The Rose Garden (5 page)

Molly did worry – about rent money and about her daughter heading off around Europe with a gang of friends, planning on sleeping on trains, beaches and in the odd hostel as they backpacked around Holland, Germany, France, Italy and Croatia.

The waitress came and took their orders, both of them opting for the dish of the day – cannelloni with a salad.

‘Is everything okay at home?’ quizzed Grace.

She had debated telling Grace about her meeting yesterday, but there was no point in worrying her younger daughter.

‘Fine, and Rena’s minding Daisy while I’m away, so hopefully she’s behaving.’

‘I really miss her.’

‘Well, come home and see her then,’ she urged.

‘Mum, I’ve two massive projects to hand in in the next week or two! Then Sophie and I are going to the
Star Wars
Ball in two weeks … Maybe after that I’ll try to get home for a weekend.’

‘A
Star Wars
Ball!’

‘The computer science geeks have organized it, but it should be fun. I’m wearing that silvery dress and Karl, one of the guys in my class, is loaning me a light sabre.’

As they ate, Molly listened as Grace told her all about her friends, her classes, her lectures and her housemates. Her daughter’s life was packed to the brim, as any twenty-year-old’s should be.

Molly smiled as Grace devoured a big slice of chocolate fudge cake for dessert.

‘Are you staying in town tomorrow, Mum? Maybe we could meet up again!’

‘Sorry, but I plan to head back home mid-morning,’ she explained. ‘I’m trying to get Jimmy Fallon to come and fix the leak in the bathroom, so I need to be there … You know what that man is like, and I don’t like leaving Mossbawn empty …’

‘Mum, I’ll try to get down home soon,’ promised Grace. ‘It’s just that with the exams the work is piling on.’

‘Of course, pet … don’t worry, and remember to send me some photos of that ball!’

Paying the bill, the two of them headed back towards O’Connell Bridge and Molly insisted that they share a taxi home. Hugging Grace tightly when they reached Ranelagh, Molly watched her daughter disappear into a narrow road of similar-looking red-brick houses, then she gave the driver Roz’s address.

IT WAS GOOD TO BE BACK IN MOSSBAWN, ENVELOPED IN THE
familiar routine of the old house.

Rena had stayed for coffee when she had brought the dog back; Molly thanked her as Daisy raced off immediately on an inspection tour of the garden.

‘She’s no trouble,’ laughed Rena. ‘She got on fine with George once she didn’t try to eat from his dog bowl. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed yourself.’

‘Thanks, Rena, it was great. I got to see Grace and Roz and a few of my friends and did a bit of shopping. But to tell the truth it’s a great relief to get back home,’ she confessed. ‘I missed the place.’

‘I’m the exact same! A few days on holidays or staying with my sister in Cork and I’m ready to come back home again,’ confided Rena. ‘Jack complains I’ve lost my adventurous streak, but I’m not sure if I ever really had one!’

‘But you and Jack have been all over the place!’ exclaimed Molly; her neighbours were renowned for their travels all over the world.

‘I know, but once you’ve seen one rainforest, sat on one deserted tropical island and visited one more temple, you find yourself wanting to be back sitting pretty here in Kilfinn.’

Molly burst out laughing.

‘You can’t beat it,’ Rena added, laughing too. ‘It’s not just the place, it’s the people too.’

Molly had to admit there was a lot of truth to what her neighbour was saying. Living here in Kilfinn she was part of a community where everyone looked out for everyone else. When David had died she had been inundated with help and support, and had been shown a genuine kindness by all those around her. It was something that she would never forget.

Later, when Rena was gone, Molly decided to get stuck in doing a bit of much-needed work in the garden. Pulling on her wellington boots and her light fleece jacket, she decided it was high time she began to tackle some of the heavy, overgrown sections in the large herbaceous borders. There was no room for anything and she urgently needed to strip out some of the plants and trim others back so there was space for the spires of growing delphiniums, lupins and tall foxgloves. This work preparing the beds for the summer should have been done months ago, but she had barely noticed what was going on around her, let alone here in the garden. She had neglected it like everything else and now it was gone mad … Arming herself with her secateurs and clippers, spade and fork, she set out across the lawn.

