Rosie was surprised to see Lindsay Gray accompanying her father as they strolled towards her, chuckling together over some anecdote. Lindsay was her mother’s half cousin and the only relative Rosie had ever heard her mention. Although he was a surgeon he used to come to Langton Tower before he married. He had enjoyed helping John Oliphant in the gardens then. Ruth’s death had been a cruel blow to him, but he had been happy for Avril when she and Dean married and made their home with him at Riverview.
John Oliphant was keeping an eye on Rodney and the two men stopped to chat. Rosie knew they would never get a more willing worker than Rodney but he did need supervision. A month before she had almost wept when he hoed up a whole row of young peas, not even realizing they were not weeds.
‘Hello Rosemary,’ Lint greeted her with a smile. ‘I see you are hard at work but things are looking well.’
‘Hello Uncle Lint. How are Avril and the children? And the twins? Is Callum enjoying being at Oxford?’
‘He is. He has decided to study medicine after all. Craig never had any doubts of course. Changing the subject though, Rosemary, I have been admiring John’s seat and the arbour. He tells me it makes a good windbreak now the plants are creeping over it. He says you made it for him.’
‘I have to take care of my main supervisor.’
‘Of course,’ Lint agreed with an answering smile. He remembered Rosie had always had the most infectious of smiles even as a toddler, except when Catherine had sent her to boarding school with such disastrous results. ‘I think a seat like that would be a good idea for Mrs Caraford. Avril has been racking her brains wondering what to buy for her birthday. She is too frail to work in the garden these days but she always loved being out in the fresh air. Would you be able to make one?’
‘I think so,’ Rosie said. ‘We bought the seat and made the rustic shelter to fit around it then we planted the honeysuckle and rambler rose as a windbreak.’
‘It smells wonderful when the honeysuckle is in bloom,’ John Oliphant said, looking up at Lint. ‘It reminds me of the honeysuckle Chrissie planted round the gate when we first moved into the cottage. If Avril decides to go ahead tell her to ask Sam to cut the rustic posts to the right lengths. After all Hannah Caraford is his grandmother as well as hers.’
‘We’ll fix it up one way or another,’ Rosie promised. ‘Ask Avril to telephone me with the seat measurements when she’s decided. We’ll make the panels here then it will not take so long to erect them in Mrs Caraford’s garden.’
Avril telephoned the following day giving Rosie the measurements for a teak garden seat.
‘We thought a small one would be cosier,’ Avril said, ‘big enough to seat two people. My father says you have made a good job of Mr Oliphant’s, Rosie. In fact he says you’re making a splendid business with the gardens.’
‘Papa Oliphant approves,’ Rosie agreed with a chuckle. ‘He keeps an eye on things and he uses his seat every day unless it’s raining. You do know they’re not meant to be wind and waterproof?’
‘Oh yes, but Granny C wouldn’t be out in the rain these days anyway.’
‘Perhaps we should ask her what sort of flowers she would prefer? She might fancy a rose. The Zephirine Douhin has no thorns and it’s a very pretty pink, but the honeysuckle spreads and makes the cover as well as a perfume.’
‘Could I leave it to you to plant the honeysuckle straight away, Rosie? Then we could add a clematis or a rose, or whatever Granny C would like. I phoned Sam about the rustic fencing. He’ll get in touch with you himself.’
‘That’s fine. I’ll wait for him to phone me, then,’ Rosie agreed. ‘I expect they’re all busy helping out at Martinwold but I hope he’s not too last minute.’
In fact Samuel did not waste any time. He arrived at the gardens in person the following Saturday just before lunchtime. He could see Rosie and Paul Keir working in one of the greenhouses. They looked at ease together and a burst of laughter told him they were sharing a private joke. He and Rosie had once shared a rapport like that, he thought, but Rosie had changed since she returned from college and set up in business on her own. She had grown more serious and efficient; they no longer shared the easy relationship they’d once enjoyed. He remembered how they had discussed anything and everything without awkwardness or embarrassment. Rosie had always stated her opinion and backed it up with reasons. Beneath the mass of wild blonde curls she had an intelligent brain and a mischievous sense of humour. It dawned on Sam that Rosie and Lidia were the only two girls he knew well, apart from Tania, of course. They were complete opposites. Lidia was always groomed with her face made up, her nails manicured and painted, yet her conversation was trivial, about clothes, and furnishing a big house and having a maid to cook and clean. Their relationship had cooled now she realized Martinwold House was on the market for sale.
