Sowing Secrets (20 page)

It says something for their social standing and/or celebrity status that Mrs Forrester had let them dine in the restaurant at all, since Rhodri looked like a rather down-at-heel lumberjack and Gabe was still wearing the cords and sweatshirt (but not the cowboy boots) he’d had on earlier. I strongly suspect they had been placed in the darkest corner and the candle on their table hastily extinguished.

‘Fran!’ Rhodri gave me a great bear hug and kissed me affectionately as usual. ‘Wonderful to see you out and about! Gabe’s been telling me he met you earlier and that he’s going to buy the Glen – great news!’

Gabe watched our embrace with interest, then awarded me a polite kiss on one cheek. He smelled rather enticingly of sun-dried cotton and lawn mowings. ‘So long as Fran hasn’t changed her mind in the interval.’

‘No … ’ I began. ‘Not quite. I just—’

‘Good, because I’ve already phoned your mother, and she says she’s delighted.’

‘You have? She is?’ I blinked. He hadn’t hung around long enough for me to have much time for second thoughts!

‘Yes. It should go through very quickly, since I don’t have to sell my house first – two or three weeks at the most should do it. She’s going to phone you later.’

‘Right,’ I said, slightly dazedly.

‘And she’s driving across tomorrow morning to talk it over, so I’m staying here tonight.’

‘She is?’ I parroted, starting to feel punch-drunk.

‘Yes, and she’s also kindly suggested I move in whenever I want to, rather than stay here in the hotel when I start filming at Easter.’

‘She did?’

Ever had the feeling that the ground has been cut right away from under your feet? I sat down again since my legs had folded, rather than because I’d intended to.

‘Of course, I told her I could only do that if you agreed too,’ he said with a look of limpid innocence that didn’t fool me one bit.

‘Well, that calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?’ Rhodri said, happily unaware of any undercurrents and taking my agreement for granted. ‘Let’s have a bottle of champagne!’

‘You can’t afford champagne. You need all your money for the restoration,’ Nia said firmly. ‘It had better be Murphy’s all round.’

‘I’ll get them,’ offered Gabriel, getting up. ‘In fact, I’ll get champagne if you really want it, though I’m not too keen on the stuff myself.’

‘Let’s stick to beer,’ Nia said, ‘and not get delusions of grandeur. If you want to push the boat out you could get a couple of packets of crisps, though – Fran and I haven’t eaten yet.’

I watched as two giggling women who had been watching him avidly from the corner suddenly leaped to their feet and intercepted him.
And
noted his delightful smile as he wrote his name across their proffered paper napkins – and across their hearts too, going by the adoring expression on their faces.

The locals, who had been watching him just as keenly if less overtly, at least left him alone – for the moment.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Fran,’ Rhodri said, ‘ because we’ve got the designs for Plas Gwyn and I wanted you to see them.’

He pulled some papers out of a cardboard tube and opened them out. The corners kept trying to spring back until we pinned them down with bottles and ashtrays.

Gabe returned. ‘She’s bringing them out.’

‘You’re honoured!’ Nia said admiringly. ‘What it is to be famous!’

He grinned at her and sat down next to me, so close our knees brushed – which is admittedly difficult to avoid when you’re sitting on a semi-circular seat around a barrel. Leaning over the plans he smoothed them out with long, slightly spatulate fingers.

‘I don’t know how much sense these are going to make to you,’ he said. ‘This top one gives some idea of how I hope the garden will look when it’s finished, and if we put this overlay over the top you can see how it relates to all the earlier garden features we’ve got evidence for.’

‘It looks a bit complicated because of the overlapping,’ Rhodri explained. ‘Every generation seems to have added something, and then most of it was simply turfed over in the eighteenth century when landscape gardens were in vogue, and has stayed that way ever since.’

Nia and I stared at him, amazed: he was really getting into this, but I suppose it was just an extension of his keen interest in his house.

‘Most gardens evolve through several different styles according to fashion,’ agreed Gabe. ‘Sometimes the whole lot is swept away and a new scheme replaces it; sometimes it’s piecemeal – which is what happened at Plas Gwyn.’

‘But there doesn’t seem to be a garden at all,’ I objected. ‘Just grass and trees.’

