The Garden

A short story that explores life, love and growth.

Chapter One - Will Aged 13

"You promise?" Julia asked, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper. Her eyes were still sore and red around the edges from rubbing her tears away with her sleeve. Her blonde hair, once neat and clean, was now tangled and streaked with dirt. The expensive clothes she'd arrived at school in that day were torn and stained with mud and dried blood. Her face and hands were covered in fresh scratches, the source of the blood, though thankfully the wounds had stopped bleeding.

She looked like someone who'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, kicking and screaming the whole way. Sadly, that wasn't far from the truth.

"I promise," Will said, nudging a stone with the toe of his trainer. It bounced across the garden and tapped against the old oak tree at the far end. Above them, the sun filtered through the leaves, casting a swaying, almost psychedelic light on the grass. They stood in the shade, hiding from the worst of the summer heat.

Will shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes fixed on the ground. He couldn't quite meet her gaze, at least not for more than a second.

"They won't hurt you again," he added quietly.

He stood about a foot taller than Julia. Then again, he was the tallest in their class, taller than some of the teachers too, even a couple of the male ones. Thirteen and still plenty of growing to do, his mother had said, lamenting the amount of clothes he seemed to go through. He rubbed at his bruised knuckles without thinking, then gently wiped the side of his palm across his swollen, split lip. They stood in front of each other, the silence between them deafening.

Will broke the stillness with a sudden gasp. "Oh yeah!"
He reached into his satchel, his face tensing as he rummaged through it. "Hang on... Got it."

He pulled out a worn teddy bear and held it out to her.

"Here," he said. "I'm sorry they took this. That... that wasn't cool of them. I found it in some nettles. I hope it's still okay?"

Julia took it carefully, her fingertips brushing against his. She stared at it for a long moment, then hugged it tightly to her chest.

Will scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... aren't you a bit old for teddies?"

To his surprise, she laughed. "Yeah, I guess I am."

She looked up at him then, locking eyes. Something shifted in Will's stomach, not quite nausea, but close. Like something was wriggling in there. Worms, maybe. Not that he'd ever had worms. His dog had, though. He'd had to have a pill, and then they came out in his poo, which had been gross.

His heart thudded. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

He'd only spoken to her a couple of times before. Usually, it was to ask for a rubber or a sharpener. That was the extent of their conversations up to this point. But now she was standing in his garden, holding her teddy like it meant everything, waiting for him to talk to her.

He knew bits and pieces about her, mostly from the school rumour mill. Some said she used to go to a private school, but her dad got in a fight with a co-worker and someone ran him over. Others said he worked for criminals and stole money from the wrong people, and that's why he was in a wheelchair.

Either way, Will wasn't really sure why she'd had to switch schools if it was her dad who got hurt. But he wasn't going to ask her now.

She smiled at him again. His lungs tightened. He'd felt this weird pull from the first time they bumped into each other in the corridor. It was her eyes. They had a kind of gravity. He felt like he was being drawn in, like one of those whirly things in the sea, with sailors being sucked under, no way out.

Julia tilted her head, still watching him. Then she spoke, gently.

"It's not my teddy."

Will blinked. "S-sorry, what? What was that?" He was still trying to break away from her spell.

"It's not mine," she said, stroking the bear's head. "It was my grandmother's. She gave it to me before she died. So now I take it with me... everywhere."

She paused. Her smile faded slightly as a thought seemed to flicker across her face.

"Maybe I should leave it at home. Somewhere safer?"

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly. "Yeah, maybe."

Julia tilted her head and nodded toward his lip. "Does it hurt?"

Will instinctively touched it. "Not really," he lied.

"I saw Luke hit you when you were wrestling with that guy, the one with the hairy lip."

Will raised an eyebrow. "You mean the moustache? That's Harry. He's on the football team with Luke."

"That's a moustache?" she said, eyes wide with mock horror. "Looks more like he's rubbed up against a cat!"

She burst out laughing, and Will couldn't help but laugh too, though he didn't remember deciding to. It just sort of escaped from him.

