Mulberry Gin Chapters five and six.

Chapter Five

Molly and Eleanor worked hard all morning removing the rest of the covers form the furniture, dusting, polishing, scrubbing and bleaching, clipping and weeding. Every now and then Molly would slip away to call for Boris, now no longer expecting anything but feeling she must do it anyway. Soon the cottage gleamed and the garden was once more a charming muddle. They made themselves a much needed cup of tea and collapsed into the deep, plush, cuddly armchairs.
‘I’m glad I don’t have to do that everyday. I will defiantly be more sympathetic to my own cleaner and gardener now.’ Eleanor sighed. ‘In fact they asked me yesterday if I wanted them to come up and help. I wish I’d said yes now.’
‘I know! I’m amazed Row still did all the gardening herself. Still we promised we would do it so it was only right that we did it ourselves.’
‘I suppose so.’ said Eleanor. ‘Especially the garden, it was her pride and joy. I remember her telling me how frustrated she felt when she lived in London. The garden was so huge with such a huge team of gardeners that she said she could never get any privacy; there was always one of them lurking in the shrubbery. And then, of course, her own house only had the communal garden in the square. She used to say that she didn’t know which was worse, gardeners lurking or neighbours.’ Eleanor laughed.
‘It must have been terribly frustrating.’ Molly agreed. ‘She certainly spent more time out than in.’
‘And do you remember when she first arrived? We all thought she was quite mad. Do you remember the motorbike?’ Eleanor started laughing again. ‘I will never forget the look on Mr Tregagh’s face when he first saw her on it! Priceless! He said that if she thought he was going to serve her in his post office after making such a spectacle of herself she had another think coming. He did though. He wouldn’t have dared not.’
‘Yes.’ Said Molly laughing too. ‘I remember he was always scared of her but I never did know why. Mind you she did look formidable on that bike. My Robert came home scandalized that a woman, and a lady at that, should think it proper to ride a motor bike. Row must have thought she had gone back thirty years.’
‘I would imagine it was still quite unusual to find ladies of a certain class riding around on Triumphs, even in London. It was nearly forty years ago after all.’ Eleanor took a gulp of tea to calm her giggles.
‘What shocked me was how beautiful she was when she took her helmet off, all that blonde hair. Oh I was so jealous of that hair, and her eyes. I always thought it was a waist that she should hide all that beauty away down here. And it always surprised me that she didn’t marry; she could have had her pick, even without the money.’ Molly sipped her tea and looked thoughtfully out of the window. ‘I know she had her reasons but I always thought it was a shame.’
‘I gather that was one of the reasons she moved. She was under pressure to marry. I know she moved out of home because her parents kept bringing ‘suitable’ young men home and making her have tea with them. The sixties were starting to swing and she wanted to swing with them. Shame they never swung this far.’ Eleanor sighed.
‘I don’t think I would have liked that.’ said Molly wrinkling her nose. ‘I never liked the sound of it. Row used to talk so fondly of the clubs and parties, but I was never convinced.’
‘It was a shame she stopped riding the Triumph.’ Eleanor said.
‘I don’t think anyone could blame her after the accident.’
‘I know most people would have been put off by it, but Row wasn’t most people. I was really surprised when she put it in the garage and covered it. Has it ever been out since?’
‘Not that I can remember.’ Molly drained her cup and put it back on the tray.
‘I suppose the car was more practical but she always said it wasn’t the same, but it was certainly safer though.’
‘I always suspected the damage to her back was more serious than she let on and that she couldn’t ride the bike rather than wouldn’t.’ Molly mused.
“Possibly. But she did ride the push bike; she wouldn’t have been able to do that if her back was that bad.
‘True. Oh! Do you remember when she put Pudding in the basket and rode into the village to the vets?’ Molly started to laugh again. ‘Why on earth didn’t she take the car?’
‘That would have been predictable wouldn’t it? And anyway he liked it. He went everywhere in the basket of that bike.’ Eleanor smiled at the memory.
‘And only Row would have been able to train a cat to do it, and after Pudding she got Boris to do it to.’ The two friends chuckled for the rest of the morning.

