Page 1 of The Twilight Garden

PROLOGUE

Flora’s garden had always been there, or so it seemed.

And sometimes, there were people there too. Some came every day, diligent in their care, but for others the garden held little to charm or fascinate. The two little boys who came didn’t care a jot if their energetic play removed the rose heads from the bushes, or if the thundering of their toy trucks spat gravel into the borders as they raced them up and down the paths. For the young woman who came to sit there once upon a time, the garden was a refuge, a place far away from the weight of her quarrelsome and ill-advised marriage, but even though she scarcely noticed the ebullient blooms or the scent of honeysuckle and lavender which drifted on the evening air, the garden kept her secrets, and told no one of her whispered desires.

In more recent times the garden was tended by an earnest young man who seemed to understand far more than others the ebb and flow of the seasons and the cyclical nature of all things. He was, apart from Flora, the person the garden liked best of all. It liked the way he sat, quiet as a mouse and still as the owl which might have hunted it. The way he cocked his head, listening, as if he could hear the swelling of the buds and the rising of the sap within their stems. But most of all the garden liked the way it could make him feel. Not many of the others even noticed it.

But the people had been gone for a long while now, and the garden had become lost. Almost, but not quite. Because the garden was not concerned with that which happened in minutes or hours, days or even months. Time had a different meaning there. So it would let the wind scour its paths and the rain soak its soil, the sun warm its blooms and the moon bathe its leaves. And it would wait, for the garden had always been there and, one day, it would be again.

1

FEBRUARY

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I⁠—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

​— ​ROBERT FROST

Gemma shifted slightly in her seat, uncrossing her legs before recrossing them in the other direction. She glanced at the clock as she did so, carefully maintaining her nonchalant expression despite her gnawing nerves. She had a train to catch soon and she couldn’t be late. Not today.

She dropped her gaze back to the pages of the magazine in her lap, intrigued by the headline of an article which had claimed her attention. Significant Others, it read, How Significant is Yours? It wasn’t really the kind of question she could answer. Not so much because the other person in her life was, or was not, significant, but more so because she really couldn’t think who this ‘other’ might be. There was Leo, obviously, or rather, there had been Leo, once upon a time, but that was years ago, before everything changed, and since then… She frowned, thinking back over the last few years, relationships which had come and gone – so no, not significant at all. She pondered the meaning of the word, hard-pressed to think of anyone who remained significant in her life, romantic or otherwise. There was her friend Cat, of course, but her father was gone, and as for her mother… She was the most significant person Gemma knew – the one she had fought so hard for simply so that she wouldn’t be insignificant. But death was a weighty opponent and it had never been a fair fight. She thrust the thought away, appalled by the notion that her mother no longer counted. She would always count, always.

Gemma stared at the page. Others, others… Who else was there? She closed the magazine and put it back on the table she had taken it from, picking up a different one with a photo of a lush landscape on the cover. She hoped it wouldn’t ask such ridiculous questions.

She had reached the classified section at the back of the magazine by the time her name was called, and she got to her feet, fighting down her anxiety. It was still early and she had allowed plenty of time for this morning’s appointment, but the delay was weighing on her mind, prickling at her carefully contrived appearance of calm. Today was a good day though, she reminded herself. It was when everything changed for the better.

Kay Evans had been her doctor for more years than she cared to remember, and while Gemma had never been a frequent visitor to the surgery, her doctor was the only one who knew her situation. As such, it made her very easy to talk to and therefore very hard not to cry in front of.

‘So, how are you feeling?’ she asked.

‘Better…’ Gemma smiled as proof. ‘I still have days when… you know. But, overall, I think I’m doing okay.’

Dr Evans nodded. ‘And are you sleeping any better?’

‘A little. But I think my body’s just got used to being awake.’

‘Because you think your mum might need you?’

Gemma dropped her gaze. The nights were still the hardest. ‘I guess it’s going to take a while before I realise I don’t need to listen out for her any more. It’s habit, I suppose.’

‘Yes, that’s understandable, and all of this is going to take a while, I’m afraid. Grief is one thing, but it’s also very easy to underestimate the impact that caring for your mum has had on you, especially when that caring comes to an end.’

Gemma swallowed.

‘Feelings of guilt are quite normal.’ Dr Evans had always had a knack of putting her finger straight on the problem and, while this was generally a good thing in a doctor, at times it was a little unnerving how easily she could read Gemma. ‘But you’re feeling better about things, you said. That’s positive news.’

‘Yes, definitely,’ Gemma agreed, taking the cue. ‘I’m starting a new job next week and signing the lease on a new flat which is close by, both of which I’m very much looking forward to. I think it’s what I need.’ She nodded as if to reaffirm her decisions, although Dr Evans didn’t look quite as pleased by this news as Gemma had hoped.

‘I see…’ She turned away to study her computer for a moment. ‘So you’re already back at work then?’

‘Not really… I never actually went back to my old job. This new opportunity came up and… it’s all been a bit of a whirlwind, but as I was still on sick leave, we agreed that I didn’t have to work out my notice. I’m going in to meet my new team this morning as it happens, as part of the onboarding process. I start properly on Monday. But it’s my dream job; I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for a while and now that I’m free to…’ She trailed off. ‘I’m really looking forward to getting my teeth into something.’

Dr Evans tapped at her keyboard, her face expressionless. ‘I think I’d rather you took a little more time for yourself before embarking on something new, but I can understand your wanting to move on with your life. I hope it all goes well for you.’

‘Thank you. Yes, I’m sure it will.’