But then her face softened. The laughter faded.

"That was really brave, you know," she said. "They've been picking on me since I got to St James. And what you did... I just wanted to say thank you. For standing up for me."

Will felt as if his face was about to explode. The heat was immediate. From the look on her face, he knew it was obvious. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but it didn't seem cruel, quite the opposite. Will wished for a second that he could just disappear into the tree.

"Er... it's nothing," he muttered, staring at the grass. Though in truth, he felt a few inches taller.

"I just hate bullies, that's all. And the way they were with you, you know... it wasn't fair. When they threw your teddy in the bush, I thought, no, that's it. Enough."

"Well," she said, smiling again, "I don't think it was nothing. I think it was really sweet."

She looked up at him. And this time, her expression had changed. Her eyes softened in a way Will couldn't explain. He'd never had someone look at him like that before, not with kindness, or understanding, or something else he didn't have the words for.

"Are... are you hungry?" Will asked, scratching the back of his head. "I could grab us a snack or something?"

Julia's eyes lit up. "I could definitely eat. To be honest, I'm absolutely ravenous."

She sat down against the trunk of the tree, tilting her head to look up at him with a small, sly smile.

"You feel what?" Will squinted at her.

"Hungry," she said sweetly.

Will nodded and walked, slowly and casually, toward the house. As soon as he was inside, he sprinted into the kitchen, flinging open every cupboard in a frantic search for something even halfway decent. Most were empty. He cursed under his breath and opened the fridge. One yoghurt. Expired. Useless.

Eventually, he found a few things that would have to do.

When he returned, Julia was still sitting under the tree, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked calmer now. The redness around her eyes had faded.

Will carried out a dinner tray with two plastic cups of squash and an assortment of scavenged snacks.

"Sorry, my mum needs to do the big shop," he said, awkwardly lowering the tray onto the grass.

Julia peered at it. "What've we got?"

"Right," Will said, clearing his throat. "Four and a half custard creams, a bit of half-moon cake, and a beef and onion Pot Noodle."

Julia grinned. "I'll take a custard cream, please."

She plucked one from the wrapper and took a small bite. Her expression lifted. She sighed a happier sigh.

They sat like that for the next two hours, tucked in the shade of the tree, sharing snacks and stories.

Julia explained that the rumour about her dad being run over was true, though not the gangster part. He'd been hit by a car in the office car park. He'd been some sort of manager. The accident left him paralysed. Her mother had lost a lot of money on something called the "stuck market," and they'd had to sell their house. That's how they ended up here.

Will told her his dad had gone to prison. His mother worked two jobs and was barely ever home. The upside, he joked, was that he could have friends over without asking, not that he really had any.

Julia didn't say much to that, but her eyes lingered on him for a long time.

As the sun began to set, Julia stretched and stood. "I should head home."

Will scrambled to his feet. "Wait, hang on. Just, er... just give me a second."

He ran into the house and came back holding a large kitchen knife.

Julia's face flashed with alarm.

Will slowed, raising a hand. "Oh no! Not for you! I mean, not like that," he said quickly, stepping past her toward the tree. "I just wanted to... I dunno. Mark today somehow. If you think that's cool to do?"

She tilted her head. "What kind of mark?"

He crouched by the base of the oak and started carving. The knife was far too big for the job. His hand slipped.

"Ah, shit! I mean... er... whoops." He winced, holding his palm.

Julia stepped closer. "Let me see."

It wasn't deep, just a thin surface cut, but a small stream of blood had already soaked into the wood beneath the carving.

She took the knife from him.

"What are you doing?" Will asked, eyebrows raised.

Julia didn't answer. She drew the blade gently across her own palm, biting her lip as blood welled along the line.

"Julia! What? Why would you do that?"

"Well," she said quietly, "you bled for me today. Seems only fair I return the favour."

She pressed her hand to the carving, smearing her blood over the bark beside his. The heart he'd carved, simple and slightly wonky, now had a dark, earthy tint around the edges.

