‘So is it reasonable to assume that a rose can be safely transplanted when it’s in bloom?’
‘It’s better to do it when it’s dormant. But, yes, if you’re careful and know what you’re doing, it’s fine.’
‘Well, then, let’s move Sapphire to another garden. A secret location.’
Kate wound up her window and adjusted the barrette in her windblown hair. ‘Not a bad idea. I’m not sure–’
‘No, Kate, think about it for a moment. It may be the answer we’ve been looking for. If the rose is no longer in our garden, the next time these creeps contact us we can simply tell them to bugger off. Explain that we don’t have it any more. There’ll be no point in their snooping around our house or badgering us if they know the rose is gone. We won’t even tell Adell where it’s hidden. Remember he wanted to have it guarded? Now that won’t be necessary. Only the two of us will know. Maybe we don’t even tell Kingston. It’ll take a lot of the pressure off. It’s brilliant.’
‘So, who’s going to take care of it in this secret location? It’s got to be watered. You can’t just go plop it in a field somewhere and forget about it.’
‘Kate, I realize that. I’m not a complete horticultural troglodyte.’
They drove in silent thought another mile or so. Deftly slipping the responsive Alfa into third gear, Alex slowed to negotiate a sharp bend in the road. On their right a collection of small buildings surrounding an old whitewashed barn came into view. Along the side of the barn was a gold-lettered sign on black background: Pennyroyal Nursery.
‘Yes, of course,’ Kate said, suddenly. ‘Holly Hill Nursery – Vicky.’
‘What about her?’ asked Alex.
‘She might know of a good hiding place.’
‘Good thinking, Kate. Why don’t you call her tomorrow? I’m sure she’ll be more than glad to help out – you two are like sisters.’
‘I will,’ said Kate. ‘Then, if we can get Sapphire out of our garden, perhaps we can get our lives back to normal. Close to normal, anyway.’
Chapter Eleven
There is no gathering the rose without being pricked by the thorns.
Bidapi
Kate pulled the Trooper into the parking area at Holly Hill Nursery. She turned off the engine and, for a moment, sat in the car savouring the sight and smells. It had been a long time since she was last here and seeing Vicky again was going to be fun.
Next to their own precious gardens, and perhaps those of others, there is one other sight guaranteed to send gardeners into the state of benign delirium she now felt – and that is a nursery. Not a garden centre – those plant supermarkets with car parks the size of airfields and ghastly fluorescent lighting where, if you inquire about Leptospermum, an acned teenager will send you off to the local chemist’s. A proper nursery is unpretentious. In a manner of speaking it is a kind of garden but the plants are all in containers and tubs. It’s where names of trees, shrubs and perennials are handwritten on wooden markers. Where pyramids of compost and other organic matter attest that here is where the propagating and nurturing is done. It is a retreat for all the senses, not just the eye. Where overlapping aromas – earthy, cloying, pungent and perfumed – commingle with every step. A ready source when you want reliable answers to serious botanical questions. A place that you never leave empty-handed.
Holly Hill Nursery was such a place. Its discreet sign, Holly Hill Herbs and Scented Plants, suggested specialization. But the nursery was jam-packed with all kinds of plants, alphabetically displayed. Gardeners who journeyed to Holly Hill for the first time – and they came from several surrounding counties – were rewarded with a marvellous, added treat: an old walled herb garden. Within its boundaries, box hedging corralled a superb collection of old roses, scented shrubs, climbers, plants and, of course, herbs.
Most of the plants in Kate and Alex’s old garden at Bath had been purchased at Holly Hill Nursery. At one time, Vicky Jamieson was visiting their garden so frequently with deliveries and free advice that Alex had nicknamed her ‘Sis’.
Kate got out of the Trooper, stretched, and started towards the entry gate. Passing through it, she immediately saw Vicky up the path, loading plants on to a trolley. ‘Vicky!’ she shouted.
Vicky stopped and looked in her direction. Despite the distance between them Kate could see the look of surprise register on Vicky’s face.
Vicky took off her gloves and walked over to greet Kate.
‘What a nice surprise,’ she said, hugging Kate with unrestrained exuberance.
‘Careful, old girl, you’re going to crack one of my ribs,’ Kate giggled.
Vicky was an inch or so shorter than Kate. She was smoothly muscled and evenly tanned from years of working outdoors. Her features were unremarkable, save for apple-red cheeks that accentuated her ice-blue eyes. Her eyes always reminded Kate of the glass marbles she had played with as a schoolgirl.
Vicky stepped back and looked at Kate admiringly. ‘You’re looking well, Kate. What brings you here on a Wednesday, then? Don’t you still have a shop to look after?’
‘Still do, yes, but I do get a day off now and then, you know.’
‘How’s Alex?’ she asked, running her fingers through her short-cropped bleached hair.
‘He’s fine. He’s in his element with the house. I think I’ve been replaced as his first love.’
Their conversation was interrupted by a question from a grey-haired man inquiring about a certain strain of hellebore. Vicky answered his question and pointed to the far corner of the nursery where he would find what he was looking for.
‘Let’s go over to the office, Kate. We can have a good old chat there without being bothered. There should be some cold drinks in the fridge, if you’d like one. Megan can take care of things out here for a while.’
‘That would be good, because there’s something rather confidential I need to ask you about.’
Vicky frowned. ‘Sounds intriguing. Come on then,’ she said.
Vicky kicked off her boots and leaned back in an old oak swivel chair with her feet resting on another chair. Kate sat across from her, separated by a wooden desk cluttered with papers and plant markers. She poured the Malvern mineral water into her glass.
‘So how’s that fabulous garden of yours?’ asked Vicky. ‘It must look absolutely gorgeous right now.’
‘It does. You really must come over and see it.’ Her eyes searched Vicky’s face. ‘Actually, that’s one of the reasons I came down today, Vicky. To ask you something – well, really to tell you something…’
‘You sound a bit muddled. What is this “something”?’
‘Sorry, Vicky,’ Kate said taking a sip of water. ‘Let me start again. Alex and I have made a strange – let’s say a very important discovery in our garden.’ She looked Vicky straight in the eyes, ready to register her reaction when she told Vicky what it was.
‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense,’ Vicky said. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a blue rose.’
‘You’re having me on,’ said Vicky. Then she put her head back and laughed.
‘It’s not a joke, Vicky. I’m serious. We’ve got this blue rose in the garden. We discovered it several weeks ago.’
‘Blue – meaning purple? Kind of bluish?’
‘No, it’s a blue rose – really blue. Sapphire – that kind of blue.’
‘There’s no such thing, Kate. Nobody’s ever been able to breed one.’
‘Well, we have. Or, I should say – somebody has.’
‘Jesus! You aren’t kidding, are you?’