Roses For Katie Page 3

  Katie’s gaze took in the antique, oak drop-leaf table and the dolphin-backed, oak chairs, all stuffed with horsehair so that the seats gave a lovely, squishy sigh when you sat on them. And dotted over the solid oak block floors were antique Turkish rugs — all genuine, hand woven, and worth a lot of money.

  Aunt Bertha winked knowingly. ‘You won’t have to worry a jot in your old age. You’ll be all right.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Aunt Bertha, but let’s not get talking about after your day.’

  ‘Don’t worry, child. I don’t intend to pop off yet, but when I do, you’ll be a wealthy widow, Katie, so you keep a wary eye out for those men who rather like single women with money.’

  Katie felt her eyes mist over as she listened to her aunt talking so openly about her demise. She dabbed her eyes as Bertha went to answer a knock on the front door. The visitor was one of the church members, and Katie excused herself while they chatted, and walked out into the garden. The gardens of Avondale were quite extensive, and set mainly to lawns and trees. As she strolled around, she found a little herb garden, and gathered some rosemary, sage and chives, to take home and dry.

  Without her own familiar surroundings, Katie found the rest of the day very long. It was with great relief that Aunt Bertha announced that she was going to have a glass of hot milk and biscuits, and go to bed early. There was little else for Katie to do, but go to bed as well. As the day cooled, the old house creaked and groaned. The bedroom Katie was using smelled stale and unused. The strange bed was uncomfortable, and kept her awake. She got up and crossed over to the little bookcase, and was surprised to find one called Native American Magic — Essentials. She took it off the shelf and flicked through it; the chapters were short, and it looked interesting enough to read until she felt sleepy.

  Hours later, she woke up, feeling stiff and tired, and found the little square book still open on her chest. She climbed out of the old-fashioned high bed, and made for the shower to freshen up a bit, hoping that the ancient contraption worked. She was downstairs long before her aunt stirred, and had the kettle boiling, and breakfast ready by the time Aunt Bertha appeared.

  ‘More of the villagers will be calling again today, no doubt,’ Aunt Bertha said. ‘There’s plenty of cake and biscuits, and some sandwiches left over from yesterday, all wrapped up in the fridge if we need to give anyone a cup of tea and something to eat.’ Tears suddenly filled her eyes. ‘Things won’t be the same ever again, now that Mabel’s gone.’ She sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘I wish I’d gone at the same time; I don’t fancy being all alone in this big house. I know I’ve got lovely neighbours who pop in all the time, but you’re my only family now, and you’re so far away.’ She struggled to her feet. ‘Come on, Katie, I want to take my mind off these miserable thoughts, so let’s check that everything is ready for our visitors to have some nice refreshments.’

  By mid afternoon when the expected visitors began to call, Katie and Aunt Bertha were ready to receive them. The steady stream of people seemed to invigorate the old lady, and she appeared to be enjoying the attention. Katie was busy serving cups of tea and biscuits and, catching snippets of conversation as she walked in and out of the parlor, when the phone rang.

  ‘I’ll answer that for you,’ Katie called out, as the shrill tone of the phone echoed through the hall. Her daughter’s voice at the other end was a surprise. ‘What’s the problem, Sam?’

  Katie was disappointed over what Sam had said. When she replaced the phone, she went straight to Aunt Bertha with the news. ‘Sam and Tanya will be coming to the funeral, but they will only be able to stay for the service and an hour or so afterwards.’ Katie took Aunt Bertha’s hand in hers with an apologetic look. ‘Whatever time they can manage to have off from work, I’ll be glad of their help, because it looks as though the day of the funeral will be chaotic.’

  She continued to make pots of tea for the callers, guessing everyone in the village must have put in an appearance. When the last of the sympathizers had gone, Bertha looked exhausted. She sank heavily into her recliner chair. ‘I’m sorry you have to go home so soon, my dear,’ she said. ‘I wish you could stay longer. I haven’t seen you for such a long time, and there’s a lot of family business I need to discuss with you.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ Katie said, taking Bertha’s hand again, ‘What if I take you back with me for a little holiday after the funeral. Would you like that?’

