ‘They’re teasing you. It’s their favourite party trick. That’s Izzie and that’s Immie. You can tell the difference by their partings.’

‘OK,’ said Troy, looking a bit shell-shocked, ‘so you’re Immie and you’re Izzie?’

‘Yes,’ they said in unison.

‘And what do you like doing best?’ said Troy.

‘Park,’ said Immie.

‘Picnic,’ said Izzie.

‘That sounds a great idea,’ said Troy. ‘Why don’t we all go out for lunch?’

‘Don’t want to,’ said Immie.

‘Not with you,’ said Izzie.

‘Izzie,’ said Lauren, in a warning tone. She could only cut them so much slack. ‘Maybe that’s a bit ambitious for today,’ she said. ‘But we could go to the park if you like.’

The girls grudgingly capitulated, and she sent them to get their coats.

Troy said, ‘That was hard work. Do you think they’ll always be this hostile?’

‘What the bloody hell did you expect?’ Lauren stared at him in disbelief. ‘Actually that went quite well. They have been known to blank people they don’t like completely.’

‘Oh,’ said Troy. ‘Seems I’ve got a lot to learn.’

‘Yes,’ said Lauren, ‘you do. Let’s just take things one day at a time, shall we? You’ve got a lot of making up to do.’

Kezzie got off the train in Heartsease, and walked up the hill with a renewed sense of purpose. She took lungfuls of deep, fresh air, breathing in the country air gratefully. It felt great to be back, away from the fetid smells of London. While it had done her a power of good to see Flick and the others again, she’d forgotten the sheer madness and filth of the place. And although she’d had a fun evening, her sore head was a reminder that sometimes you could have too much of a good thing.

Kezzie turned out of the station and walked up the High Street, noting with pleasure the pretty redbrick cottages that lined the road leading up to the shops, and noticing anew the interesting variety of little shops, from the little black and white house from which Agnes Mayhew sold her crystals and witchy artefacts, to the sparkling, bright butcher’s shop where she’d taken to buying her bacon. There was Keef’s Café, where she regularly enjoyed a caffè latte, and the vintage dress shop, which sold all manner of gorgeous clothes, and the bakery, which was a daily temptation. She sighed with pleasure. It had been a good move coming here, and after Christmas Flick had promised her that she and Gavin would come over one weekend and help out with the Memorial Gardens.

As she was walking up the hill, Kezzie met Lauren and the girls walking down the hill with a rather attractive-looking man. The girls were holding tightly on to Lauren’s hands, and Lauren looked distinctly ill at ease.

‘Hi,’ said Kezzie, trying not to look as if she was dying with curiosity. This presumably was the ex boyfriend. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘The Memorial Gardens,’ said Lauren. She looked embarrassed, as if she’d been caught out at something. ‘By the way, Kezzie, this is Troy.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Kezzie, holding out a hand and shaking the one that had been laconically handed to her. Troy looked at her with a penetrating stare and gave her a dazzling smile. ‘Kezzie, lovely to meet you. Any friend of Lauren’s is a friend of mine.’

He had a lovely, deep voice, and Kezzie had to admit there was something rather seductive about him. She could certainly see the attraction.

‘Mum-eee, I want to go to the park,’ Izzie was tugging her mother’s hand, and Immie looked equally impatient.

‘Nice to meet you, Troy,’ said Kezzie, with a grin. ‘See you all later.’

She made her way up the hill, wondering what was going on with Lauren and Troy. She assumed Lauren had the sense not to have just jumped back into bed with him so soon, but you never knew. Perhaps she really loved the guy, despite what he’d done. Kezzie knew that if Richard turned up suddenly wanting to see her, she wouldn’t have the strength to resist, despite some of the hateful things he’d said to her.

She let herself into the cottage, taking in with pleasure the ethnic throws on Jo’s rickety sofa, the kilims on the wooden floors and the African masks from Jo’s many trips abroad. Kezzie tried to focus on the here and now, on the life she was leading, not the one she’d lost, but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering that last awful meeting they’d had. Richard, her lovely kind Richard, had been so cold and haughty.

‘How could you, Kez?’ He’d looked at her as if she were beneath contempt. ‘I thought I knew you … I was so wrong.’

Kezzie had been unable to say anything. What was the point in arguing about something that was true? She had let Richard down, and she’d let herself down. And in doing so, she’d lost everything she held dear to her. She deserved it, she knew, but Richard had been so cruel, so unkind – she wasn’t quite as wicked as he painted. Yet even with the painful memories of that last time together, she knew she’d still have him back. Which was all very well, but Richard wasn’t showing any signs of rushing to be by her side. He hadn’t contacted Flick or any of Kezzie’s other friends, and even though she hadn’t been looking on Facebook much, he’d made no attempt to contact her there. He couldn’t email or phone, as she’d changed both her address and number, but if he wanted to, he could get in touch. She knew she hadn’t made it easy for him to find her, but the fact that he hadn’t bothered, hurt most of all.

This was no good. Having had a nice weekend, she was about to descend into gloom. Kezzie would normally have popped in to see Lauren, but she was clearly otherwise engaged. She knew Joel was still likely to be out to lunch with his mum, so she’d just decided to sit down with a coffee and a cheery DVD when the phone rang. It was Eileen.

‘Hi Kezzie, just wondering if you were free,’ she said. ‘Only I thought it would be nice to come and have a chat with you about the Edward Handford exhibition and see what sort of material you’ve got.’

‘It’s mainly at Joel’s,’ said Kezzie. ‘Why don’t I give him a ring later and suggest we go and look through it? I know he’s keen to get involved, I’m sure he won’t mind.’

Joel hadn’t been long in from visiting his mum when he got the phone call from Kezzie announcing she and Eileen were going to come up and look through some of the extraordinary finds he and Kezzie had made.

