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  She continues to watch him. ‘And where do you come in?’

  ‘My father married El’s mother. We’re not directly related but she asked my advice about the texts.’

  ‘Not Freddie?’

  Will’s taken aback. ‘No,’ he answers slowly. ‘Not Freddie. She decided that since Martin had kept it private she should do the same. But it’s been a bit difficult for El, as you might imagine. His death was a huge shock and she needed a bit of support.’

  Julia continues to study his face, and he admires her cool.

  ‘She doesn’t know I’m here or that I’ve been in touch with you.’

  At last a response. Julia raises her eyebrows, a faint shadow of concern crosses her face.

  ‘Why doesn’t she?’

  The arrival of their coffee gives Will the opportunity to gather his wits. He sees that the man, Davy, and the dog are now sitting at a table some distance away and Davy is looking at his tablet. Julia thanks the waiter and Will decides to tell the truth.

  ‘Looking at your texts, trying to decipher them, was a kind of distraction from her grief. But at the same time she found it hard to come to terms with Martin having rather an…’ he hesitates over the word ‘…intimate connection with someone she didn’t know about. She and her father were very close and it’s been rather a shock.’

  ‘I can understand,’ says Julia. ‘There was nothing wrong. I’m not married, nothing like that, but we both have children and we both decided not to rock any boats. It might sound odd but he knew that El and Freddie had already had to adapt to another family, and I was unwilling to tell my boys, who still adore their father. He died ten years ago,’ she adds.

  Will nods, slightly taken aback by her directness. ‘I get that. I think that El is prey to quite a lot of mixed emotions at the moment and I was trying to think of a way through it all.’ He hesitates and then adds, ‘I saw you in the church at the funeral, and then again last week at The Garden House. Of course I didn’t realize who you were. Someone at The Garden House mentioned your name and then later I began to put two and two together. And then I made the connection between you and Martin.’

  She’s looking interested now. ‘And what was the connection?’

  He smiles a little. ‘Madeleines and Doom Bar.’

  At last he sees her smile. It’s a genuinely amused smile but hedged about with sadness. She nods.

  Suddenly Will knows that he must be honest with her.

  ‘El and I had a row,’ he said. ‘I’ve become very fond of her in these last few months and I thought she felt the same. It seems I made a mistake, she wasn’t ready, and I’ve probably just made the whole situation worse. My text to you was sent on an impulse, hoping it might do some good. I wondered, after I saw you on those other occasions, how hard it must be for you too.’

  He has her whole attention now.

  ‘And what do you hope to achieve?’

  ‘Closure,’ he says. ‘For both of you, perhaps, but certainly for El. She needs either to accept that her father had a relationship that he kept secret from her – and why shouldn’t he? – and move on from it, or meet up with you and find out the truth about it.’

  Already Julia is shaking her head. ‘I suspect that neither of us is ready for that conversation,’ she says. ‘It might well be that El and I can meet only when both of us have moved forward. She needs to be strong and happy in her own life. It’s very difficult for children to accept the physical relationships of their parents.’ She hesitates. ‘I’m not putting this very well.’

  He hastens to reassure her. ‘I hear what you say. But I don’t quite know how to move her forward. Or even how to break this impasse between us.’

  Julia smiles at him. ‘Was I to be a kind of gift? A means to breaking down the barrier?’

  He laughs at her honesty. ‘I’m afraid there was something like that at the back of my good intentions. I admit that I want to open communications between us again for my own sake. But I really do want to help her through this.’

  Julia nods. ‘Go back to her. Don’t ask. Just go. Turn up and tell her how you feel about her. She’s probably feeling exactly the same way and doesn’t know what to do either. Is she at the Pig Pen?’ He nods. ‘Good,’ she says. ‘Martin would be pleased. Look, just do it. It’s nearly Christmas; buy her a present and just go.’

  He stares at her. ‘But you won’t meet her?’

  Julia shakes her head. ‘Maybe one day. But not now. Not yet. Just trust me on this, Will. Forget me and Martin for the moment. Go and see El and make things right between you. For Martin’s sake.’ She pushes her cup aside and stands up. ‘Good luck, Will. Be happy.’

  She walks away, and Davy gets up from his table to join her. He raises his hand to Will, picks up Bertie’s lead, and they go out together.

  * * *

  They drive in silence for a while and then Davy says: ‘So was that OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ Julia answers uncertainly, then more strongly, ‘yes, it was. I like him, Davy.’

  ‘It certainly looked as if you were getting on OK,’ says Davy.

