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The Last Garden in England(83)

Author:Julia Kelly

“Graeme,” she breathed, dropping the other letter to tear it open.

Monday, 19 June 1944

My darling Beth,

I cannot tell you where I am or what I am doing but know I’m safe.

Yours forever,

Graeme

P.S. I’ve loved you since I saw you on top of Mr. Penworthy’s tractor.

Beth’s knees gave out. “He’s safe.” He’s safe, and he loves me.

Ruth and Mrs. Penworthy dropped into the grass next to her, engulfing her.

“I’m so glad, pet. I’m so, so glad,” said Mrs. Penworthy.

The three women stayed like that, rocking gently back and forth, until finally Beth loosened her grip on them both.

“The second letter,” she said.

The other women let her go, and Ruth reached behind her to pluck it up off the ground. Beth’s heart sank when she saw the handwritten address.

“It’s from Colin,” she said.

“You need to open it,” said Ruth.

Beth nodded.

“Come on, let’s give her some privacy,” said Mrs. Penworthy, wrapping an arm around Ruth’s shoulders and guiding her toward the house.

With trembling hands, Beth opened Colin’s envelope and drew out the letter. There was only one word written there: No.

? EMMA ?

JULY 2021

Emma pulled off her hat and used a handkerchief to wipe her brow, a habit she’d picked up from helping her father in the garden. He would stand, wipe the sweat from his neck, and declare that it was time for a cool drink. She would bound up the garden path to the kitchen, where Mum, who liked to sit at the window while they worked, was already pouring tall glasses of lemonade.

What she wouldn’t give for a lemonade.

All of England and Wales and most of Scotland was in the grips of a heat wave. They’d become a certainty in recent years, and everyone suffered for it in this country with so little air-conditioning. Bow Cottage had remained hot all last night, and she’d hardly slept, even with the rotating fan. When she’d greeted Charlie that morning, he’d told her he’d slept on the roof of the narrow boat, under the stars, and woke up to his mooring neighbor’s dog licking his face.

Still, she was glad to be in the wilds of the winter garden today. It was peaceful here, which certainly had its appeal, but it was more than that. Different garden rooms had different feelings. The children’s garden was playful with its wildflowers and delicately blossomed cherry trees. The tea garden felt formal and proper. But the winter garden held a sobriety that gave her the same sensation as walking into a church. No matter what she encountered outside, she could hitch her leg over the wall, climb down the other side, and the weight of the place would press gently, comfortingly on her shoulders.

Charlie felt it, too, but he wasn’t drawn to it the way she was.

“There’s something about it I just don’t like,” he’d say, shivering as soon as his feet hit the ground. “It feels sad.”

Reverential maybe, she’d decided, thinking of the faint penciled-in name. Celeste’s garden. A remembrance.

“Knock, knock!”

Emma spotted Sydney at the top of the ladder. “Hi.”

“I hope you don’t mind me climbing this, only I wasn’t sure if you would be able to hear me from the gate,” said Sydney.

“So long as you don’t fall off. My insurance couldn’t afford it,” she said.

Sydney laughed. “I promise I won’t.”

“Do you want to come down and see it?” Emma asked.

“I’d love to.”

Sydney scrambled over the top of the wall before Emma could warn her to be careful. She breathed a sigh of relief when her employer’s feet were firmly on the ground again.

Sydney pushed her hair out of her face and gazed around. “It’s like a jungle in here. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was in a forest.”

“I’m afraid forests do a lot better at regulating themselves. This is completely overgrown,” she said.

“I think it’s spectacular. Look at all that you’ve already done.”

“Thanks,” said Emma, genuinely appreciative. “Was there something you needed in particular or were you just curious?”

“Nosy, more like it. No, I actually did have something to ask. Andrew and I were talking, and we wanted to know if you would consider doing the kitchen garden.”

“The kitchen garden?”

“I know it’s not as historically significant as this one, but we’d really like to get it up and running again. We just don’t really know where to start,” said Sydney.

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