He made his way round to the open door of the greenhouse.
‘I thought you didn’t work on Saturdays,’ he said, startling both Paul and Rosie.
‘And good morning to you too, Mr Caraford,’ Rosie answered, her brows rising at his tone. Sam flushed, realizing he had been both curt and rude.
‘I don’t work at the weekend,’ Paul said in his amiable manner, ‘but I knew it would take Rosie all day on her own to finish pricking out the last of the seedlings. I’ll go now if you want to talk,’ he added, looking at Rosemary.
‘Not at all,’ Rosie said, tossing her head. ‘Samuel can say whatever he has to say whether you’re here or not.’ She cast a defiant look at Sam.
‘I, er…I only came to see if you were free to come and supervise the sawing of the rustic poles this afternoon – the ones for Granny Caraford’s seat. Mother said I should invite you down to lunch before we start but I got held up moving some young cattle so I’m later than I intended.’
‘I see,’ Rosie said frowning hard at the tray of seedlings.
‘I can finish these off,’ Paul offered, ‘if you want to go and wash your face and change.’
‘Wash my face?’ Rosie looked at Paul, her blue eyes indignant.
‘Mmm,’ he murmured, his eyes dancing with laughter. ‘Streaks of mud down one cheek aren’t the new fashion, are they?’
‘Mud?’ Rosie scowled and wiped her cheek with her sleeve.
‘Wrong side,’ Paul said, trying to keep a straight face. Sam stepped forward and wiped her cheek with his hanky.
‘I’m used to seeing Rosie with mud on her face,’ he said, grinning. ‘She’s more like the girl I used to know this way.’ Rosie blushed. It was a long time since she and Sam had been on teasing terms.
‘Go on, Rosie,’ Paul urged. ‘It will not take me long to finish here and you know you were worrying about getting the seat fixed in time for Mrs Caraford’s birthday.’
‘That’s true,’ Rosie admitted. ‘Are you sure your mother invited me to lunch?’ she asked Sam.
‘Of course I’m sure. Anyway when did you ever need inviting to Bengairney? It’s always been your second home.’
‘That was when I was a child,’ Rosie said. ‘Polite adults wait to be asked.’ Sam wondered if she was referring to Lidia. She invited herself at the most inconvenient times. Thank goodness he hadn’t seen her for the past three weeks. He knew she was waiting for him to call her after their latest quarrel but she would wait for ever as far as he was concerned.
‘All right,’ Rosie said, interrupting his thoughts, ‘I’ll go and get ready, but if you’re still looking as grim when I return, Sam, I shall stay at home.’
‘I’m not grim!’ Sam said in surprise. ‘Am I?’
‘You look like you’re under a thunder cloud,’ Rosie declared. ‘Paul, I haven’t seen my father this morning. If he comes into the gardens before you leave, tell him where I’ve gone will you? I’ll leave a note for him on my kitchen table in case you’re not around.’ She hurried away.
‘Does Mr Palmer-Farr come to the gardens every day?’ Sam asked. ‘I didn’t think he was interested in outdoor pursuits.’
‘The translations are his work but Rosie is the light of his life. He never misses a day. There’s a wonderful bond between them,’ Paul added. ‘I barely remember what my father looked like now, though my mother tells me we were close when he was alive.’
‘I suppose we don’t appreciate what we have, while we have it,’ Sam said slowly. ‘My parents discuss everything together. I expect that’s why we feel so secure. I never thought about it before. I never got the impression Rosie was very close to her parents.’
