The Gardens of Blackfell Page 7

  She drove the five miles through the winding country road to the nearest village. Spring was rushing to change the countryside and the fields were transforming from solemn, brown earth to a green carpet of expectation, heralding the warmer season ahead. Already the weather had been unseasonably warm. The village was a lovely place, a cluster of cottages surrounding a central square. Colourful bunting hung across the road and graced the frontages of the properties on the square. There was a small pub, simply named ‘The Old Inn’, a butcher, a baker and a small convenience store with a post office.

  Tara decided to start in the post office and store. She was pretty sure that there would be someone there that could help her.

  She parked her car directly opposite the Post Office and observed the Square for a short while. Whilst not busy, it was steady with those coming and going and most acknowledged each other with a smile or a brief conversation as they passed. It appeared to be a tight knit community and Tara was sure that she would find the help and the information she needed right here and not have to travel further afield.

  Tara entered the Post Office and immediately felt she had stepped back in time. There was a large wooden counter at one side of the shop. There was no security glass, only a small section of flimsy wire mesh panel behind which a large cash box was obviously displayed. There was a large set of traditional scales and a big black book open at a page full of stamps. Open shelves behind the counter displayed commemorative coin and stamp sets, jars of sweets and boxes and parcels. A pendulum clock ticked warmly in prime position on the wall.

  A small elderly lady sat behind the counter, counting some paper slips with a fluidity borne of many years of practice.

  Tara watched the woman as she worked. She looked like the lovely elderly aunt with whom you would spend long and happy afternoons, delighting in her homemade scones ladled with cream and jam. She had loose grey curls neatly styled and small frameless glasses perched on the ent>

  She finished her counting and looked up.

  ‘Oh my dear. I am sorry. I didn’t see you there. How may I help you?’

  ‘Well, I’m hoping you could maybe help point me in the right direction,’ she started hesitantly, ‘I wondered if you would know anyone in the village who would have once worked in Blackfell Estate gardens and grounds?’

  ‘Yes. There are a lot of us older generation have had something to do with Blackfell. It was one of the main employers round here for a long time,’ she paused and added, ‘Could I ask why you need this information?’ she smiled apologetically.

  ‘I’m a landscape architect and I’ve started work at Blackfell. I’m hoping to restore the Walled Garden. I need ...’

  ‘Oh my dear!’ she exclaimed, her face lighting up, ‘You’re working there! Well, well.’

  Tara could see from her face that this was a great bit of gossip for the village.

  The woman appeared lost in her own thoughts momentarily.

  ‘Yes. Mr. Ashbrook and Mr. Emberline. Lovely young men.’

  Tara continued, ‘I’m wondering if anyone in the village worked in the Walled Garden when it used to be a productive part of the Estate? Or even if anyone would have some old pictures? Anything really..’

  ‘I know exactly who you need to speak to Miss...?’

  ‘Applebee. Tara Applebee.’

  ‘Oh. How delightful’ she smiled. ‘Yes Miss Applebee. Mr Johnstone, Bert, is the man you need to speak to and I think you’ll need to search no more. His father, and I dare say his father’s father, used to be the Head Gardener on the Estate. An important job back then you know..........’

  Tara could have hugged the old lady, her spirits lifting higher by the second.

  ‘Bert used to shadow his father and worked on the Estate until the old Mr Ashbrook died. Nothing much happened on the Estate until the lovely young Mr Ashbrook returned from Italy and took over the reins. I’m so very glad that he’s started work on the grounds. The Big House took years to be restored, but my, it’s a grand place now.’ She was once again lost in thought.

  ‘I’d love to speak to Mr Johnstone. Could you tell me where he lives please?’

  ‘Oh Miss Applebee. He’s a bit of a loner and a bit, em, ill-tempered.’

  ‘What Mr Johnstone can tell me will be an important part of my work. I’m happy to take the chance that he won’t be very happy to speak to me but for the sake of the Gardens I’m hopeful he might consider helping me out.’

  The old woman studied < onspan>Tara’s face and saw the determination there.