Working with plants and flowers was probably one of the most rewarding things a person could do after raising children, thought Molly. As she worked, cutting and clipping back, digging up and making space for light and air and room to grow, she got totally involved in what she was doing. She worked for a few hours, took a quick break for coffee and a sandwich, then headed back out again. A day like this with no rain or showers was a gardener’s delight and meant that she could get a good run at the job. Though she was tired, she had no intention of stopping until she had one whole section of the large bed done. A few more days like this and she could achieve so much.

Molly found that time and worry seemed to disappear when you had a trowel or clippers in your hand, as your full concentration was needed for the job. Perhaps that was why she enjoyed gardening so much. Nothing else mattered when a plant or shrub
demanded your attention. While it was back-breaking and aching and exhausting splitting, lifting and digging out plants, filling the wheelbarrow time and time again and wheeling it off to the compost heap, she found it relaxing in a way far more beneficial than any pills a doctor could prescribe.

As she was finishing up she wheeled the barrow, filled with some heavy stones and a rock she had decided to move, back towards the old walled garden enclosure. She looked around as she emptied the barrow. This was a place she should do something to. The previous owner had used it as a hidden area for storage and David had followed suit, dumping debris or rubble from the garden, and also storing paving slabs, roof tiles and bricks, keeping them safely along with old garden pots and roof slates, as it was out of the way and enclosed by lovely tall brick walls. It was overgrown now with dandelions and weeds, but Molly stopped, surprised to see a rambling rose clambering up the south wall, cheekily reaching the top.

The old rose bush struggled between a mound of stones and gravel, part of it dead and wizened, and without thinking she took out her secateurs and gave it a prune, stripping out the dead branches to let the new growth flourish. Then she pushed the stones away from it.

Among the clutter there was a broken garden bench and some old deckchairs, and a rusted wrought-iron sewing table. David hated getting rid of things – he always had plans for them; but with David gone this was just a dumping ground and it needed to be cleared.

In times past this must have been a proper garden, with its rusty old gate and broken pathways and wizened bits of box hedge. It had been David’s spot, so she had hardly bothered with it; but now, sitting on a low piece of wall, she could see its appeal. The brick was still warm to touch, sheltered, a perfect place to sit hidden away from everybody.

She could see wild roses and stumps of shrub roses and the skeletons of a few climbers scattered about like old soldiers in a
battle. It must have been some kind of rose garden a long time ago. There were still some traces of beds and paths. Poor, poor garden! she thought as she walked around, searching to see if there were any signs of growth or budding that showed a plant might still have a chance of survival.

She spent the next hour in the garden, overcome by a strange sense of wanting to do something here. Could she fix it? Repair it some way? The soil was compacted from all the rubble and gravel and stuff dumped everywhere, difficult to work with, but surely it was possible to replenish and enrich and fertilize it? As she walked around she began to imagine this old garden as it must have been a hundred years ago – a secret garden … a rose-filled bower … a place of peace and quiet and secret thoughts – and she was excited by the notion of trying to restore it … return it to its former glory … replant it …

It was late when she realized the time, the air cool as the sun began to go down – a large bundle of roof slates moved and some ground cleared already …

Inside, she switched on the radio and caught the tail end of the news and the weather forecast for tomorrow, which was dry with sunny spells.

‘Perfect!’ she shouted aloud as she began to prepare some pasta for herself. Pasta in a cheesy sauce – the single diner’s friend!

Soon she was curled up barefoot on the kitchen couch, eating, browsing a garden catalogue, searching the rose section with a notepad on her lap as she jotted down names and varieties, doodling a rough outline of a new garden.

The original house and garden plans were kept in a leather folder in David’s study in the old library. Surely the walled garden would be somewhere in those? Somewhere there were also photos and some drawings and designs that she should root out, see if she could discover what the original garden looked like.

She was trawling through the old books and files, trying to find what she needed, when Emma phoned. They talked to each other
every second day. She loved to hear stories of Emma’s student life in Galway, which lately seemed more and more to involve her daughter’s new boyfriend, Jake.

