The Rose Garden (29 page)

‘It’s such a perfect place, no wonder he wanted it,’ laughed Maeve.

‘Who lives here now?’ wondered Molly.

‘The family,’ the girl smiled. ‘My grandmother and my parents.’

‘This is your home?’ exclaimed Maeve.

‘Yes. I love this villa, and the garden, and to tell people about it and the plants and the history. We open only four days a week, but the rest of the time it is ours, which is what I like!’ admitted Giulianna.

‘You must get lots of visitors.’

‘Yes, we do, but visitors are important,’ she smiled. ‘They make it so we can keep this villa – keep it well.’

‘The gardens are so beautiful,’ enthused Molly.

‘We get the sun, but we also get the rain sometimes,’ she replied. ‘It is good for our plants.’

‘My friend is mad on gardens,’ explained Maeve. ‘She has a beautiful old house and garden in Ireland.’

‘You have visitors come to your garden?’ asked Giulianna with a smile.

‘No,’ she laughed, ‘just my friends and family.’

‘It’s a beautiful garden, and visitors would love it!’ added Maeve loyally.

Anna and Helen just wanted to shop, so the next day Molly, Roz and Maeve went further afield, taking the ferry across to Isola del Garda, the magnificent Venetian Gothic villa on an island in the lake, with its terraced gardens and woods. Molly was immediately drawn to the classic Italian-style garden with its fine selection of roses, recognizing one or two varieties which were the same as in her own garden.

Afterwards, sitting in the loggia surrounded by bougainvillea, Molly had to admit that she was enjoying this holiday far more than she’d expected. The girls were fun, and everyone was able to do what they wanted. She had actually relaxed and enjoyed seeing so many places. The Italians had learned the importance of history and keeping their buildings and churches and gardens, preserving them for future generations.

Standing in the garden, Molly thought of Mossbawn … How could she ever let her old house and its beautiful garden go?

CHECKING OUT FACEBOOK AND FLICKR, KIM NOTICED LOTS OF
comments about the photos she’d put up of Libby and Brian’s wedding.

‘
Great-looking venue
…
where is it? We’ve just got engaged, Kim, and are looking for somewhere to have our wedding!
’

‘
Kim, where is this place? My brother and his girlfriend are looking for a country house like this!
’

‘
Hi Kim, it’s Steve, your old American college buddy. I’m living in Washington but my girlfriend’s family are Irish so we want an Irish country house or castle for our wedding next summer. Where is Mossbawn House?
’

‘
Love the dress, love the flowers, and love this house! I want to get married there!
’

‘
Where is this venue? How do we contact them?
’

Kim couldn’t believe the interest her few photos had generated. Wait till she told Molly – she wouldn’t believe it!

She replied quickly, giving them her email and phone number. If they were seriously interested, they could contact her. Molly had agreed to let Libby get married here because she knew the family, but whether her aunt would be interested in letting it be used as a wedding venue by other people was a totally different matter.

Kim decided to do a bit of research and looked at some of the better-known country-house venues. From what she could see,
with most of them you had to rent out the house for a night or two nights. The catering and food and wine were all added on separately. They cost a fortune – an absolute fortune.

She’d gone to lots of weddings, but had no idea how expensive they were. She should have listened more when her married friends were talking about it. She’d phone Rhona. She had got married only two years ago. Her wedding had been absolutely perfect, on a bright autumn day in Carlingford House, overlooking the river, with fireworks that night. Rhona and Will were always going to weddings, so her old friend was a bit of a wedding expert.

‘Talk to you about weddings?’ laughed Rhona. ‘Do you know how many weddings I’ve been to over the past seven or eight years? Some have been amazing and great fun, others too fussy and formal even though they cost a fortune.’

‘What makes it work?’ she quizzed.

‘Well, everyone wants their day to be pretty unique, special to them and their friends and family,’ Rhona said seriously. ‘I guess that’s what we all want. Couples are veering away from the big hotel with its huge function room.’

‘So what’s happening now?’

