isn’t it?’ Eileen was out walking her dog. ‘I’m really hoping we can persuade the Parish Council to restore it.’
‘Why have they let it get into such a state?’ said Kezzie.
‘It’s been a gradual thing,’ explained Eileen. ‘When my children were small we used to come here all the time, particularly in the summer. But then kids started to go on the bus to the school in Chiverton, so they stopped coming. And then the County Council built the big leisure centre in Chiverton and everyone went there, and before you knew it, the vandals and graffiti artists had moved in, so even if the locals still wanted to come they got pushed out. At least we don’t get the drugs any more. We had a spate of that but it’s stopped, fortunately.’
‘What happened to the war memorial?’ said Kezzie.
‘The local council took it away for restoration,’ snorted Eileen, ‘and never thought to bring it back.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Kezzie.
‘I know,’ said Eileen. ‘We always used to have our Remembrance Day parade here, but now the Heartsease British Legion have to go to Chiverton.’
‘Someone should do something about it,’ said Kezzie.
‘Someone is,’ said Eileen. ‘Me. I’ve been writing to the County Council about it for months, and now my friend Tony is the Chair of the Parish Council I’m hoping I can get things moving a bit more. But we could always do with some new blood. Maybe you could help?’
‘Maybe I could,’ said Kezzie. ‘But I’ve got a lot on at the moment, I’m going to help Joel Lyle restore his garden.’
‘Lauren mentioned that,’ said Eileen, ‘and I think it’s wonderful. Lauren was hoping to persuade Joel to help out at next year’s summer fete, perhaps you could put in a word too?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Kezzie, laughing.
Joel was playing with Sam in the lounge. Sam had recently discovered peekaboo and a significant part of the bedtime routine now involved Sam hiding and Joel pretending to try to find him. It was silly but fun, and Joel was starting to really look forward to these precious moments at the end of a long day at work. He had, he realized, lost the capacity to laugh spontaneously, but Sam was slowly beginning to tease it out of him.
‘Two – two, Da-da,’ Sam clapped his hands over his eyes, as Joel mentioned the dreaded ‘b’ word just before bedtime, and this was Sam’s way of telling Joel it was time to play their hiding game.
‘Daddy hide, or Sam hide?’ asked Joel, tickling his son on his tummy.
‘Sam, hide,’ squealed Sam, delightedly, toddling off while Joel made a great show of shutting his eyes and counting to ten. Usually Sam’s hiding places were very obvious – and Joel spotted him within seconds, but Joel realized, when he opened his eyes, that Sam had squeezed through the lounge door, which was a bit ominous. He could just about get upstairs now, but was still a bit wobbly, and not very safe. Joel went out into the hall, and was relieved to hear Sam talking to himself in the little study on his left, which faced out onto the front garden.
Sure enough, he found Sam playing with his favourite rabbit, underneath the desk, the game momentarily abandoned.
‘Come on, tiddler,’ said Joel, swooping his son up in his arms, ‘time for bed, now.’
‘Two, two?’ Sam looked hopeful.
‘No more two, two,’ said Joel, ‘time for bed and milk and a story.’
He took Sam up to bed, got him changed, and sat down with him and read We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, which was one of Sam’s favourites. Having tucked him into his cot with a bottle of milk, Joel went downstairs to check on the carnage Sam had left behind, before settling down to another lonely evening in front of the TV. It never failed to amaze him how much havoc one small boy could wreak, so he went back to the study, which he rarely used, to make sure Sam hadn’t left anything else under the desk. Sure enough, he found a couple of bits of duplo, a baby board book, and bizarrely two spoons, which he presumed Sam had managed to swipe from the kitchen. Laughing to himself, he picked everything up and went to take them away, when he suddenly stopped and stared at the desk. He’d not paid it any attention for so long, and it was gathering dust, but he was suddenly struck anew by what a beautiful object it was.
It had been a real labour of love working on that desk, but then Claire died, and like so many other things, Joel hadn’t touched it for months. But since Kezzie’s arrival, Joel had felt something shift slightly. For the first time, he could see the point in moving on, making things better, if not for him at least for Sam.
He ran his hand over the rolltop desk lid. It really was a stunning piece of furniture, made of walnut, with several drawers on either side. When he lifted the roll top up, there were several little compartments. Joel recalled Uncle Jack sitting at it, on one of the few occasions Joel had visited as a child, and Uncle Jack had seemed very old, though he probably hadn’t been much more than sixty.
‘There’s a secret compartment in this desk, young man,’ Jack had said, tapping the side of his nose.
‘Show me! Show me!’ Joel had begged, but then they were interrupted, by his mum probably, as it was time to go home. When they’d first got to Lovelace Cottage, Joel had tried and failed to find the secret compartment, and concluded that Jack had been teasing him. For some reason tonight he had a sudden compulsion to see if it was there. He put Sam’s toys down, rolled the top back, and fiddled around in all the compartments, to no avail. Maybe there was something underneath?
He felt underneath the desk, but there was nothing. Then he opened all the drawers one by one. Still nothing. Oh well. He was about to turn and leave again, when a tiny, frayed edge of paper caught in the corner of the smallest compartment to the far right of the desk caught his eye. He tugged at it, and as he did so, realized that there was a slight indentation in the side of the desk, just small enough for him to get his fingers in. With growing excitement, he slid his fingers in, and found a knob, which he pressed. He was rewarded with a sudden click, and a small shelf swung out to greet him. On it was an old and dusty leather-bound book, the pages yellow with age.
He picked it up, and running his fingers slowly along the spine, he blew the dust off it. He opened it carefully and read: Edward Handford. His personal diary. A black and white sketch floated out to the floor. Joel picked it up and instantly recognized the girl in it, from her photographs. She was very young, very beautiful and laughing. Lily, June 1892 was written by hand underneath it. How lovely. Edward must have drawn her. Joel felt a pang. He had no pictures like that of Claire, but plenty of photographs, sad, stolen records of a far happier time.
He carried on leafing through the book. This was incredible. Edward Handford’s actual diary. A real connection with the past. For the first time in a long time, Joel felt excitement coursing through his veins. He sat down and read the first page, it was dated May 1893:
This is my last night in England, for tomorrow I leave Lovelace Cottage on a great adventure, he read. I am only sorry that Lily will not accompany me on my journey to India, but Doctor Blake thinks it would be foolish for her to travel in her condition. I will of course miss her, and am apprehensive of the journey ahead, but I cannot help but be excited by thoughts of the plants I may yet discover …
Wow. Edward travelled to India. How wonderful. Joel flicked through the diary to see if there was anything about the garden. He’d have to show this to Kezzie. Perhaps it could help her restore Edward’s layouts. Joel put the book down and laughed out loud. Despite his initial reluctance, he was hooked. Finding out about Edward Handford and restoring the knot garden was too intriguing a proposition to ignore.
Chapter Seven
It was Kezzie’s first morning working at Joel’s. She’d set off early and it was only just light. She shivered in the chilly autumn morning; winter would soon be on its way. Still, the icy rain of the last few days appeared to have eased off, and she walked up the hill, crunching