Meanwhile Gardens Read online

  There was also an infant prodigy pianist by the name of Elizabeth Soyer who took fright, poor thing, during a tremendous thunderstorm and died; but perhaps saddest of all was the story of Mary Hogarth, Dickens’ sister-in-law to whom he was devoted. She died of a heart attack at the age of seventeen in her carriage on the way back from seeing one of his plays. Her death at such a young age affected the great writer for the rest of his life.

  “And he never, ever got over it.” As Jake finished he looked over at Rion who was clearly entranced.

  Rion took a last sip of her now cold tea. She swirled the tea leaves around the bottom of the mug before tipping them out on the ground. Straining her eyes to see them in the darkness she realised their pattern would hold no clue to her future. Rion slowly raised her eyes to the tousled young man in front of her, “And how did you come to be here Jake?”

  Jake laughed at her question. “You realise if I tell you my story I’ll expect to hear one in return…”

  Rion weighed this up. His story must be more interesting than hers, she guessed, and besides when the time came to tell her story she could plead tiredness or – ? Or? Something would spring to mind.

  “Are you sure that’s fair? I mean, the story of how you came to be living in a treehouse in a cemetery in London will take some b – ” Rion was going to say ‘beating’ but the word was abit too familiar for comfort, “will take some topping.”

  “It’s not a competition Rion.”

  He said Rion! That was the first time she had heard someone say her new name.

  “Would you say that again?”

  Jake’s face glowed in the firelight. “Wha – ?”

  “I’ll tell you about it – perhaps in my story.”

  “Perhaps?” Jake asked.

  Rion gave in, “Perhaps certainly.”

  “It’s not a competition.”

  Rion gestured for him to continue, “It’s not a competition– ?”

  “It’s not a competition, Rion.”

  Perfect. It sounded perfect she thought. And natural. Perfectly natural.

  “Ok. Where to start?” Jake was silent for a moment and then began his tale. “I dropped out of university in my second year and I’ve been here ever since. It was easier then, there were no guards and there were more of us – well, just Old George and me were here but under the gasometers was a whole secret community. You’ll see on the other side of the canal there’s an old cherry tree – its main branch twists over the towpath wall – well, you could just hop over there and you would be in this hidden world. There were also many more people living on canal boats then too.”

  “But why here?”

  Jake didn’t have to think to answer. “Because it’s so easy. There’s everything I could want here. Fish, eels, duck and goose eggs, Cuban meals twice a week, even spliffs and rum.”

  Rion wrinkled her nose. She knew what a spliff was even though she hadn’t tried one. Or wanted to.

  “Where do you get those from?”

  “From the grave of a Caribbean bandleader, Mr Marks, amongst other places. His funeral was packed. Packed! I’ve never seen who leaves them but they’re regular – not as regular as Senora Padilla, but not infrequent either. And I love it here. It’s so quiet and where I sleep moves and creaks with the tree. Where else in London could I get that?”

  Rion didn’t know. Feeling that it might be her turn soon she stretched and gave an exaggerated yawn.

  “And I do P & D – painting and decorating – there’s always work.” He pulled a mobile phone from his worn jean jacket, “I get a call – I’m there. I’ve got work for the next month.”

  “And your family?”

  “Haven’t seen them in years. We’re not compatible – you know?”

  Did she ever.

  Rion stifled another heavy yawn. “What about your friends?”

  “A couple know. Most don’t. If they want me,” Jake tapped his mobile phone, “they know where to find me.”

  “What about….” How could she put this? “What about, ‘when the tree’s rocking, don’t come knocking’?”

  Jake chuckled, “That’s personal.” With relief Rion saw him get up to leave. “I’m going to turn in, I can see you’re tired too.”

  Saved, Rion thought.

  “I’m working early tomorrow. There’s a couple of apples in the bag, longlife milk, sugar and – are you up to making tea?” -

  Jake could see the thought of bubbling billycans, fires and pan holders, even in daylight, was not an attractive one to Rion.

