You name it, he’s designed a garden out there somewhere. He was massively in demand until the end of the First World War, and then he seems to have withdrawn from public life.’
‘That’s strange. Do you know why?’ said Joel.
‘Nobody knows for sure,’ said Eileen. ‘But I know his son died in the war, which is probably why he built the war memorial here. His wife died a year later, I believe. He devoted the rest of his life to philanthropic works – he built the village school you know – but he didn’t design any gardens after that. He seems to have become a bit of a recluse after his wife’s death And the world changed so much after the First World War, and he wasn’t part of it. So he faded into obscurity.’
‘Let me show you what we’ve discovered,’ said Joel. The trunk with all the paperwork in now inhabited the dining room, which was strictly out of bounds to Sam because it had an open log fire, and was therefore the safest place from sticky fingers.
They sifted through some of the letters that Joel and Kezzie had already read, and then Kezzie exclaimed in delight.
‘Oh my God, it’s here, I’ve found it!’
‘Found what?’ It was impossible not to get caught up by Kezzie’s enthusiasm.
‘Look,’ she said, carefully unfolding a large, brittle piece of yellowing paper. ‘This is Edward’s original design for his knot garden. I can’t believe it. See – here are his plans, he drew the patterns out geometrically, and here are his notes about the plants. This is so incredible. A real find.’
‘I can’t quite make out his writing,’ Joel said, squinting a bit. The writing was very faded.
‘It says the borders are to have begonias, petunias, busy lizzies, and heartsease I think,’ said Eileen. ‘I hadn’t realized the original garden had quite that many flowers, I thought it would be simpler than that.’
‘Those borders round the outside of the knot garden itself are a bit fussy for our tastes today,’ said Kezzie, ‘but the Victorians did like their bedding plants. I think I’m going to need to simplify it a bit and mainly use heartsease for the beds, but I would like to find all the plants he used to commemorate the births of his children. It was such a lovely idea.’
‘Oh look, this must be Edward and Lily with their firstborn,’ said Eileen, finding a black and white picture of a stiff-looking couple. Lily was holding an infant in her arms and looking blankly into the camera; Edward looked proud and a black Labrador sat at their feet.
‘Yes, I think it must be,’ said Joel. ‘I’m guessing the baby is Connie, my great great aunt. Her sister Tilly was Mum’s grandmother. Hang on a sec,’ he rooted around in the bottom of the trunk and pulled out an old book, ‘I thought I’d seen it in here. This is the family Bible, I think it’s got all the births written in it.’
He opened the cover carefully. It was a version of the King James Bible, dated 1881.
To darling Lily, on the occasion of your 7th birthday, your ever loving Grandmother, was written in the flyleaf. Underneath it, Lily had written in childish scrawl, Lily Clark, her first Bible, and then below in a stronger, more adult hand:
Lily Clark b. August 10th 1874 married Edward Handford b. February 22nd 1871, 9th July, 1892
Edward James Handford b. 20th May, 1894 d. 20th May, 1894
Constance Mary Handford b. 24th April, 1895
Harry Edward Handford b. 14th May, 1898
Matilda Harriet Handford b. 12th July, 1900
‘Isn’t that amazing,’ said Kezzie. ‘What a fantastic find.’
‘I know, I can’t believe all this was sitting up in the loft and I never found any of it before,’ said Joel, grinning. He turned back to look at the photo. ‘They don’t look very happy do they? Or maybe that’s just Victorian photography.’
‘Who knows?’ said Kezzie. ‘From reading her diaries, Lily had a very tough time. She lost at least two babies: it was really sad.’
‘That’s how things were then,’ said Eileen tenderly. ‘Thanks for letting me look through all of this, Joel. I think we can make a fascinating exhibition of Edward’s life.’
‘Thank you for the interest,’ said Joel. ‘Without you and Kezzie I would know very little about my own family, and I’m thoroughly hooked.’
‘So can we count on you to help with the preparations for next year’s summer fete then?’ said Eileen, slyly. ‘Our first proper meeting is coming up after Christmas.’
‘Oh go on,’ said Joel. ‘I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?’ But he smiled when he said it, and when he’d said goodbye to Eileen and Kezzie, given Sam his tea and put him to bed, Joel found himself drawn back to the trunk and its contents, and started to idly flick through Edward’s diary once more. He’d got the bit between his teeth now; he was fascinated by the story of his ancestor, and he was desperate to find out more.
Edward and Lily
1895–1898
Edward Handford’s diary, April 1895
The day draws near for Lily’s confinement, and we are both very anxious now. She is so afraid that this baby will not survive, and I cannot comfort her, because she may be right. What if it does not live? And how will Lily bear it if this baby dies? I try to cheer her up by spending time in the garden with her, to keep her mind from morbid thoughts. It is so beautiful here at this time of year, with the spring bulbs bursting with life, and the newborn lambs baaing in Mr Carruthers’ farm. I cannot let myself believe that we will be unlucky again, not at this time of year, not when the whole world is bursting forth with new life …
‘Congratulations, Mr Handford, you have a beautiful baby daughter.’ Doctor Blake came out from Edward and Lily’s bedroom looking tired but triumphant. ‘I’m pleased to report that both mother and baby are doing well.’
It was a hot, sultry evening in April, and Edward felt exhausted from the tumultuous events of the last twenty-four hours when Lily had informed him that the baby was coming. He had wanted to stay with her, to help give her the strength to go on, but convention and the doctor forbade it. Though Edward had been inclined for once to hang convention, when Lily asked him to leave, he could not resist her. He had spent an anxious afternoon pacing up and down, first in the garden, and then outside the bedroom door. The ear-piercing screams that she’d emitted had been harrowing, and it had taken all his resolve not to rush into the room to be by her side. But thank God, it was over.
Finally a child. A baby. Please God, she survived. He didn’t know what it would do to Lily – to them – if they lost this one too. He had longed and longed to take the sadness from her eyes. Now, maybe this baby would finally do it.
‘May I see them?’ Edward said.
‘Of course, but Lily is very tired. She needs rest.’
Edward entered their bedroom. Lily lay in their bed, her black hair straggled behind her, her face pale and pinched. She looked exhausted, but a brief smile crossed her face when she saw Edward. He went to embrace her, and then turned to the midwife, who was wrapping the baby in a shawl, before presenting her to them.
‘Lily, she’s beautiful.’ Edward felt an unfamiliar spasm in his heart as he held the crumpled bundle in his arms. The baby gurgled contentedly, before reaching out and grabbing his finger. He marvelled at the size of that finger next to his own. He felt clumsy, awkward; like a giant holding a beautiful porcelain doll. He knew he would never forget this day, this moment, this meeting, for the first time of the child their love had created.
‘What shall we call her?’ Edward said.
‘I don’t know,’ Lily turned away, as if she couldn’t bear to look at her, ‘but I want her christened quickly, just in case.’
‘Lily,