Ella bit her lip, as she looked at the drunken display. ‘It’s t-terrible.’ She sniggered.
‘Yup.’ Bets nudged her in the ribs.
‘Truly terrible.’
Bets nodded and snorted. Then the two of them caught each other’s eyes and burst into laughter.
Finally they calmed and leaned back against the wooden pew. Ella considered the arrangement, tilting her head from one side to the other.
‘Doing that isn’t going to help,’ observed Bets.
‘I know,’ sighed Ella. ‘I think I might have to nip down to Tesco to—’
‘Good afternoon, ladies. It looks like you’ve been rather busy here.’ Ella turned to see the vicar striding down the aisle, his black cassock flowing.
‘Afternoon.’ She found herself almost wanting to nod or curtsy.
‘Goodness gracious. That’s quite monumental.’
He came to a halt in front of the first pew and peered over his round glasses, studying the arrangement before taking several steps to the right to look at it from a different angle.
Ella stiffened, mortified and ready to apologise.
Richard prowled another few steps and tilted his head. ‘Well, I must say, this is one of our more dramatic pieces.’ He stepped forward, tentatively touching one of the tulip heads.
‘Hmm.’ He folded his arms and stood in silent contemplation.
Behind his back, Bets began to snigger again.
‘It’s really rather symbolic, isn’t it?’
Ella opened her mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak.
‘I must say it’s a very interesting arrangement. I’m assuming as we approach Easter, the tulips represent the blood of Christ and the wire the thorns on the crown, and combined with the green and white foliage you could say it represents the rebirth of nature during Spring.’
Bets covered her mouth with her hand and looked up at the wooden rafters in the ceiling. Ella could see her shoulders shaking with mirth.
‘See, Ella,’ she called managing to compose herself, ‘I told you Richard would get it.’
‘Well, of course,’ said Ella, fighting to keep her face straight, thinking of what Patrick might say when he was at his most pompous. ‘I’m delighted that you understand the quintessential philosophy behind this piece.’
‘I’m not sure what our ladies are going to say, though.’ He shook his head and turned to her and then she saw the wicked twinkle dancing in his eyes. ‘I’m looking forward to tomorrow.’
Chapter Thirteen
There was something so comforting about a hot bath and slipping into a fleecy onesie, even if it was covered in glow-in-the-dark pink, green and yellow elephants. You couldn’t lose her in a hurry, that was for sure. It was a forgotten – make that deliberately forgotten – stocking filler from last Christmas from Ella’s mother, who had never quite got the concept of stocking fillers being small enough to fit in a stocking. Ella had unearthed it when she’d finally unpacked one of her cases.
Pouring herself a glass of red wine, she guiltily sneaked a look at the blue card on the pinboard. The flower arrangement still bothered her. Taking down the card, she crossed to the French doors. Through them she could see a pink-streaked sky as the sun started to set.
A gentle fragrance filled the air and she followed its scent to a small tree, its branches laden with plumes of lilac. Only when she reached it did she realise that the garden extended further than she’d initially thought. Feeling a little foolish, she read Madga’s words.
No one could see her. She ducked under one of the branches and stopped dead. Like a secret bower, this second garden was almost completely surrounded by feathery leafy trees that seemed to bow inwards as if trying to protect it from the real world. Crocus, periwinkle, bleeding heart, clematis, spring beauty and grape hyacinth created a gorgeous spectrum of pale blues, pinks, mauves and white. The flowers filled a series of beds surrounding a soft sandstone circular patio at the centre of which, picked out in tiny weather worn bricks, was a star shape.Delicate heads swayed like dancers in the gentle breeze, nodding with elegant grace. Unthinking, she reached out to stroke the velvet softness of the petals fluttering with the fragility of butterfly wings, as if they might take flight at any moment. Scents of bluebell and hyacinth tinged the air, subtle and heady coming in bursts as she passed slowly doing a circuit of the patio. When she came back to her starting point, she realised she’d almost followed Magda’s instructions to the letter. Well it hadn’t done any harm and certainly didn’t mean she believed in any of that Mother Earth rubbish.
Relishing the peace of the tiny bower, she sat down on a stone bench fringed by bluebells and sipped at her red wine, gazing around lost in thought. With a sudden gasp, her mouth dropped open. ‘Oh.’
Now she could see it, the flowers had been grouped to create shade and shape like multi-hued clouds on a blue sky, creating a painting in three dimensions. It made her white and red monstrosity in the church seem horribly vulgar and obnoxious.
Her eyes scanned the flowers, an idea taking shape in her head. She jumped up. She knew exactly what to do.
