For surely he didn’t know she had died. Why had he returned to Hartington if not to find her as he had promised he would? Perhaps Ava had left the scrapbook there because she knew she was dying. She wanted him to know that she had kept her side of the bargain. Miranda sighed in confusion. It didn’t add up. Why didn’t she just send it to him? Why didn’t she telephone and tell him she was ill? Why didn’t she make an effort to see him before she died, rather than leave the scrapbook in the cottage at the mercy of the new family who would come to live there?
Miranda was sad that Ava would never see what she had done to the gardens. All that was left was the scrapbook and the awful truth she was now going to have to tell Jean-Paul. She got up and went out to the cottage garden to sit beneath the mountain ash and think. There was no reason why she had to tell him immediately. She could put it off. Wasn’t it kinder to Jean-Paul? While there was life there was hope. She’d pick her moment carefully.
XXXVI
The healing nature of my garden can mend the most broken of hearts
David arrived at Hartington House a few hours after Miranda had left for the station with Henrietta, who had parked her Fiat in their driveway to pick up on their return. Mrs. Underwood was supervising the children in the kitchen, cooking dinner for three. There was no point putting the children to bed the moment their father walked through the door, and besides, it was the weekend; they could all sleep in the following morning.
Mrs. Underwood heard the front door open. Gus and Storm jumped down from the banquette where they had been podding broad beans for tomorrow’s lunch, and rushed up the corridor to greet him. She heard squeals of “Daddy” from Storm and David’s laughter as he must have picked her up and swung her in the air. It was a happy reunion . She had heard rumors about an affair and Miranda discovering them necking in the greenhouse, but she wasn’t one to pry into other people’s business. By the sounds of things, David was as happy as a lark out there.
“How’s my boy?” he said to Gus, bending down to ruffle his hair. “You’ve grown!”
“No, I haven’t,” said Gus. “You need glasses.”
“You’re right about that. But I’ve acquired some, metaphorically speaking, and I’ve never seen you better than I do now.” Gus scrunched up his nose. His father sounded different. “Let’s go and find out when dinner is.” The three of them went back down the corridor to the kitchen where Mrs. Underwood was drying her hands on her apron.
“Good evening, Mr. Claybourne,” she said, smiling at the sight of him. She had always found Mr. Claybourne handsome. He had lost weight, she noticed. Could do with a little feeding up. “I’ve done roast chicken with potatoes,” she informed him, wishing she’d added a few more potatoes to the roasting tin.
“Smells delicious! When do you want us to eat?”
She looked at her watch strapped tightly around her fleshy wrist. “An hour. Eight-thirty-ish.”
“Good. Come on, children, let’s go outside before dinner. It’s a shame to waste such a glorious evening.” Gus looked at his sister and shrugged. He didn’t sound like Daddy at all.
They set off down the thyme walk, towards the woods. “What are we going to do, Daddy?” asked Storm.
“I don’t know. Let’s see what comes up.”
“We made a camp in the dovecote with Jean-Paul,” said Gus, running ahead to show it off. David winced at the mention of that man’s name.
“I bet you did,” he said drily, watching Storm follow her brother. He gazed around the gardens, fragrant in the soft evening light, and noticed how beautiful everything was. There was little color now, just different shades of green and white. There was something very soothing about the lack of vibrant hues and he felt the tension that had built up ever since he had been discovered with Blythe ebb slowly away like a gentle tide carrying away debris with every wave.
The children lingered by the dovecote, showing their father the fire they had built to cook on and the hole in the ground where they were going to bury their treasure. David noticed the purple shadows thrown across it, the way the white was turned to pink, and to his surprise he saw a pair of doves fly in through one of the little windows below the roof. He was injected with optimism, his spirit suddenly filled with excitement as if something magical was going to happen.
“Come on! Let’s keep going,” he said, marching on towards the field. The children ran after him. David felt a hand slip into his and expected to see Storm, skipping along beside him. To his surprise it was Gus. He smiled down at his son. Gus grinned up at him bashfully before lowering his eyes. He didn’t feel he deserved Gus’s trust. He hadn’t yet done the mileage to merit that level of confidence.