“Listen, Miranda. I understand that you do not want to ruin what your predecessor created. I don’t want to ruin it either. In spite of the weeds I can see what was there. I will endeavor to recreate it exactly as it once was.”
Miranda was relieved. “You will?” He nodded. “Oh, thank you so much. I couldn’t bear her to come back one day and see that we had spoiled it.”
“You think she will come back?”
“You never know, do you?”
“No.” He shook his head wistfully. “You never do.”
So Jean-Paul and Mr. Underwood began the task of recreating the cottage garden. How different it was from the week Jean-Paul had originally planted it with Ava, Hector and her children. They had chattered and laughed together in the sunshine, the dogs frolicking about on the lawn, the pigeons cooing from the rooftops. It was during those days that she had slowly stolen his heart, little by little, so that he barely noticed until it was too late.
Miranda gave up on her article. She didn’t feel in the least bit inspired. She found it hard to concentrate, her eyes wandering outside to the gardens, her mind drifting to the children and to Jean-Paul. She felt restless at her desk, irritated by the e-mails offering her more work and dissatisfied with her own writing that no longer came easily. Instead of battling with her piece, she lay on her bed and opened the scrapbook. She picked up the painting of the cottage garden and leaned back against the pillows to study it carefully. It was painted with confident strokes and vibrant colors. She would have loved to show it to Jean-Paul so that he could copy it, but there was no point wishing. She would never show it to him or anybody. One day, if she were to meet Mrs. Lightly, she would return it to her.
XIX
Those mischievous squirrels on the cottage windowsill. They feel the love inside like sunshine and want to bask in it as we do.
The children broke up from school. Miranda had taken to driving them to school in the mornings, meeting Troy and Henrietta either in the salon or at Cate’s Cake Shop after the drop-off. Slowly she began to be integrated into the community. She hadn’t intended to, resisting like a barnacle clinging to a rock. It happened without her noticing. Slowly and insidiously, like enveloping fog. They began to linger after church on Sundays, chatting to the locals. David visited Colonel Pike who proudly displayed his collection of medals and invited him to breakfast in Cate’s Cake Shop on Saturday mornings. Miranda struck up the odd conversation with other mothers outside the school gates and attended the parent teacher meeting alone, as David was busy in London. She had arrived with a knot of anxiety in her stomach. But Mr. Marlow had greeted her with a friendly smile, delighted to tell her that Gus was finally settling down. He hadn’t bitten anyone since October, but had yet to make friends. “He’s a loner,” she explained in his defense. Mr. Marlow had pulled a face. “Not a loner, Mrs. Claybourne, alone. There’s a big difference. Your son would benefit enormously from having friends.”
She was pleased when the term ended and Gus came home where there was no one to judge him. As far as she could see, her son was now playing contentedly with his sister in the tree house that Jean-Paul had built them. The fact was he didn’t enjoy going to school and she didn’t blame him. She hadn’t much liked school either. Gus was happiest at home, she concluded. She watched him trail after Jean-Paul and realized that, above all, he was happiest with the gardener.
In order for Miranda to go to London to do her Christmas shopping, Henrietta agreed to look after Gus and Storm. Clare was perfectly capable of manning the shop in her absence, and Henrietta secretly longed to meet the elusive Jean-Paul, who drank his black coffee in silence every morning, reading the papers in Cate’s Cake Shop.
Miranda departed on the early train, leaving Henrietta at the breakfast table with the children.
Troy had layered Henrietta’s hair and given her spirits a lift. No one had noticed except Cate who had told her it made her face look rounder. “I mean that nicely,” she had added. “It looks sweet.” Knowing that she was more than likely to bump into Jean-Paul, she had applied mascara. She didn’t feel at ease wearing makeup, but today she had felt her confidence needed a little boosting. However, she didn’t feel brave enough to show her fulsome figure, hiding it beneath a large woolly sweater.
Henrietta adored children. Gus and Storm sensed it immediately and began to show off. Not since Jean-Paul had they had such an attentive audience. She listened to them, laughed at their jokes and let them show her their bedrooms and toys. She admired Storm’s pink playhouse, cuddled her cushions and gushed about the fairy dresses hanging in her closet. Gus showed her the tree house, scaling the ladder like a squirrel. “Jean-Paul made it for us,” he told her. “I can see for miles. J-P!” he shouted.