“Cry all you like, Shrub, darling,” he said gently and kissed her hand again.
XXIII
First bees and insects on the flowers of the ivy on top of the wall. Lavender crocuses appearing in the grass.
Ava expected Jean-Paul to come back. The place was so empty without him it seemed inconceivable that he would not return to fill it. He belonged there now as much as the dovecote and the hollow tree, and his absence upset the harmony of the garden. Like a homing pigeon she made her way to the cottage, hoping that she would see the lights on and smell the smoke wafting out of the chimney; but it was cold and empty and unwelcoming. She stood on the stone bridge and leaned over, gazing at the hypnotic flow of water below. The breeze was warm and sugar scented, caressing her skin like soft fingers. The bushes and trees rang out with the song of birds. Above them all sang the skylark, its voice brave and clear and unwavering. Little violets opened their purple faces in the sun and white periwinkle trailed its wreaths along the riverbank.
She wandered through the gardens in a daze, allowing her melancholy to possess her like a malady. She lingered amidst the sweet smells of daphne odora and viburnum, drawing them in through her nostrils, anticipating the ecstatic soaring of her spirits, but nothing came. Her sorrow was heavy like stone.
Finally, she climbed into the car and drove to Toddy’s, a rambling old farmhouse nestled in the valley five miles up the road. She turned into the drive, not noticing the pink cherry blossom fluttering in the sunshine like clusters of little butterflies. She parked her car outside the house and walked around to the back where Toddy was busy in the stables with her horses. When she saw Ava she waved heartily. Ava returned her wave with a forced smile.
“What a pleasant surprise first thing in the morning!” Toddy exclaimed, emerging from one of the stables in riding boots and jodhpurs that clung to her legs like a second skin. “Are you all right? You look frightfully pale.”
“I’m fine, just a bit down,” Ava conceded. There was no point pretending.
“Anything specific?”
Ava shrugged and took a deep breath. “I’m just tired,” she replied, thrusting her hands into the pockets of the long stripy coat she wore over jeans. “Phillip’s gone off to London. I barely see him these days. He’s so engrossed in his book.”
“Men! At least he’s got an interesting job, unlike Ben who can’t even mention his business without my eyelids drooping. Of all the men in the world, I have to marry an accountant!”
“Keeps you on the straight and narrow!”
“I’ve learned to be devious over the years, trust me. Come inside. I could do with another cup of coffee. You look like you could do with something stronger.”
Lying on a beanbag in the middle of the kitchen table was Mr. Frisby. “He’s been unwell,” Toddy informed her, running a hand over the sleeping animal’s back. “Nothing serious, just a cold. Must have caught it from the twins. Earl Grey or bog-standard builders’ tea?”
“Earl Grey,” Ava replied, sinking into the armchair. The kitchen smelled of coffee and toasted currant buns. Toddy clattered about taking cups from the cupboard and fishing two spoons out of the dishwasher she hadn’t bothered to unload.
“How’s the devilishly handsome Jean-Paul?” she asked, reaching to the back of the cupboard for the box of Earl Grey. Ava hadn’t anticipated the mention of his name and blanched.
“Gone to visit his mother,” she replied.
“Shame,” said Toddy with a chuckle. “The girls will be disappointed.”
“The girls?”
“Samantha and Lizzie. Sadly, no great romance to report there. I don’t think they’re his type. He probably finds English girls very unsexy.”
“Probably.”
“Still, he’s hung in, hasn’t he? I thought he’d be bored stiff here in Hartington. Do tell him to come out riding again when he comes back. I think he really enjoyed himself.”
“Oh, he did,” said Ava hoarsely, barely daring to speak in case the tremor in her voice gave her away.
“To think you thought he’d last a week.” Toddy poured boiling water into one of the cups. “Do you remember Daisy Hopeton?”
“Of course. Mother never stops talking about her.” Ava was relieved to change the subject.
“Well, she’s back.”
“Back?”
“Yes. Staying with her mother. You should give her a call. Wasn’t she once a good friend of yours?”
“Yes, she was.”
“Well, she’s come for her children. She wants to take them out to South Africa. It’s all rather messy.”