But one time, knowing he was going to be late from work, Lauren had offered to bath Sam for him. When Joel had come to pick him up, he had discovered Sam happily sitting in the bath blowing bubbles and pouring water over his head.
Joel had immediately invested in a couple of plastic cups and bubble bath, and bath times had been a cinch ever since. It was the one point in the day he felt he could really relax with his son.
He was sitting on the floor, singing stupid songs while Sam put bubbles on his nose, when Kezzie came up with a cup of tea.
‘That looks fun,’ she said.
‘Fun, fun,’ burbled Sam.
‘It is, actually,’ said Joel, ‘an unexpected but absurdly simple pleasure of fatherhood.’
‘Are you hungry?’ said Kezzie, ‘only you look half starved. Do you ever eat?’
‘I don’t often cook for myself,’ admitted Joel. ‘Lauren feeds Sam most days, and while I don’t mind cooking, there never seems much point for one.’
‘Thought so,’ said Kezzie. ‘You stay there. I’ll forage in your kitchen, and see if we can’t get you a square meal for once.’
Half an hour later, with Sam happily ensconced in his cot, cuddling his favourite toy rabbit, Snuffles, Joel emerged downstairs to the smell of something delicious on the stove.
Tears prickled his eyes. It was a long time since anyone had cooked for him. He came into the kitchen to find Kezzie stirring a bubbling pot.
‘I’ve rustled up some pasta,’ she said, ‘I hope that’s OK.’
‘That’s more than OK,’ said Joel. ‘It’s very generous of you.’
‘Well, I like cooking,’ said Kezzie, ‘but you’re right, there never seems much point for one. Sorry, you don’t think I’m interfering do you?’
‘To be honest,’ said Joel, ‘it’s nice to be cooked for, for a change. I can cook – but I can’t be bothered most of the time. I think I’ve got a bottle of red knocking about somewhere. Shall we open it and have a toast to the start of the garden project?’
‘Perfect!’ said Kezzie.
‘Talking of which,’ said Joel, ‘how did you get on today?’
‘It’s hard work,’ admitted Kezzie. ‘Harder than I thought it would be. I have managed to clear a very small corner in one part of the pattern, and I think Edward wove the ivy and rosemary into heart shapes, but the plants are so old, they’ve gone a bit scraggy and the trunks are too thick. I can’t imagine it’s actually how he designed it. I’d love to see his original plans. I’d like to put my own stamp on the garden of course, but I want to be as truthful to his vision as I could be.’
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ said Joel. ‘I didn’t have time to tell you this morning. Guess what I found last night?’
‘No idea,’ said Kezzie.
‘Edward’s diary,’ said Joel.
‘That’s fantastic,’ said Kezzie. ‘Where was it?’
‘There’s an old desk in the study, which I was restoring. I was having another look at it last night, thinking I should get it finished,’ said Joel. ‘And then I found a secret compartment, and there it was … Edward’s diary.’
‘How exciting,’ said Kezzie. ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Edward’s plans were in it?’
‘I flicked through it,’ said Joel, ‘but then Sam started crying, so I put it down and forgot all about it. Hang on a sec, I’ll go and get it.’
He came back a few minutes later, and they carefully pored over the yellowing pages together. Although there was plenty about his daily life at Lovelace Cottage, the diary appeared to have been started after he’d created the garden, so there was precious little to help them with their task.
‘Isn’t it incredible to think that Edward was sitting at your desk writing all this down?’ said Kezzie. ‘And that picture of Lily is gorgeous. It’s such a pity that there isn’t anything more about the garden.’
‘Couldn’t you find anything out on the internet?’ said Joel.
‘I’ve found some fascinating information about Edward but not enough about the garden plans,’ said Kezzie.
‘Are there any books about him?’
‘Nope. He gets mentioned a lot, but I don’t think he was prominent enough to have a book all about him. I’ve found out about the gardens Edward designed for other people – presumably they were his commissions – but he didn’t appear to share his plans for the knot garden. Do you know if there’s anything in the family? You don’t have a family archive do you? I mean, there might be other diaries.’
Joel laughed. ‘Not as far as I know,’ he said. ‘We’re not that grand. I’ll ask my mum next time I see her. There is an old trunk up in the loft, which Claire and I always meant to look through properly, but somehow we never had the time. I have no idea what’s in it.’
‘Would you mind if I had a look?’ asked Kezzie.
‘Be my guest,’ said Joel. ‘I’ll show you where it all is tomorrow, if you like.’
‘It’s a deal,’ said Kezzie, chinking her glass against his.
Joel sat back in his chair, sipping his drink and feeling a slight stirring of excitement. First the diary, and then the contents of the trunk. Maybe together he and Kezzie could uncover the secrets of Edward’s garden. For the first time since Claire died, he really felt like finding out.
Chapter Eight
Lauren was feeling frustrated with Joel. While she was sympathetic to his situation, she felt he took it for granted that she wouldn’t get upset when he was late home from work, or wouldn’t mind getting Sam ready for bed on the evenings when he absolutely had to stay for that last minute meeting. And it had been worse since Kezzie had been on the scene. Lauren really liked Kezzie, she was fun and refreshing to be around, but there was something about the way she and Joel were developing a really cosy relationship that was beginning to niggle her. Somehow she felt surplus to requirements now.
Often, though, she was cross when Joel arrived late to pick Sam up. He did at least offer the chance for some adult conversation at the end of the day, which Lauren sorely needed after a day spent with small children. And recently she’d almost felt like opening up to him about the phone calls from Troy, but the moment never seemed right. But since Kezzie had started working on the garden, he always seemed in a dead hurry to get home to see what progress she’d made. On more than one occasion, he’d let slip that she’d stayed for dinner, which irked Lauren for some reason. And now, she’d found herself roped into helping out at the weekend while he and Kezzie rummaged around in the attic looking for bits of paper about Edward Handford, which may or may not be of use to Kezzie’s garden design. ‘It’s a Saturday, Joel,’ she’d said. ‘Remember, I don’t work weekends.’
‘I know, and I wouldn’t ask you normally,’ said Joel, putting on that slightly helpless Joel face, which was simultaneously endearing and irritating, ‘but Claire’s mum’s away, and I really can’t sort this stuff out with Sam running around downstairs. It’s a one-off, I promise. I’ll make it worth your while.’
That had swung it for her. Lauren wasn’t so proud to pretend she didn’t need the money. So she had bitten her lip and agreed to do it. ‘Just this once though,’ she’d said. ‘Don’t go getting ideas that I’ll be doing it every week.’
Lauren arrived with the girls at Joel’s at 10.30 as arranged. It wasn’t as if she got