With a new garden to care for, she needed green fingers, a magic touch – and a lot of help...
By GLYNIS SCRIVENS
It took Natasha a few moments to realise something was different. Someone else had been in her garden. Unless her plants could walk.
When she’d left for work this morning the potted geranium near the fence had been in its usual position, looking unhappy. She’d quietly apologised to it.
When she’d bought it from the garden centre last month, it’d been bursting with vibrant red flowers.
“You can’t go wrong with geraniums,” the man said, when she asked his advice.
“I wasn’t blessed with green fingers. I need something indestructible.”
Did she have the courage to go back? He’d seemed genuine and understanding, and easy to talk to.
She stared again, trying to absorb what had happened. There was now a space where the plant had been.
“It must be kids,” she muttered to herself as she unlocked the door. At least they hadn’t taken something that was still alive. Or her lucky leprechaun. But she was puzzled. It simply didn’t make sense.
Natasha made a cup of tea and went into the back garden. It was still warm enough to sit outside and the rain had ceased. As she settled into the comforts of her chair and cushions, the garden began to work its magic, loosening her tight shoulder muscles.
“Good afternoon,” called a cheery voice from next door, as a man’s face appeared above the hedge.
Mr Green Fingers himself. She tried not to envy his roses.
She smiled, waved in his direction and sipped her tea, letting the day slide away. Whoever had lived here before her had possessed gardening skills she could only dream of. There were raised vegetable beds, five varieties of apple tree, wisteria and a rose bed. In the centre of the rose bed, a young stone cherub basked playfully in a small fountain. The sound of the water invariably soothed her.
The delightful garden had been one of the reasons she’d bought this cottage. Yet in a mere three months, the plants seemed to have lost their will to live.
Was it the rain? The higher temperatures? Or was it just her sheer incompetence? Mr Green Fingers’s friendly face reappeared above the hedge. “I’ve found a wonderful new product for roses. Would you like to have a look?”
She remembered the array of bottles and cans in the garden centre. She’d picked up a few and read the labels, but had no idea which to buy. But her plants looked hungry. And sad.