  ‘Well, I think the best thing for me to do is to introduce you to Bert myself. I don’t think he would take too well to a complete stranger approaching him. Bert and I go back a long way and I know his old bad-tempered ways.’ She winked and smiled at her.

  ‘That would be just great.....’

  ‘You know he wasn’t always so crabby. He lost his wife when he was still quite a young man and, well, grief does thing to people. Changes them.’

  They were interrupted by the chiming of the bell on the door announcing the arrival of another customer, another elderly lady.

  Tara stood aside and pleasantries were exchanged, stamps purchased and also a couple of curious glances at Tara.

  Tara was going to be the talk of the village she was sure. The village was small enough for everybody to know everyone’s business and a stranger like Tara turning up would definitely be subject for discussion. Particularly with her connection with Blackfell.

  As soon as the shop door closed again the old woman picked up their conversation.

  ‘Mr Johnstone is a creature of habit Miss Applebee. He’s out on the hills in the morning with his sheep but he’s always back in town by twelve. He stops in at the Whistle Stop tea room for his lunch each day. Could almost set your watch by him.’ she chuckled, ‘I’ll close here a little early and take you there. Say around 12:30. You can get yourself something for lunch there too. I hope you don’t mind me saying so but it looks like you could do with a little more to eat, my dear. Esther makes some lovely scones. ’

  Tara smiled at her, ‘That would be just great Mrs....?

  ‘Mrs Bruce but you can call me Annie.’

  ‘Please call me Tara.’

  The two women exchanged warm smiles.

  ‘I’ll see you back here at twelve thirty then Mrs.... Annie.’

  Tara left the shop, the bell announcing her departure. She glanced at her watch. It was 11:40.

  ‘Arlen,’ she exclaimed, ‘Oh no!’

  She had completely forgotten about their lunch date. She pulled her phone from her bag and dialled his number. He answered on the third ring.

  ‘Arlen. Listen, I’m in the village and I’m not going to be able to get back in time for 12. I’m so sorry.’

  Arlen remained silent.

  ‘Arlen?’

  ‘OK Tara. No problem.’

  She knew by the tone of his voice that it was a problem. She tried to explain.

  ‘I’ve been trying to find someone in the village that used to work in Blackfell and I think I’ve struck gold. The lady from the Post Office said she’d introduce me to him at the coffee shop at twelve thirty. Bert Johnstone,’ she paused and added, ‘I just couldn’t pass up this opportunity. I’m really sorry Arlen.’

  There was another brief silence.

  ‘Tara. I’ll buy you lunch. Say one o’clock. That should give you enough time to make your introduction. And...I know Bert Johnstone.’

  ‘You know....?’

  He hung up.

  Tara groaned in frustration. And then smiled. She was looking forward to seeing him again.

  She crossed the street and walked slowly to the small village green which was little more than a small square of grass. It was surrounded by a hawthorn hedge and there were a couple of simple painted green benches in two of the corners. The sun was warming the day nicely and Tara took a seat on the bench, enjoying the heat of the sun and the privacy of the place. She took her tablet from her bag a
nd checked her e-mails. She was surprised to see there was an e-mail from Xander.

  These are the vineyards and grounds I want your opinion on. Two weeks. No more.

  There were a number of pictures of a magnificent Tuscan castle and extensive vineyard, along with an exquisite formal Italian garden.

  ‘Well Xander. There doesn’t look like there’s much work to be done there,’ she whispered under her breath. She knew in her heart that his proposed trip to Italy was an excuse for Xander to get Tara by herself, away from the Gardens. And maybe Arlen. Did he know about last night? she wondered again. Instinct told her yes. And yet he continued to pursue her. Why was he still interested in someone surely as insignificant to him as the new gardener? He must have the choice of any number of beautiful women. Why her? Why?

  There were another few e-mails telling her she needed to pay her electricity bill and more catch ups from friends. She put the tablet back in her bag and checked her watch again. It was nearly time to head back to the Post Office to pick up Annie.

  She headed slowly back the way she had come, liking the village more and more. The few people that she passed said ‘Morning’ or ‘Hello’ and smiled at her. The colourful bunting fluttered over her as she walked, cheering her progress.