‘That’s mostly what a landscape garden is – a carefully arranged vista of grass, trees and water. At the front of the house it stretched right down to the river; they just remodelled what was there. Some of the garden features dotted about, like statues and arches, were left over from previous schemes.’

‘And Aled’s artistic trees,’ put in Nia helpfully. ‘Though I don’t suppose for a minute that they were originally meant to be those shapes.’

‘There’s the ha-ha too,’ Rhodri said. ‘The one that stops the cattle from Home Farm getting on to the grounds.’

I pored over the map, trying to make sense of the two layers. ‘So are you going to restore the landscape garden at the front of the house?’

We were interrupted by the approach of Mrs Forrester with a laden tray. Rhodri stood up and took it from her politely, but she didn’t give him even the ghost of her usual simper: this time her smiles were all for Gabe.

There was nowhere to put it on the table, so we took our drinks and lined them up on the shelf along the back of the seat. Gabe’s arm brushed the back of my head as he pushed his glass along, and I was suddenly very conscious of his closeness. I would have moved my knees away by now, if there had been anywhere to move them
to
. Getting up and sitting next to Rhodri would be tantamount to admitting I found Gabe’s proximity disturbing.

If he’s going to make a habit of joining us we are going to have to sit at a proper table, one with lots of space between the chairs.

He turned and looked down at me, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in the way they did when he was amused by something – and if he can read me like he can read gardens, then I’m sunk.

‘The long-term plan does include restoring the landscape garden, of course, but most of that will be left to Rhodri,’ he said. ‘The programme will mainly concentrate on other areas – and there was a mass of information in those documents Rhodri found.’

‘Yes, even a scale drawing of the maze, so it can be restored to its original size – it was nearly twenty-five feet across!’ Nia said enthusiastically. ‘The paths at the edge that have almost vanished will be recut, and the yew hedge around it only needs trimming so it looks less like a row of enormous breasts.’

‘This area between the house and the maze should be a Dutch garden with lots of topiary,’ Gabe’s finger traced the path down, ‘with a fountain here, where that statue is.’

‘It is – the statue is actually the top of it. Mother filled it in,’ Rhodri said, ‘but we can dig it out again.’

‘The wilderness on this side can be thinned and restocked at a later date,’ Nia put in. ‘This stretch of grass will be for parking cars, so it just needs roping off and some signs putting up.’

‘And the knot garden that was once right here in front of the courtyard is going to be put back – but with lavender and not box,’ Rhodri said.

‘I hate box, it smells of pee,’ remarked Nia.

‘I thought that was privet?’ I said.

‘No, box stinks too.’

‘Lavender certainly smells better,’ Gabe agreed. ‘Though the effect isn’t quite as neat.’ He pulled out one of the other sheets and put it on top. ‘This is a larger-scale plan to the north-east, with the steps down to the pleached walk. Luckily they’re still there, under the soil and turf.’

‘How do you know?’ I asked, surprised. ‘Have you been digging?’

‘No,’ he said, ‘some things I just
do
know. I’d put money on it.’

‘I’d forgotten you were the psychic gardener!’ I muttered.

‘Gabe’s simply more in tune with nature than most people,’ Nia said approvingly. ‘But we could all be like that, if we wanted to be.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Rhodri said vaguely. ‘Isn’t it a bit like dowsing for water? Either you’ve got the knack or you haven’t. But here’s something that will really interest you, Fran!’ He put his finger on the lawned north-east terrace with its low stone balustrading. ‘This was a rose garden in the early 1800s.’

‘It was? And they
removed
it? Why on earth would anyone rip out a rose garden, for goodness’ sake!’

‘I don’t know, but that’s one of the first restoration projects,’ Nia assured me. ‘And the maze, of course.’

‘Yes, and then reconnecting all the isolated garden features like the pleached walk and the fountain and the arch to the river will be great fun, like joining dots up and finding a picture,’ enthused Rhodri.

‘It all sounds like a lot of hard work. Presumably the programme only do a small part of it?’ I said to Gabe.

‘Oh, we’re here for four weeks, and it’s surprising how much we get done in the time. The maze and the rose garden are the main projects, with a bit of work here and there on the other stuff where something is being excavated, like old steps or walls – anything that makes good TV. After that, we leave Rhodri with the plans and he carries on – but we do return regularly and update the viewers on what’s happening, and give advice on the ongoing restoration.’

