The Winter Garden (Nightingale Square #3) - Heidi Swain Page 0,3

an hour or so and was lost in my thoughts until Nell stopped dead in her tracks.

‘What is it, you silly dog?’ I asked, pulled up short as she refused to budge.

I couldn’t see anything which could have spooked her, but she could be a funny old thing. Eloise and I had often speculated on the life she had led before being welcomed into the Thurlow-Forbes fold.

‘What does she think?’ shouted a man’s voice.

I turned to find Luke striding across the lawn towards me with a little girl sitting comfortably on his shoulders.

‘Does she approve?’ he grinned, coming to a stop and lifting the girl down.

‘She loves it,’ I told him, patting Nell’s head as the child craned to look at her hiding behind my legs. ‘Although she’s just stopped here for some reason and is refusing to move.’

Luke looked at the magnificent cedar tree behind me.

‘Could be the tree,’ he commented, squinting up into the branches.

‘I doubt that,’ I laughed. ‘She’s much better with trees than people.’

‘But this tree has a history,’ he said seriously, scooping the little girl back up again. ‘This is my daughter, Abigail, by the way,’ he added, ‘my youngest.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Abigail,’ I said, and she dissolved into giggles, burying her head into her dad’s shoulder.

‘And what do you think of the garden?’ he asked me.

I took a moment before answering. ‘It’s stunning,’ I said, looking around again.

‘But?’

‘But?’ I echoed.

‘I could sense there was a but coming.’

How disconcertingly intuitive of him. I wrinkled my nose and tried to phrase my response in a way that wouldn’t cause offence, or at least I hoped it wouldn’t.

‘Well,’ I said, clearing my throat, ‘the lawns are great.’

‘And so they should be,’ said Luke, looking at the mown grass beneath his feet, ‘given how much I pay a contractor to keep them cut. What about the rest?’

‘Would you like my personal or professional opinion?’ I asked him.

They weren’t all that dissimilar, but I could easily soften the personal one a little.

‘Are you a professional horticulturalist then?’ Luke asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘More or less,’ I said evasively.

I wasn’t sure my experience warranted such a lofty title, but gardening was the job I had been happily employed to do for the last three years and I had kept Broad-Meadows beautifully. Jackson might have taken every opportunity to point out that I didn’t have a formal qualification to back up my expertise, but he hadn’t yet worn me down enough to stop me sharing my thoughts.

‘Professional then,’ said Luke, biting his lip. ‘Tell it to me straight.’

After giving Nell some encouragement to move – a treat from my pocket – we walked around the gardens together and I pointed out a few of the things I had already noticed. The herbaceous borders warranted the most comment. Had they been regularly deadheaded, they would have continued flowering far longer, and it would have been better to stake the delphiniums in the spring to hide the supports, rather than leaving it until they were fully grown and then lashing together canes and twine Heath Robinson style to try and keep them standing.

‘I do what I can,’ said Luke, sounding gloomy, ‘but for most of the time it’s just me and a volunteer, and she’s only here a couple of days a week. I know I could ask my friends and neighbours, but they already have their hands full with the Grow-Well.’

‘In that case,’ I said, keen to make amends for my pronouncement on the place, ‘you do very well indeed. There’s nothing here that couldn’t be salvaged, given the right attention, and its potential as a proper winter garden is immense.’

‘You really think so?’

‘Definitely,’ I said firmly. ‘A full-time professional would have it all back on track in no time.’

Luke nodded thoughtfully. ‘And what do you mean,’ he asked, ‘by a proper winter garden?’

‘One that showcases shrubs, bulbs and trees that are at their very best from late autumn through until spring,’ I explained. ‘These dogwoods over there for example,’ I said, pointing, ‘with the right pruning they could be a blaze of colour again and there are lots of winter shrubs that could easily be incorporated and which flower on bare stems and have the most delicious scent.’

Luke looked intrigued. ‘That does sound wonderful,’ he said, looking towards the borders with fresh eyes, ‘and much more spectacular than what I had in mind. I was just planning to open the place up. You certainly seem to know what you’re talking about.