I’m dying to see what the attic holds.’
They put the tools away and walked up to the house. Lauren was in the kitchen feeding Sam, while the twins were watching TV in the lounge.
‘Oh, lord, is it his lunchtime already?’ said Joel. ‘I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realized the time. Do you want me to take over?’
Lauren rolled her eyes.
‘No, it’s OK,’ she said, with evident sarcasm. ‘You carry on, I’ll be fine here. I’ve only got to feed the girls and put Sam down, so I may as well make you both some sarnies. I notice you’ve got bacon in the fridge.’
‘Are you sure?’ Kezzie felt uneasy, aware there were uncomfortable ripples beneath the surface. She had asked Joel if he was sure that Lauren didn’t mind helping out and he had waved her concerns away with an airy, ‘Oh Lauren’s fine,’ which Kezzie felt was a little glib. But Lauren seemed to recover her good humour and said it was no problem, while Joel had clearly managed to overcome any spasms of guilt quite quickly, and was already heading up the stairs to the top landing. He unhooked a trapdoor, which opened to reveal a wooden set of stairs that took them up into the loft.
‘Come on then, gunga din,’ Joel said, ‘let’s see what we can find.’
The loft was dark and full of spiders, but Joel managed to remember where the light switch was. Light came through from the rafters. No wonder the house was so darned cold. With winter coming on, it was about time he put some insulation in. And investigated the state of the roof. Another thing to add to his To Do list.
Right. He stepped over the packing cases he and Claire had dumped up there, so long ago. Detritus of their former life, when they’d lived in London, and been poor and happy.
‘I think the stuff belonging to Uncle Jack is over in the corner. We started going through it once, but never really had time to do it properly.’
‘Ooh, this is just like Cash in the Attic,’ said Kezzie, with contagious enthusiasm. ‘I wonder what we’ll find.’
Joel began rooting around in the ancient crates and boxes, picking through stacks of old Christmas cards, Uncle Jack’s school reports, and Connie’s photo albums. He was not quite sure what he was looking for, but he had a growing feeling of excitement. Since Kezzie had arrived and he’d found Edward’s diary, Joel’s long-submerged curiosity about his long-dead ancestor was being rewoken. Suddenly it really mattered to him as much as it clearly did to Kezzie that they find out something about Edward and his garden.
‘Oh, wow, look at these,’ he said excitedly, as he found some old pictures rolled up together tucked under the eaves. Carefully, he unrolled them. There appeared to be several more of Lily, like the first one he’d found, and one with her holding a newborn baby.
‘That’s strange,’ said Kezzie peeking over his shoulder, ‘she looks sad for someone with a baby. What else is there?’
‘Look at these,’ said Joel, as he leafed through and discovered some delicate watercolours of different flowers and birds, drawn by a different hand, ‘aren’t they lovely?’
‘Hey, look,’ said Kezzie, pointing at a picture of a robin, perched on a step, ‘I’m sure that’s in the garden – see the gate behind it? Did Lily draw these, do you think?’
Joel squinted at the tiny signature in the corner of the painting. ‘I think it says LH,’ he said.
Carefully he rolled the pictures up again, and they carried on looking for a while longer, until Joel said, ‘Here, this looks promising,’ as he stumbled across a dusty old trunk in the corner. He carefully opened the trunk and caught his breath as he saw it contained books and papers, and letters all neatly stacked up inside. There was writing on the inside of the lid. He shone his torch on it: Harry Handford, Lovelace Cottage, Heartsease bore the inscription.
‘So who’s he?’ said Kezzie.
‘No idea,’ said Joel. ‘I’ve never heard of him, but he must be some relation, I guess. Mum would know.’
‘Look at all these letters,’ whispered Kezzie, her eyes shining. ‘It’s like we’re touching history.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ agreed Joel. His excitement was growing now. This was fascinating, he’d had no idea any of this was here.
They started flicking through the bundles of letters, some addressed to Mr and Mrs Handford, some to Lily, some to Harry Handford. And several from Edward to Connie, talking about the work she was doing as V.A.D. in France.
‘Oh look,’ said Kezzie, ‘this is from Edward to Lily.’ She picked up the letter and began to read.
Lahore, June 1893
My dearest Lily,
Every day I am away from you, I feel my heart ache just that little bit more. I cannot tell you how much I long to see you again. I wish you had after all been here at my side. The work here is long and arduous, particularly in the heat, and the man they have given me as an assistant is by no means as diligent and attentive as you. It is of some satisfaction to me that I will be able, I hope, to bring home some new species of plants that will be of interest to Kew.
Edward went into a lot more detail about the exhibition he’d been on, before ending, But however much pleasure I get from my work, not a day goes by, my darling, without my wishing to come home to you, and our beautiful garden. To think that in less than a year we will have a new family, is a joy beyond measure. With all my love to you as ever, my darling,
Your Loving
Edward.
Lovelace Cottage
September 1893
My dearest Edward,
The worst has happened and you are away from me. The dark days of winter draw in, and I cannot summon the strength to raise a smile, now I know there will be no happy event in the spring.
Mother tells me it is God’s Will. I daresay she is right, but do you think it very wicked of me to question why God should have willed that our baby should have died before it even saw life?
I think of nothing else but what might have been. I fear your mother thinks I am overindulgent in my grief, but how can I not be? Our future has been stolen from us. I feel my heart has broken and you so far from home. Hurry back to me, my love,
Your Lily
‘Oh and look at this.’ Kezzie had uncovered a diary, which was lying underneath the batch of letters she’d been reading through. Joel peered over her shoulder and shone the torch on the spidery handwriting. ‘I think this is Lily’s diary.’
October 1893
Today is a better day. The best in a very long time. Edward is home, come back to me at last. Together we have mourned our baby. I feel stronger and able to stand it now he is once more by my side. He took me out in the garden and he promised he’d plant something in memory of the baby we have lost, once the spring is here. And he took my hands and whispered, ‘Do not fret, there will be more babies’ and he is right. My future hasn’t been stolen from me. Just postponed for a while.
‘Oh,