  Bertha’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, I’d love it,’ she said. Her smile lit up her face. ‘That will be such a delightful change for me. You’re so very kind, my dear.’ She perked up straight away, her face animated as she began to plan. ‘I’ll have no worries about leaving this place for a while because I know my neighbor will look in to see that everything’s all right while I’m away. They have a spare key.’

  By the time she was ready to leave, Aunt Bertha was enjoying the company of several elderly ladies who had called that morning, and who seemed quite settled in for the rest of the day. One of them agreed to stay for a few days, so, knowing that her aunt had plenty of company and was well occupied, Katie decided it was the best time to leave. ‘I have shopping to do, and lots of other things to see to at home, so I’ll leave this morning instead of tomorrow. I’ll be back for the funeral before you can turn around.’ Katie gave her aunt a big hug. ‘Now take care, and if there are any problems before you see me again, don’t hesitate to ring me.’

  Confident that her aunt was in good hands, she drove away with mixed feelings, still stunned, but pleasantly surprised to have inherited such a large sum of money. She vowed to spend as much time with her surviving aunt as she could, and looked forward to her visit. Bertha would be a delight to have at her home, and no way as demanding as Elspeth. When she pulled into the forecourt outside her front door, Sam’s car was there. Within seconds the front door opened. ‘The kettle ’s on, Mum,’ Sam said, giving her mother a big hug. ‘How’s Aunt Bertha?’

  ‘Dreadfully upset, as you can imagine. It’s going to take a long time for her to adjust.’ She sighed and sat on one of the kitchen chairs. ‘She’s a strong lady though, so I’m sure she’ll be all right given time.’ She smiled eager to share her news. ‘By the way, I’ve come into quite a bit of money.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, that’s great.’ Sam beamed and her eyes lit up. ‘Now you can get yourself togged up to the nines, get a makeover at ‘Clare’s beauty salon… and get your garden done.’

  ‘How did you know that’s exactly what I’d planned to do?’ Katie sniffed. ‘I detect a most appetizing aroma. I’ve had no lunch yet, so what is it?’

  ‘I guessed you’d do something like that, so I made a lovely casserole for you.’ Sam opened the oven door to see if it was done. ‘It’ll be ready in ten minutes, so freshen up, and then we’ll enjoy it together, because I’ve made arrangements with Denise to look after the baby for a few hours.’

  Katie enjoyed her lunch with Sam, then waved her off. She rested until she felt sufficiently recovered from the long drive and the substantial meal to set out for the shops. The tiny, but expensive, boutique on High Street beckoned as she parked the car. Thanks to Aunt Mabel, price was no problem. Now she could afford whatever caught her fancy. She explained to the assistant what she was looking for. After an hour, of trying on so many lovely garments she was totally confused. It was almost teatime before she walked out of the store with the most gorgeous two-piece she had ever owned. It was a soft apple green, pure silk, with a gorgeous, figure-hugging skirt that made her look even more sylph-like. She could barely wait to wear it.

  Full of excitement, she pulled up outside Clare’s, the beauty salon, to make an appointment. She walked in as though it was something she did regularly. ‘I’d like a facial and my hair completely restyled, in the morning, if possible,’ she said to the receptionist. The young woman smiled and offered a suitable time, and then handed over the appointment card.

  Katie had to acknowledge that the excitement she was feeling was no doubt due to the size
able legacy, but it was also anticipation of what was to come. She hadn’t felt this good for years. With all the catching up she had to do after being gone, the evening passed quickly. Within minutes of her head hitting the pillow that night, she was fast asleep.

  Early the next morning she was having her breakfast when a knock on the back door surprised her. She opened it to find a tall, well-built man with a tousled mop of dark curly hair, and an infectious smile, standing on the doorstep. From his healthy looking weathered complexion she guessed this had to be the gardener she had called and left a message.