  “If not you’ll have to wait until about five. I’ll bring some supper but you’ll have to sing for it.”

  Oh God, Rion cringed, he can’t possibly mean karaoke can he?

  “And you’re ok?”

  Rion nodded.

  Jake smiled and was gone.

  Rion stayed beside the dying fire until it lost its warmth. With a real yawn she went down the steps, got into the sleeping bag, blew out the candles and was soon fast asleep.

  6

  REVELATIONS

  Auntie Gem didn’t mind Mondays. Unlike others who dreaded the start to the week Auntie Gem looked forward to it. She liked the fresh feelings Mondays brought, no matter what the weather, like slipping into clean sheets in an old bed.

  She had worked at Peters & Peters ever since she had come to England with Emma. Every day she walked to and from the factory that bordered the canal on the other side of the cemetery. Auntie Gem was sure the daily walk, rain or shine, blow or snow, was the reason she was so rarely ill.

  For the first time in three generations there was only one member of the Peters family in the business. The company, makers of ‘Peters Garden Helper – the Spray the Garden Loves!’ and ‘Peters Kitchen Helper – the Spray the Kitchen Loves!’ amongst numerous other snappily named and advertised household cleaners, was run by the last of the line, her boss Sir Edwin Peters.

  Auntie Gem was in charge of the executive trolley for teas, coffees and biscuits. She would also bring Edwin his meals when he was too busy to come to the dining room. Despite his recent knighthood she still addressed her boss as ‘Mr’ Edwin, a fact that both endeared her to him as well as annoyed him. It was easy work and Gem enjoyed it.

  Walking down the canal on her way to work this Monday morning she was struck at how her daily life so often turned her thoughts to the Queen of Hearts.

  Ollie’s dog Hum made her think of Diana. His eyes, large, trusting and sometimes sorrowful were so like the princess’ – especially when he looked up at her through his heavy eyelids. Could human souls move into animal souls?

  Could they?

  Auntie Gem wondered. Afterall Ollie had said Hum had been born on the tenth anniversary of Diana’s death.

  Had the soul of the Diana, Princess of Wales, somehow moved into Ollie’s dog?

  Such a bizarre notion was too weird, especially for Mondays. Auntie Gem immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thing. She quickly crossed herself and carried on.

  Another reminder of Diana was the heron she almost always saw on the way to and from Peters & Peters. If she didn’t see the heron she felt disappointed and strangely abandoned. Seeing the slightly sinister looking bird always took her back to the eve of Diana’s funeral, a clear, cool Friday evening in early September at least ten years before, when she had gone with Emma to Kensington Gardens.

  Auntie Gem remembered that painful time so well. She had taken a week’s leave, spending most of it in the tribute-filled gardens in front of the palace, and had especially wanted to be there for the princess’ last night in her home.

  As the sun set over Kensington Palace Emma had pointed out the heron, wings closed over its body like a monk’s cowl, beneath one of the three enormous stone urns on the roof above Diana’s apartment.

  At first they had taken it for a decorative sculpture until it changed position and shook its pointed beak at them – right at them! Silhouetted against the dying sun the bird remained guarding th
e princess until night fell and they watched it slowly fly northwards – northwards to this section of the Grand Union Canal.

  Since that time Auntie Gem had wondered if what she now called ‘her heron’ was indeed the one atop Kensington Palace that night.

  Was it? she asked herself. Could it really be the same bird?

  As if to confirm this the ring of a bicycle bell interrupted her musings. As the cyclist sped past Auntie Gem looked up and there, watching motionless from the opposite bank, was the heron.

  But that wasn’t all that got her attention.

  Auntie Gem saw that she was now just further on from the gasometers. With a shiver she looked over at the opposite side of the canal, at the tightly planted saplings lining the cemetery wall.

