‘Exactly, and that’s why I’m opening the garden up today to invite people to come and take a look…’
I didn’t get to hear the rest of the interview as a car tooted impatiently behind me and I realised I had been holding up the traffic. I waved in apology, turned on to the road and then into a layby to have a bit of a think.
I didn’t need long. I had a whole day at my disposal, Norwich was less than an hour away and I was a firm believer in embracing nature and gardening for mental health, especially during the ‘long dark days’ as the person being interviewed had described them. It would be fascinating to see what this garden in the centre of the city looked like and what they had in mind to do with it.
A quick online search led me to the Grow-Well website where I discovered, along with details of the open day, that the owner was a Mr Luke Lonsdale. Before I could talk myself out of it, I keyed the postcode into Google Maps and found the quickest route to take me there.
‘Right then, Nell,’ I said, jamming my phone into the holder on the dash so I could follow the directions, ‘how do you feel about going on a bit of an adventure?’
Her lengthy yawn suggested she didn’t care for the idea at all, but I ignored her and carried on regardless.
* * *
Prosperous Place was easy enough to find, but as I approached the gate, it struck me that I might not be allowed in with Nell. I lingered outside as a few people wandered up. Some had pushchairs and an elderly gentleman zipped by on a mobility scooter, but no one had a dog.
‘Are you going in?’ asked a voice behind me. ‘The gardens are open to everyone today.’
I turned to find a friendly-looking man in his late sixties, wearing a padded green gilet and a name badge (which informed me that he was called Graham), holding a large picnic basket.
‘I had planned to,’ I told him, ‘but I didn’t think about the dog. I’m not sure if I can go in with her. I’m guessing you work here. Do you think it would be all right?’
‘I don’t actually work here,’ he smiled, stepping around me and through the gate. ‘I’m just helping out the owner today. Let’s go and ask him about your companion, shall we?’
‘Thank you,’ I said, following him inside.
My eyes were quickly drawn to the beautiful Victorian mansion and what looked like a very large garden and grounds that surrounded it. I don’t know what I had been expecting, but the photos online really didn’t do the size of the place justice. I was certainly surprised to find somewhere like it, privately owned, in the middle of a city.
‘Luke!’ Graham shouted, beckoning over a man with dark curls and intense brown eyes.
If this was Luke Lonsdale, then he was also a surprise. I had assumed the owner would be someone much older. I tried to quieten the voice in my head, which was keen to remind me how dangerous assumptions could be, and sounded very much like Eloise’s.
‘Graham,’ said Luke, bounding over and looking somewhat flustered. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘This young lady,’ said Graham, rather unnecessarily pointing me out, ‘wants to come in, but isn’t sure if she can bring her dog.’
‘Well now, let’s see,’ said Luke, his brow smoothing as he took a look at Nell, who stood, as always, just a little behind me and out of the limelight.
He squatted down on his haunches and held out his hand. To my utter amazement Nell stepped out of my shadow and allowed him to make a fuss of her.
‘I don’t think she’s going to cause too much havoc, is she?’ Luke smiled up at me.
‘And I’ve got biodegradable poo bags,’ I said, pulling a handful out of my pocket. ‘You know, just in case.’
I had no idea why I’d said that and I could feel my cheeks flaming.
‘In that case,’ said Luke, straightening back up and looking amused, ‘it’s got to be access all areas, hasn’t it?’
‘Thank you,’ I said, stuffing the bags back into my pocket.
Fortunately, I was saved from further mortification by the arrival of a television crew who were keen to interview Luke for their lunchtime show. He certainly seemed to be a draw for local media and I couldn’t help thinking, as I thanked Graham, and Nell and I took the path further into the garden, that he looked vaguely familiar.
However, once I was deeper inside, my thoughts didn’t linger on the handsome owner because I was mesmerised by everything else. The garden, I worked out, given the size of the trees, was easily as old as the house, with long sweeping herbaceous borders, a hidden fern garden, rose garden, pet cemetery, what looked like a meandering stretch of river and sizeable lawns. Everything was enclosed by a high brick wall, beautifully bleached and softened by time. It was an absolute gem of a place, or it had been once.
To the untrained eye, it was probably perfect, but I could see what was hidden beneath. The lawns might be in check, but the shrubs hadn’t been properly pruned, the roses scaling the walls were almost out of control and in some parts weeds had run rampant through the borders. This was a garden on the cusp. That said, it wouldn’t be too difficult to restore it to its former glory and as a potential proper winter garden, it held endless appeal.
I wandered for 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?’