Page 81 of Best Summer Ever

‘He’s also offered me a job,’ I told him apprehensively. ‘He’s asked me to take over the cut-flower garden. Maintaining it and managing the sale of the flowers…’

‘And all as a result of the work she’s done there today,’ Mum carried on as my words petered out again. ‘Think of the time that’s going to save you, Robin. And think how thrilled Algy will be to get something out of it before the season ends.’

Dad looked at me. The frown had gone, but his expression was perplexingly unreadable.

‘You’ve been working in the walled garden,’ he said quietly, his tone incredulous.

‘And I’ve had a wonderful time in there, Dad,’ I started to meaningfully but shakily say, but then I felt a surge of bravery and my words came out stronger. ‘The best day I’ve had in a very long time, in fact. And with the cut-flower project as my new work venture, I feel like I’ve finally found my—’

‘Excuse me,’ Dad cut in, as he turned back to the door. ‘I just need to—’

And with that, he walked out.

‘I’ll go after him,’ said Mum in a panic, as her happy bubble suddenly burst. ‘I’ll talk some sense into him. Or Algy will.’

‘No,’ I said loudly. ‘No, Mum – no one’s going after him. He’s not a child that needs placating or consoling. Just leave him.’

‘But he needs to understand—’

‘I agree,’ I cut in. ‘He does, because I’m not going to change my mind about taking the job on and Dad will just have to get on with getting his head around it by himself. Chasing after him and trying to force the issue won’t help. I daresay he’s thinking about all the times he’s been let down already this year, isn’t he? And reckoning I’ll do the same…’

‘What do you mean?’ Mum frowned.

‘Think of all the people who have been employed to help him in the garden, then either haven’t turned up at all or started, then changed their minds and left,’ I reminded her. ‘He’s doubtless thinking of my work track record and that I’ll be another name to add to the list in a fortnight’s time. Only it will be worse this time because I’m family.’

Mum looked aghast and I was pretty upset myself, but it turned out that wasn’t what Dad was thinking and just a few minutes later we were privy to his true feelings.

‘Daisy!’ he called up the stairs. ‘Can you come back down, please?’

I braced myself for the fallout. I found Mum at the table with tears in her eyes and when I saw what it was that she was looking at, I felt myself well up too.

‘I thought you might like to use this,’ Dad said, his voice catching. ‘It was in the potting shed.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Your secateurs had been on the bench in there too, but they’re not now, so I don’t know where they are.’

I realised I still had them, so unclipped them from my shorts and set them on the table next to the worn, wooden trug he had given me when I was little and which was still filled with rosettes from the years we had entered the Wynbrook fruit and veg in local shows. A ball of string, small trowel and an onion hoe were also nestled there.

‘I used the secateurs in the walled garden today,’ I whispered in explanation, my words also catching.

Dad didn’t say anything.

‘You kept this,’ I said softly, touching the trug handle. ‘Why?’

It took a moment for him to answer.

‘I didn’t understand why I hung onto it for a long time,’ he sniffed, as a tear rolled down his ruddy cheek. I had never seen my dad cry before. ‘But I eventually came to realise that I knew, deep down, that one day you’d come back for it.’

My gaze shifted from the trug back to his face.

‘And I also realised, just now when you told me that you were taking the cutting garden on,’ he continued, ‘that the reason why you’ve never been able to settle at anything was because I misguidedly took away from you the thing you weremeant for. I denied you your destiny because it had been a calling that had never shouted out to me.’

‘Oh, Robin,’ Mum sobbed, properly crying now.

‘I never felt the desire to be a gardener,’ Dad carried on. ‘Not when practically everyone I’d grown up with was leaving here and moving on. The thought of taking on the job my dad did, and his father before him, was anathema to me. I felt so stuck.’

‘But you did it,’ I softly said.

‘I wouldn’t have dared do any different,’ he said, reaching for my hand. ‘And I came to accept it eventually but as a result, I felt the need to push you away from here so you could achieve something more. I forced my former desire to leave onto you in the hope that you wouldn’t feel duty-bound to stay, irrespective of the fact that was what you actually wanted to do and that, for you, the garden was, more.’

‘Oh, Dad.’

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