From Mr Pengellan’s office to Mulberry cottage should only have taken half an hour, but Imogen decided to meander. Every nook and cranny was familiar and brought back memories of her childhood. She had started coming to stay with Rowena when she was six. Henry had suggested it as a way of getting a small child out of his hair for the endless weeks of the summer holidays. Rowena had been delighted. Never having had children, and never wanting them if she was honest, she liked to spend time with other peoples. Local people thought it strange that someone who was so good with children, and so loved by them, never had any of her own, but there were a lot of things about Rowena March that the locals could never fathom. So a terrified Imogen had been packed off to spend the summer with a relative stranger.
She could still remember being met at the station. To Cherith’s, and everyone else’s, horror Henry had sent his young daughter by train from London to Cornwall with one of the girls from the office, who abandoned her as soon as they set foot on the platform and went in search of the local young men, She had stood there looking helplessly about her when a tall, slim, breathtakingly beautiful woman with the longest blonde hair Imogen had ever seen, wearing the most unusual clothe she had ever seen, came up to her.
‘Hello Gin. I’m your aunt Rowena.’ It was the start of a relationship that would continue even after Rowena’s death.
Now Imogen drove slowly along the same lanes. On that first trip to Mulberry cottage they had gone in the car, but later she had been taken at high speed on the back of the Triumph. Imogen was amazed that so little had changed in all those years, how many years? Imogen counted them out. She had come here last when she was eleven, that last summer before the big row when the visits were stopped. That was fifteen years ago and yet the lanes and farms looked as if no time had passed at all. And Imogen herself started to feel as if time had not passed either. She had not grown fifteen years older, had not been married for six years, she was a carefree child again. Of course she knew it was not so, but for now she wallowed in the better parts of her past. She remembered taking Rowena’s hand and allowing herself to be put in the car and being driven to Mulberry cottage. She remembered pulling up by the gate and wondering where the house was, she remembered thinking that maybe her aunt didn’t live in a house at all but slept in the garden with the fairies, she had a thing about fairies at the time. The cottage was a surprise when she first saw it. She had been expecting a grand house. Instead there was a small, squat, pale pink building with large French windows that looked totally out of proportion, and no doors.
The first few days were awkward and strange, but Imogen quickly settled in and the rest of the summer had been the happiest time she had known up till then, not that she knew much at six. Every subsequent summer had been the same, and she had never wanted to go home. When she found out she was no longer to be allowed to go she had been devastated. To this day she still didn’t fully understand why her father had decided Rowena was such a bad influence, or what the row was really about. Rowena was different to Henry in just about every way, but surely that was not a good enough reason? Apparently it was though, no other exclamation was ever given, and so the summer’s in Cornwall came to an end.

James sat in the back of the car for a few minuets before going into the office. The driver watched him in the mirror with great satisfaction at seeing his boss in such a state. Eventually James climbed out of the car and propelled his unwilling body towards the doors. He said nothing to his driver or the doorman or the receptionist, and they no longer bothered greeting him. In the lift he thought he was going to be sick again, he was sure his stomach had been left behind on the ground floor as he arrived on the third.
As he entered the conference room fell silent, all eyes were on him and he was more than aware that he did not look as good as he might. In fact he was looking dreadful, a fact that Henry noticed immediately, he bundled James out of the room.
‘Good God man, have you seen yourself? What the hell do you mean by arriving in this state? What’s going on?’ He said when he was sure they were out of ear shot.
‘I’m sorry Henry. I had a bad flight and an even worse night. But I have the presentation all ready and I think we ought to get that out of the way first.’
Henry glowered red with indignation but he agreed. ‘But you had better go and sort yourself out first.’
James went into the men’s room and took a long look at himself in the mirror, then wished he hadn’t. Henry was right, he looked shocking. After splashing a great deal of water over his face he started to look better, even if he didn’t feel it.
The presentation went as well as it could. He didn’t make too many mistakes and the didn’t ask too many awkward questions. He could tell by their faces they were not best pleased but they seemed to buy the story of jet lag and hard work, most suspected there had also been a large amount of alcohol involved but they didn’t ask why.
Henry waited until everyone had gone before allowing the full force of his displeasure to be unleashed.
‘If it had been anyone else you would have been out of the door you realise that? I will NOT tolerate this kind of thing from anyone, not even you. It was bloody unprofessional James and it made us look very bad. Some of those men are investing hundreds of thousands in the New York project and they expect more from us, and quite right. Now are you going to tell me what is going on?’
James sighed, Henry in full flow was hard to deal with at the best of times, you had to be quick to get anything past him and today James felt that was just not going to happen.
‘It’s nothing Henry. I had too much to drink on top of jet lag, fell asleep in the chair and didn’t have time for breakfast, that’s all.’ He knew Henry wouldn’t buy it.
He didn’t.
‘That’s not what I mean and you know it. What’s all this about my daughter?’
It had been a mistake to mention anything just yet, not until he was sure there was something to mention. Henry would not let it drop and James knew he had to think.
‘I came home and she wasn’t there. That’s all. I had forgotten she was going away for a few days.’ It was weak.
Henry was not convinced, but he was not prepared to make a scene in the office over something personal, not with people listening, so he let it drop, for now. James knew the subject would be returned to but he was got away to his own office.