She found herself telling Emma about the old garden. ‘It’s in such a terrible state!’

‘Mum, it sounds like one of your projects!’ warned her elder daughter.

‘My projects?’

‘Yeah, like when you re-did our two bedrooms and you sourced the original wallpaper designs and stencils, and when you and Dad got the new wooden bridge built over the pond when the old one broke, and remember you got them to get all the old pieces of wood from the old bridge and got a guy to copy and re-make a new version of it.’

‘That was fun!’ Molly admitted. ‘It was based on a Japanese design.’

‘See what I mean?’ teased Emma.

‘But don’t you think it would be lovely to see it restored and for Mossbawn to have a rose garden again?’

Sitting up in bed later, with books and papers spread out everywhere, Molly studied the old sepia photo she’d found in a box in the library. She recognized the gate and a section of wall. There was something scribbled in faded pencil on the back: ‘
The Rose Garden
’.

An old man was in the picture, leant on a spade, in an overall and rolled-up shirtsleeves and boots, squinting into the sun … A gardener! She wished there were more photos of the garden so she could get some real idea of the way it was originally laid out. She yawned; she’d search again tomorrow, she promised herself as she laid everything carefully on the top of the silk-padded ottoman at the end of the bed. She usually hated night-time – being on her own, sleeping in their bed – but tonight she was so exhausted she just wanted to lie down, pull up the quilt and sleep. No dreams … no worries … just good old-fashioned sleep.

KIM SAT IN FRONT OF ONE OF THE SENIOR EXECUTIVES IN JAVELIN
Jobs. Liz had suggested she give the recruitment firms another call and set up a few meetings: ‘You met with most of them months ago. They have so many people on their books you need to jog their memories.’

‘I’ll be honest,’ Brian Jennings said. ‘Except for banking experience, what you’re offering is very limited in terms of other employers. They are looking for a range of skill sets – technical ability, financial acumen, and exceptional experience in terms of client interface.’

‘But I’ve worked in banking for six years. That must count for something,’ she said doggedly. ‘I was part of the Finance team.’

‘A junior member,’ he said softly.

‘Since I left Irish Bank Group I’ve been improving my skills,’ she said defensively. ‘I’m doing a diploma course in website development and design, which I’ve almost finished, and I’ve also undertaken a digital photography course.’

‘The more skills people have the better. Clients like to see someone who is stretching themselves, continually learning,’ he praised her.

‘That’s what I am trying to do,’ she said forcefully.

‘But you need to show these new diplomas and certificates and things on your résumé.’

‘Maybe there are jobs out there that I could go for, not necessarily in banking but maybe in digital marketing?’

He raised his eyebrow. ‘Listen, Kim, we have something coming up in a few weeks in an insurance company. They have a strong online presence and are looking to recruit a few people. It’s all at a very early stage, but if you would like to update your CV and re-send it to me, I will put your name forward.’

‘Honestly? Oh thanks, Brian.’

‘As I said, it’s early days and there are no guarantees, but once I have the new CV I will send it on to them.’

Kim smiled. Job-wise, this was the first bit of encouragement she’d had in weeks. Okay, online insurance didn’t sound very exciting, but if she got a job, any kind of job, it would be just brilliant.

As they were having a sandwich in O’Brien’s, Kim told Evie about the possibility of a job, making it sound rather more exciting than it was.

‘That’s great, Kim! Fingers crossed that you’ll ace the interview and land the job!’

‘We’ll see.’ She shrugged.

‘Imagine if you got it,’ sighed Evie. ‘That would show bloody Gareth how good you are!’

‘I suppose it would be great!’

‘Have you heard from him?’ quizzed her friend.

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘Nothing. I texted him a few times but he never texts me back …’

‘Kim! Stop texting him!’ pleaded Evie. ‘You have got to accept Gareth’s not on the scene, and that you need to try and get back out there.’

‘I’m not ready for that,’ she admitted. ‘I still really miss him.’

‘Okay, point taken, but what about just coming out with the girls on Saturday for something to eat and a few drinks? I’m meeting Lisa and Mel and Rhona – why don’t you come along too?’