‘Everyone is madly trying to find somewhere different – old houses, restaurants, places their friends haven’t been – old stables and barns apparently are big. Obviously if you have a garden or field big enough to put a marquee in, you’re flying. Last summer we went to a wedding on a canal boat, which was really cool.’

‘And what about cost?’ she pressed.

‘Well, usually you have to rent the place, or hire it for a day or two, or if they have a load of bedrooms you have to fill them. Sometimes you just literally get the shell of the house or rooms and you then organize caterers, drink, even your tables and chairs. That’s what we did.’

Kim had loved Rhona and Will’s wedding.

‘You had to do it all?’

‘Well, they recommended caterers and bar staff and stuff for us
to use,’ Rhona explained. ‘Why the sudden interest? Are you and Gareth back together again?’

‘No!’ she protested, explaining about her aunt’s house and the interest the photos she’d uploaded had generated.

‘If you do a big trawl on the net you will see there are actually not that many places for people to have their wedding. Check them out, Kim, and you’ll see what I mean. Most on their websites will give you an idea of the costs or post you a wedding-package brochure so you can get an idea.’

Kim checked out the websites Rhona had mentioned, and some wedding ones, which were incredible and showed a photographic record of various weddings in all kinds of places – Georgian townhouses, castles, an old farmhouse, an old mill, a barn and some really lovely country houses scattered around Ireland. There was a restaurant on a marina, golf clubhouses with stunning views, a converted schoolhouse and even a Martello tower.

From what she could see, Mossbawn House was ideal and it had the added benefits of being so close to the village with its church and pub, and the Woodlands Hotel only down the road.

Kim decided to talk to Molly about it. Her aunt wanted to sell the place, but it was proving difficult. Maybe she would be better to consider using the house to make an income if that was possible. That way she could keep the home she loved and still live here.

Chasing upstairs, Kim got changed quickly into a skirt and wrap-over top as Luke was collecting her in a few minutes and they were going for dinner to Justin’s house. It was Luke’s nephew Aaron’s second birthday, so it was a bit of a family affair, with all the Ryans going. She’d got some Disney cars and a dinosaur book for Aaron. Luke was his godfather and had got him an enormous big garage with a lift to put all his cars in.

‘I know it’s almost as big as he is, but I couldn’t resist it,’ he admitted.

The more she saw of Luke’s family, the more she liked them.
His mum and dad were old-fashioned, but they were a great pair, both obsessed with horses and riding and the farm. His sister Melissa and brother Sam were friendly too and made a point of including her in things. Little by little, she found she was becoming more involved, her old life back in Dublin seeming miles and miles away …

THE SUN SLANTING IN THROUGH THE TALL BEDROOM WINDOW
woke her. She should have guessed that Molly would be out in the garden already. On days like this it was impossible to keep her in the house, and she was most likely busy working somewhere outside.

Washing and dressing quickly, she had her own breakfast and went out to join her aunt.

‘Perfect timing, Kim. I need you to hold this ladder while I fix some extra trellising for this beauty of a rose.’

Kim took a firm hold of the ladder as her aunt went up a few rungs and began to attach the trellising to hooks that she’d already drilled into the walls.

‘Pass me that taller piece with the lovely ornamented top section, please!’

‘Molly, why don’t you let me do that?’

‘Because I know what I’m doing and you don’t,’ her aunt replied briskly. ‘Madame Isaac Pereire is looking for a bit more height and support, and this lovely wooden arch will help.’

Kim had to stop herself laughing. Her aunt treated her plants like they were children, to be cosseted and pampered and encouraged, but, looking around her, clearly whatever Molly did, it was working. Roses, along with clematis, had begun to grow everywhere, Albertine scrambling over arches and walls and stone pillars. The rose garden was losing its bare look, and cottage-garden plants were beginning to fill one of the borders.

‘Molly, everything is beginning to grow!’ she said, amazed. ‘It’s going to be glorious by the summer!’

‘That’s the plan,’ agreed Molly. ‘There’s been a few casualties, but most of the roses seem to be settling in well and I can’t believe that ancient pink Louise Odier seems to have got a second lease of life. I think she just needed attention – being ignored doesn’t suit my French ladies.’

