She couldn’t help but smile back at him. “You’re not a gardener yet,” she replied drily. “I’ve never seen a gardener in cashmere.”
“Don’t judge people by how they look.” He gazed over to the tree where two pink faces peeped out of the hole in the trunk. “There is the hollow tree,” he said, striding across the grass. “It’s magical!” Ava watched him go, a frown lining her brow. There was something very curious about him; she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
Archie and Angus disappeared inside the tree when they saw the grown-ups approaching. Poppy ran in front, shouting at the boys to let her in. “They’re coming, they’re coming!” she cried, her voice sending a couple of partridges into the sky. Poppy climbed in through the opening cut into the bark. The two boys peeped out from the darkness of the trunk. Jean-Paul patted the tree as if it were an animal. “This is a beautiful old oak,” he said.
“I love it!” Ava exclaimed. “An old friend. Imagine what this tree has seen in its lifetime.”
“It was probably here before the house.”
“For certain.”
“What would human beings have done without trees, eh?” He stood back to take in its glorious height. “No trees, no fuel. No fuel, no smelting. So, no bronze or iron age. No wood, no ships, no travel overseas. No empires. Perhaps no civilization at all.”
“We’d still be living in caves,” said Ava with a smile.
“I think your children would be all right,” he chuckled, bending down to look in on them. They sat in the dark like three little pirates. “Is there room for me?”
“No, go away!” they shouted, squealing with pleasure. “Help! Help! It’s Captain Hook!”
Ava left the children in the tree and took Jean-Paul to the orchard. There were plum trees, apple trees, pear trees and peach trees; a banqueting hall for wasps and bees. The sun hung low in the sky like a glowing ember, glinting through the trees, casting long shadows over the grass. A pigeon sat watching them from the rooftop, its feathers gold in the soft light, and a gray squirrel scampered across the branches. The grass was already glittering with dew, the air moist and cool. They wandered through the trees in silence, listening to the whispering sounds of nature.
“I love evening and morning the best,” said Jean-Paul, his expression settled once again into solemnity. “I love the transience of it. The moment you appreciate it, it is gone.” He snapped his fingers.
“Come. Let me show you where I want to create the new garden. A special garden. A cottage garden full of roses and campanula and daisies. I want tulips and daffodils in spring. I want a magical garden full of color and scent. Somewhere I can sit in peace and quiet. An abundance of flowers.” Jean-Paul nodded as if he were qualified to advise her.
They arrived at an area of lawn enclosed on two sides by yew hedge. In the middle stood a solitary mountain ash. They stood at one end, watching the sun blinking through the branches of the yellow larches beyond, enflaming the tip of the dovecote. It was a large space, big enough to create something dramatic. “It has a good feeling in here,” said Jean-Paul.
“Doesn’t it,” Ava agreed. “I’ve been wanting to do something with this for so long. We never go in here. The children play on the other side of the house or on the lawn by the herbaceous border. This is hidden away, like a secret.”
“It will be a secret garden.”
“I hope so. A surprise garden. Come on,” she said with a smile. “Time for tea, I think, don’t you? The children will be getting hungry now.”
That night Ava lay in bed with her book, An Enchanted April. But while her eyes scanned the pages, her mind was not on the words. Phillip lay beside her, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He always had at least four books on the go, placed in different parts of the house so he never found himself with nothing to read.
“Darling,” Ava began, allowing her book to rest against her knees. “I can’t make Jean-Paul out.”
Phillip replied without taking his eyes off the page. “What is there to make out?”
“I don’t know. Something isn’t right. It’s like the puzzle is missing one of its pieces.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Well. This afternoon I showed him around the gardens. On the one hand he’s not really interested in plants. Not as a gardener should be. But on the other he’s moved by the beauty of it. He loved the silly old dovecote and the oak tree. He took real interest in them.”