Imogen finally pulled up by the familiar gate just before lunchtime. The trees had grown and the hedges were thicker but nothing else had changed. Opening the gate it made its familiar squeak, Rowena used to call it her door bell. Wandering idly up the path towards the cottage she stopped to touch this plant or smell that flower. On the corner of the last bend she saw the edge of the Mulberry tree. With every step more and more of it came into view until it was standing before her, its branches framing one side of the cottage. Around the bottom daisies were in full bloom and pocking out between them was the little brass plaque with the simple inscription of Rowena’s name and dates. She stopped to take it all in, but her thoughts were halted by the appearance of Molly and Eleanor from the cottage.
‘Ginny my dear!’ Eleanor flung her arms around Imogen and hugged her so hard Imogen feared for her ribs.
‘Oh look at you!’ Cried Molly following close behind. ‘You’re so tall!’
The two friends fussed and flapped, making Imogen feel like a child again. She was soon ensconced in one of the garden chairs with a cup of tea and a piece of cake.
‘So how was your journey?’ Molly asked.
‘Lovely. I mean, well…Yes I do mean lovely. It was so nice seeing everything again. The village looks just the same. Does anything ever change down here?’ she said laughing.
‘Not much. There are a few new houses here and there, and the shop has changed hands once or twice, but apart from that…’ Molly said.
‘There have been one or two scandals too. A few people running off with other people’s wives or husbands, that kind of thing.’ Eleanor gave Imogen a nudge with her elbow.
‘Ginny doesn’t want to hear about all that.’ Molly cut in disapproving.
‘I probably wouldn’t know who they all were now anyway.’ Imogen said.
Eleanor opened her mouth to say something else but stopped and sat staring at the hedge. She gave Molly a nudge and pointed. Molly followed Eleanor’s finger, gave a cry and sprang up.
‘Boris!’














Chapter Six

As soon as Molly and Eleanor had gone Imogen went back to the Mulberry tree. She stood underneath its canopy looking up through the braches to the sky like she used to as a child. If you got in the right spot you could watch the clouds slip past without the sun dazzling you. Sometimes she would lie down and spend hours there, just watching. Now she sat and pressed her back into the firm trunk. She looked down at the little brass plaque next to her. She put her hand out to touch it; but drew it away quickly as if it might scold her. She didn’t realise she was crying until she saw a tear drop into her lap. Watching as it socked into the fabric of her skirt turning it a deeper shade of blue. She put her hand to her face and felt her wet cheeks. She didn’t try to stop herself. She sat under the tree and gave in to the full force of her sobs. They came in overwhelming waves. Boris came across the lawn and quietly sat down next to her. He closed his eyes to the warm sunshine; he would wait until she was ready.

Imogen sat in the garden for a long time before she could bring herself to go indoors. Being back there without Rowena was almost too strange. Eventually she allowed Boris to lead her up to the cottage and she opened the windows. It was as it had always been. Rowena had never moved the furniture, the rooms were too small, and there were the worn patches on the rugs, a little more threadbare perhaps. Rowena always kept things in the same place because she didn’t see the point of moving something for the sake of it when it was perfectly happy where it was. As a result the whole cottage looked exactly the same as it had done on her last visit. Except the most important element was missing.

By day three Imogen realised that the Mercedes was completely unsuitable and put an add in the paper. Later she had a look in the garage. There was the old VW beetle Rowena had bought when she started to get fed up with the cold and wet of the Cornish winter on the bike, and which she had used all the time after the accident. She also found the Triumph under its dust sheets. Imogen decided that could stay where it was.
Taking the car out for a tentative drive, just to see if it still went, she found it was more fun than anything else she had ever driven. It was noisy and the suspension was dreadful, but it made her feel safer than any of the big new cars James had bought her. He insisted they have a new car every two years so that he could have all the latest safety gadgets. The Beetle had no safety features, apart from the seat belt that stuck, and was completely gadget free, and it was wonderful. She carefully reversed it out of the garage and swung it into the lane. It certainly was different. She decided she would just take it as far as the end of the lane. At the end of the lane she decided she would take it as far as the crossroads. At the crossroads she decided she would take it as far as the lay by just as you came into the village. By the time she had got to the lay by she had decided she might as well go into the village, she needed milk anyway.