‘She told me about the boarding school fiasco. I guess it made her father realize how much she meant to him. You have known Rosemary since she was a baby according to Mr Oliphant?’
‘Yes, Granny and Grandfather Oliphant often brought her with them to Bengairney. She loved the farm and the animals. Later she used to cycle over. Her mother never seemed to have much time for her.’
‘I don’t know Mrs Palmer-Farr well but I don’t think she’s the maternal kind. My own mother thinks Rosie would have responded to affection like flowers to the sun.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t suppose running a hotel this size leaves time for home life,’ he reflected.
‘Maybe not. My own parents think Mrs Palmer-Farr puts her business before everything else, including her husband and Rosie. We’re all surprised the way Rosie runs these gardens, but I don’t think she’ll ever be as hard as her mother. Does Rosie visit your home often?’
‘Quite often,’ Paul said, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye and allowing himself a little inner smile. It wouldn’t do any harm for the popular Samuel Caraford to experience a bit of the green-eyed monster. ‘Mother enjoys Rosie’s company when she comes for Sunday lunch. They’re both interested in gardening and country life.’
‘As you are too, of course,’ Sam said.
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Paul mused, concentrating on his task. ‘I drifted into the gardening when I was recovering. My main interest is in designing and landscape but I have found it absorbing learning about the plant side of things and Rosie is very good at passing on information. I’ve learned a lot and I’m very grateful but I don’t envisage working as a gardener all my life. Now that my medical reports are so good and I’m feeling more energetic I’m beginning to consider my future and what I want to do with my life.’
‘I see.’ Samuel realized he had never had a proper conversation with Paul Keir before. He had never taken the trouble to get to know him. ‘Grandfather Oliphant reckons you’re indispensable so Rosie would miss you if you moved on.’
‘Oh I’m not thinking of leaving, Rosie,’ Paul assured him. ‘I’ve still too much to learn. I went on one or two specialist courses last year and I intend to do the same again if we can fit them in.’
‘I see,’ Sam said again. It seemed Paul and Rosie were much more than work colleagues, then.
‘Hi, I’m ready if you are, Sam,’ Rosie called from the gates at the end of the path. ‘Paul, I’ll lock the gates. You’ll be going the other way out, won’t you?’
‘Yes, of course. Anyway I’ve got my key with me today.’ He grinned at her, noting she had changed into a smart blue blouse he had never seen her wear before. It matched her eyes, and she had brushed her fair hair until it fell in shining waves around her small face. ‘You look good enough to eat now,’ he called, then, mischievously to Sam, ‘or at least to kiss….’ Sam glowered at him and hurried up the path to join Rosemary and drive her away from Paul Keir. Paul chuckled as he watched them go.
Lunch at Bengairney was as cheerful as it had always been for as long as Rosie could remember. Alex was home from college for the weekend and he and his father were in a hurry to get back to the fence they were erecting across the corner of the field, which Penny Green and Archie Pattinson were buying along with the cottage.
‘Tania is at my father’s today,’ Megan said. ‘She’s gone to tidy up a bit and bring his washing for me, though I must say he does keep the house clean and tidy, for a man.’
‘He does,’ Rosie smiled. ‘It is his nature to be tidy. He’s the same around the gardens, especially in the greenhouses and he often tidies the garden sheds if it’s a wet day. He looks forward to Tania’s company at the weekends though.’
‘I know.’ Megan smiled. ‘Between the two of you he says you keep him young in spirit, if not in body.’ She refused Rosie’s offer to clear away and shooed everyone on their way to carry out their plans for the afternoon.
‘We have been cutting some fence posts for Dad and Alex to use,’ Sam said, ‘but we thought you would want the thinner ones.’
‘I do for the panels but I need four stronger ones for the corners to hold everything firm. Did you notice the one Paul and I made for your grandfather? It has criss-cross posts on each panel for the sides, back and top.’
‘That will make more work won’t it?’
‘Yes, but it’s more rustic-looking and prettier when the climbing plants grow over.’
‘OK, you’re the boss.’
‘Mmm? That makes a change.’