They stood there for a long moment, shoulder to shoulder, hands still bleeding. Julia's hand brushed against his, and he opened his hand, taking her smaller one in his. She turned to him, her eyes fixed on his again. Then she leaned in and kissed him, just once, soft and warm.

In that moment, Will's heart detonated. Not literally, obviously, but it may as well have. The air seemed thinner. The garden tilted slightly. Will wasn't sure if he was floating or melting.

Then it was over, the moment ending far too quickly.

"It would be nice if I came to see you again tomorrow," she said.

"Yeah," Will managed. "That would be, er... cool."

She smiled. "Guess it's a date then."

Turning toward the gate, she started to leave. Halfway down the path, she looked back and gave him one final smile.

Will stood frozen, watching until she disappeared.

He turned back to the tree. The carving stared back at him: a heart, uneven and bloodstained, with the initials W & J inside.

He sat under the tree until dark, eating the last half of his cold Pot Noodle, wondering if he'd ever be this happy again.

Chapter Two - Julia Aged 18

Julia stood under the old tree at the bottom of Will’s garden. She was still reeling from the events of the last twenty minutes. The warm summer day was now fading, replaced by the cooler breath of night. The sun was setting, but the moon had not quite arrived to take its place. Julia shivered.

She stared at the ruined carving on the trunk, the small axe still embedded at its centre. Sap ran down the tree like blood from a wound. Will stood facing away from her. She could see his back rising and falling in quick succession.

Her own heart was still pounding in her chest. Her throat ached from the crying and the shouting of the last two hours. While the argument had started as suddenly as an explosion, its subject had been meant to be a happy one.

Julia had recently received her acceptance letters to the universities she’d applied to. Her grades had been excellent, and this was in no small part thanks to Will.

Will’s grades had been, not to be blunt, quite poor. He’d had a lot on his mind during the exams. His mother had recently been diagnosed with a progressive disease, one that would, over time, rob her of who she was. He had become understandably distracted and absent-minded. When they’d opened their results together, she’d seen him rubbing his head, deep in thought. But when Julia had asked what his plans were, he’d just given her one of his infectious laughs and a wicked grin. He told her she was his ticket to greatness, that he would ride her coattails as long as she’d let him.

She’d joked that he could ride more than her coattails if he wanted, and they’d ended up in bed.
He had seemed so passionate about helping her, even at the expense of his own future. So when he erupted at her tonight, it had come out of the blue. She’d been so excited to tell him, so excited to break the surprise.

She had applied to several universities, including the famous Harvard University in America. For her prospective career in law, it was a lottery-ticket chance, one in hundreds of thousands. But she’d won. She’d beaten heaven knows how many candidates, and they had offered her an unconditional place. It was a rare opportunity to change both her and Will’s stars. To make something of themselves.

When she read the letter, she could barely contain her joy. She’d leapt into her car and driven as fast as she dared. She’d arrived with the best bottle of champagne she could afford and broken the news to him.

Will’s reaction had been visceral. He went quiet, then launched into a tirade, accusing her of being materialistic, of being insensitive.
“So I’m just supposed to drop everything?” he’d shouted, pacing the kitchen.

“What about my mum? What about me?”
“I never asked you to drop anything,” she’d fired back. “I asked you to believe in me.”

Julia had tried to explain that she had applied before they knew about his mother’s illness. That the odds of getting in had been almost nonexistent. That this opportunity could change everything. She reminded him how they’d talked about it. How he had even encouraged her to go for it.

Then it dawned on her. He had never really believed it would happen. He had never truly believed she could do it.

That realisation fell on her like a building. Will, her shining light, her champion, was just like the rest of them. The naysayers. The disbelievers.
The argument turned personal very quickly. Will brought up Julia’s dad, making correlations to his success and how he’d ended up in the wheelchair. Julia had tried to remain calm, but bringing her dad into the mix boiled her blood.

Before she knew it, they were screaming at each other.

Will accused her of believing he wasn’t good enough for her, an insecurity that had surfaced in other arguments over the years. No matter how much she told him, how much she showed him he was, he just couldn’t see past it.

