Bluebell Castle

The injury had shocked some sense into Will, and he’d returned to school, only to find himself even more out of his depth. He might have drifted back into trouble had one of their neighbours not had a nasty fall. Coming home from school one day, Will had spotted Mrs Tyler sprawled on the path of her spotless little front garden. A smashed up hanging basket next to a stepladder lying on its side told him plainly enough what had happened when he rushed to her aid. Not wanting to move her, Will had called for an ambulance before retrieving a blanket and a pillow he’d found on the bed in a downstairs room-he and his dad used their equivalent one as a dining room. As he wasn’t a relative, they hadn’t let Will go with Mrs Tyler to the hospital. To this day he could still remember how small and frail she’d looked wrapped in a red blanket as they loaded the stretcher onto the back of the ambulance.

Not wanting her to come home to a mess, he’d dug around in their junk-filled garden shed for a broom and swept the soil and broken plants off the path. With his dad’s help, he’d made a trip to the local DIY-cum-garden centre next to their local superstore and he’d done his best to replace the damaged contents of the hanging basket. Returning a few days later with her wrist in plaster and a spectacular rainbow bruise on one cheek, Mrs Tyler had been delighted with his efforts and the wonky basket complete with clashing blooms of red, purple and orange had hung from the wall the entire summer.

It’d started off with a trip to the shops to pick up a few bits for her, then progressed to helping her keep her beloved front and back garden tidy while her wrist was healing. Before he knew it, Will was calling in every afternoon after school because the sweet-natured widow had this or that chore that needed doing. Will soon caught on that she was inventing little jobs for him to do, and though he wasn’t sure if it was for her own benefit or his, they’d struck up an unlikely friendship born of their mutual loneliness. When he’d confessed to her one afternoon about how hard a time he was having at school, she’d persuaded him to get his books out and helped him with his homework. Over endless cups of tea and slices of homemade cake, Mrs Tyler had slowly imbued her love of gardening in Will. In the weeks and months that followed, Will had grew up a lot. He’d apologised to his dad, and knowing Will had someone to keep an eye out for him had given his dad the freedom to look further afield for better-paying work.

The spring after they’d first met, Will decided it was time to tackle the straggly weeds and bits of rubbish littering their own front garden, and with Mrs Tyler’s help he’d transformed the space over the course of the school Easter holidays. Looking back now, two patches of brownish grass and a few pots stuffed with petunias and fuchsias was a modest start for a future Chelsea medal winner, but the sense of pride he’d experienced when his dad had come home from a few days working away to see what he’d done had yet to be equalled. They might not be a family in the conventional sense like the Ludworths, but between the three of them they’d muddled along together very nicely.

The door thumped open just then to reveal Tristan staggering in under the weight of an overladen tea tray. Forgetting his little trip down memory lane, Will jumped up to give him a hand and together they placed it down on a nearby coffee table. ‘I thought you might be peckish,’ Tristan said with a shrug as Will eyed the piles of sandwiches and cakes.

‘There’s enough here to feed an army.’

‘I’d better help you out then.’ Tristan bit into an enormous wedge of Victoria sponge.

It had been a long time since the sausage roll Will had picked up during a five-minute refuelling stop on the journey up. Lifting a sandwich from the plate, he raised it in acknowledgement towards Tristan before taking a bite. ‘Thank you.’

They munched in silence for a few minutes, Will content to watch Igraine as she gathered the drawings scattering the floor. Now she’d told him her full name, he couldn’t seem to think of her as anything else. With a supple grace which spoke of the strength gained from hours working out of doors rather than slogging away on a treadmill, she flowed from sitting to standing with the drawings bundled under one arm.

Abandoning his half-eaten sandwich, Will moved to intercept her when his phone started to ring stopping him in his tracks. Seeing Chris’s name on the screen, he excused himself and hurried into the echoing chamber of the great hall before he answered it. ‘Hello?’ Silence greeted him. He stared at the ‘Call ended’ message on the screen then noticed it said No Service in the top right. He took a couple of steps towards the front door and the phone started ringing again. ‘Hello?’

‘Whe … uck … are you?’ Even with his voice cutting in and out, it was clear Chris was very unhappy.

‘I’m in Derbyshire, looking at a new job.’

‘… byshire? You’ve stood up … elody bloody Atkins!’

Shit. In his rush to get everything sorted at work and then the journey up here, he’d completely forgotten about the last-minute invitation to Clay Given’s party. ‘I told you I wasn’t going,’ he yelled, but the phone had gone dead again.

Will was still stalking around the enormous room trying in vain to pick up a signal when the front door opened heralding the return of Arthur, Lucie and their motley assortment of dogs. A greyhound bounded over to nudge at Will’s hand, while a Jack Russell yipped and scrabbled at his calf. With the difference in their heights, it was impossible to pet both dogs at once, so Will crouched down to fuss over them both until Arthur shooed them gently away.

‘Sorry, they’re a bunch of unruly beasts.’

Having always wanted but never had a pet of his own growing up, Will was quite happy to lavish them with attention. ‘I’m not bothered, really.’ He straightened up and waved his phone at Arthur. ‘I can’t seem to get a signal.’

Arthur pulled a face. ‘It’s a nightmare around here. I’m going to sort out a signal booster before we open to the public, but it’s one of about a million things on the to-do list. You’re welcome to use the landline, and I’ll give you the Wi-Fi password so you can access your emails, hang on a minute.’ He returned a few moments later with the code scribbled on a scrap of paper. ‘The phone’s in my study …’

The adrenaline which had buoyed Will on his drive up vanished in a sudden rush, leaving him drained. The last thing he wanted was to get into a shouting match with Chris, especially in front of anyone else. He’d already caused enough disruption by showing up unannounced. ‘This’ll be great,’ he said, holding up the paper. ‘I can sort everything out with an email.’