THE TRYSTING TREE (6 page)

‘What?’

‘If she’s already spoken to Connor, would you ring him and apologise? I don’t think I can bear to speak to him. I feel bad, messing him about. Would you do that for me?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Right then. You get lunch on the table and I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ When she got to the door, she turned and said, ‘I’m glad we got all that sorted out. After all, there’s no need to rush into anything, is there? But we know where we stand now.’

She went back to the sitting room and closed the door. After a few moments I heard the magisterial tones she used when speaking to unco-operative tradesmen. It was an impressive performance and I found myself feeling sorry for the agent.

Phoebe said a curt goodbye, then I heard a whooping noise. She re-appeared in the doorway, brandishing her stick. ‘The deed is done! Let’s have a drink. I’ve never turned down half a million before. For that matter,’ she said, taking a bottle of white wine from the fridge, ‘I’ve never turned down a good-looking young man. Poor old Connor… Never mind. We’ll raise a glass to him – and his three-pipe problem.’

~

I felt obliged to ring Connor straight after lunch. It wasn’t often Phoebe was conscious of behaving badly, so I wanted to set her mind at rest. I left her with a cup of coffee and took the phone up to my old room.

My mother never had any truck with children’s wallpapers. I wasn’t allowed ballerinas, ponies or a creature called Holly Hobby. Disney was anathema to her and I grew up understanding that merchandising was exploitation of both parent and child. I knew better than to argue with Phoebe who, as far as I could tell, was always right about everything. She was certainly infallible on the subject of waste-of-space boyfriends, not that I ever admitted it. So I asked her how to decorate my room, avoiding the evils of commercial exploitation. I must have been all of twelve. She said,
‘Have nothing in your houses which you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.’

That was the beginning of my passion for design, textiles and William Morris, though I didn’t know then that she was quoting him. She went to the bowed, overloaded shelf where she kept her art books, took down a volume on Morris and handed it to me. Turning the pages, I marvelled at how he turned lilies, chrysanthemums, even humble larkspur and seaweed into repeating designs. It was love at first sight. Phoebe said my enthusiasm showed I had good taste and “an eye”. I didn’t know then that, in artistic terms, having one eye was better than having two.

Phoebe said I could have a William Morris bedroom. I asked how this was possible. Was she offering to paint my walls in Morris style? She explained that you could still buy Morris wallpaper and curtain fabric, but they weren’t cheap. They would have to last me until I left home, so I should choose my patterns carefully, but Phoebe assured me Morris designs were timeless and I would never get bored with them.

She was right. I never did. I chose a subdued sea-green wallpaper that featured acorns and oak leaves and paired it with the celebrated “Strawberry Thief” fabric for my curtains. When they were closed, the birds lined up in rows, staring hungrily at the crop of small, wild strawberries. I never tired of looking at those patterns, how they never began and never ended, just repeated over and over until you could no longer see birds, strawberries, acorns or oak leaves, you just saw colour and movement.

I hate to think what my new décor must have cost, but it lasted through my teens and is still in good shape. Phoebe says more than one young artist-assistant has been inspired by his stay in what came to be known as “the Morris room”.

It was the beginning of something important for me. That room made me happy and allowed me to feel connected to the garden even when I was indoors. It taught me that design – even of something as mundane as wallpaper – could affect how you felt. From the moment the first length of acorn wallpaper went up, I was a convert to the Morris philosophy and tried thereafter to have nothing in my home which I did not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.

I sat down, contemplated my dancing acorns and rang Connor Grenville.

~

‘Connor, it’s Ann de Freitas here. Have the agency spoken to you about your offer for Garden Lodge?’

‘Yes, they have. Twice, actually. Once to say my offer had been accepted, then again to say it had been rejected and that the property had been taken off the market.’

‘I’m so sorry to mess you around. There’s been some confusion, you see.’

‘No need to apologise. The agent sounded pretty miffed and so was I to begin with, but after I’d thought about it a bit, I realised I was pleased.’

‘
Pleased?
That your offer had been rejected?’

‘No, that you’d decided not to sell. I don’t think you should. It’s a wonderful home and you and Phoebe are 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 suppose you could say she painted with plants and the garden was her canvas. Maybe Phoebe might like that idea?’

‘It could certainly be worth a try. I’d really like to get her outside in the spring, but she’ll need some motivating.’

‘So now the house is off the market, will you make a start on the walled garden?’

‘I’m going to tidy up at least. Find out what’s still alive. But it will be a massive clearing job and I’m not sure how much I can achieve on my own. I’ll have to discuss with Phoebe what she wants me to do and how much she’ll let me spend.’

‘Could I make a suggestion?’

‘Of course. I’d value your advice.’

‘I’m looking for a restoration project. A big one. I want to restore something from a ruin to a garden anyone would be proud to own. And I want to photograph every stage of the process and blog about it.’

‘Why?’

‘To drum up trade. I want to stop working for other people and set up my own garden business and since Phoebe turned down my insulting offer, I can now revert to Plan A, which was to set up
Grenville Garden Landscaping
. But I need a flagship project. It needs to be local, interesting and challenging. Restoring Beechgrave’s kitchen garden would tick all those boxes and I think there could be a lot of local and media interest, especially as the garden’s owned by a famous artist.’

‘But Connor, there’s no way Phoebe’s in the market for all this. She may be famous, but she isn’t working. And she hasn’t sold a painting in ages.’

‘Ah, but that’s the beauty of it, you see. You wouldn’t have to pay me.’

‘We wouldn’t?’

‘No, not if you allow me to use your garden as a bit of a show home, post photos of it online and maybe use some of them in a book about Beechgrave and the Mordaunts, the one Ivy wanted me to write. I can link
your
project – the garden – with
my
project – the family history. I think I could get an attractive book out of it and carry out my grandmother’s wishes. And you have to admit, restoring the garden would make the house easier to sell when the time comes.’

‘So you’re offering to work for
free
?’

‘Yes. But I think I might need some help.’

‘What sort of help?’

‘Well, if you see yourself as a gardener’s boy, I could definitely use another pair of hands. At the moment I’m just a one-man band. And I’d probably need quite a lot of tea and biscuits.’

‘I’m sure that could be arranged. Anything else?’

‘No, that’s all.’

‘Connor, I don’t know what to say. It’s a very generous offer—’

‘And naturally you don’t think you can trust it. Quite understandable, but there are two things you need to factor in to the equation. The first is how much I want to be a part of the Beechgrave story, how much I need to know what Ivy discovered. I don’t suppose for one moment the answer lies in the garden, but I just think if I’m on site, working where she was born, in the shadow of those beeches, I’ll be as close as I can get to solving the mystery, short of checking in to the re-hab clinic next door.’ He paused. ‘Does that make any sense?’

‘As much sense as me wanting to make reparation to a garden.’

‘You see, I have to assume that, in the end, Ivy didn’t want me to publish a book about her family, but I don’t think she could object to a book about the old garden. Especially if it helped get my business off the ground. So… what do you say?’

‘Well, it all sounds pretty convincing.’

‘And there’s absolutely no risk to you. I would run everything by you and Phoebe, from plant lists to the possible intrusion of TV cameras. You’d be the boss.’

‘I thought I was the gardener’s boy?’

‘The chain of command will be complex, but I’m sure we can make it work.’

‘Connor, you’ll have to come and discuss all this with Phoebe. I think she’ll be up for it, but I can’t make any promises.’

‘Of course. I’d love to talk to her about it. And I’m curious to know if she’s had any more thoughts about Ivy’s change of heart.’

‘She’s certainly been thinking about that and I know she’d be delighted to see you again.’