He couldn’t understand that while all she wanted was him, she also wanted a life where she achieved what she was capable of. A life where she could make her mark on the world, protect people, like she had once been protected. She was strong, but not a fighter. She was smart. And if she couldn’t fight, she would defend. She would protect people using the law.

But all Will could see was that she wanted him to abandon his mother. To leave her to die without help. Couldn’t he see that his mother would want him to go? That she would want him to live his life?

Then Will said he wasn’t going to fly halfway across the world to be a bit of rough, to be a lackey. Julia tried to tell him that she believed in him, like he had believed in her, but he wouldn’t hear it.

Eventually, the argument slowed down, becoming something closer to a sad conversation.

Will had asked her, “How dare you ask me to leave?”
She had replied, “How dare you ask me to stay.”

Then it had been quiet between them, as if they shared an understanding. They were at an impasse. He would not leave. She would not stay. So they had to part ways.

Will had exploded, grabbing a small axe from the garden. Julia had been terrified. For a moment, she had felt like the same little girl she had been all those years ago, standing in this garden. Except this time, Will was not the protector. He was the cause.

Will had never, ever hurt her, but this time she thought he might. Then he turned and smashed the axe straight into the centre of the carving they’d made that night.

Now she stood looking at him, his breathing deep and laboured.

“I think it’s best that I go,” she finally whispered.
“I think it’s best that you do,” he’d said.

The night air had cooled since she arrived. She rubbed her arms without thinking and took a step toward the gate, then paused.

The tree creaked behind her, and for a moment she thought she heard Will sobbing faintly.

She didn’t look back.

Not because she didn’t want to, but because if she did, she wouldn’t leave. She opened the garden gate, its hinges squeaking loudly in the night, and left the garden forever.

Chapter Three - Will Aged 38

Will stood in what was now his garden. He took a deep breath, enjoying a rare British summer day. He looked up at the vast, open blue sky. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight. His mother would have loved it today, but she was at peace now.

Will loosened his tie and walked down the garden path to sit under the tree. It was one of his favourite places in the world. He had sat under this tree during many of the happiest times of his life.

It was where he kissed Julia for the first time, where their relationship and love had blossomed. It was where they had been intimate for the first time, around the back of the tree, awkwardly fumbling at each other’s clothes. During said fumbling, Will had banged his kneecap on one of the tree’s roots. It had ached for days. He laughed now, rubbing the same spot. At his age, it would have put him out of action for at least two weeks.

Will bent down and scooped up some of the green leaves that had fallen to the ground. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind gently moving through the branches. He thought of his mother, and how much she had loved Julia.

She had been distraught when Will told her that Julia had gone to America in search of a better life. He found out later that his mother had been trying to get in touch with Julia, hoping to arrange for Will to go and be with her. But Will had put a stop to it. He told his mother that Julia had had an affair. A little white lie, but one that stopped her from meddling.

His mother had survived far longer than the doctors had expected, a testament to her warrior’s spirit. Will was proud of her. He hated that he had lied to her about Julia, but at the time it had felt necessary. Ironically, all he really had to do was wait a few years and his mother wouldn’t have remembered who Julia was, or even who Will was.

About eight years ago, he had searched for Julia on social media.

His anger faded quickly. He realised now that he had just been angry and insecure. She had been so driven, so focused. It had blinded her to his sense of duty, just as his obligations had blinded him to her ambition.

So he created an account and found her. It was much easier than he had expected. She was married now to some American, but had kept her maiden name, which hadn’t surprised Will at all. She had two children, both beautiful.

No, they were all her. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed.

She looked happy. She had always been the most amazing thing he had ever had the fortune to find. Of course, she was older now, as was Will, but as soon as he saw her smile in those pictures, his old feelings came rushing back. His heart rate spiked. His anxiety surged.
For months he toyed with the idea of clicking the button to connect, his hand hovering over it but never finding the strength to press it.

Then one day, he awoke to a notification.

There she was.

Her profile picture sat there, waiting, with two options: accept or decline.

