Four Months Later …

ary, Colin and Dickon sat on the bank of the stream, dangling their legs in the clear water while Hector nosed in the bushes beside them. Spring had passed and the garden was a riot of summer flowers – tall hollyhocks and Canterbury bells, scrambling roses, twining sweet peas and honeysuckle, beds of lilac lavender and pink geraniums and joyful bright yellow and red dahlias. The gate to the garden stood open all the time and the house was a very different place. Mary’s uncle had dedicated himself to rebuilding it, opening up the old rooms, organising the builders and decorators, his soul coming to life again as he constructed a new home from the ashes of a prison. The plan to send Mary away to school had been dropped on the day of the fire and now Mr Craven used the books in his library to teach Colin and Mary about the world.

He had employed more staff so Mrs Medlock, Martha and Mrs Pitcher didn’t have to work so hard and the house was a bustling, happy place again. Dickon was now the official gardener. He could still slip through the mist like a shadow, but was more often to be seen strolling through the grounds, whistling, with Hector at his heels.

After their morning lessons were over, Colin and Mary always fetched their lunch from Mrs Pitcher – with extra spam for Hector – and met up with Dickon and Hector in the secret garden. They spent their afternoons together, taking care of it, weeding, separating out plants that were too close together. They would also play and Mary would tell them all stories. Their laughter seemed to make the plants grow, and every day Colin became stronger and healthier. He could run now – and swim and dive.

‘Tell us a story, Mary,’ he said as they splashed the water with their toes.

‘Very well.’ Mary looked at her two best friends and felt happiness fill her. ‘There were once three people who loved each other very much …’ she began.

‘Four,’ interrupted Colin, putting his arm round Hector. ‘What about Hector?’

‘Maybe I was including Hector and not you,’ Mary teased.

Colin picked a handful of grass and threw it at her. ‘I want there to be five people in this story – no six – Hector, my father and Martha too.’

Dickon nodded. ‘Yes, put Martha in.’

‘If you both don’t pipe down, I shan’t tell the story at all!’ Mary said tartly.

The boys exchanged looks. ‘Sorry, Mary,’ they said together.

‘Thank you.’ She settled herself into a more comfortable position. ‘Now, if you are ready and silent, I shall try again.’ She gave them an impish grin. ‘There were once some people who lived in an old deserted house together. And they had a garden of their own – a secret garden that they discovered.’

The robin perched on a nearby rock. It twittered at her encouragingly and she smiled.

‘There were friendly birds and animals in the garden, a healing stream and loving ghosts who watched over it,’ she continued. ‘The people who lived there didn’t know it at first, but it was a magic garden and the more they visited the garden, the stronger and healthier they grew.’

Colin nodded with satisfaction.

‘They were all happy together – very happy.’ Mary looked around. The air of the garden seemed to sparkle with secrets that had been imprisoned, but had now been told. Joy filled her. ‘The people saved the garden as much as it saved them,’ she said softly. ‘Because they believed in its magic.’

A wind rustled through the flowers and trees.

‘Magic,’ the garden whispered back.