  ‘I… I’m Patrick O’Reilley, Madam. You phoned about your garden. I’m working just down the road today, so I’ve dropped by to see you, as requested.’ He jerked his thumb at the nearest flowerbed. ‘I’ve come not a day too soon, by the look of it. I mean no offense, to be sure, Madam, but this garden of yours looks to be in a sorry state.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Katie said, and returned his smile. ‘It’s a mess.’ She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. ‘And this is only part of it… there’s lots more. Let me show you the rest, and see what you think.’

  The man followed her around, commenting on the rose and flower gardens before they went to the kitchen garden at the back of the house. ‘This is in a sorry state, too.’ He stood still for a few moments, and glanced around. ‘It’s much bigger than it looks from the front, that’s for sure. Have you been doing this all on your own?’

  ‘Trying to, since my husband died,’ Katie said, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness, ‘but not coping, as you can see. I’m desperate for help.’

  The Irishman’s face broke into the most enchanting smile she had seen in a long while. His teeth were white and even, his twinkling eyes a penetrating ocean blue, and his whole countenance bore such an impish look, it seemed as though he could have been a mischievous leprechaun, straight out of an Irish folk tale. For some reason, Katie suddenly felt a great deal better about everything.

  ‘You want help, you got it, lady,’ he said. With a fetching smile on his face he reached out and plucked several flowers until he held a small bunch of blooms in his hand. ‘And ‘tis for sure, these flowers will not be long before dropping their petals.’ His blue eyes twinkled as he handed them to her with a flourish. ‘Why not take them inside and enjoy them a bit longer?’

  Katie felt a slight wave of colour pass over her face. It was as if she had been given a lovely bouquet, rather than a small bunch of flowers picked from her own garden. ‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ she asked. ‘We can discuss what has to be done while we’re drinking it out here in the garden.’

  He nodded and Katie hurried off to brew it, delighted that he had agreed to help her. When she returned with two steaming mugs, the gardener was sitting on the garden seat with his long legs stretched out in front of him, and his hands clasped behind his head as he gazed around her yard. His manner gave the impression that here was a man with oodles of confidence; a man who knew what he was talking about. More than willing to hand over the total responsibility to him, Katie felt a great sense of relief that he seemed ready and willing to return the gardens to their former glory.

  ‘Now, then, just you tell me where you want me to start, Mrs... ‘

  ‘Turner,’ she said. ‘Katie Turner.’

  His face wreathed in smiles again as he looked her straight in the eye to deliver his compliment in his attractive Irish brogue. ‘Ah, yes, and for sure ‘tis a very pretty name you have.’

  She blushed again under his gaze and looked away. This man had a frankness she liked. He was a little bit bold, but in an acceptable way, and, of course, he had a bit of the Irish Blarney about him, which was nicely entertaining.

  ‘Right, then, Mrs. Turner,’ he said, replacing his mug on the tray. ‘The roses your late husband planted are bearing up, but the rest have had their day. The majority of your other shrubs are beyond help, I’m afraid.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘To be sure, replacing this kind of stuff is expensive. It’s going to cost a lot of money to buy shrubs and roses for a garden of this size.’ He looked around again as he spoke. ‘There’s so much to do here. You sure you got enough money? To spare, I mean… just for the likes of garden plants — roses and things?’

  ‘I can afford it.’ Katie’s reply was short and tart, and her smile left her face. How dare a stranger question her ability to pay for what had to be done? ‘You get it done, Mr. O’Reilley and leave me to worry about paying,’ she said, still smarting a bit. After all, it was none of his business.

  Quite unconcerned at the sharpness of her retort, Pat O’Reilley dug into his breast pocket and drew out a stubby pencil and a battered notebook. ‘Okay, then let me jot down some suggestions for you to consider.’ He gave her a quick glance from beneath lowered lids. ‘Tomorrow we can discuss them in depth.’ He pointed to the bed next to the one that Greg had planted. ‘We’ll start on your roses, if you like. Then we’ll pretty up this lovely patio. You’ll need a host of trailing plants for that trellis over there, too. For sure an’ ‘tis falling to pieces, so that’s got to be replaced.’

