The Rose Garden (19 page)

‘How are things?’ he continued. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m busy. I work in a medical practice, which I really like, and I’m doing a big research project on my aunt’s old house. I’m designing a website for it.’

‘Kim, don’t be annoyed with me,’ he begged. ‘I’m sorry the way things ended.’

She said nothing.

‘Please let me buy you a coffee. We can catch up … talk.’

‘I don’t think we have anything to talk about,’ she said wearily, remembering his harsh words when they broke up.

‘Don’t be like that … We were good together – you know we were! Please. Just coffee.’

Kim didn’t know what to say. She had lived with him, shared her life with him. He’d meant so much to her …

‘A coffee … that’s all!’ Gareth said, taking her arm as he led her to the coffee shop across the street.

As she sank into the brown leather couch and the waitress took their order, Kim wondered if she was going mad. What was she doing sitting here with her ex, the guy who had broken her heart?

The waitress brought her a large cappuccino.

‘I think about you sometimes, about us,’ he said. ‘I miss you, Kim. Honestly I do!’

She took a sip of the frothy coffee and said nothing. She had missed him so much that she had almost gone crazy. It had broken her … But now she was different – she had changed.

‘Don’t you miss me a little too?’ he urged. ‘We had something special.’

‘I did in the beginning,’ she admitted. ‘All day, every day all I could think of was us. It was awful. But then I suppose I got used to being alone … to not having you around and that’s the way it is now …’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, serious. ‘Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way … Maybe we should go out for dinner, talk, go on a proper date. Give each other another chance.’

She had been waiting for him to say something like this from the minute they split up. Now that he had said it, it felt hollow and empty. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to give them another chance.

‘I have to think about it,’ she said slowly.

She could see that he was surprised. Obviously he had expected her to jump at it.

‘Listen, Gareth – I have to go,’ she said, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

‘I’ll phone you, Kim,’ he promised, trying to get the waitress’s attention as she left him there.

Sitting on the tram a few minutes later, she realized that she was shaking, that old feeling she always had around him of not being clever or pretty or even good enough returning. She couldn’t bear it.

MEETING HER FRIENDS IN RANELAGH FOR PIZZA AND A DRINK, KIM
told them about seeing Gareth earlier.

‘Good girl! I can’t believe that you left him hanging!’ crowed Evie. ‘I’m sure Gareth is in utter shock that you didn’t come running back to him immediately!’

‘It’s good to make him wait,’ agreed Lisa. ‘It’s about time he realized that you can do what you want and that everything doesn’t just revolve around him.’

‘How long will you keep him dangling?’ asked Alex, reaching for his beer.

‘I’m not keeping him dangling!’ she protested. ‘You know breaking up with Gareth was the worst thing ever – he totally broke my heart. But now it’s weird, because I don’t think I could ever go back with him, give him a second chance. Maybe Liz and Molly are right that Gareth isn’t meant for me.’

‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing!’ Evie said, serious. ‘You’ve been mad about Gareth for years!’

‘I know,’ she said, mortified. ‘I must have driven you all mad. I guess I realize now that Gareth is not the type of guy I want to spend the rest of my life with.’

‘Well, that’s a relief!’ said Alex. ‘He’s so up himself!’

Kim burst out laughing. She couldn’t believe that she was talking about her ex like this.

‘Does this mean that there is some other guy you fancy down the country?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she remonstrated, ‘there’s absolutely no one. Honestly.’

It was stupid, but it still irked her that she hadn’t had as much as a text from Luke Ryan. He had seemed nice, but obviously she was just not his type.

The past few days in Dublin had been great, meeting up with everyone, having time with her family and getting to research in the National Library. Now, as she was still stony broke, she decided another big cull of her clothes was badly needed.

Returning to Chloe’s Vintage Room in the Powerscourt Centre, Kim had made the ultimate sacrifice and handed over a gorgeous Missoni wrap-over maxi skirt and her Chloé evening dress, which she could never see herself wearing in Kilfinn, as well as her Lulu Guinness handbag, which had been a present from Gareth. It no longer had sentimental value, but was still worth a pretty penny!