James spent every day growling at everybody who dared to get in his eye line. This was all just too ridicules, Imogen would be home when he got back tonight he was sure. At least she bloody well better be. It had been three days now. For the moment he was sticking to the story that she had gone away for a few days holiday, but he knew it was a rather shaky line to be taking and that people wouldn’t buy it much longer, especially if he couldn’t tell them any details. She hadn’t been the same since Rowena died. Why her aunts death should affect her when they hadn’t seen each other for years he couldn’t think. He shook his head; women had always been a mystery to him. When he met Imogen as a child she seemed so straightforward. She also seemed to know what was expected of her. He never had any trouble with her like Jonathan had had with Olwen. Not that he had much sympathy for his little brother. As far as James could see Jonathan was just too soft. He should have stood up to Olwen as soon as she started throwing her weight around. Instead Jonathan had given in, James had even caught him washing up! And now it was looking like James was going to have to get the marigolds out himself. Well he’d lived on his own before, and he’d managed perfectly well then. But his mother had still been alive and she had taken care of everything, found the cleaner and the gardener. She’d even found someone who would come twice a week to collect his laundry and return it dry-cleaned and ironed. James had no idea where all these people had come from and he hadn’t much cared. He was sure Olwen would know people like that. Surely she could organize all that for him? Well she’d just have to because he couldn’t do it, not with Henry breathing down his neck. Anyway it wouldn’t matter because Imogen would be home when he got back tonight and she would have taken care of everything.

Imogen bumped the beetle back to Mulberry cottage and wondered if now would be a good time to call Cherith. Henry should be at work and she very much wanted to hear her mother’s voice. All week she’d been thinking about this phone call. She’d intended to make it as soon as she got there. But there was something about the sunshine, the blossom and the soft sea breeze that kept stalling her, that and the fear that Henry might answer the phone. However she had been gone three days now and she knew Cherith would be getting anxious about her. She also knew that her father would be putting her mother through hell. She needed to explain to Cherith, try to make her understand.
She waited until eleven, Henry would definatly be at the office by now. She crossed her fingers and diled.
‘Hello.’ Cherith’s neat and tidy voice answered.
Imogen started breathing again. ‘Hi mum.’
‘Imogen! Oh my God. Darling what on earth… I’ve been out of my mind. Oh thank God. You silly girl whatever have you done? Were are you?’
‘ Mum please. I’m fine. I’m at Mulberry cottage. Dad isn’t there is he?’
‘No darling he’s been gone hours. He’s been having to work full days to cope with James. Apparently he’s all over the place, not keeping up with his paperwork. Your father’s having to cover for him.’ Cherith was slightly breathless, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All week she’d been worrying about her daughter and having to put up with Henry’s fumes. She’d been willing Imogen to call and let her know she was all right. Now she had she wanted to slap her face for the mess she’d left behind. I mean just leaving like that without a word. Imogen always told her everything and yet she hadn’t said anything, not even dropped hints.
‘I’m sorry dad’s been inconvenienced but you must understand that I had to leave.’
‘No I don’t understand. I know James can be difficult but to walk out on him like that, and while he was away to. Do you know what you’re throwing away? James may not be perfect but he did look after you. One thing I will always say about your father, he’s never denied me anything. I think you should come home darling.’
‘Well maybe I could have handled it better. But I couldn’t see another way at the time, and it’s done now. Mum please don’t hate me. I’m not as strong as you and I couldn’t spend the rest of my life like that.’ This was harder than she had thought. What was she supposed to say? How could she explain to her mother that she didn’t want to end up like her? ‘I just woke up mum, that’s all.’
‘You sound just like Rowena.’ Cherith sighed. ‘You always were more like her than Henry, I was always glad about that.’ she sighed again. ‘Oh darling are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Is this going to make you happy?’
‘I don’t know, but I need to try.’
‘Just promise you’ll keep in touch.’
‘Of course I will. We’ll need to talk about what you want from the house. And mum.’
‘Yes darling.’
‘Please don’t tell dad you’ve spoken to me. And don’t tell him where I am, not yet. Please?’
‘You know he’ll find out. But no, I won’t tell him.’
‘Thank you. Bye mum.’
‘Goodbye darling.’