‘Does it?’ Sam stopped and stared down at her. ‘I always thought we were good friends.’
‘Come on, let’s get on with the job,’ Rosie said, unwilling to meet Sam’s earnest green eyes. She was afraid he might see too much.
‘We’ll do the thinner posts first, then,’ Sam decided. ‘Did you bring a measuring tape?’
‘Yes, and a diagram. The ones on the top, or outer side of the crossover are slightly longer. Like this. See?’ Sam came close and leaned over her shoulder, draping an arm around her as they looked at the paper together. Rosie stiffened. Sam frowned. Since when had they been so awkward in each other’s company, he wondered. He had a sudden flashback to the limp young body he had carried upstairs the night he had found Rosie half dead with cold and exhaustion. His mother had wrapped her in a large bath towel but it had fallen open a little as he carried her up the stairs and he had been amazed to see small buds of breasts forming on her thin chest. He had covered them hastily, but had realized then that Rosie was leaving childhood behind. Strange that he should think of that now, but he had always thought of Rosie as belonging to him since then and it was a painful shock to realize he could be wrong. He moved away from her and started up his chainsaw.
They had almost finished the thinner poles and Rosie had them laid out in neat piles of the same lengths.
‘You’re very methodical,’ Sam remarked with a grin. ‘We’ve done well. Two more of these, then the four corner posts. They’re the thick ones over there. They’re all the same length, eh?’
‘That’s right. You’ve worked hard, Sam. I’m grateful.’ Rosie smiled at him, her old infectious smile and he felt his heart leap. Neither of them heard footsteps approaching.
‘Samuel Caraford, you always give me every excuse under the sun about being too busy to see me but you’ve plenty of time for the little gardener, I see.’
‘Lidia?’ Sam turned at the sound of her voice. His heart sank. Rosie looked up in surprise from placing the last thin pole with the rest. He didn’t look all that pleased to see his girlfriend, she thought, and wished she didn’t feel glad about it. She was unaware their relationship had been more off than on for a long time now, at least as far as Sam was concerned.
‘Hello Lidia,’ he said, stifling a groan. ‘You don’t look as though you’ve come to help.’ He eyed her pink pleated skirt and the white three-quarter jacket, belted around her narrow waist. Rosie thought it was a wonder she had negotiated the rough ground through the stack yard in those high-heeled shoes with their fashionable square toes. Her spirits fell as she raised her eyes to Lidia’s made-up face. Surely the long dark eyelashes couldn’t be real? She blinked, wishing the other girl would disappear and let them get on.
‘We’re nearly finished,’ she said. ‘Four more to go.’ Lidia sniffed and ignored her.
‘How come you find time for her when you’re too busy to see me?’ she demanded, glaring at Sam as he moved to put another post across the saw bench, reaching for the tape from Rosie.
‘These posts are for Sam’s grandmother,’ Rosie said, ‘for her birthday. At least they will be when we’ve made them into an arbour and erected it in her garden.’
‘I wasn’t speaking to you,’ Lidia snapped. Sam raised his eyebrows and his green eyes sparked with annoyance.
‘We’d better get on with the job.’ He lifted the saw and sliced through the post. ‘I’ll lift these four, Rosie. They’re heavy. In fact Alex and I will take them down to Granny Caraford’s tomorrow and set them up ready for you to fix the panels.’
‘Oh Sam, would you? That would be a great help. I don’t like to give Paul too much lifting or hard digging and we are rather busy.’
‘Oh Sam, would you?’ Lidia mimicked in an exaggerated simper. It brought angry colour to Rosie’s cheeks but before she could speak Lidia snapped, ‘It’s all right for some folks.’
Sam ignored her and placed another pole in position and cut it to size. He set the chainsaw aside on a pile of logs while he carried the last two poles nearer to the saw bench. Lidia watched as he laid them down. She kicked the logs, scuffing the toe of her shoe. She swore. Afterwards Rosie was never quite sure what happened.