She’d also arranged to meet Piotr, the clever Polish guy who had been on her web-design course. She wanted his advice about the work she was doing on Mossbawn. Immediately on finishing the course Piotr had landed a job with a big American gaming company that had just set up in Dublin.

‘What you’ve been doing looks very good, Kim!’ he praised her, looking at the laptop. ‘But what do you need me to do?’

She explained where she was having difficulty technically, the two of them sitting in a huddle in a small coffee shop by the canal.

‘Congrats on getting the job! We all knew you’d be the first one on the course to find something!’

‘Thanks, Kim. I’m just happy to be working again, especially now with Irina expecting another baby.’

‘I hadn’t heard the good news!’ she laughed. ‘When is the baby due?’

‘In five months, so it’s just as well I got a new job. What about you?’

‘I’m still waiting to see if anything comes up,’ she admitted.
‘I registered on line with some new agency, but you know what it’s like.’

‘I keep my fingers crossed for you.’

‘Piotr, thanks for helping me.’

‘No problem, Kim. You phone me if you need any more help, okay?’

As she was working in the surgery again the next morning, she decided to head on back down to Kilfinn. Besides, she was dying to show Molly the photographs from the library and to scan them all in on her computer.

‘
KIM, YOU ARE AMAZING! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FOUND ALL THESE
photographs of Mossbawn, of the house and the gardens!’ Molly said, poring over the copies of the old black-and-white photographs that Kim had found in the National Library. ‘Look at the family – that must be his son James and that’s his wife and their twin boys. There’s dear old Charles … He’s such a character, isn’t he?’ she said.

‘He’s the one started it all!’ agreed Kim. ‘Yet there he is in his old clothes and with his spade, working and hanging out in the Gardener’s Cottage.’

‘The mystery of the old gardener solved,’ smiled Molly. ‘He must have enjoyed living in the cottage and simplifying his life.’

‘Yet when he is dressed up he looks the real lord of the manor type!’

‘The wonderful thing we can tell from all these old photographs is just how little things have changed,’ said Molly proudly. ‘I can even recognize bushes and shrubs, and look at the size of that cedar tree compared to now!’

To Molly, the fact that she and David had managed to keep the integrity of the house and grounds was a huge factor. It was what living in an old house entailed, ensuring that it survived to be enjoyed by another generation.

‘And look at your rose garden,’ teased Kim. ‘It was really beautiful back then.’

‘And it will be again!’ she said defiantly. ‘If only these photographs were in colour so I could try and discover which varieties of roses were grown back then … I must find my magnifying glass. But at least I can see the layout and design, which is wonderful.’

‘I’ll scan them in on the computer and then we can blow them up for you to study – but obviously the quality won’t be as good.’

‘Thanks, Kim … I don’t know what I’d do without you. I can’t wait to show them to Emma and Grace,’ she said, engrossed. ‘I’m going to get them all copied and frame some of them.’

‘And I’m going to put them in the archive and also load them up into our History of the House section.’

It was clear from the photographs that the garden needed far more planting. Molly was determined to try to use as many as possible of the older rose types that would have been available at the time the photographs were taken. She needed some guidance, though, and planned to go and visit Gabriel Boland, the rose expert. His nursery was about an hour from here and he was a fount of knowledge and good advice about everything to do with rose-growing.

Gabriel showed her around his nursery.

‘This is the right time to come looking for some of the more unusual roses if you want to plant October–November time,’ he explained, leading her to the areas where his older varieties were kept. His own offices and home were covered in a magnificent climber, roses cascading down the wall and scrambling over the porch.

‘I’ll certainly take two of them,’ smiled Molly, hugely impressed.

‘It’s funny – I don’t think anyone has ever come here without ordering Rosa Gabriel!’ he laughed.

He showed her some photographs of older varieties.

‘There is a beautiful climbing rose that they grow in Mount Congreve; I’ll see about ordering you one. What about Bourbon
Queen? She loves Irish gardens. And Felicia is a wonderful hybrid musk that will keep flowering,’ he said, leading her around. ‘And of course I’d highly recommend Ispahan – a truly beautiful pink damask rose.’

