Page 38 of The Twilight Garden

Ashley was still standing with her hand over her lips, as if she didn’t know what to say, or equally was worried what she might say. She picked up a broken flowerpot, the terracotta edges jagged and sharp, before placing it carefully back down again.

‘What do we do?’ she asked after a moment.

‘I don’t know,’ whispered Gemma. She had an overwhelming urge to fix it, to make it disappear before Willow and Rowan could see it. They were such good people; she couldn’t bear to see their hurt. But she knew that was impossible. ‘We should get the others,’ she said. ‘I’ll go.’

Ashley nodded. ‘I’ll make a start…’ She picked up the pot again, staring at it, unmoving.

Gemma touched her sleeve. ‘Come up to the house,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing to be done here. Not today anyway.’

Ashley gave a wan smile, as if grateful that she wouldn’t be left to face the chaos alone.

Half an hour later they were all back in kitchen – Rowan, Willow, Gemma and Ashley. Four people for whom the day had inexplicably fractured, leaving them virtually speechless in its wake. Gemma had made everyone a cup of tea, but the mugs still lay on the table, untouched.

‘When did it happen?’ said Willow. ‘How come no one heard it? Damage like that, it…’

But there was no point trying to figure it out. It made no difference. What was done was done, and the simple fact of the matter was that they hadn’t heard it – if they had, the situation might have been very different. Gemma shuddered. It might have been worse…

‘We don’t have the money to replace what we’ve lost,’ said Rowan, staring across the room but seeing nothing. ‘There are groups, though… people like us who offer things they no longer need for free. We might be able to get a few essentials at least, but it’s going to take time.’

‘And once people in the village know what’s happened, I’m sure folks will help out,’ said Gemma. She took in Rowan’s expression. ‘They would, surely?’

‘They might,’ he replied grimly. ‘But there’ll be an element enjoying a good laugh at our expense and… I’m not okay with that. This stays between us. We’ll manage.’

Willow winced. That wasn’t her husband talking, they all knew that. His words were driven by anger but now was not the time to disagree. He was entitled to be angry. And to show it any way he pleased.

For a few more minutes no one said a thing until, gently, Ashley cleared her throat. ‘I don’t want to leave you all like this, but I think I might go home… There’s nothing I can do here, and I’m probably just in the way.’

Gemma was about to protest when Ashley shook her head. ‘You need some time alone, to sort things out.’

‘Thank you for all your help,’ said Willow.

Gemma fished in her pocket for her car keys but Ashley immediately held up her hand. ‘No need,’ she said. ‘I can walk.’

‘You can’t do that, it’s miles.’

‘It’s not so far if you go across country. I can cut across the fields. You end up at the back of the church. Honestly, it’s fine.’ She crossed the kitchen to give Gemma a hug, squeezing Willow’s arm for good measure, too. ‘Let me know when you need me to help. I’ll come back any time…’

And then she was gone, and the kitchen returned to silence. Three shocked faces looking at one another, none of them knowing quite what to do.

‘We should call the police,’ said Gemma eventually. ‘At least try to get the bastards who did this.’

‘And say what?’ replied Rowan. ‘Ask them to fingerprint the place?’

‘Yes!’ exclaimed Gemma. ‘Do something, anything.’

Rowan shook his head. ‘Whoever did this was most likely wearing gloves, and the police don’t have time for this kind of thing – what we lost was useless to most people and, as far as I know, there isn’t a black market trade in garden tools. It’s a pointless exercise.’

Gemma could see his reasoning, even if she didn’t want to. Her comment wasn’t about doing anything meaningful, just doing something.

‘Well, whether we call the police or not, we do need to work out what’s missing,’ said Willow. ‘What can be salvaged or mended. We need a place to start from at the very least.’

‘I’ll tell you where we’re starting from,’ said Rowan. ‘Right at the very beginning.’ He snatched up his jacket from the table. ‘I’ll be mending the fencing if anyone needs me.’

Gemma caught Willow’s eye as her husband left, but neither woman said a word.

It was the silence which finally drove Gemma from the house. She couldn’t bear it – the sour heaviness of unspoken words, the sadness which hung shroudlike, smothering everything beneath it. Gemma had lived with those feelings for so long before coming to the farm that once she’d arrived she’d felt as if she could breathe for the first time in months. Now those feelings were back again, and it was too much. She slipped on her jacket and crept outside.

She had no idea where she was going until she found herself back in the garden. She had thought it would be the last place she’d want to be, so close to the ruined mess inside the old farmhouse but, as she stood gazing out across the space, she realised that something had drawn her there. Perhaps just the hope that something special lay hidden and all they had to do was find it. Perhaps just hope itself…