  And then she heard it. A young girl’s tuneless singing. All Auntie Gem could think of were the lost and lonely warblings of Ophelia before she threw herself in the river and drowned. The words were indistinct, the voice unclear as it dipped then grew in intensity, seemingly lacking in rhythm or rhyme.

  More proof of the wandering soul of the poor young girl.

  Ollie had heard the otherworldly laughter, she herself had seen the spectral, virginal figure and now here was further proof.

  Auntie Gem kept her eyes straight ahead. She blocked her ears and quickened her step, relieved to see the chimney of Peters & Peters beyond Mitre Bridge in the distance.

  Unaware of the ghostly status she had attained Rion sang along to her favourite songs, playing and replaying the same tunes but now, she realised sadly, the battery in her ipod was fading.

  Remembering batteries can be recharged if left in the sun Rion took the headphones off, removed the powerpack from the music player and placed it in the brightest bit of sunlight.

  She had had another good night, finished Jake’s last apple and now wondered what she was going to do. Even though she had no money she knew something would turn up, besides Tanya would send the savings she had been entrusted with, but – where would she send them?

  Old George’s Cavern, Kensal Green Cemetery, London?

  Rion smiled and picked up her wellworn copy of Face the Fear and Eat It– the book that had propelled her to London in the first place.

  Sitting in the sun Rion was unworried. It would all be ok. The realisation that her family could no longer touch her made her smile and smile.

  Today she was enjoying her freedom, the sun on her face and doing nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  And as for the storytelling later?

  Rion stretched and wiggled her toes, she would think about that when the time came.

  Ollie was in his workroom when the phone rang.

  “I’m not disturbing you am I sweetness?”

  Ollie looked around him. He had been up since early that morning, returning calls, replying to the most urgent of faxes and emails, placating angry clients. “No, Auntie Em.”

  “I’ve just put the phone down on poor Gem. It seems she had another haunting experience on her way to work this morning.”

  “Another one?”

  “At exactly the same place apparently.”

  “Further on from the gasworks?”

  “So I believe, she was a bit upset and it was hard to understand exactly, anyway, she’s refused to walk back.”

  “I could go and get her Auntie Em.”

  “Thanks for offering angel,” he was such a kind boy she thought, “but I’m going to collect her from work later, the thing is – I need a favour.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Well, Auntie Gem has refused to walk down the canal until – well – until that part is exorcised.”

  The penny began to drop, albeit slowly.

  “And you want me to – ? Auntie Em you know how terrible I look in priestly garb, remember Nicky’s Halloween party? I mean I just can’t carry it off and besides – ”

  “Sweetness, I was only going to ask you to investigate – just so we can tell Gem there is no ghost and nothing to be afraid of…”

  Ollie wasn’t exactly thrilled but he felt he had to satisfy his own curiosity anyway. “It’ll have to be later on.”

  “You’re an angel, angel.”

  It was close to four thirty when Ollie knocked on Nicky’s door. He could hear music coming from her studio which normally meant she was working.

  Nicky opened the door and looked him up and down.

  “You’ve got quite good legs you know – ”

  Having decided his tracksuit bottoms were too cumbersome Ollie had changed into shorts.

  “– but shouldn’t you have a day’s break between exercise?”

  Ollie closed the door behind him and followed her into the large open room on the ground floor. “Well, if I stop now I’ll never start again. I’m not disturbing anything am I?”

  The studio was set up for a shoot. Hum raced to the other side of the large piece of black material that split the room in two.

  “I was just taking some pictures of – you two know each other don’t you?”

  Ollie stuck his head around the screen to see an instantly familiar face. Dressed all in black, with vibrantly patterned pink socks, the man sat on a stool in the middle of the space. Hum sniffed him curiously.

  It was Will.

  Or was it Andy?

  “Oh. Hi,” Ollie nodded, his heart beating furiously.

  “Andy needed some shots done. He’s off to Japan later this month.”

  Trying not to show too much interest Ollie looked at the floor and grunted.

  “Hey,” Nicky was unable to contain her excitement. “Angie just called – the shoot with Vance has been confirmed!”