  She stepped back into the little shop at just before 12:30 and Annie was in the process of getting her jacket on.

  ‘Hello Annie.’

  ‘Tara, my dear. I’m ready now. I’ll show you where to go.’

  She bustled about the shop, picking up her large handbag, checking for something, picking her glasses up from the counter and popping them into her handbag. She took the shop keys from a drawer and lifted part of the counter and made her way to the shop front and to the door.

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  ‘Come now Tara my dear. No time to delay.’

  She turned the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed – Be back Soon’ and shut the door firmly behind her, locking it with one key on a large jangling bundle.

  ‘Arlen Emberline will be here in about half an hour. He said he....’

  Annie’s steps slowed and then stopped.

  ‘Master Emberline. Oh my!’ she exclaimed.

  She looked taken aback, and Tara thought, excited. Yes, definitely excited.

  ‘Do you know Arlen?’ Tara asked.

  ‘Do I know Master Emberline? Oh my dear,’ she laughed, ‘You have a lot to learn about the place.’ But she didn’t expand on this.

  ‘How well do you know Mr Ashbrook?’

  ‘Tara. Everyone in the village knows Master Ashbrook and Master Emberline. We don’t see much of either of them nowadays but that wasn’t always the case.’

  Her pace picked up and she hurried on, Tara running to catch up with her.

  Tara could hear her mutter under her breath as she walked, her face a study of excited concentration.

  ‘Master Emberline. Well, that’s a turn for the books now.’

  As they turned into the little coffee shop, Tara wondered what on earth was going on.

  The coffee shop was a lovely place. A large glass fronted display case showcased lovely cupcakes, coffee cakes, cheesecakes, bagels, fresh loaves and sandwiches at the back of the shop. Behind the counter a large blackboard announced prices and specials and the smell of fresh baking made Tara’s mouth water. What a cornucopia of delights! The walls were plain white with duckboard panels and there were lovely original paintings on the wall, all of which were for sale. There must have been about twenty tables; all covered in starched white tablecloths and also four private booths, two on each side of the shop.

  It was to one of these booths that Annie Bruce made her way.

  She turned to Tara and said conspiratorially, ‘Always the same place, same time,’ and nodded knowingly.

  Bert Johnstone was sitting in the corner of one of these booths, reading his paper and finishing off what looked like bacon and eggs. A large pot of tea sat beside his plate.

  ‘Bert. How are you today?’

  Bert looked up, obviously surprised to be interrupted. Tara had the feeling that an interrupted lunch was something that happened to Bert on very rare occasions. He was a large man with a ruddy complexion and softly curling white hair and a short stubbly beard. He wore a checked shirt and his hands were tas hands large, rough and surprisingly neatly manicured.

  Tara smiled at him apologetically.

  ‘I’m well, Mrs Bruce,’ he answered and dismissively lowered his head to continue reading his paper.

  ‘Ahem. Mr Johnstone. This is Miss Tara Applebee. She is a new gardener at Blackfell and she would like to speak to you about your time there. She’s hoping you might be able to tell her what it was like in the old days you know....’

  Bert Johnstone looked up from his paper and took off his glasses. For the first time, he looked at Tara, still standing behind Annie Bruce.

  ‘I would be happy to speak to Miss eh.. ‘

  ‘Tara Applebee,’ Annie Bruce finished for him.

  ‘...but I’m finishing my lunch and I’d like some peace to do so.’

  He put his glasses back on and picked up his paper dismissively.

  This was too much for Annie Bruce. She slapped her hand down on the upright paper.

  ‘Look Bert. Master Emberline will be here shortly. As you know, it’s been a long time since we’ve all seen Arlen. Please be co-operative for a change.’

  ‘Arlen Emberline. Coming to the village? Well, well...’

  Annie Bruce crossed her hands in front of her chest with a smug ‘See, I did have something important to say and you should have listened to me’ gesture.

  Tara felt more and more perplexed. Why was Arlen’s name causing such a stir?

  ‘Well. Might as well come and have a seat then, Miss...’

