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Perhaps what his father had once said to him was true: You don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone.
Geoffrey had always taken Heaven’s Cove for granted but he’d miss its picturesque beauty and air of permanence – though some of the villagers, maybe not so much.
‘Good afternoon, Belinda,’ he said as she bustled up to him. She was wearing sensible lace-up shoes and a brown corduroy jacket in spite of the heat.
‘Good afternoon, Squire. We haven’t seen you around in the village for a while. How are you?’
‘I’m doing well, thank you. And you?’
‘Can’t complain.’ She pushed grey hair from her eyes. ‘My sister, Freya, and I are on the committee that’s organising next week’s charity fete which I hear is still going ahead in the manor grounds.’
‘That’s right. Let’s hope the heatwave continues and we don’t get any downpours on the day.’
Otherwise, everyone would want to escape the rain by coming into the manor and having a good look round. He knew the fete and open day raised lots of money for charity, but he still hated everyone gawping at his home. Not that it would be his home for much longer. Soon, a bunch of strangers would be living in the manor and he wouldn’t even be able to visit.
‘Are you sure you’re doing well?’ Belinda asked, her face collapsing into a sympathetic pout. ‘You’re facing so many changes – moving out of the manor that’s been home to your family for generations, your estranged son returning but only for such a short while, leaving Heaven’s Cove behind…I assume you will be leaving us behind?’
Geoffrey swallowed at Belinda’s habit of putting people’s problems into such distinct focus and nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll be moving on. It would be…difficult living so close to the manor but not in it.’
‘I believe your young relative Bartie has some business contacts, and the plan is to develop the manor into apartments while leaving the grounds and gardens intact.’
‘That’s right,’ Geoffrey confirmed, marvelling at Belinda’s ability to know everything. Her reputation as the biggest gossip in the village was well earned.
‘Couldn’t you buy one of the apartments and continue to live at Brellasham Manor?’
Geoffrey blinked. He hadn’t even considered staying on, but he knew immediately that this wasn’t the answer. It would be too painful to be faced every day with his failure to save his family’s beautiful home from being lost and ripped apart.
‘It’s a thought,’ said Geoffrey noncommittally.
Belinda waited for more information and, when that wasn’t forthcoming, declared: ‘It must be a great comfort to have your son back with you.’
‘It’s wonderful. Anyway, I must get on. Lots to do. It’s good to see you, Belinda.’
‘You too.’ Belinda grasped hold of his hand. ‘And, if I don’t get the chance before you leave for good, I wish you all the best in your new life.’
Murmuring his thanks, Geoffrey pulled his hand away as gently as he could before walking away.
Belinda meant well, he supposed, but she was wrong about River because it wasn’t a comfort having him back at Brellasham Manor. It was wonderful to see him, of course, but every time Geoffrey looked at his strapping adult son he knew there was something he should tell him that he never could.
The sun was low in the sky and the air was heavy with pollen and the rich perfume of stock, sweet rocket and honeysuckle.
The golden hour was what people called it, mused Geoffrey, shifting on the wooden bench that sat in the middle of his garden. That time just before sunset when everything took on a golden sheen, and anything seemed possible.
He liked to sit here, at this time of day, to appreciate the beauty around him and enjoy the peace. And his daily sojourn into the garden had taken on a new poignancy now that his time here would soon come to an end. He would miss this place, with its memories good and bad, just as he would miss Heaven’s Cove.
All of the villagers he’d met this afternoon had been warm and seemingly genuinely sorry that he was leaving. He should have made an effort to be more involved in the local community while he could. Another opportunity missed.
Geoffrey closed his eyes and had begun to doze in the warmth of early evening when he felt the air shift around him. He opened one eye. Bartie had sat down next to him on the bench.
‘Are you OK, sir?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ Geoffrey replied, fighting the irritation he felt at being interrupted. Bartie was here to help him and he must remember that.
‘It’s a beautiful garden.’ Geoffrey stayed silent as there was no need to agree with such a patently true observation. ‘I can only imagine how sad you’ll be to leave it.’
‘It will be a dreadful wrench, but I’ll take comfort in the fact that this garden will survive and the new occupants of Brellasham Manor will enjoy it as I have.’
‘Yes, of course.’
