Free THE TRYSTING TREE by Linda Gillard Page A

fingerless mittens and got on with it. But I think I must be getting soft. I can feel the sun’s warmth behind me, radiating from the wall and I must say, it’s really rather pleasant.’
    ‘Connor says there’s fruit on that wall behind you. Peaches and nectarines. The sun lovers. Then on the west wall,’ I said, pointing, ‘there should be plums and cherries. On the east wall we should find pears and apples. It’s hard to tell what’s still alive at this time of year.’
    ‘Nothing grows on the north wall, I presume?’
    ‘With luck there could be a Morello cherry.’
    ‘Does Connor know, just by looking at dead twigs?’
    ‘Partly, but there are also a few labels left. Some are the very old metal labels, but some of the newer ones must have been put there by Dad. And we found a notebook in the shed. His gardening notes. It’s still legible.’
    Phoebe looked taken aback. ‘Oh… I never thought to clear out the shed. I went through all his other things…’ Her voice faltered.
    ‘Looking for clues as to why he left us?’ I asked gently.
    Ignoring the question she said, ‘Do you know, he kept a rosary in there. In the shed! Great long thing. It hung from a beam, coiled, like a snake. Gave me the heebie-jeebies.’ Phoebe shivered and rearranged her limbs on the bench. ‘We never saw eye to eye about religion. Well, about anything, actually. Lord knows why we married. And as for taking on this place…’ She made a dismissive noise. ‘But Sylvester was always happy in the garden. Well, happier. He never learned to live with the British climate, though oddly enough he didn’t mind snow. Said it protected the garden while it slept, like a white blanket. Honestly, to listen to him, you’d think he was talking about a child, not a garden! But then he adored children.’
    I watched my mother, anxious that she’d waded too far into the past and out of her depth. I was about to change the subject when she said gruffly, ‘He loved you, Ann. Don’t ever think he didn’t. He had no quarrel with you . It was me. It was all my doing.’
    ‘Oh, I’m sure there was fault on both sides, Mum. I didn’t understand when I was young, but I do now. My marriage failed too, you know.’
    ‘It was depression . He loved me. He adored you. But he suffered wretchedly with depression. And I was no use. I didn’t even know what depression was then. I thought it was just a question of pulling yourself together. Having a holiday. A change of scenery. So I encouraged him to travel. Thought it would do him good. And it got him out of my hair... I hated feeling powerless, you see.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s why I disliked being pregnant. The thought of something growing inside me, something I couldn’t control. I loathed the whole damn business. Pity I didn’t loathe sex! That would have saved no end of bother.’ She raised her stick and pointed. ‘I do believe that young man is flagging. Time he was fed. I’ll go in and put the soup on. Go and empty your barrow while I make myself useful in the kitchen.’
    As she got to her feet, Phoebe raised her cap and shouted to Connor, ‘I take my hat off to you, sir! You’re a human combine harvester. Tell me, is it satisfying being that destructive?’
    ‘Very!’ Connor yelled back. ‘But it gives a man an appetite.’
    ‘Duly noted,’ Phoebe said. ‘Lunch coming up.’ She replaced her cap and tottered back towards the house, humming tunelessly.
    Following with an overflowing barrow, I watched my mother’s feet as they shuffled across the worn, uneven paving stones. When she got to the back door, she clutched at the handle and raised her stick in triumphant salute as I passed.

PHOEBE
     
    Phoebe was thoughtful as she heated the tomato soup. She wondered if it was too late to go through the contents of the shed to see what Sylvester might have left behind. She was curious, but also fearful. It wouldn’t do to go stirring things up again after all these years.