Molly was spoiled for choice, but even though in part of the bed she was willing to test out some new varieties that were proving fast and easy to grow, she was determined to keep the rose garden’s classic appearance.

‘Some will take a few weeks for me to order, but I should have them in plenty of time for you.’

Driving home from Gabriel’s, Molly was excited thinking about next year – next summer in the garden … roses everywhere.

She was turning into Mossbawn when Avril Flynn texted her to remind her that they would collect her tomorrow to go to the opera at Glengarry Castle. It was something she was really looking forward to and was so glad that she had managed to get a ticket.

‘
See you tomorrow
,’ Molly texted back. ‘
Busy day buying lots of lovely roses.
’

AVRIL AND PETER WERE OUTSIDE IN THE CAR WAITING FOR HER AS
Molly quickly grabbed her warm wrap and handbag. She was really looking forward to tonight’s open-air opera performance. Glengarry Castle was only about twelve miles away; Hugh Fitzgerald and his wife Francesca had been clients of David’s and they had visited there a few times over the years. Two years ago they’d been to a big garden party to celebrate Hugh’s seventieth birthday. He was a great character and was totally devoted to ensuring the survival of the castle and the estate, which comprised about two hundred acres, with a large dairy farm and acres and acres of forestry.

‘Apparently they’ve sold all the tickets,’ Peter told them as they drove through the tall iron gates, where their own tickets were checked.

‘Let’s hope the weather holds,’ said Avril as they turned up the long driveway, which was all lit up.

‘Well, there’s no rain forecast,’ Molly smiled.

Peter managed to find a car park in the back field and, following the crowds, they walked along the gravelled driveway towards the terrace area where lots of tables covered with starched linen tablecloths and tall navy parasols had been set up. People were standing around talking, drinking prosecco and wine as young waitresses passed around the canapés.

‘Very civilized,’ said Peter approvingly as he accepted a glass.

Everyone was dressed up, with some of the men wearing black tie, and Molly was glad that she had made an effort and opted for her new oyster-coloured silk dress. In the distance she could see that the big field with its ring of tall beech trees, where cows normally grazed, had been transformed into a concert arena. A large protected stage had been constructed and rows of chairs laid out for the audience.

‘It looks great,’ enthused Avril. ‘I’m so glad we’ve come.’

Molly recognized a few friends from her book club and ran over to say hello to them.

‘We’ve never been to hear opera before,’ Miriam Kelly confided, ‘but seeing it in a setting like this is wonderful.’

‘It’s very special,’ agreed Molly. ‘Katarina Long has such a beautiful voice and to have Marco Reynolds performing with her is amazing.’

Three quarters of an hour later everyone had filed down along the grassy pathway to take their seats. It was beginning to get darker and the stage lights illuminated the whole area. Cara and Tim arrived in a flurry, coming to sit down beside them.

‘God give me patience with that mother of mine! I’ve been at the hospital with her all afternoon.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘She’s been limping around for days and it turns out she has an infection in her big toe.’

‘Poor Margaret! What did they do?’ asked Molly, trying not to laugh.

‘Bathed it and cut the nail and dressed it and gave her some antibiotics,’ Cara sighed dramatically. ‘She has a footbath thing we gave her years ago and she won’t use it! So from here on in she’s going for regular pedicures and looking after her feet.’

‘Well, at least you’re here now and Margaret is fine.’

‘I didn’t even get a glass of wine!’

‘You can get one afterwards,’ Avril soothed her as the orchestra, who were seated towards the back of the stage, began to warm up. The stage darkened and suddenly the lights went up as the large,
burly figure of Marco Reynolds, the tenor, appeared and went into the opening aria of
Carmen
.

Molly watched captivated as Katarina Long, the renowned Italian soprano who had grown up in New York, came on stage in a silver fitted gown, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, her dark eyes like liquid as she began to sing. Her voice filled the arena, entrancing everyone as she sang from
Aida
. Like Marco, she performed a few arias on her own and then they came back on stage together and duetted, their voices ringing out in the still night across Glengarry’s fields. It was almost magical as the late-August night got darker and the stars appeared, forming a perfect backdrop to the performances on stage.