Sally Wentworth - Garden of Thorns Read online

  give a little longer life to an enterprise that's doomed to failure.'

  When she didn't answer he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her round to face him. 'Darling, I'm sorry, I know how much this means to you, but you won't be doing Penny any favours by staying here and seeing your plans fall to pieces. Look at it sensibly; you're on your own with very little money, the Squire doesn't want you here and will turn the villagers against you. You'll be unhappy and miserable and all for nothing. Better to cut your losses now and come back to London.' He put up his hand to push her hair back from her face. 'And I miss you, Kirsty,' he added softly. 'You don't know how much.'

  'Oh, Simon!' For a moment she buried her head in his shoulder, but then straightened up determinedly. 'I'm sorry, but I'm not going to give up that easily. Everything was going fine until the storm. Now, thanks to you, the cottage is waterproof again. Oh, I know it looks terrible at the moment, but it could be a really nice house, and once we've got the garden straight we'll have time to work on it.'

  'And the Squire? What about him and his threats?"

  She shrugged helplessly. 'I can only hope that in time he'll realise we're not what he thinks and leave us alone.'

  'And if he doesn't, if he goes on making your lives miserable?’

  Her chin came up. 'I'm not going to let him push us out,' she said forcefully. 'If he thinks I'm coward enough to go running back to London just because he…'

  'I see.' Simon's voice had hardened. 'So you're staying because you're determined to fight him, even though I've begged you to come back?'

  'No, Simon, it isn't only that. You know it's for Penny's sake. This man Grantham… he just makes me furious every time I think of him, that's all.'

  'He certainly seems to have had an effect on you,' Simon agreed wryly. But then, in a softer tone, 'Air right, Kirsty, I can't force you.' He took her hands in his. 'But if you care about me at all, then promise me that if you haven't made a go of this place in six months you'll come back to London.'

  Kirsty looked into his eyes, gazing at her so pleadingly, and didn't have the heart to refuse him.

  'All right, Simon! she answered rather tiredly. I promise.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  Monday dawned bright and dear and Kirsty got up early to see Simon off. His goodbye kiss was as warm as ever arid she tried to return it as enthusiastically, but somehow she felt a slight reserve. Last night's conversation had altered their relationship subtly; he had demanded a promise from her that she had been unwilling to give, had more or less insisted that she choose between him and her sister when she wasn't yet ready to make that choice. Whereas before everything had been dear cut, now her loyalties felt divided; she wanted desperately to help Penny and yet by doing so she was in danger of losing Simon. All right, so he had given her six months, but that would soon pass and then she would be faced with having to make a decision, and whatever she decided someone was sure to be hurt.

  -Kirsty sighed heavily. It was just another worry to add to the list, and one she didn't have time to think about right now. Today the hedges were the number one priority and the sooner they made a start the better. Putting a cup of tea on a tray, she carried it upstairs to Penny. But her sister was slow to waken, and when she at last sat up, looked heavy-eyed.

  'Are you all right, love?' Kirsty asked anxiously. 'You don't look at all well.'

  'I've got a bit of a dry throat,' the younger girl admitted. 'But I expect I'll be all right when I've drunk this tea. Honestly, it's just a tickle,' she said reassuringly when she saw that Kirsty was looking at her doubtfully.

  "Well, I hope so, because we must make a start on those hedges today.'

  Kirsty left her to prepare breakfast and was relieved to see that Penny seemed fine when she came down later, dressed in jeans and sweater, which was almost a uniform to them how. They set to work immediately after breakfast on the evergreen hedge at the front of the house, each starting at -a corner and working inwards towards the-central gate. They soon found that it was so overgrown that they had to attack it with small handsaws and secateurs, and Kirsty soon had a pile of clippings beside her.

  'I'll go and get the wheelbarrow to put them in,' she called to-Penny. 'Then we can pile them up in the back garden and make a bonfire.’

  They were too far away from one another to talk-easily and so Kirsty concentrated on her work, cutting the hedge right back and lowering the height; to about three feet, and it was only when, she glanced across at Penny that she realised that she was sitting' on the ground with her head in her hands. Quickly Kirsty dropped the saw and ran across to her.

