The dewy morning had become a sunny day so the workers at the library table suggested that Hanna have lunch with them in the garden. She was astonished by the transformation that had occurred in just a few weeks. When she’d first sought solitude there, everything had been overgrown. Now, with the clearing and heavy digging completed, most of the beds were replanted and the gravel walks between them had been raked and cleared of weeds. All the plastic bags and old bits of newspaper that had blown in and got tangled in the hedges were gone, the shrubs were pruned, and the fallen roses in the railed graveyard were tied back. The grass under the trees had been cut, and, where the four paths met at the statue of St. Francis, tables and chairs had been set up around the old fountain, where water now flowed again from the stone flowers at the saint’s feet.
As Hanna and the group from the library crossed the grass, Aideen arrived from HabberDashery, carrying coffees and teas. Nell Reily, who was sitting at one of the tables, waved at Hanna. Old Mrs. Reily was perched on the edge of the fountain, chatting to Sister Michael. Hanna joined Nell, who beamed at her.
“Isn’t the garden a great place for a get-together, Miss Casey, and don’t the girls have lovely coffee there in their shop? Do you know what it is, my mother’s getting fierce fond of a cappuccino.”
Other Knockmore seniors who were sitting round the table agreed with her. Foamy coffee with feathers on it was great for a change; and wasn’t it grand to see a few faces that weren’t as ancient as themselves?
Looking around, Hanna saw that most of the other tables were occupied by office workers eating sandwiches from HabberDashery. Aideen was taking orders and bringing takeout round on her bike. It had kind of just happened, according to Nell, and now the girls were planning a Seniors’ Special. A cup of soup and a sandwich would do them fine. It wouldn’t cost more than the big lunch at the Day Care Centre, and wasn’t there eating and drinking to be got out of sitting with friends in the sun? And had Hanna heard about the pedicures? The district nurse who did them in Knockmore twice a month had been offered the use of a room in the convent by Sister Michael. So now she’d be doing them here in Lissbeg as well. She was in and out of the convent all the time, keeping an eye on Sister Consuelo, so it’d be no trouble to her.
As soon as Hanna had eaten her sandwich, Susan and Gunther’s little daughter, Holly, turned up beside her, insisting that she come and see the herbs. They had all come out of a book, Holly told her, so that was why they all had page numbers. Bewildered, Hanna looked down at the bed to which Holly had dragged her and saw that each cutting planted in it was labelled with a name and a number. Susan came over and joined them, curbing Holly’s attempt to pull up an herb in order to show it to Hanna.
“Leave them in, pet. They have to put down roots if they’re to thrive.”
Smiling at Hanna, Susan asked her what she thought of the numbers. They were Holly’s idea, she said, and they referred to the pages in God’s Garden. After all, the idea of restoring the garden did, literally, come out of a book. One of the volunteers was making a notice that would tell the story, explain the reference numbers, and say that the book was kept in the library.
“So if people like what they see here, they can go over and see what inspired it. And then while they’re in there in the library they can read about the uses of the herbs.”
Hanna told herself dryly that she hoped visitors to the library would want to read something more interesting than God’s Garden. Still, she did have more on her shelves than one pedestrian text illustrated by amateur photos and, as Sister Michael had said, when they came to making the case for keeping the library open, evidence of increasing visitors would strengthen their argument. Maybe, if she was going to have an influx of readers, she should set up a display of the less borrowed books in the library’s collection? The Collected Poems of Edith Sitwell, say, or The Anatomy of Melancholy. Or even—God help her—a list of titles that people could read in a book group?
Her lips twitched at the thought, and Susan beamed at her. Wasn’t it weird, she said, how, if everyone pulled together you felt you could take on the world? Feeling a bit ashamed of her own cynicism, Hanna said that it was, and that the page references were brilliant. Then, escaping as soon as she decently could, she went to finish her coffee with Nell. As she took her seat by the fountain she felt a frisson among the seniors. Father McGlynn was approaching them along the gravel path.
There was a chorus of greeting and an exchange of covert glances. Then, as the parish priest joined them, everyone started to talk. But beneath the general chatter there was a sense of apprehension. Clearly no one had consulted Father McGlynn about the seniors’ jaunts to Lissbeg.
With a stab of irritation, Hanna watched Father McGlynn accept a seat, refuse a coffee, and proceed to punish his flock. Nothing he did was overt; he just withheld warmth. Within minutes, the seniors were silent and shuffling, like schoolkids confronted by a teacher. And the more they tried to woo the priest, the cooler he became. Then, having got them where he wanted, he stood up with a wintry smile. He’d come to visit Sister Consuelo, he said, so he really ought to get on.
As he got up he glanced authoritatively at Sister Michael, who came to stand beside him. Hanna found it hard to contain herself. The old nun’s warmth and confidence seemed eclipsed by the priest’s chilly air of authority, yet it was she, not he, who had provided what his parishioners required. She watched the priest’s tall figure precede Sister Michael across the garden, making for the entrance to the convent. The seniors sitting at the table exchanged glances. Hanna could see them wondering whether by failing to consult the priest they had forfeited his protection and support. At the same time, as Aideen arrived from across the road with coffees and éclairs, she could see them making their minds up to worry about it later. Aideen was greeted with laughter and smiles. Old Mrs. Reily got up from her seat by the fountain and moved to Hanna’s table. The priest was vexed, she said in an undertone. But sure by the time he did anything about it they might all be dead in their graves.