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was pleased to see her so happy.

      ‘Lauren, I’m glad I caught you.’

      ‘Don’t tell me … the fete?’ said Lauren.

      ‘How did you guess?’ said Eileen.

      ‘Something about the determined way you were making a beeline for me,’ said Lauren, laughing.

      ‘It’s just to let you know we’ve got our preliminary meeting coming up in a couple of weeks, and I wondered if you’d had a chance to talk to Joel about it yet.’

      ‘I did mention it to him,’ Lauren said, ‘but he was fairly noncommittal. I’ll talk to him about it this evening.’

      ‘That would be great,’ said Eileen. ‘It would be fantastic to have access to the house and gardens.’

      ‘It would, wouldn’t it?’ said Lauren. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

      Kezzie was back on the internet researching more about Edward Handford. She was interested to learn that he’d been something of a philanthropist, creating a little park in the village for the children of the poor. Originally known as Heartsease Public Gardens, they were renamed the Memorial Gardens after the First World War. Edward also paid for the village school, now very small and barely surviving. Most of the local kids were bussed into the bigger primary in nearby Chiverton. Lauren, with whom Kezzie was fast becoming friends, was unusual apparently in having opted to put the twins into the village school, but as she’d explained to Kezzie, ‘Someone’s got to support the local community and services, or we’ll lose them. Besides, the twins are too small to go on the bus, and as I don’t drive I don’t have much choice.’

      Having lived all her life in an urban setting, Kezzie was coming to appreciate the pleasure of living in a small community, even if it meant people knowing all your business. She’d been stunned when she walked into Ali’s Emporium to be told by Ali how great it was that she was working on Joel’s garden.

      ‘That poor boy,’ Ali said, with a cheerful smile. ‘He needs something good in his life. It is wonderful what you are doing for him.’

      Not wanting to point out that she wasn’t exactly doing it for charity, Kezzie had muttered, ‘Yes, it’s great to be working on it,’ and fled with her pint of milk and loaf of bread before she got the Spanish Inquisition.

      Kezzie decided she’d done enough research for now. The one time she’d tried to visit the Memorial Gardens, they’d been locked and she’d only had a chance to glimpse through the gate. She wanted to take a closer look, as it might give her a better feel for the kind of vision Edward Handford had had. While wanting to give his garden a modern feel, Kezzie wanted to be faithful to that vision. Somehow, she felt that was important.

      She walked down the hill into the centre of the village, as ever getting a little thrill as she turned the bend and saw Heartsease spread before her, nestling cosily in the lea of the hill. The broad tree-lined road that swept down into the village was now littered with fallen leaves, but there were still a few remaining on the branches, to brighten up the greyish day. Kezzie couldn’t have felt further away from London if she’d tried.

      When she got down to the High Street, Kezzie followed the signs to the Memorial Gardens, past the butcher’s, Keef’s Café where Kezzie had learnt you could purchase a mean latte, the tiny chemist’s situated in the oldest building in Heartsease, and the baker’s. Heartsease wasn’t exactly big, but she’d not yet had time to explore it all. What she saw when she arrived at the Memorial Gardens was utterly depressing. A rusting, wrought iron gate, bearing the name Heartsease Memorial Gardens, screeched open onto a forlorn-looking patch of green. At the far end was a pavilion, which was in desperate need of repair. Raggedy bits of grass were covered in glass beer bottles and fag ends. Graffiti on the walls proclaimed that Daz Loved Zoe 4 eva. The rest of the village wasn’t like this. A cracked path ran down the middle of the grass, ending in a circle in which stood an enormous concrete plinth, which was empty. Presumably, it had been home to a war memorial. Kezzie vaguely remembered reading that Edward had erected one after the war. So where was it?

      ‘What a shame,’ she said out loud.

      ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Eileen was out walking her dog. ‘I’m really hoping we can persuade the Parish Council to restore it.’

      ‘Why have they let it get into such a state?’ said Kezzie.

      ‘It’s been a gradual thing,’ explained Eileen. ‘When my children were small we used to come here all the time, particularly in the summer. But then kids started to go on the bus to the school in Chiverton, so they stopped coming. And then the County Council built the big leisure centre in Chiverton and everyone went there, and before you knew it, the vandals and graffiti artists had moved in, so even if the locals still wanted to come they got pushed out. At least we don’t get the drugs any more. We had a spate of that but it’s stopped, fortunately.’

      ‘What happened to the war memorial?’ said Kezzie.

      ‘The local council took it away for restoration,’ snorted Eileen, ‘and never thought to bring it back.’

      ‘That’s terrible,’ said Kezzie.

      ‘I know,’ said Eileen. ‘We always used to have our Remembrance Day parade here, but now the Heartsease British Legion have to go to Chiverton.’

      ‘Someone should do something about it,’ said Kezzie.

      ‘Someone is,’ said Eileen. ‘Me. I’ve been writing to the County Council about it for months, and now my friend Tony is the Chair of the Parish Council I’m hoping I can get things moving a bit more. But we could always do with some new blood. Maybe you could help?’

      ‘Maybe I could,’ said Kezzie. ‘But I’ve got a lot on at the moment, I’m going to help Joel Lyle restore his garden.’

      ‘Lauren mentioned that,’ said Eileen, ‘and I think it’s wonderful. Lauren was hoping to persuade Joel to help out at next year’s summer fete, perhaps you could put in a word too?’

      ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Kezzie, laughing.

      Joel was playing with Sam in the lounge. Sam had recently discovered peekaboo and a significant part of the bedtime routine now involved Sam hiding and Joel pretending to try to find him. It was silly but fun, and Joel was starting to really look forward to these precious moments at the end of a long day at work. He had, he realized, lost the capacity to laugh spontaneously, but Sam was slowly beginning to tease it out of him.

      ‘Two – two, Da-da,’ Sam clapped his hands over his eyes, as Joel mentioned the dreaded ‘b’ word just before bedtime, and this was Sam’s way of telling Joel it was time to play their hiding game.

      ‘Daddy hide, or Sam hide?’ asked Joel, tickling his son on his tummy.

      ‘Sam, hide,’ squealed Sam, delightedly, toddling off while Joel made a great show of shutting his eyes and counting to ten. Usually Sam’s hiding places were very obvious – and Joel spotted him within seconds, but Joel realized, when he opened his eyes, that Sam had squeezed through the lounge door, which was a bit ominous. He could just about get upstairs now, but was still a bit wobbly, and not very safe. Joel went out into the hall, and was relieved to hear Sam talking to himself in the little study on his left, which faced out onto the front garden.

      Sure enough, he found Sam playing with his favourite rabbit, underneath the desk, the game momentarily abandoned.

      ‘Come on, tiddler,’ said Joel, swooping his son up in his arms, ‘time for bed, now.’

      ‘Two, two?’ Sam looked hopeful.

      ‘No more two, two,’ said Joel, ‘time for bed and milk and a story.’

      He took Sam up to bed, got him changed, and sat down with him and read We’re Going on a Bear Hunt, which was one of Sam’s favourites. Having tucked him into his cot with a bottle of milk, Joel went downstairs to check on the carnage Sam had left behind, before settling down

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