‘Is the gazebo finished?’

‘Nearly. Paul is coming back to give it another coat of paint next week.’

‘It looks just like the one in the old photographs we found.’

‘I know, he’s done a great job and made it look like the one that Charles originally built here for Constance. I want this to be a lovely, peaceful rose-covered spot to day-dream in.’

For the next few hours Kim helped as her aunt directed her to get this, put that in the compost heap, fetch this from the shed.

‘Molly, can you take a break? I need to talk to you about something.’

‘Okay, ten minutes and a cup of tea in the kitchen,’ agreed her aunt. ‘Run ahead and put the kettle on. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Kim had her laptop set up in the kitchen, a pot of tea ready on the table. Molly, in her green knitted jumper and old cord trousers, padded across the kitchen floor in her slippers and sat down.

‘Is everything okay, Kim?’

‘Oh yes – it’s not about me. It’s about Mossbawn and you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s just that I put some of those lovely wedding photos of Libby’s and Brian’s up on Facebook and Flickr – and you won’t believe it, but a few people have contacted me to find out about having a wedding here.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘Well, nothing yet really, because it’s your house … But I did check out other wedding venues to get an idea of how it all works and the costs. Molly, I know you plan to sell the house, but maybe
having a few weddings here every year might help you to cover the cost of running and keeping the place.’

She could see Molly staring at her. Shit – she’d been far too presumptuous, overstepped the mark … She was Molly’s guest, for heaven’s sake! Her aunt had let her stay here for nothing for the past few months and must think she was being incredibly rude and interfering.

‘Hold more weddings here?’

‘Yes,’ Kim said, taking a deep breath. ‘But only if you want to … It’s just that it could make some money.’

Molly began to laugh and laugh.

‘Kim, you won’t believe it, but I’ve had three people ask me about weddings in the last few weeks. Roz has me pestered, as her niece Susan is getting married. She’s thirty-six and apparently he’s been married before, so she wants something discreet and out of Dublin for close family and a few friends – only fifty or sixty people. Then Dr Jim mentioned their daughter Jenny is getting married next year. And Trish says lots of people keep asking her and Libby how they managed to hire here!’

‘I don’t believe you!’ she said, taken aback.

‘Great minds think alike!’ said Molly firmly. ‘But you know, it was one thing to help out by having Libby’s wedding here, but having more … I just don’t know. How would I go about even organizing such things?’

‘Well, if you were considering it – you would need a website, a really good one, and to get someone like Gina on board in terms of running the whole food end of it.’

‘It has crossed my mind,’ Molly admitted, ‘but if you look at some of these places they have twenty and thirty bedrooms and cottages and that – it would all be too much. Far too much work!’

‘Molly, Mossbawn is different. Only the bride and groom get to stay here and maybe the parents, otherwise all the guests go and stay in the Woodlands. You are not running a hotel or guest house, just a one-off venue.’

‘I know the house is lovely, but it’s not very big …’

‘You don’t want really big weddings. Mossbawn would be more exclusive and you have the most amazing garden for photos and the drinks reception. Honestly, Molly, I think it might work.’

‘Do you really think so?’ she asked.

‘Yes. The wedding here was great and you know Gina loves catering for that kind of an event.’

‘Listen, let me think about it over the next few days,’ she said slowly. ‘It might be too complicated.’

‘Promise me you will think about it,’ Kim urged. ‘It could help solve your problems and mean that you could stay living here.’

‘To tell the truth, I’ve been worried sick about selling the place. I feel I’m letting David down,’ admitted Molly. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve been trying to work out all kinds of ways of keeping Mossbawn without bankrupting myself. Pamela Reynolds offered to buy the back field months ago when we thought that dreadful Dunne man was buying the place. I think she was worried he wouldn’t let her use it the way I do, and of course it’s true – he wouldn’t have let her. But after all the years of grazing the land, she’s made a good offer and I decided to accept it.’

‘Well done!’

‘It’s two acres we won’t miss, and I’d prefer to see their animals on it and not some new development.’

‘Molly, honestly, you need to think about this idea. Go online and check country-house weddings.’