‘But
now
I’ll have you practically living on the doorstep, my own resident expert,’ Rhodri said happily.

Being a TV gardener must be like being a doctor, in that everyone you meet wants you to diagnose their problems, free.

‘I wonder what sort of roses they would have had in Regency Wales?’ I mused, staring at the plan. ‘Apart from the obvious ancient ones, like Rosa Mundi, which they used to grow as a herb.’

‘There are only one or two mentions of particular varieties in Rhodri’s documents, but it will be easy enough to find out what was available at the time,’ Gabe said. ‘And I suggested to Rhodri that he could plant a modern rose garden below it, so that one terrace leads down to another.’ He frowned. ‘I feel there should be some more steps – and maybe a water feature – right
here
.’

‘I think that may be the stone sarcophagus the cows drink out of down at the Home Farm,’ Rhodri said apologetically. ‘Apparently my grandmother took against it when she came here as a bride, and had it removed. A stone gryphon spouted water into it, but I’ve no idea where that went.’

‘Well, the cows don’t have to drink out of a stone coffin,’ Nia said firmly. ‘We’ll have that back and find them something else. An old bath, perhaps.’

‘You’ll have to go and see Fran’s rose garden, Gabe, to see what does well around here,’ Rhodri suggested.

‘So everyone keeps telling me – and I will, if she’ll invite me.’

‘There isn’t a lot to see just now,’ I said hastily. ‘Later, perhaps.’

‘I’d like to see it, whatever the season. What roses have you got?’

‘What
hasn’t
she got?’ Nia sighed.

‘Nia, there are thousands of wonderful roses out there, and I have room for only a fraction of a fraction of them!’ I turned back to Gabe. ‘There’s no particular type of rose that I like better than any other, so it’s a complete hotchpotch of varieties. I’ve even got an Omar Khayyam,’ I added proudly. ‘I know there are more spectacular pink Damasks, but it’s so romantic, knowing it came from the original one found growing on the poet’s grave!’

‘Do you believe that?’ He looked down at me, eyebrow raised.

‘Of course! Don’t you?’

‘As much as I believe in the existence of Tilly the two-ton tooth fairy,’ he said gravely, and the other two gave him rather startled looks. ‘Go on – what else have you got?’

‘I’ve just bought a Constance Spry – they’re so beautiful – and I’ve got a Kiftsgate and a Madame Gregoire Staechelin, and a Gloria Mundi, of course, and an absolutely
enchanting
Mermaid … ’ I stopped suddenly, remembering what had happened to the poor thing. ‘But you don’t want to hear me going on about them!’

‘I could listen to you going on about roses all night,’ he said, in a voice like molten honey. ‘I find it
terribly
seductive!’

I could feel myself going pink and looked away hastily, only to meet Rhodri’s slightly puzzled eyes instead.

‘Will you come up and help me with ideas for the Plas Gwyn rose gardens?’

‘I’m sure you have more than enough of your own,’ I said stiffly.

‘I’m always happy to have a fresh eye on things … and a pleasure shared with a fellow enthusiast is a pleasure more than doubled, don’t you think?’

‘You could get in the picture when they start filming, too,’ Rhodri suggested. ‘They like to include local characters and they’re even roping Dottie in to ride across the scenery at one point, though I’ve told them she doesn’t take direction very well. Or even at all,’ he added honestly.

‘She’s a true eccentric – she was a big hit on the programme and people want to see more of her,’ Gabe said.

‘But not me – I’d hate that,’ I said firmly. ‘I will come up and help when I can, but there is no way I want to be on the telly.’

‘I’ll have to warn them to keep the cameras off you, then,’ Gabe said, amused. ‘It’s usually the other way round – loads of local people trying to get in the frame, and fans of the programme too, when they know we are here.’

Fans of Gabriel Weston, more like!

‘It would be good publicity for your work, though, Fran!’ Nia pointed out. ‘They’re going to feature me in my studio, aren’t they, Gabe?’

‘Yes, and any other craftworkers you’ve got installed by then. We’ll show the interior of the house too. It all adds interest to the programme.’

‘We’re going to officially open Plas Gwyn to the public at Easter, don’t forget, Fran,’ Nia reminded me, ‘just after the preliminary shooting for
Restoration Gardener
. The whole place is going to be a work in progress for years, but we need the punters to start flowing in to give us a bit of cash to keep going.’