  ‘Applebee.’ Annie finished again.

  They both shuffled along the booth seat across from Bert and it was only now that his eyes and full attention settled uncomfortably on Tara.

  ‘Miss Applebee. What’s your business at Blackfell then ?’

  ‘I...,’ she didn’t get a chance to finish.

  ‘Master Ashbrook has employed Tara as the new Gardener to restore the Walled Garden.’

  Bert Johnstone filled his cup from the pot of tea that sat by the side of his now empty plate.

  There was a long moment of silence as Bert Johnstone digested this information.

  ‘And what do you need from me Miss Applebee?’

  ‘Tara needs...’ Annie Bruce started.

  ‘Please Mrs Bruce. Let Miss Applebee speak for herself.’ His curt tone silenced Annie Bruce and Tara took a deep breath.

  ‘Mr Johnstone. I’ve just started work at the Walled Garden at Blackfell and would greatly appreciate your time and experience to help with the restoration.’

  Bert Johnstone leaned back in his seat and studied Tara’s face intently. He sighed. And then smiled.

  ‘I would be delighted Miss Applebee.’

  Tara beamed at Bert Johnstone.

  Annie smiled, obviously relieved at the positive outcome to the meeting.

  Annie’s gaze was drawn to something behind Tara’s back and what she saw made her spring immediately to her feet.

  ‘Master Emberline!,’ she held out her hands and Tara turned to see Arlen approach their table. She noticed that most people in the coffee shop had stopped eating or drinking and watched Arlen as he walked to their table. A hushed silence descended.

  Arlen took Annie’s outstretched hand.

  ‘Mrs Bruce.’ He smiled that amazing smile and Tara could see Annie take a deep breath of delight.

  Bert Johnstone had also stood up to greet Arlen.

  ‘It’s been too long Sir,’ he took Arlen’s hand and held it with his other.

  Tara watched Arlen, aware of the respect that he commanded here, and wondered why. It was more than the simple respect for a man who is good at his job or just simply good to know. As his eyes met Taras’s, she shivered inwardly, their mutual attraction obvious to al
l. She knew she had to find out what was going on at Blackfell. And she thought she knew exactly how.

  6.

  ‘Tara,’ Arlen leaned towards her and kissed her cheek.

  Tara blushed and caught Bert Johnstone and Annie Bruce exchange a raised-eyebrow glance.

  Arlen took her hand and pulled her towards him and put his arm around her shoulder in a protective hug.

  ‘Bert. I’m sure Tara has explained that she’s started work at the Walled Garden. She’s to be restoring the place as it once was in your father’s day and I know that you’ll be of invaluable help to her. Could we tempt you out of retirement for a little time to help us?’

  He added, ‘Tara’s a landscape architect of some repute you know. She’s worked at many important gardens. Kew for one.’

  Bert remained silent for a moment and then took a deep sigh.

  ‘Sir, I’d be glad to help in any way I can. Blackfell is very dear to me and there’re few things that I’d like to see more than the Garden brought back to life.’

  Arlen reached over and took his hand again and shook it vigorously, to the old man’s obvious delight.

  ‘I’m delightedlde[ Bert. Truly delighted. When can you start?’

  ‘Would tomorrow be too soon?’

  ‘Bert. I knew you wouldn’t let me down,’ He paused and added, ‘Look, I’ll give you Tara’s phone number but otherwise please just pop up to my place tomorrow morning and we’ll get started.’

  Tara, whilst delighted that Arlen had managed to get Bert Johnstone on board, felt like her project was being steamrollered by Arlen. He was her employer but he was taking over. The meeting at his house, the “We’ll get started!”. Although she was happy that he was taking such an interest in the Garden she wondered how much it had to do with their date the previous evening. She’d been specifically employed to head up the restoration project and had understood that Arlen was to have very little input. She needed to speak honestly to Arlen to get this sorted out.

  ‘Now Mrs Bruce and Mr Johnstone. If you’ll excuse Tara and myself. I promised to take Tara to lunch. We have much to discuss,’ he smiled at them both and Tara once again caught the pair raise an eyebrow as they turned from the table.