I love that he’s now adopted my suggested name for his participants.
“If I’m not mistaken, Isaias might be interested in a career in horticulture. You can thank pond plants for that inspiration.”
His eyes study me for a moment, half-curious, half-amused. “Why is it you never think it might be you that’s inspiring him?”
“Because I don’t like fishing for compliments.” I smirk at him and he laughs.
“Just when I think you’re a serious and intimidating woman with your eyes on a bank holiday triumph.”
I clutch my head in mock horror. “Just when I was feeling cheerful and forgetting my crazy to-do list.”
He steps closer, grabs my wrists and lowers my hands from my head. “I have good news to cheer you up. We’ve massacred the roses. All of them.”
“Massacred?”
He holds my hands. “Their word, not mine. The ladies think your radical pruning is butchery. Amani and Jo were taking bets on which will turn out to be what colour.”
Amani and Jo?
He must guess my thoughts because he smiles. “Marianne is running a book, if you fancy a flutter. I’ve already got ten quid on red and white for the first two.”
I nod and smile and we continue our light banter as we walk back to the house, but inside my head I marvel at what Osian has achieved. How right he was about the healing benefits of gardening. Watching thePerllansallow hope into their lives makes me happy in my heart.
Hope.
How can I ever leave my Hope Gardens?
A new energy courses through me, speeding up my steps, and I rush through a shower and change of clothes, a quick cheese sandwich then down to the Hub.
I wasn’t joking – my to-do list is scary. At least Osian has helped with one of the biggest jobs: the roses. Not the new rose bushes we planted in the fans (purple, deep burgundy, pink, lilac, lavender, yellow, orange and white – to mention just a few), but the older roses. The fifty climbing roses I discovered in the long and serpentine arc. I’m going to recreate the arcade with new trellises and train the climbing roses over it. They were in pathetic condition after years of neglect; no one believes the roses will regrow after my drastic ‘butchery’. A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I complete the trellis order online. In a fortnight these roses, pruned down to the nub, will send out bright shoots, leaves and buds, and I can’t wait to see thePerllansreact to that miracle.
Next job. Herbs. After my impromptu announcement to defend Leonie at dinner last night, I now have to plant herbs. Something with quick results for our Easter weekend, but others which will mature later in the summer.
We need planters.
My hands fly over the keyboard, searching, making fast choices, organising timetables for who is doing what, when.
Beautiful herb planters.
Ornate trellises.
Art nouveau signs and plaques.
Garden seats, benches and tables to place here and there inside the arcade? Because a journey needs stops to rest, to admire and – if I know anything about people – to have snacks and ice cream.
Who is paying for all this?
Me, of course.
So the next day as the others break for lunch, I am back in the Hub talking to my bank to arrange for an additional mortgage. My bank is unhappy about this because I don’t seem to have any income yet. It takes much discussion until they agree an interest-only fixed-term mortgage. Very expensive, but beggars can’t be choosers. Then my tenants, the ones renting my London flat, text to say they want to leave at the end of the month. So I’ll need to contact the letting agency or organise all that.
As if my to-do list didn’t already cover eleven pages.
And so it goes on – the days blur into tasks, jobs and deadlines. When I’m not outside getting muddy and grubby, I’m glued to my laptop. Organising tours and talks for the opening.Preparing the info signs with the names of every plant – in English and Welsh – and writing the web pages which are essential for the interactive games and quizzes.
Obviously, it’s not only me chasing my tail. Alex has been working like a demon, cleaning, polishing, adding information. He and the professor spend long hours planning different tours around the murals and mosaics already restored. Ricky and Amani, who share a love of social media and digital marketing, take pictures of everything and argue over what to post on social media.
Evan manages everything else from security to health and safety and staffing. Every so often he pops his head into the Hub to ask about this or that.
