Jeremy’s barn was full of timber, logs and hay bales. “As you see, we’ve got more than we need.”
“If you can spare some, we’d be grateful.”
“You’d be doing me a favor.” He looked at Jean-Paul, an unlikely figure in Hartington. “How are you finding it down there?”
“I only arrived yesterday.”
“Oh,” Jeremy replied, wondering what Miranda had hired him to do. “They’re nice people, the Claybournes.”
“Yes.” Jean-Paul rubbed his chin. Suddenly he felt compelled to ask about Ava. “Did you know the previous owners?” He tried to control the tremor in his voice.
“Yes. Ava Lightly was a wonderful gardener. Do you know them?”
Jean-Paul shook his head. “I am the gardener now.”
“Ah,” said Jeremy, grinning sympathetically. “You’re taking on quite a legacy.”
“I know.” He pulled a face as if the mere thought of the project defeated him. “Do you know why they moved?”
“Phillip had a stroke. I think the house became too much for them.”
“Do you know where they moved to?”
“No idea, I’m afraid. They went very quiet for a few years and then were gone without any fuss or fanfare. The town would have liked to say good-bye. They were very popular around here.” He hesitated a moment then added, “And devoted to each other.”
Jean-Paul turned away, pretending to be looking for the children. He did not want Jeremy to see the pain those words had caused him. He gritted his teeth and tried to pull himself together, but a lump of grief had lodged itself in his throat. In an effort to dissemble he bent down to pat the dog. Mr. Ben buried his wet nose in his hand. Jeremy remained oblivious of the blow he had dealt. Jean-Paul rested his forehead against Mr. Ben’s for a moment to play for time. “Beautiful animal,” he said.
“Mr. Ben’s rather special,” Jeremy replied with a chuckle. “Wolfgang’s a little long in the tooth these days. Spends most of the day asleep.”
Jean-Paul called the children and arranged to return later with a suitable vehicle to transport the timber. “It’s good to meet you,” said Jeremy. “I’d love to come and see what you’re up to sometime. Those gardens were quite something once.”
“Any time,” Jean-Paul replied.
“If you need help, I’ve strong hands on the farm and would be happy to lend you a few men.”
“Are those your cows down by the river?” he asked.
“Yes. Aberdeen Angus.”
“Storm’s new friends.” He looked down at the little girl. “You haven’t forgotten them, have you?”
“No,” she replied. “They have rough tongues. They’re nice.”
“I have horses. I’ve told Miranda, but if you and the children want to ride, let me know. Whisper’s very docile.”
“That would be fun,” Jean-Paul replied.
“Good.” Jeremy watched them climb into Miranda’s jeep. “I hope to see more of you, then.” He waved as they drove out of the farm.
There was something intriguing about Jean-Paul. He didn’t look like a gardener. He was too handsome for a start. He shook his head and smiled. His presence in Hartington was sure to set the cat among the pigeons.
Winter
XIV
A rainbow requires both rain and sunshine
Hartington House, 1979
So began our project together. Darling Phillip was as thrilled as I; Henri would be pleased his son was getting involved and doors would continue to open the length and breadth of France. He returned to his study and buried himself in research. We were left to create our cottage garden. I didn’t show Phillip the painting. It was so personal, so intimate, coming from the very core of M. F. that I didn’t feel it was right to share it with anyone. He had painted it for me and I was surprised and touched that he had taken the trouble to understand what moved me. That was the first secret I had ever kept from my husband. It would be the first of many secrets, creeping into our marriage like poison ivy.
Ava and Jean-Paul set about digging the borders in the cottage garden according to Jean-Paul’s painting. They marked out the path with sticks so that it meandered like a stream, wide enough for two people to walk together comfortably. The borders were to be edged with stones to allow the plants to spill over. Hector helped in his quiet, solemn way and Ian Fitzherbert let them use his small tractor and trailer to carry away unwanted earth. It was a sunny day, the sky a deep primary blue without a cloud to be seen anywhere. They worked in their shirtsleeves, Ava in her purple dungarees, her hair held up with a pen, Jean-Paul in low-slung jeans and shirt although the air was crisp and cold. They toiled all day, laughing and chatting like old friends.