  'Penny, what is it?'

  'Oh, Kirsty, I'm sorry, but I don't feel well. I've got the most foul headache and my throat's so sore.' Two large tears trickled down her face.

  Distressed, Kirsty put her arm round her and helped her te her feet. 'Why didn't you tell me it was this bad? You should never have come but here.'

  'But we've got to get the hedges done,' Penny answered fretfully. 'You know we can't afford any big bills.'

  'And we can't afford to have, you ill, either," Kirsty told her forcefully. 'Come on, I'll take you inside and you go straight back to bed. And I don't want any

  arguments or I'll do my big sister act," she threatened.

  Penny managed a weak smile at this but was glad enough for Kirsty to help her into the cottage and fuss over her, pulling off her boots and dosing her with hot milk and aspirins before bringing her up a hot-water bottle and lighting the fire in the bedroom.

  'At least we've got lots of twigs from the hedge to use as kindling,' she remarked cheerfully, but before she had got the fire going properly Penny was asleep, curled up under the duvet and clutching the hot-water bottle just as Kirsty remembered her clutching her teddy bear when she was a little child. As she looked at the younger girl, Kirsty felt her responsibilities weigh heavy on her shoulders; she could only pray that it was merely a cold, but she couldn't help worrying about the soaking Penny had had on the night of the storm.

  Going back outside, she started work again, but made a point of going every half-hour to build up the fire and make sure Penny was all right, so the job didn't progress very fast. Towards two in the afternoon a car went by and then drew to a stop. A cheerful voice hailed her and she turned to see Alan Morris, the manager of the garden centre, walking towards her.

  'Afternoon. See you're having a go,' he remarked unnecessarily. 'Settling down all right, are you?'

  'Yes, thanks. Sorry I can't stop,' Kirsty replied, 'but I've got a lot to do.'

  She bent to heap some more cuttings on to the wheelbarrow and then went to wheel it away.

  'Here, let me do that for you.' Kirsty protested "that she could manage; but he insisted on pushing it for her. 'No, it's no trouble. Where do you want it?'

  'I'm making a bonfire in the back garden.'

  He went away and seemed to be rather a long time before he came back. 'See you've made quite a start at the back,' he remarked. 'Managed to get hold of a rotovator; did you?'

  His eyes looked her over as he spoke and Kirsty squirmed inwardly, but then tried to pull herself together. Perhaps the man couldn't help it, perhaps he looked at everyone like that.

  'Yes, some friends of ours hired one in London and brought it down for us,' she told him, wishing heartily that he would go away.

  'Well, I've had a wasted journey, then,' Alan Morris said regretfully. 'I came over especially to tell you that I contacted a man I know who owns a rotovator, and he said he'd be willing to hire it out to you from this week. A private arrangement, of course—nothing to do with the Squire, you understand?'

  He winked at her as he said this as if making her a member of a conspiracy, and Kirsty immediately felt contrite for having disliked him before. The man, however objectionable he was personally, was only trying to help them, and possibly at some risk to himself if Gyles Grantham ever found out, so her voice was warmer as she said, 'That was most kind of you. I really appreciate it
, but, as you said, we don't need one now.'

  'Oh, well, never mind. It was just an idea. I'll let the chap know. Suppose I'd better get back to work and let you get on with yours.' He stooped to put some cuttings in the wheelbarrow for her. 'It's yew, isn't it?'

  'Is it? I'm afraid I'm terribly ignorant about plants and things yet, 'Kirsty confessed.

  'Well, «ext time-you're free, just give me a ring and I'll come over and give you a few lessons,' Alan Morris leered at her.

  She frowned, realising that she'd left herself wide open to that one, but unable to make a biting retort because the man had only come here in an attempt to help them. 'Aren't you taking rather a risk standing here talking to me?' she reminded him. 'After all, the Squire could drive past at any moment."

  'Oh, no fear of that,' he rejoined with a Sour smile. 'He's gone to a dairy show and won't be back for a few days.'

  He went away at last and Kirsty thought wryly that his action in coming here hadn't been such a risky one after all. He was safe enough if Gyles Grantham was away.