  “Do you think it’ll happen this time?” Ollie asked, still not daring to lift his eyes from the floor.

  “We’ve been told she’ll be in town for the Awards at the end of the month – so a step closer.”

  “That’s great – I really hope it happens,” Ollie said, before remembering why he was there. “Could I borrow your ipod Nicks? Mine’s bust.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got some Bush tunes,” Nicky nudged him in the ribs and grinned. “It’s on the counter.”

  Acutely aware of Andy’s presence Ollie looked through Nicky’s downloads – a mixture of old, new, borrowed and blue. He scrolled to a selection that would satisfy even the strictest of style police, flashing the screen as proof. “It’s Al Green,” he kissed Nicky on the cheek. “Don’t talk about me,” he whispered.

  Ollie whistled for Hum and made his way out. He was dying to say something to Andy – but what? Turning at the edge of the screen Ollie said, as coolly as possible, “I love your socks.”

  I love your socks? Did he really say that?

  With Hum barking excitedly in front of him Ollie jogged through Meanwhile Gardens and onto the canal. After the shortest of times his legs began to ache. Nicky was right, perhaps he should have rested for a day or two.

  He had just lumbered under Ha’Penny Bridge when Al Green began to croon about how tired he was of being alone. Deciding Al was a touch close to the bone Ollie muted his ipod and continued in silence.

  After half-a-mile he turned off the canal and walked breathlessly over the bridge at the top of Ladbroke Grove. Ollie entered the cemetery through the small gate by the Dissenters’ Chapel and quickly made his way along the woodchip paths until he saw he was opposite, but further on from, the huge gasometers.

  The graves were neglected here. No authors’ societies, no ennobled families, no loving relatives tended these forgotten tombs.

  Snuffling happily Hum skirted several overgrown headstones before arriving at the iron-railing fence that marked the cemetery border. Without looking back Hum squeezed through a loose railing and vanished into the rows of tightly planted saplings on the other side.

  “Hum!” Ollie barked angrily but the hound had gone.

  Ollie could see a small trail stopped at the fence and then carried on the other side. Wishing he had brought a bottle of holy water with him, Olli
e pushed the weak railing to one side and went through.

  Despite having been in the sun for most of the day the battery hadn’t re-charged. It figures, Rion thought, the only thing I can remember from science class and it doesn’t work anyway. Disappointed she took off the headphones, realising she couldn’t get any more batteries until Tanya sent down her savings.

  Again she wondered – where would Tanya send them?

  A rustling and a panting broke into her thoughts. A black, shaggy dog, obviously young, bounded into the tiny clearing and over to her. Tail wagging, it sat at her feet and gave her a paw. She could see large brown eyes grinning up at her from behind its unkempt fringe.

  Rion immediately recognised the dog. Panicking slightly she realised that its owner couldn’t be far behind.

  A more ungainly huffing, puffing and crashing announced Ollie’s arrival. “Hum!” he called in annoyance as he pushed through the increasingly narrow path between the saplings. To his relief he saw an opening ahead. With a final thrust Ollie propelled himself through.

  He staggered into the clearing to find a young girl with long, long hair looking at him with apprehension. Ollie knew who it was. Immediately. The girl who had stopped him on the canal a couple of days ago.

  With some annoyance he saw Hum sitting contentedly at her feet.

  “So you’re not a ghost?” Ollie smiled, relieved, not that he had ever seriously entertained the notion, all the same the proximity to the graveyard had caused him to think more than twice.

  Rion stayed silent.

  “You’ve been scaring my elderly neighbour half to death. She’s convinced you’re a lost soul wandering between Heaven and Hell.” Ollie grinned again to show her he meant no harm but the young girl again stayed silent.

  By the ashes of the dead fire in front of him Ollie saw a well-thumbed book. He reached down for a closer look, picked it up and saw it was Face the Fear and Eat It– the bible of the self-help set. “Any good?” he asked.