  Katie’s annoyance faded as she realized that she had misunderstood his concern about how much the work would cost. After all, he was probably being cautious for the sake of her pocket. Within minutes, her eyes were shining again as she was caught up in Pat’s enthusiastic description of how he planned to sort out all the problems.

  ‘Yes, and I want some fencing replaced, repairs to the gazebo, an archway for climbers, and… oh, yes, I’ve always wanted a large fishpond with some large fish, and a pretty fountain to go with it, and…’ Katie stopped when he lifted a restraining hand.

  With his head to the side, he winked and smiled. ‘Hold on now, Mrs. Turner, please,’ he said, his smile broadening by the second. ‘From the way you’re talking I’ll be here for years, to be sure, and the most I can spare you are a few mornings a week, what with my other jobs, an’ all. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Katie colored and felt embarrassed. ‘Please don’t think I’m trying to monopolise your time, Mr. O’Reilley. It’s just that… ‘ She trailed off as Pat spoke again.

  ‘You’re very trusting, too,’ he said, virtually waiving aside her apology. ‘You don’t know me from Adam, yet you haven’t asked for a reference, or inquired about my gardening experience.’ His blue eyes crinkled as he looked at her. ‘But you don’t have to worry at all, Mrs. Turner, and that’s for sure. We’ll get this sorted out for you… with pleasure.’

  ‘I’m not worried about your ability, and I’m confident you’ll do a good job. You can tell me more about yourself another time, Mr. O’Reilley, because I appreciate you’re expected somewhere else right now.’

  ‘Call me Pat, Mrs. Turner, please — no need to be formal,’ he said, seemingly unconcerned about the time. He tore the sheet of paper out of his notebook and slid it across the table. ‘Now just you add anything else you think you might want, and give it to me when I start work.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I must go now, but I’ll be here by eight in the morning.’

  Katie placed her coffee mug on the tray and was about to pick it up when Pat intervened.

  ‘Mrs. Turner, for sure an’ ‘tis myself who should be taking that tray inside. I can’t be having you wait on me.’ Before she could protest, Pat whipped up the tray and slipped it onto the kitchen worktop just inside the door. She followed with a bemused smile… only an Irishman could behave that way, without giving offense. She walked around to the front of the house with him, and watched him climb into his Volvo Estate. From the number plate she calculated that the vehicle was barely two years old, and she wondered how he could afford that class of vehicle on a gardener’s income.

  He reached inside to the back seat, and sorted out a bundle of catalogs. ‘Here’s something for you to look through,’ he said. ‘Might give you some more ideas.’

  As she waited at the side of the car, her eyes took in the details of the Volvo’s interior, which was immac
ulate. It showed Pat was meticulous by nature. If he gave similar attention to her garden, she felt certain the results would delight her.

  For the rest of the day, Katie spent most of her time sorting out pictures of the roses she liked the best. Among her choice was her favourite… the gorgeous Peace Rose. Then there was Osiria, outstanding with its blood red and white petals, the delicate pink Ophelia, and the bold, red Admiral Rodney. They were all hybrid tea roses—and there were so many to choose from. Greg had taught her that the hybrid was the most popular rose, because they bloomed long and profusely, and were good for cutting. There was such a wonderful variety of colours she had difficult choosing. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some climbing roses for the trellis. Then she suddenly decided she would have a new bed of English roses — a collection that included some large, double blooms. ‘One of those, too,’ she murmured, stabbing her finger on the picture of an evergreen red rambling rose. ‘Never had an evergreen rose before. Expensive, but it’ll be something different.’

  Staring for so long at catalogues and pictures, made her tired, and she climbed the stairs that night feeling more than ready for a good night’s sleep. So much had happened in the past few days: Aunt Mabel’s demise, the knowledge that she had inherited a considerable sum of money, and the planning for the restoration of her garden. And on top of that there was Richard’s dinner party, which would give her the opportunity to wear her lovely new outfit. And, of course, there was the beauty treatment to look forward to in the morning — the first for years...and that was a treat in itself. All in all, it was pretty exciting.