Page 69 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

“I don’t understand…”

“We begged him to. Visitors to Chapman House would only mean more business for the rest of the village. You saw what happened to Bampton after that Downton show turned up. They can’t keep people out of their shops. My kids left, took my grandkids with them, they say the place is dying, and I reckon they’re right,” said Milton. “But Ben wouldn’t listen.”

“He considered it once,” Cillian added, looking at Oliver. “About ten years ago.”

Slowly, the pieces started falling into place. His grandfather hadn’t hired Emerson for appraisal purposes, after all. He had hired them to put together a plan to save the estate. Why hadn’t anyone told him? Why had he been left in the dark? A voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Rose gently reminded him that he was only a kid. It wasn’t his responsibility then.

“Chapman House used to be open to the public, at least to the villagers. It was a central meeting spot for the town elders, and all sorts of community boards. When I was a boy, the Catesby’s hosted all the local events. Everyone loved running around the house and gardens. I have many fond memories of me and my friends traversing through the hedge maze,” Eugene supplied.

Oliver was taken aback. He’d never seen his grandfather entertain anyone, nevertheless open up the grounds. “Why did that stop?” he asked.

Eugene’s face softened. “You were too young when she died to remember your grandmother, I suppose. But Anne grew up here in the village, too. She was always welcoming in strays, offering up rooms to those who needed a place to stay, or who needed temporary employment. She hosted fundraisers and dinner parties. A fair few weddings, too. She singlehandedly saved the village library when the local authorities were considering shutting it down. A wonderful woman, his Anne. After she passed, he couldn’t bear it.”

Cillian clapped his shoulder. “And then you came along.”

Oliver slouched down in his chair. A thousand thoughts raced through his head. The letter in his pocket called out like a siren. It was screaming at him to be opened.

“I’m so sorry, you’ll have to forgive me.” He hastily excused himself, ignoring the concerned looks from the men at the table, abandoning Rose’s flowers and his umbrella.

Stumbling through the threshold of the pub and back out onto the high street, Oliver made a beeline to the church cemetery. He weaved through the aisles of headstones, until he found the joint grave of his grandparents. Sitting down at the foot of the grave, he pulled the envelope from his pocket and slid his finger under the seal to open it. With shaky hands, he began to pull out the letter, and stopped.

Oliver had visited his grandparents’ grave a few times, but in a way, it always felt performative. There was nothing meaningful to Oliver about their graves. Maybe it was where their bodies had been laid to rest, but he didn’t feel any connection to them there.

Suddenly, he was on his feet again and jogging back to Chapman House. His lungs ached, a severe reminder that he had not done any sort of cardio activity, maybe ever in his life. He bypassed the front steps, and followed the well-worn path around the house and past the gardens. Once he arrived, he noticed that the Enter sign had fallen again to the ground, but he left it where it was and continued into the maze.

This time, when the overgrowth of the hedges threatened to tear at his skin, he didn’t see it as defeat. When he passed the turn that would have led to his and Jesse’s spot against the wall of hydrangeas, he didn’t stop to worry about the state of the flowers or the stone bench. He continued forward, letting the neglect of what was once his favorite place on Earth fuel him.

The fountain was now in sight. The water had stopped flowing long ago, certainly before his grandfather had died, and underneath the dried leaves that had settled in the basin he could see a crack that would need repairing. But it was the muses that gave him pause.

A layer of green lichen had settled across their faces and stone doric chitons. The look they wore was one of acceptance, like they were embracing their new fate to become one with the maze.

They may have accepted their abandonment, but Oliver wouldn’t. As soon as he was able, he was taking a scrub brush to their skin, he was going to show them the respect they deserved.

He sat down at the edge of the fountain and took out the letter again. Unlike at the grave, his hands were steady. He wanted these final words from his grandfather, but no matter what they said, they wouldn’t change his mind. Things had to change.

My Dear Oliver,

I am writing this letter only as a precaution as I hope to speak these words directly to you once you are back home from Oxford. I know you are busy making the final touches to your exhibition, and I don’t wish to burden you with future worries.

I have made many mistakes in my life, but raising you here at Chapman House was my greatest accomplishment. However, I must apologize because I have left you quite a mess to clean up.

Stubbornness is a word often used to describe me. In this case, I have not only been stubborn, but I have been selfish. I wanted to keep Chapman House clutched close to my chest, and you along with it. I ignored her problems and told myself I was giving you a quiet life and my full attention as you grew up. I would try and fix things later. I thought I’d have more time. Don’t we all?

There was a time when I thought your father would help me restore the estate, but that was never his intention. I learned quickly that he didn’t hold the same attachments to the house as I did. As you do. I know it will be a challenge, one I hope that we can solve together, but if time turns out not to be on my side, I hope you will rise to the occasion.

I want you to know that I am so proud of you and the young man that you’ve become. I want you, more than anything, to find happiness, whether that is with someone by your side or on your own. I want you to make Chapman House your home, to do with it what you wish. I have all the trust in the world that you’ll do right by her.

Lean on the people who love you. Let others loan you their strength when you need it.

Keep painting.

I love you.

Oliver finished the letter and folded it back into the envelope with much more care than he had ever shown the paper before. The sun was doing its best to break through the clouds as he brushed the tears off his cheeks, letting the words soak into his bones.

“Cariño? Are you okay?”

Oliver let out a watery laugh as he turned to see Jesse standing about a meter away. He had been so caught up that he hadn’t heard him approach. “How were you able to find me?”