  When she went in to Penny again she found her awake, but her face was flushed and she complained that her throat felt worse, so Kirsty ran up to the shop and bought some lozenges and some packets of powder to make up into a lemon cordial. Penny refused to eat anything, but the cordial seemed to help, and Kirsty went reluctantly outside ~again, cursing at having to do the hedges when Penny needed her, and inevitably cursing the odious man Grantham for having made it necessary. She worked on until the front hedges were entirely finished, the clippings cleared away and the path swept. Only then did she make herself something to eat and sat down, her muscles aching in every part of her body.

  When she'd eaten, Kirsty heated up some chicken soup and took it up to Penny, but the poor girl's throat was so sore that she could only manage a few mouthfuls before she lay back on the pillows exhausted.

  'I can't, Kirsty. It hurts too much to swallow.'

  'But you've had nothing since breakfast,' he sister said worriedly, 'Shall I make you something else?"

  But Penny just shook her head listlessly and closed her eyes, too miserable to care. Feeling utterly helpless,

  Kirsty refilled the hot-water bottle and made up the fire before getting ready for bed herself. Thankfully she crawled into it; her body seemed to be one big ache, but by far the worst was her right hand, which was red and sore from using the secateurs for so long. She fell asleep almost instantly, to-dream of hedges reaching out to clutch at her, and woke with a start to, find that Penny was calling her.

  She had thrown off the duvet and was wet with: perspiration. 'I'm so hot. My throat's On fire,' she croaked. 'Please can I have a drink of water?'

  When Kirsty ran to get it for her she drank it down greedily, but then began to shiver instead and complain of feeling cold. Kirsty felt her forehead and found that her skin was burning hot, but all she could do was to dose her with more aspirins and sit beside her throughout the rest of the night, making sure that Penny kept covered up and holding her hand when she cried with the pain of her sore throat. Kirsty dozed fitfully, curled up in a chair, but as soon as morning came, got washed and dressed. Penny was asleep, but it was a fragile, restless sleep as she turned her head fretfully in the pillow, her breathing loud and painful. As quietly as she could, Kirsty went downstairs and pulled on her coat. She wasn't sure what time the local shop opened, but she thought it must be early because they also sold newspapers. A fresh wind whipped at the skirts of her coat as she ran along the road and she was out of breath by the time she got to the shop, but she was thankful to see that there were signs of activity inside.

  The shopkeeper looked up in surprise-as she hurried in. 'My, you're an early customer. Run out of matches, have you? That's usually what people want first thing in the morning.'

  Kirsty leaned on the counter to recover her, breath. 'Please, could you tell me the name of the local doctor?' she gasped.

  'Someone ill, is there?'

  'Yes, my sister. If you could give me the name so that I can go and telephone?'

  'His name's Dr King, but there's no need to go over to the call box, you can use our phone. Here you are, here's the number.'

  The woman led her through a door at the back of the shop into her own sitting-room and showed her the phone. Fortunately Kirsty got through, and after rather lengthy explanations about their being new in the district and not yet registered with a doctor, he finally agreed to come as soon as he could. She thanked the shopkeeper, but wasn't allowed to get away until she'd described Penny's symptoms and the woman had given her opinion of the illness.

  'It’s probably only a touch of 'flu. She'll be up and about in no time, you'll see.'

  Kirsty thanked her again distractedly and ran home, passing the man from the garage who said good morning and then stared after her as she tore past him with only a shouted reply. Once back at the cottage, she ran upstairs and to her dismay found Penny sitting on the edge of the bed trying to pull her clothes on.

  'What on earth are you doing? Get back in bed!'

  'No. Must get up, got to help you with the hedges,' Penny mumbled, her eyes feverish in her flushed face.

  'You're much too ill to go anywhere,' Kirsty returned firmly, taking the clothes away. 'I've sent for a doctor and he'll be here soon. Now get in my bed for a bit while I remake yours.' Quickly she changed Penny's bed, making it up with sheets and blankets instead of the duvet, and then helped her sister to wash and put on a fresh pair of pyjamas. Gently Kirsty brushed her hair and then helped her into bed again. Hurriedly she did the rest of the chores, relighting the fire and tidying the bedroom as best she could, looking round in despair when she realised how gloomy and cheerless it looked with its drab paintwork and un-; curtained windows. Only the fire gave any warmth and cheer to the room.