It took Will a full hour of staring at his phone screen before he finally pressed the button to accept. No going back now. He opened the instant messenger app and stared at the blank text box. After writing and deleting the message over and over again, he eventually sent her a single word.

“Hello”

He spent the next few hours checking his phone, unable to focus on anything else. Then, finally, it happened.

“Hello stranger x”

After that, it became frequent. Then it became dangerous.

When she mentioned she was coming to the UK for a conference, they agreed to meet. Will barely slept the night before. He popped in to see his mother at the hospice and told her he was going away for Luke’s stag do, so he wouldn’t be able to do his daily visits. She thought it was a good idea, although she had no idea who Luke was.

Will waited at the airport, checking her flight details again and again. Finally, there she was. She spotted him first, her smile lighting up the room. She ran across the tiled floor and threw herself into his arms. Will felt like he was on fire. Every nerve in his body was charged with electricity. He pressed his face into her hair, her scent both old and new overwhelming him.

That evening, they walked along the river, hand in hand. The cold winter air spiralled around them. They spoke of old times. Of apologies. Of things neither of them could change.

Will admitted the lie about the affair. Julia laughed and said that might explain the letter his mother had sent. She told him that Harvard hadn’t been the golden ticket she had imagined, and that she missed home more than she had ever expected, even if it was still a "shithole".

They stopped beneath the moonlight. Their eyes met.

And they kissed. Hard and deep.

The air seemed to freeze. A decade of longing and unresolved feeling surged between them.

It lasted forever, but also just for a moment.

When they pulled apart, Julia was crying. Will understood.

It wouldn’t work.

They walked back in silence and said goodnight without kissing again.

When Will woke in the morning, Julia had already left for the airport. He returned to his mother. As he drove along the motorway, he saw a plane lifting into the sky. He wondered if Julia was looking down at him.

He never found out that she was.

They never spoke again.

He looked now at the damaged trunk, where he had taken an axe to the carving in anger. That outburst, which he had regretted instantly, had left it unrecognisable. Now it was just a mess of scratches and chips, darkened by time. He placed a hand on it gently.

“Made quite a mess of you, haven’t I? I’ve made a mess of it all,” he said, sobbing into the tree.

35 Years Later

Will stepped out into the garden as the warm summer air gave way to a colder, cutting wind, one that chilled his arthritis riddled fingers.
He rubbed them through his white hair as he walked gingerly down the garden path, carefully avoiding the patches of ice that had formed on the stone.

He’d asked the estate agent if he could take one last look around the garden. The space that he’d so carefully nurtured. He and his wife had grown all sorts in the garden, including their own herbs and vegetables. He had to admit, they seemed to taste so much better.
In her last year she had managed to grow a full batch of strawberries, after a few summers of failed harvests and single fruits. She had been so excited as they’d eaten them with clotted cream and scones.

It was the little things he found hurt the most. The sound of her reading. Her casework spread out across the dinner table. The cup of tea arriving precisely a second or two before he realised he wanted one. He missed lazy Sundays. Her humming. He missed finding her stray hairs on the carpet. He missed Mollie dearly.

They had met by chance, him realising shortly after his mother’s funeral that he wasn’t well, and that he hadn’t been well for a long time.
Life had weighed heavy on him, so heavy he didn’t move. He had decided to do something about that. Ironically, walking was his first step. He walked each evening, following a loop of a park nearby. Sat on a bench, he had heard a call of desperation cut through the quiet of the night. It was a woman he had seen walking her dog a few times.

Mollie.


Although he didn’t know that was her name at the time.

She was desperately looking for her dog who had escaped from her garden.

Will decided to help her, and they talked whilst they checked every nook and cranny where they suspected it could have gotten into. Eventually Mollie had overheard it barking from within an abandoned foundry on the outskirts of where they lived.

Will had braved climbing the fence to rescue it and although he had been successful in his primary mission, it had not been without incident.
He had cut his hand whilst climbing the metal spiked fence returning it to her.

It wasn’t bleeding much, but it was long and deep. Will felt queasy looking at the wound, although he smiled bravely at her.

