Page 4
Story: The Garden
Her sister had hidden in the attic once, and hours had passed before anyone noticed she was missing. They were both very small at the time. Evelyn eventually found her wandering the landing wearing only one shoe, her face red and glazed with tears and snot. She held her little white sock balled up in one fist. On her bare foot, a single pink welt that blinked in time with her pulse.
What happened? Evelyn asked, but her sister just cried and shuddered.
Evelyn took her hand and led her downstairs to look for Mama. There was a party going on in the drawing room. Guests drifting quietly and stiffly through the vast space like souls in some dark limbo. A stale smell of wine and old-fashioned perfume. Beyond the bay window dozens of cars were pulled up in rows and glinting in the house’s floodlights.
She could see her father in the center of the room, lit dimly by the chandelier. He was talking seriously with a woman who was not their mother, and Evelyn knew better than to interrupt. A few of the guests noticed her and her sister, but they only scowled or smiled encouragingly.
Mama was in the kitchen, perched on a stool and wearing a thick woolen jumper over her evening wear. She was gossiping with the staff and eating canapés from a tray that had come back half finished. When she saw Lily, she leaped up and pulled them both to her.
Oh, love, she said. Little love. What happened?
It’s her foot, said Evelyn.
Let’s see. Oh, Lils. Did something sting you?
Lily nodded.
What was it?
Lily just shook her head.
She was in the attic, said Evelyn.
Why?
We were hiding.
Hiding from what?
Each other.
Where’s your father?
Upstairs.
Their mother paused and then took Lily and lifted her up onto the work surface, Lily’s skinny legs dangling over the edge. She went to the other side of the kitchen and rummaged in a wicker basket and came back holding a bulb of garlic. She plucked out a clove and crushed it with the flat of a knife and peeled away the skin. She began to rub it into the sting.
Here, she said. My mummy used to use this. Good as anything from a tube.
Their father appeared in the door to the kitchen. His body seemed almost too large for it, as if he might end up wedged in the frame if he tried to come through. A teenager with a tray of champagne flutes took a step back and imperceptibly bowed.
Oh dear, their father said. Have you been in the wars, Lily-bear?
She was in the attic, said Mama.
Well. That was very intrepid of you.
There are wasps’ nests up there. They’re there all year-round now.
There was a general pause in the kitchen.
They got you, did they?
Yes, said their mother, straightening up. They got her.
Bad luck.
Weren’t you watching them?
No, their father said.
Why not?
I was in the drawing room.
Yes, and they were meant to be in the drawing room with you.
I can’t watch them and talk to the guests all at the same time.
The room seemed to darken and contract somehow. The staff slowed in their tasks to listen.
Yes, of course, their mother said. Heaven forbid you neglect your guests.
She snatched her glass by the stem, and the wine slopped over the rim and onto the work surface. She pushed past him to the back door. Their father looked at her and then at the rest of the staff. They became conspicuously busy. He turned back to Evelyn and Lily, rolled his eyes, and gave a smile that disappeared very quickly.
Mummy’s a bit squiffy, I think. How’s the old foot?
Lily peered at it and wiggled her toes.
Hope you swatted the little bugger. What’s that you’ve rubbed on it?
Lily held out her hand to show him the crushed garlic clove.
Golly. I’m not sure that’ll make you any friends smelling like that. Come on, Lily-bear, I’m sure we’ve got a cream somewhere.
He lifted her off the work surface and hefted her onto his shoulders. She started laughing as he carried her out of the kitchen. Evelyn watched them go and then turned to look out the opposite door, where their mother was standing on the gravel, holding one elbow to herself, her wineglass raised to the moonlight. The evening air was very warm and carried with it scents of jasmine and thyme from the herb garden. Evelyn sat for a few moments and listened to the gleeful muttering of the kitchen staff and then went to join her. They stood in silence for some time.
That man, said her mother eventually, not to Evelyn but to the world at large. At the time Evelyn did not even realize which man she meant.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4 (Reading here)
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49