‘And you say you kept it flowering all winter?’
‘All winter,’ came the cheery response from the glasshouse.
‘Remarkable,’ came the reply. ‘And is that...?’
‘Lachenalia tricolor,’ said Frankie, spinning the pot on the gravel to show the flowers from a better angle.
‘But – in March,’ said Crumpacker, staring at her.
‘Forced it,’ said Frankie smugly. ‘In the potting shed with sacking over as soon as I got here. Then brought it in here, not right by the firewall mind. And look at them now.’
‘Look at them,’ said Crumpacker, clearly in awe. ‘Knatchbull has similar, but I believe it is a different species. Coincidentally, he informed me that he tried forcing for the first time this year also.’
Thea traded a glance with Frankie. Another secret gone to Mr Knatchbull from their glasshouses.
Musket sniffed around Crumpacker’s ankles and Thea watched carefully for any of the tell-tale signs that he was aboutto bite, but then he flipped straight on his back with his legs in the air. Crumpacker looked down. ‘What’s he doing?’
‘Oh,’ said Frankie, a smile lighting her face. ‘He likes you.’
‘He doesn’t,’ said Crumpacker matter-of-factly. ‘He’s been shouting at me since I got here.’
‘Was shouting at you,’ clarified Frankie. ‘Now he likes you.’
‘I see.’ Crumpacker stood still as if he didn’t dare move his feet with the small black dog so close. Thea smiled from the doorway she leaned against. Frankie was right. Musket was coming round to Crumpacker faster than Mrs Jenkins or Mrs Phibbs were, she thought. ’What do I do now?’ the botanist asked.
‘Tickle his tummy,’ said Frankie.
Crumpacker looked horrified. ‘With those teeth so close? Absolutely not. I value both of my hands.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Frankie. ‘You’re a friend for life. Try it.’
Crumpacker looked like he’d rather put himself at the mercy of a lion, but despite himself reached down and tickled Musket just once with the tip of an index finger. Musket squirmed in pleasure and stayed on his back. Crumpacker pursed his lips and braved a firmer tickle. Musket looked delighted, and even Crumpacker smiled.
‘Told you,’ muttered a voice in Thea’s ear. Thea turned a little to see Martha grinning. ‘He’s in his element.’
It had been almost a week and the change in Crumpacker was remarkable. Since he had settled in, he had spent some time in the garden, and some in the house, looking over Thea’s growing herbarium. She was sure that Frankie kept something new to impress him with every day.
‘I think we all agree it probably isn’t Crumpacker leaking the secrets,’ she said. ‘But someone certainly is. Knatchbull knows about the Lachenalia too, although he got the species wrong.’
‘Interesting,’ said Martha. ‘And infuriating.’
‘Certainly,’ said Thea quietly, ‘but if passing some secrets to him means I get more time with you, I can bear it.’
Martha smiled. ‘I knew you’d come round to Algie.’
‘Musket is a good judge of character,’ said Thea. ‘I do rather like Mr Crumpacker too, but I would rather he didn’t tickle my tummy.’
Martha laughed, and it made Frankie look up from where she chatted to Crumpacker.
‘What are these?’ he asked as they watched, peering at some relatively weedy plants in shallow pots. ‘They seem to be growing from sticks?’
‘Swan milkweed,’ said Frankie. ‘I’m trying them from root cuttings and they’re coming well.’
Crumpacker screwed up his face. ‘But they come so well from seed.’
‘And rarely flower early enough to set seed in England,’ said Frankie. ‘I’m hoping that this way they will mature earlier.’ Crumpacker stared at her, blinking, until it started to get uncomfortable.
‘Excellent,’ he said. Martha grinned at Thea, and they ventured further into the glasshouse.