The log pile wobbled. The chainsaw slid sideways. Lidia grabbed for it. It was heavy, much heavier than she had expected. She grasped the other handle, unaware it was the throttle control.
The chain sprang into life. Sam lifted his arm instinctively. The moving blade sliced across it then sank to the ground. Blood spurted from his arm. Lidia jumped back in horror. Sam reeled, clutching his arm against his chest and sank to his knees. Rosie sprang to his side with a gasp.
‘I-I didn’t mean to….’ Lidia gasped. ‘I didn’t know it was so heavy.’
‘We must stop the bleeding. I th-think it must have severed an artery.’ Rosie looked up at Lidia. ‘Phone for an ambulance!’ she ordered. ‘Hurry!’
Sam felt faint, from shock and the sight of so much blood. ‘Lie down flat, Sam,’ Rosie urged and raised his arm. ‘I need something to make a pad.’ She looked around. ‘Don’t stand there gawping. Run!’ she shouted at Lidia. ‘Phone! Now! Bring a towel to staunch the blood! There’s no time to lose.’ She choked back a sob.’
‘Go,’ Rosie yelled. ‘He’s b-bleeding to death.’ She jerked her blouse from her jeans with one hand and tore it open, sending the tiny pearl buttons popping everywhere. Her hand shook as she struggled to form a pad; she wished she’d asked Lidia for her belt to make a tourniquet. Sam was lying still, his face white, his eyes closed. Rosie tried to keep his arm raised, remembering the wound should be higher than his heart and his head. She bent over him. She couldn’t stop her tears.
‘Oh Sam, please don’t die,’ she whispered. ‘Oh dear God, help him.’ She looked down into his beloved face. Sam felt a tear fall on his cheek. He opened his eyes. He saw two small, firm breasts in a pink lacy bra – or at least he thought he did.
‘Rosie…?’ He wished he didn’t feel so groggy. The sky was going round and round. His eyelids were lead weights.
‘Oh Sam,’ Rosie whispered. ‘I love you so much. D-don’t die….’
It was Megan who came running from the house with two clean towels.
‘Oh my goodness!’ She paled with shock as she handed a towel to Rosie. ‘Lidia was gabbling hysterically. I phoned for an ambulance.’
‘I think the saw has cut an artery,’ Rosie whispered. She pressed the towel against the wound and held it hard against her chest with one hand while holding Sam’s arm up with the other. ‘I think we’re supposed to keep the wound higher than his heart to stop the blood pumping.’ It was half statement, half question.
‘I’ll do that.’ Megan said, but her voice was trembling as she knelt beside Sam and looked down into his white face.
‘Rosie….’ he whispered, forcing his eyes open with an effort, then wishing he hadn’t. ‘Don’t leave me….’
‘I’m still here, Sam. I won’t leave you. The ambulance will be here soon.’
‘What a mess. You’re covered in blood, Rosie.’ Megan’s voice was shaking.
It seemed an age to Rosie as they waited for the ambulance but in fact it was quick. The crew had been delivering a patient to his home in Darlonachie Village and the hospital had managed to make contact while they were settling the man into his bed. The crew were calm and efficient, assuring Rosie she had done a good job.
‘Rosie. Rosie….’ Sam protested as they lifted him onto a stretcher.
‘Hush, laddie. You’d best come with him, lassie,’ the man said, looking at Rosie. ‘We need to get a drip set up and get some fluid back into him. We don’t want him getting upset.’ Rosie looked at Megan, knowing it was his mother’s place to be with him.
‘You go,’ Megan said softly. She draped the spare towel round her shoulders and Rosie became aware that she was barely decent. Her cheeks burned, but the ambulance men had no time to notice such things. Their attention was one hundred per cent with their patient and she was thankful.
‘I’ll follow in the car, Rosie,’ Megan said. ‘It’s you Sam needs. I’ll bring some of Tania’s clothes for you to change at the hospital.’
‘That’s right, lassie. You keep holding his arm up. You may well have saved the laddie’s life. A good thing ye were there. Here’s a blanket to put around you,’ he added as Rosie began to shiver with reaction.