Sam was watching Peppa Pig, and Joel had only planned to sit down with a beer and flick through Edward’s diary anyway, so he wasn’t sorry for the company. The evenings were starting to draw in, and the prospect of long, lonely winter nights was not a pleasant one. It would be good to have some company on a Sunday afternoon for a change. The weekends could often seem like the longest part of the week.

‘So, let’s have a look at all this material you’ve got,’ said Eileen, as Joel ushered her into the dining room, where he’d been keeping the trunk and its contents out of Sam’s way. He was conscious suddenly of how shabby it looked. He hardly had visitors any more, apart from Kezzie. Maybe he should start thinking about redecorating again. ‘It sounds really fascinating.’

‘I know it is,’ admitted Joel. ‘Every time we look at the letters and papers it’s like a treasure-trove and we find something new. I had little idea of who Edward Handford was, apart from the fact that he built the knot garden, until Kezzie started digging. Now I can’t think about anything else. From what I’ve read so far he and Lily had such a lot to contend with – they lost two babies before their eldest, Connie, was born – and I had no idea of any of it. He’s a fascinating character.’

‘Not many people do know much about him,’ said Eileen. ‘Personally, I think he’s one of those overlooked characters whose work was far more influential than gardening history lets on. He worked on so many famous gardens: Chatsworth, Hatfield, Sissinghurst. You name it, he’s designed a garden out there somewhere. He was massively in demand until the end of the First World War, and then he seems to have withdrawn from public life.’

‘That’s strange. Do you know why?’ said Joel.

‘Nobody knows for sure,’ said Eileen. ‘But I know his son died in the war, which is probably why he built the war memorial here. His wife died a year later, I believe. He devoted the rest of his life to philanthropic works – he built the village school you know – but he didn’t design any gardens after that. He seems to have become a bit of a recluse after his wife’s death And the world changed so much after the First World War, and he wasn’t part of it. So he faded into obscurity.’

‘Let me show you what we’ve discovered,’ said Joel. The trunk with all the paperwork in now inhabited the dining room, which was strictly out of bounds to Sam because it had an open log fire, and was therefore the safest place from sticky fingers.

They sifted through some of the letters that Joel and Kezzie had already read, and then Kezzie exclaimed in delight.

‘Oh my God, it’s here, I’ve found it!’

‘Found what?’ It was impossible not to get caught up by Kezzie’s enthusiasm.

‘Look,’ she said, carefully unfolding a large, brittle piece of yellowing paper. ‘This is Edward’s original design for his knot garden. I can’t believe it. See – here are his plans, he drew the patterns out geometrically, and here are his notes about the plants. This is so incredible. A real find.’

‘I can’t quite make out his writing,’ Joel said, squinting a bit. The writing was very faded.

‘It says the borders are to have begonias, petunias, busy lizzies, and heartsease I think,’ said Eileen. ‘I hadn’t realized the original garden had quite that many flowers, I thought it would be simpler than that.’

‘Those borders round the outside of the knot garden itself are a bit fussy for our tastes today,’ said Kezzie, ‘but the Victorians did like their bedding plants. I think I’m going to need to simplify it a bit and mainly use heartsease for the beds, but I would like to find all the plants he used to commemorate the births of his children. It was such a lovely idea.’

‘Oh look, this must be Edward and Lily with their firstborn,’ said Eileen, finding a black and white picture of a stiff-looking couple. Lily was holding an infant in her arms and looking blankly into the camera; Edward looked proud and a black Labrador sat at their feet.

‘Yes, I think it must be,’ said Joel. ‘I’m guessing the baby is Connie, my great great aunt. Her sister Tilly was Mum’s grandmother. Hang on a sec,’ he rooted around in the bottom of the trunk and pulled out an old book, ‘I thought I’d seen it in here. This is the family Bible, I think it’s got all the births written in it.’

He opened the cover carefully. It was a version of the King James Bible, dated 1881.

To darling Lily, on the occasion of your 7th birthday, your ever loving Grandmother, was written in the flyleaf. Underneath it, Lily had written in childish scrawl, Lily Clark, her first Bible, and then below in a stronger, more adult hand:

Lily Clark b. August 10th 1874 married Edward Handford b. February 22nd 1871, 9th July, 1892

Edward James Handford b. 20th May, 1894 d. 20th May, 1894

Constance Mary Handford b. 24th April, 1895

Harry Edward Handford b. 14th May, 1898

Matilda Harriet Handford b. 12th July, 1900

‘Isn’t that amazing,’ said Kezzie. ‘What a fantastic find.’

‘I know, I can’t believe all this was sitting up in the loft and I never found any of it before,’ said Joel, grinning. He turned back to look at the photo. ‘They don’t look very happy do they? Or maybe that’s just Victorian photography.’

‘Who knows?’ said Kezzie. ‘From reading her diaries, Lily had a very tough time. She lost at least two babies: it was really sad.’

‘That’s how things were then,’ said Eileen tenderly. ‘Thanks for letting me look through all of this, Joel. I think we can make a fascinating exhibition of Edward’s life.’

‘Thank you for the interest,’ said Joel. ‘Without you and Kezzie I would know very little about my own family, and I’m thoroughly hooked.’

‘So can we count on you to help with the preparations for next year’s summer fete then?’ said Eileen, slyly. ‘Our first proper meeting is coming up after Christmas.’

‘Oh go on,’ said Joel. ‘I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?’ But he smiled when he said it, and when he’d said goodbye to Eileen and Kezzie, given Sam his tea and put him to bed, Joel found himself drawn back to the trunk and its contents, and started to idly flick through Edward’s diary once more. He’d got the bit between his teeth now; he was fascinated by the story of his ancestor, and he was desperate to find out more.