Page 63 of The Missing Sister

‘Well, you’d never have to be worried about being spotted here; what with the trees and bushes all around it, you can’t be seen from the outside. ’Tis like a secret garden.’

‘That’s what Mother’s always said. I reckon she comes here a lot to hide from Father,’ he smiled.

‘What is that?’ Nuala pointed to the round metal ornament that stood on a plinth in the middle of the square.

‘It’s a sundial. Before we all had clocks and watches, it was used to tell people what time of day it was. As the sun moves around from its rising in the east to setting in the west, the shadows tell you if it is midday, or that dusk is approaching. Mother always says that when the sun is over the yardarm, it’s time for a gin and tonic, or a whiskey,’ he chuckled as he tipped his head upwards towards the sun. ‘Good Lord, that feels nice. Push me closer to the bench and then you can sit down by me.’ They sat in the garden for a good while. Philip didn’t say much, content to simply enjoy being outside. Nuala thought how to her ‘being outside’ always indicated work. It was a rare occasion when the family would simply sit in the fresh air and be still.

There was a sudden rustle and the sound of footsteps along the stone path. ‘Who the blazes is that?! I thought Mrs Houghton had warned them...’

‘Philip, darling, it’s only me.’

Lady Fitzgerald appeared from behind the bushes. Nuala immediately stood up and gave a bob.

‘Do sit down again, Nuala dear. I just wanted to come and see how you were, Philip.’

‘I’m doing well, Mother, thank you.’

Lady Fitzgerald walked round to the front of her son’s chair, knelt down and took his hands in hers. ‘Darling boy, I’m so very glad you decided to come outside. How do you think my garden is looking?’

‘Quite beautiful, Mother. It’s certainly come on in the past few years.’

‘I kept busy with my planting when you were away at the front. It took my mind off things. Nuala, would you mind if I took Philip around it? I want to show him the new herbaceous border. Now, darling, can you see those sprays of mauve flowers? They’reHydrangea aspera, then just over there I’ve planted someRosa moyesiito get a splash of crimson. And those are myCallistemon linearis, which look rather like bright pink brushes. I planted those years ago, if you remember. I wasn’t sure they’d like the soil, but as you can see, they haven’t just taken, they’ve taken over!’

Nuala sat, enjoying the sight of mother and son outside together. She was also amazed that she was yet to meet Sir Reginald; she’d only caught glimpses of a rotund figure with an enormous grey moustache when he was seeing off a guest beneath the upstairs window. She felt a distinct coldness whenever Philip talked of him. They obviously weren’t close.

Philip and Lady Fitzgerald came back towards the bench and Philip yawned. ‘Perhaps it’s time to take him inside, Nuala dear,’ said Lady Fitzgerald. ‘All that fresh air must have exhausted you, Philip. Oh, and also, your father has gone to London to meet with the builders. We’re having the Eaton Square house renovated: proper bathrooms installed and a telephone line. I rather thought I’d come upstairs and take supper with you later. Which means you can leave early, Nuala. I’ll see Philip into bed.’

‘Thank you, your ladyship.’

‘Will you push Philip back in?’ she asked. ‘Sadly, I have letters to write.’ Once upstairs, Nuala took Philip to the bathroom and then they had tea.

Afterwards, she could see how drowsy he was.

‘What about we forget playing a game today, and you sit quietly and have a rest?’

‘I admit the trip has knocked me out a little. And to think a couple of years or so ago, I was marching thirty miles at a stretch through French ditches and fields. Why don’t you read to me instead, Nuala?’

This was the moment she’d been dreading since she’d arrived at Argideen House.

‘I will try, but I’m not sure I’ll be up to your standard.’

‘But you can read?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes, so, and I know my letters, but reading out loud, I...’

Nuala stopped herself. She’d been about to explain that the only books they had at home were in Gaelic. But as that would probably be seen by Philip as some kind of heresy, she managed to close her mouth in time.

‘No matter, we’ll start gently. There’s a book of poems by Wordsworth up there,’ he pointed.

Nuala turned to the bookshelf placed on the back wall of the sitting room. ‘Third shelf up and just to the left. Look for “Word”.’

Nuala found a slim leather-bound copy and brought it over to him.

‘Now then, Wordsworth is a very famous English poet,’ he said. ‘His most well-known is “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” and it’s about daffodils. Do you know what a daffodil is?’

‘No, so, I don’t.’

‘They are rather beautiful flowers and we have them here in our garden in springtime. They look like yellow trumpets with orange centres. Now, try reading the poem to me.’