Mollie had insisted that she drive him to the hospital as it was the “least she could do”, and despite his protests, as soon as she returned the escaped canine to its one bedroom prison, she drove him to the local accident and emergency.

They talked for hours as they waited to be seen, their conversation flowing naturally. They laughed as the receptionist assumed that she was his wife. She laughed harder still whilst Will retold the tale of his misadventure to the nurse as she stitched up his hand, Mollie even snorted. Will couldn’t help but smile too. After she had taken him home, she invited him over for dinner as a final way of thanking him for his help. Her knight in blood soaked armour, she had called him. He accepted and the rest had been academic.

They’d been married just over 30 years when she had died. It was a quick illness, and she went peacefully.

They’d shared the house his mother had left him. It was far too big for him by himself. His mobility and memory were poor now. Following a fall, the doctors had convinced him that moving was for the best. Somewhere where they had staff to help when he needed it.

He finally arrived at his intended location, the bottom of the garden where the tree, bereft of its leaves, stood alone.

But Will knew that the season would pass and the leaves would return. They always did. He’d seen enough of them now. The gift of the elderly seemed to be the folly of youth.
In his youth he had hated making mistakes. Now he realised that each mistake had been a lesson he had learned.

Will looked at the tree, at the original carving which was now unrecognisable.
He then looked at the carving below the ruined remains, admiring the symmetry of the W and the M.

Spring would come again. It always did.
He may not be here to see it, but the tree would.
And that felt like enough.


Epilogue

Epilogue

“Honey? Do you want a drink? It’s roasting out there today!” Manjeet called from the back door.

“No thank you, my love. I’m just putting this swing up and I’ll be in. Need to get it done before the girls get back from your mother’s.” Mo paused to grab the tyre swing from the floor, grunting as he lifted it to his chest.

“We’ll have to get her something nice. She’s had the kids so much during the move. Couldn’t have done this without her.”

“Make sure you remember that next time you’re moaning to me about her,” Manjeet snorted as she went back into the house.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mo muttered, confident his wife couldn’t hear him.

Mo set about fitting the tyre swing to the large tree at the bottom of his new garden. They’d been in the new house a couple of days now, and hopefully the swing would keep his daughters entertained while he and his wife continued to unpack from the move.

He finished drilling the bolts into the branch and stood back to admire his handiwork. The tyre was at a slight angle, but nothing he couldn’t fix. He’d just need to adjust the length of the rope either side to even it out.

He really did love this tree. He had no idea how long it had been here, only that it must have been a very long time. As Mo began untying the knots inside the tyre, he noticed something carved into the bark. Wiping his brow, he stepped closer.

It was a heart, rather crudely carved, but unmistakable.

He ran his fingers over the weathered letters, then pulled his hand away.

Can’t really leave it like that, he thought.

After a moment’s hesitation, he walked over to his toolbox, grabbed a hammer and chisel, and returned to the tree.

He stood in front of it for a long moment, tools in hand.

Then, without a word, he set to work.

When he finally stepped back, a second heart had been added beside the first, freshly carved, smoother, but no less sincere.

M & M.

He heard the back door open again. Turning, he saw Manjeet walking down the path with a glass of lemonade in one hand, the ice clinking as she walked.

“You're supposed to be drinking more, mister,” she said, handing him the glass.

“Well, what am I doing right now, my love?”

She tutted playfully and shook her head, watching as he took a sip.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding to the tree.

“Some old carving,” he said. “Figured I’d add to it.”

Manjeet stepped up next to him, brushing her fingers over the new heart. “It’s a bit wonky,” she said.

He grinned. “Yes, dear.”

She let out a soft laugh and leaned into his side, wrapping her arm through his. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, looking at the tree.

“I wonder who they were,” Manjeet said softly, “and where they are now?”

They stood in silence for a moment before it was cut short by the sound of a car door closing on their drive. The air filled with the voices of two very excited young girls, clearly on their way to discover their new home.

“Well,” Mo said, kissing his wife on the forehead. “I best get back to it, this swing isn’t going to balance itself.”