Page 44 of Best Summer Ever

‘I’m sure they’re not,’ I said stoically, knowing it must be the cut-flower garden that I still hadn’t seen that he was referring to.

‘Oh, they are.’ He nodded, dropping the sheet of paper on top of a pile of receipts. ‘Getting old is no fun, Daisy. My advice is, avoid it if you can.’

I’d never heard him talk like that before and wondered if Mum and Dad might actually be right about him feeling lonely living on his own in the manor. He’d done it for as long as I could remember and had always been happy and content in the past, but perhaps the fall slash tumble had instigated a change of heart.

‘Well,’ I smiled, not wanting to suggest he might be lonely in case I was wrong, ‘I’ll try.’

‘Good,’ he said, then eyed me more closely. ‘Though I have to say, you’re already rather looking beyond your age today.’

‘Hey!’ I yelped.

‘We can’t have you looking as old as me, can we?’ he carried on. ‘I’m relying on you to regale me with youthful tales of mischievous bad behaviour so I can live vicariously through you this summer.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ I smiled. ‘I’ll keep you posted if I get up to anything.’

‘You look like you’ve already started,’ he teased. ‘Whathaveyou been up to? Burning the candle at both ends?’

‘Something like that,’ I confessed, just as Mum chose that exact moment to stick her head around the door.

‘There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,’ she said, looking miffed.

‘Thank you, Mum,’ I struggled to say with a straight face because Algy had pulled a face in response to her sour expression, ‘that’s great.’

‘I see you pulling that face, Algy.’ She then tutted and he stood to attention, which made me want to laugh even more. ‘What are you two up to?’

‘Just a little side project,’ he said, nimbly stepping in front of where he’d dropped the email. ‘And don’t look like that, Janet,’ he said as I turned away, ‘it won’t mean any extra work for anyone. Daisy, Daisy and I have got it completely under control. Haven’t we, my love?’

‘Totally.’ I nodded. ‘Absolutely under control.’

‘Hm,’ said Mum, ‘wonders will never cease.’

A persistent drizzle had started to fall while we were filling up on coffee and shortbread in the kitchen and this thankfully scuppered Algy’s suggestion to take me to see the cut-flower garden. I was relieved that he was having an unusual fair-weather moment, because I was still feeling reluctant to admire the manor’s many horticultural delights and opted instead to hide out in the library.

It had been a regular haunt during school holidays when I was growing up and had provided me with a whole variety of different destinations and subjects to encounter from the comfort of the squishy armchairs, which were arranged either side of a vast fireplace.

‘Look what I found the other evening,’ said Algy, who had opted to join me, once it became obvious the wet weather was set to continue. ‘I bet you haven’t picked this up in a while, have you?’

I took the book he handed me without initially realising what it was and then felt my heart skip in recognition. The dust cover was even more tattered than I remembered, but Mary and Ben looked exactly the same. As did the friendly robin.

‘The Secret Garden,’ I whispered, feeling a sudden upsurge of emotion. ‘You’re right, Algy – I haven’t read it in years.’

‘This was the tome that in part kicked your love of—’

‘It was,’ I cut in.

‘Take it if you like,’ he offered kindly, not at all offended by my interruption. ‘Read it again at your leisure.’

‘I thought you didn’t lend books beyond the library door,’ I said softly, carefully putting it down. ‘Hasn’t that always been your mantra?’

‘Well,’ he said, looking from me to the book and back again, ‘I think I can trust you with it. I know where you live, after all.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘Don’t you want to read it?’ he asked. ‘You used to love it. I can remember you—’

‘Please,’ I cut in again. ‘Can we not talk about that? It’s been hard enough having to move back in with Mum and Dad. If I start thinking about what occurred during the time before I left for university, I’ll be heading for the hills before I’ve even made a start on sorting myself out.’

‘Might the garden not help you sort yourself out?’ Algy suggested mildly.

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