  He sounds relieved and Julia glances at him, touches his arm.

  ‘Thanks for coming with me,’ she says. ‘It was surprisingly scary but as soon as I saw him I recognized him.’

  ‘Recognized him?’

  Julia nods. ‘I saw him at the funeral. I was outside the church, lying low, waiting for everyone to arrive so I could slip in at the back. I saw Will arrive and the way El greeted him.’ Julia hesitates, remembering that look on the girl’s face: surprise, pleasure, a kind of gratitude. ‘And then I noticed him again inside the church. I was trying to sort out who they all were from the photographs Martin showed me. Freddie and El are very alike but I had no idea that it was Will.’

  ‘What did he say about the texts?’

  ‘He said that El was puzzled that she didn’t recognize the name and because the texts were so cryptic she was cautious about simply phoning the number. She showed them to Will and they tried to solve the puzzle by working through the odd codes that Martin and I used.’

  ‘And how did they succeed?’

  ‘Will saw me at The Garden House and he heard someone mentioning my name and Cakes and Ale. He remembered that he’d seen me in the church at the funeral, put two and two together. Very clever of him.’

  ‘And what now?’

  ‘El doesn’t know he’s been in touch,’ says Julia. ‘Apparently it all got a bit tense and they’ve had a row.’

  ‘Oh, what?’ says Davy. ‘Why?’

  ‘I think that during the process they’ve fallen in love but for some reason they’ve had some kind of serious misunderstanding and neither is backing down. He’s upset about it and looking for a way back to her.’

  ‘And you’re his way back?’

  ‘I think he was hoping so, in a muddled kind of way. But I told him I’m not ready for that, and I doubt very much that El is either. It’s all too raw. He’s just got to go back and chance his arm with her.’

  ‘But won’t that be hard now that he’s seen you?’

  Julia is silent. ‘It’s very hard for him to keep it secret,’ she says at last, ‘but maybe he’ll find some way of telling her when the time is right. The important thing is that they take a step right away from this and build something for themselves. They need time to do that before she’ll be ready to meet me. They’re so young, Davy, hardly more than children. I want them to be happy.’ She gives a huge sigh. ‘I’m exhausted.’

  ‘And what about you?’ asks Davy. ‘How has it made you feel?’

  ‘Better,’ she answers, and it’s true. ‘I know where I am now, and I no longer feel fearful about being contacted. I’m grateful to Will for that. I just want them to move forward as I’m doing at last, thanks to you, Davy.’

  He smiles. ‘Definitely made up your mind about the new production then?’

  She nods. ‘Can’t wait. And the boys are home for Christmas this week.’

  ‘Bring
it on,’ says Davy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Winter solstice and the Cold Moon. In the last few days before Christmas, El hurries between the bookshop and the Pig Pen, and all the while she’s thinking about Will, unnerved by the total silence, unable to contact him. Each time she thinks about texting him she loses her nerve. She still feels ashamed that he might think she was coming on to him but she wishes that she hadn’t reacted so violently. She just longs to see him but doesn’t know how to phrase a message that is appropriate. She believes now that Elton John is absolutely right about sorry being the hardest word, especially when she has no idea what Will is feeling. There has been no response to her call and she has no idea if Christian passed on her message. Somehow this has added to the difficulty of making a second call. Perhaps, after all, Will was simply responding to an impulse and, when she reacted so strongly, he just shrugged and went back to his own life. At last she scraped up enough courage to send him a Christmas card. It was a simple watercolour of Dartmoor in the snow and inside she wrote:

  I’m really sorry about the way I reacted, Will. Just put it down to all the weird stuff I’m going through at the moment. I hate it that we’ve parted like this after all the good times we had and all your kindness. I think I told you about Angus’s party and Midnight Mass. You’re still invited and I’d love to see you.

  She hesitated, wondering how to sign it, what she should put, and in the end just wrote her name. There has been no response and now, on Christmas Eve, as she moves amongst Angus’s guests, she is certain that she’s ruined any chance of a relationship with Will and she feels miserable and lonely, even amongst all these friends. She talks to Plum’s elder daughter, Alice, and as they chat about what it’s like to work at a literary agency in London, El wonders if, after all, her decision to try this life here was a good one. Perhaps she should have accepted Angus’s offer to stay the night rather than return to the Pig Pen alone, but it’s difficult keeping up this pretence of jollity when her heart is aching as she thinks about Will.