  But all her hurrying was wasted because the doctor didn't turn up until nearly eleven and then he only stayed for a short time. He examined Penny's throat and then wrote out a prescription.

  'She's got a severe throat infection and a chill. Here's a prescription for some antibiotics. She'll need to stay in bed and be kept warm for at least ten days and to take it easy for another week or so after that, mind. I'll call in again tomorrow to see how she is.'

  Kirsty thanked him and he hurried off on his round. The nearest chemist was in Barham, which would mean leaving Penny on her own, but it couldn't be helped. She hurried out to the van, but just as she was getting in, an elderly woman came out of the cottage next door and called out to her. Kirsty turned as the woman approached and looked at her with interest; she hadn't seen their neighbour before and found her a small, birdlike woman with grey hair and spectacles.

  'I see you've had the doctor round," the woman began without preamble. 'I used to be a nurse and I wondered if you wanted any help.'

  'Why, that's very kind of you, Mrs…?'

  'Mrs Anderson. I'm a widow woman.'

  'I'm Kirsty Naylor, and my sister's name is Penny. I've got to go into Barham to get some medicine for her, but I'd be terribly grateful if you could spare the time to sit with her until I get back.'

  'Oh, I can do that easily enough. You get on and I'll go and let myself in. Don't worry, she'll be all right with me.'

  'I'm sure she will.' Kirsty smiled warmly at Mrs Anderson and drove into town much relieved. And when she got back with the medicine she found that the homely woman had taken over. Penny was propped up in bed with a cosy bedjacket round her shoulder’ and being fed with some milk pudding, and there was a delicious smell of meat casserole coming from the kitchen.

  'I just thought I'd pop some of the stew I was making on to heat up for you,' Mrs Anderson told Kirsty comfortably. 'Now you're back I'll put in a couple of dumplings to go with it. You look as if you could do with a hot meal inside you.'

  Kirsty grinned,— fully aware that she was being mothered and not minding one little bit. It didn't take much persuasion to make their new neighbour stay and share the stew with her, and Mrs A
nderson, being as 'interested' as the rest of the villagers, was soon finding out all about her, and in return told a lot about their - neighbours. Kirsty enjoyed the chat, but began to feel fretful about losing time on the hedges,

  In the end she said apologetically, 'I'm sorry, Mrs Anderson, but I really must get on now. The Squire has ordered us to cut our hedges by Saturday or else pay the council to do it.'

  The little woman looked at her in some astonishment. 'The Squire has?' .

  'Well, officially it's the parish council, but it's definitely his doing.'

  'That's not like the Squire. He's usually the first to offer to help anyone.'

  'The natives of the village, perhaps, but obviously he doesn't like newcomers.'

  'It doesn't matter who it is. He encourages people to - come here to keep the village alive, and he does everything in his power to help them. Why, this village would have died out if he hadn't fought to keep the bus service and found someone to run the post office.'

  'It must be just us he's taken a dislike to, then,' Kirsty remarked rather tightly. 'But I've still got to get those- hedges finished.'

  She went outside and looked in dismay at the hedge going down the side of the house. It was at least fifty yards long and much taller and more overgrown than the ones in the front, and it was also of a different wood, a thorny variety that was heavily entwined with brambles. It was so high that she couldn't reach the top and so she got out the step-ladder and resignedly set to work. The brambles continually caught at her clothing and scratched her skin until she put her heavy ,coat on, but even then the thorns sometimes dug, through her thick gardening gloves and hurt her hands. She cursed the things and realised just why the place had been called Briar Cottage, but she worked relentlessly on, conscious of the time that had been lost and the amount still to do. Even as the light began to diminish she went on cutting the hedge back, loading the barrow and emptying it, almost like an automaton, her lack of sleep the previous night making her feel nearly drunk with fatigue, and she only gave up when it became so dark that she was in danger of cutting off her own fingers.