Page 25 of The Last Bench

Until at last it was over.

He felt Anne’s arms wrap round his body from behind, and she rested her head on his back. He leaned into the embrace and closed his eyes, absorbing her love and support, her strength.

‘He did this to himself,’ Anne said.

John knew this was partly true. But they were not without blame.

He’d spent a lifetime as a peacemaker, lover and friend. He’d never raised his voice to anyone and was known for his gentle nature – until that moment when he’d seen his wife vulnerable, when anger had sparked through every part of him.

Even the most mild-tempered people could break.

Twenty

Anne

7 April 2025

Anne and John sat in silence beneath the blossom tree, listening to the birdsong and the rustling leaves in the breeze. Their spontaneous burst of laughter had been the release they both desperately needed from the stress of the interview.

‘I think we might be close to peak blossom day. This weekend will be a busy one. I suspect we’ll have a lot around,’ John said. ‘I need to look at that gate. It’s a little stiff.’

Anne fidgeted on the bench, a twinge in her back niggling her. ‘I think I might have pulled something when I went down that slide.’

John turned to her, frustration visible on his handsome face. ‘I knew that was a bad idea! You’re not twenty-one any more, Anne.’

Anne smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. ‘Oh, maybe not on the outside. But in here –’ she touched her head and heart – ‘I’m still that young woman. Bad back or not, it was worth it. Felt good to be whizzing down, wind in my hair.’

‘What will I do with you?’ John replied grumpily, but she could tell he was itching to smile. ‘You go inside and put your feet up for the rest of the day. I’ll cook tonight.’

Anne laughed. ‘When you say cook, you mean—’

‘A chippy tea!’

Anne licked her lips. ‘Fish and chips, lots of salt and vinegar. Mushy peas! We’ll worry about the cholesterol tomorrow.’

‘Deal,’ John said. ‘Will we go inside? I’ll make us that pot of tea we’ve been promising ourselves.’

‘A few more minutes. I’m not ready to go in yet.’ She leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘I’ve been worrying again about whether we should tell the girls about the garden?’

John considered her question for a few moments, and she let him be, giving him time to think through all angles. It was a topic they’d debated many times over the years, and in the end they decided to keep their secret, but with safeguards.

‘Nothing has changed, as far as I’m concerned. It’s been a burden for us to carry this. We don’t have the right to put it on the girls’ shoulders. Bad enough that Michael has to live with it. We say nothing.’

Anne nodded. She agreed with him as it went, but talking with Vega today stirred up a lot of emotions and fears. ‘I know you’re right. And they’ll respect our wishes that the maze remains in the family, as a memorial garden for Margaret.’

‘Exactly. Michael spends more time here tending the trees now than I do. He’s the next caretaker when we can’t do it any longer. And he’s promised to ensure he appoints one of the grandchildren to take over from him when the time comes.’

‘He’s a good kid,’ Anne repeated. ‘They all are.’

‘Some kids!’ John joked. ‘All grown up with children of their own . . .’

‘They’ll always be kids to us.’ Anne cuddled into John again.

A sudden movement to their left made them start, and they turned in surprise to see Vega standing a few metres away from them.

‘Did you forget something?’ Anne asked, smiling as she sat upright.

‘The date!’ Vega exclaimed, moving towards them. Two dots of pink flushed her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled.