Page 6 of The Last Bench

‘You can see the sea!’ Vega exclaimed, stopping and turning round to take in the coastline.

‘Yes, and you can see the Saltee Islands from our bedroom,’ Anne said. She waved her hand towards their right. ‘That’s Rosslare Harbour over there. And to your left is Forth Mountain.’

‘Honestly, I’ve always believed my cottage in the Ballagh to be one of the prettiest places on earth. But this is special. I bet you get asked to sell often. Properties like this are so rare!’

‘We’ll never sell,’ John stated bluntly, looking away quickly when he saw Vega’s look of surprise.

‘A lifetime of family memories here,’ Anne added. ‘We could never give this up. And we hope that, one day, one of our children will make it their family home.’

They reached the top of their garden, and John led the way behind a row of whitewashed sheds. ‘These used to be stables. The kids had ponies growing up. Now, it’s home to the ride-on lawnmower,’ John said.

‘No need for a riding hat for that,’ Anne joked.

‘This entrance to the top field is for us only. When we open the garden to the public at weekends, they enter through a separate gate, accessible down a lane adjacent to our house,’ John explained.

They turned round the gable end of the stable, and he waited for a gasp of wonder from Vega. She didn’t disappoint.

‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ Vega exclaimed, walking closer, her eyes moving from left to right.

The large, lush, green field was situated on a gentle slope, with the backdrop of Forth Mountain behind it. To the right was a small gravelled area for parking. The wrought-iron gate at the public entrance was closed, but would open on Saturday for the first time this season, remaining open until the last buds fell from the trees.

But what demanded all their attention was the maze at the centre of the field, created with tall blossom trees in full bloom, forming a canopy of pink and white flowers that cascaded over a winding gravel pathway. They ranged from one to ten metres tall and solar lanterns were embedded in the ground every few metres, a relatively recent addition but one that significantly improved the garden. Now, John and Anne could enjoy the space late into the evenings.

‘I feel like I’m in a dream,’ Vega said, her voice cracking. ‘I’ve seen photographs, but, honestly, none of them do this justice.’

John nodded in satisfaction, her reaction pleasing him.

‘How many trees are there?’ Vega asked.

‘Over two hundred blossom trees, in –’ he paused to think – ‘in six different varieties. I’ll show you all of them as we wander around. Let’s see if you can find the first bench without going wrong.’ John offered his arm to Anne, and at first he thought she’d refuse it, as she was stubborn and independent, often averse to help. But her face softened, and she whispered a thank you as she clasped his arm.

‘How long has the maze taken you to build?’ Vega asked, taking the lead in front of them.

‘Twenty-six years, seven months and twelve days,’ Anne said, her hand tightening its grip on his arm.

John felt an ache in his chest, that his wife was aware of this fact, that even on the days she didn’t talk about 1998 it didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking about it.

‘That’s very precise,’ Vega said, turning round to look at them, eyebrows raised in surprise.

‘I’m good with dates,’ Anne mumbled back. ‘Keep going, dear.’ She ushered Vega forward until the path reached a fork.

‘So, do we go right or left?’ Vega asked, her eyes shining bright.

‘Your choice,’ John said. That was the thing with mazes, he thought. They always brought out a person’s inner child. And for a moment he heard the echoes of his children’s delight as they ran through the Japanese Garden at Powerscourt. If only they could go back to that time. He sighed, wishing he had realised how special those little moments were at the time so that he could have enjoyed them more.

Anne looked at him knowingly, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her greying brown hair.

Vega peered down each pathway, then lifted her eyes towards the sky. ‘I like how the sunlight filters through the leaves on the left side. This way!’

‘I like that too,’ Anne agreed. ‘I always look out for new patterns when I come up here, cast by the sun and shadow. They change every time.’

They followed Vega, and she let out a slight squeal when she reached a circular metal tree bench, which sat beneath a tall cherry blossom.

‘Well done! You’ve come to the first bench. And the Prunus “Kanzan”, which is probably the most famous of the Japanese flowering cherries,’ John said. ‘It always gives these deep pink double flowers, with bronze leaves. I’ve about a dozen of these scattered throughout the garden.’

‘And the leaves turn a brilliant orange in the autumn,’ Anne added.

‘How do you remember which tree is which?’ Vega asked incredulously.