  Even as she thinks about him, she remembers the difficulty in introducing him to her friends, the complications of his being her stepbrother. She’s mentioned it to Angus, in a casual kind of way, saying that it felt odd, that she didn’t know quite how to deal with it. He thought about it for a few moments.

  ‘There’s no legal tie, of course,’ he said. ‘And you haven’t grown up together, so there’s no difficulty, really, but I can see it’s an odd one. I shouldn’t worry about it, too much. All your friends know the situation, other people will just assume that he’s a friend. Keep it simple is my motto.’

  El sighs. It’s been a long day in the bookshop and she’s finding it hard to keep awake. It’s a relief when the time comes for them to set out for church. They all go in together, Father Steven greets her warmly, and they file into a pew near the front. She sits between Plum and Cass, and Cass smiles at her encouragingly as if she is able to imagine what this must be like for El, this first Christmas without her father.

  The church is festive with holly and candles and the scent of pine needles, the choir and clergy are grouping at the back, the organ playing. El glances behind her to watch the procession forming up, and takes a little gasping breath. Will is here, standing at the end of a pew where the occupants are squeezing up to make room for him. He’s in uniform, and she guesses that he must have driven straight from the airport. As she watches, he looks around, his face anxious, hopeful, and then he sees her. El is filled with relief, joy; she wants to weep and laugh all at the same time. She beams at Will and he smiles back, gives her a little nod. Then the organ plays the chords of the first hymn, the congregation stands, and she turns back, picks up her service sheet and begins to sing.

  EPILOGUE

  A few months later, on a sunny spring morning, Julia is walking in the gardens. Everywhere there is a wash of colour sweeping across the place, signs of new life and the sound of birdsong. She remembers how she came here after that first chance meeting with Martin, hoping to see him again, and how she found him sitting on the bench by the lake, gazing at the little dinghy, the Nancy Fortescue.

  ‘I was so afraid that I would never see you again,’ he said, and she sat down beside him, knowing that something momentous, wonderful, was beginning.

  She goes into the tearooms for some coffee, allows herself to be tempted by some delicious chocolate cake, chats with Steve, who brings her coffee, and looks at the watercolours. Afterwards she makes her way round the side of the house to the little gift shop where she buys some Charlotte Marlow cards and a candle. Coming out again into the sunshine, hesitating just for a moment, she turns her steps towards the Arboretum. Pausing between two camellia bushes on the path above the lake, she sees that the Nancy Fortescue is back in the water and, at the same time, she notices the two people who are sitting on the bench beside the lake. Julia stands quite still, watching. The young man has his arm about the girl, holding her close. They are laughing together and, even as she watches them, El looks up at Will and he bends his head to kiss her.

  For some reason Julia remembers Martin’s first text to her:

  Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Woodstock.

  The words sing in her head: ‘We are stardust, we are golden … And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.’ She longs to join them, to share in their joy, but she hesitates. She imagines El’s surprise, Will attempting an introduction, being forced to explain how he approached Julia. It will be clumsy, awkward, and it’s early days in their relationship. She knows in her heart that the time will come, but not now; not yet.

  Julia turns back, passing between the camellias, and walks away into the bright spring sunshine.

  ALSO BY MARCIA WILLETT

  A Week in Winter

  A Summer in the Country

  The Children’s Hour

  The Birdcage

  First Friends

  A Friend of the Family

  Echoes of the Dance

  The Courtyard

  Second Time Around

  The Way We Were

  The Prodigal Wife

  The Summer House

  Christmas in Cornwall

  The Sea Garden

  Postcards from the Past

  Indian Summer

  Summer on the River

  The Songbird

  Seven Days in Summer

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in Somerset, in the west country of England, on the day the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Marcia Willett was the youngest of five girls. Her family was unconventional and musical, but Marcia chose to train as a ballet dancer. Unfortunately her body did not develop with the classical proportions demanded by the Royal Ballet, so she studied to be a ballet teacher. Her first husband was a naval officer in the submarine service, with whom she had a son, Charles, now married and training to be a clergyman. Her second husband, Rodney, himself a writer and broadcaster, encouraged Marcia to write novels. She has published several novels in England; A Week in Winter is the first to be published in the United States. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen


  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Also by Marcia Willett

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Press, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group

  THE GARDEN HOUSE. Copyright © 2020 by Marcia Willett. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.

  www.stmartins.com

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-76026-5 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-250-76027-2 (ebook)

  Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].

  Originally published in Great Britain by Bantam Press, an imprint of Transworld Publishers, a Penguin Random House company

  First U.S. Edition: 2021

  eISBN 9781250760272