‘For your wedding?’ When she nods, I go on. ‘They’re gross. It’s like he’s pledging to control you.’
Her eyes are sad as she turns to me. ‘I suppose for a long time, he was.’
A piece of paper can be burned and that’s what we do with it, but it takes more time to rid the house of Matt’s reeking presence. To repair the garden to how it was before the police desecrated it. For the story to fade from the press. My mother and I can never go back to who we were, before. But we’re stronger. And we’ve survived, I remind her. If we survived this, can’t we survive anything?
After repainting the walls and replacing Matt’s horrible sofas with comfy second-hand ones, my mother thinks about renting out the house, until the alchemist’s curse weaves itself around her again. It’s the garden. The irony that the police destroyed it isn’t lost on me. We repair the flowerbeds, recover the salvageable plants, but we both know it’s never going to be the same.
Then I remember something she said once, about how you’re only ever the custodian of a garden. That in the end, it will be handed down to someone else. All the time she’s preserved her grandmother’s plants, she’s been punishing herself. But now that her innocence has been proved, that has to stop.
Kimberley is still here, remembered in the soft fragrance of the rosemary plants, the purity of the white rose. But alongside what remains of the memorial garden, my mother plants forget me nots and honeysuckle, crocus bulbs and yellow tulips, clumps of yarrow, white jasmine that will grow up the back of the house, cascading down around the sliding doors. In the new beds, we plant pink and red rose bushes. Then as a finishing touch, in memory of Charlie, we plant a climbing rose at the base of the apple tree.
By the time she’s finished, grief and remembrance are no longer centre stage here. The garden tells a different story now. My mother’s story. Already it’s on her face, in her eyes as she looks around. No longer a place of sadness, haunting her with guilt, it’s a garden that tells a story of love.
Even so, inexplicably, a trace of Matt’s presence remains in the house, until one day, as I’m cleaning the kitchen, I find my mother’s engagement ring. Picking it up, I study its dull gold and heavy green stone. I never liked it, but now, I imagine it tarnished by Matt’s intention, noxious energy radiating from it. Keeping it away from my mother, that night, when she isn’t looking, I pull on my trainers and creep outside.
Clutching the ring tightly, I make my way to the furthest part of the garden. For a moment, I stand in the shadows, breathing in the cool air. It’s a still night, over the hedge, the bleached stubble field lit by an almost full moon. Still clutching the ring, I step back, then hurl it over the hedge, high into the air, watching it arc into the dark sky, glittering one last time in the moonlight, before disappearing from sight, forever gone.
Acknowledgements
This is my first book to be published by Avon and I’d like to say a huge thank you to my editor, Phoebe Morgan, for her vision for this book, and for not only getting under the skin of it, but pushing me to make it the best I could. It’s wonderful both to be working with you and to know my books are in such safe hands.
A massive thank you as always, to my agent, Juliet Mushens, who is everything an author could wish for. I’m incredibly grateful to you for everything you do.
I’d like to thank everyone at Avon and HarperCollins involved in publishing The Vow, from the gorgeous cover, through the editing process, to sales, marketing and everything else. Huge gratitude also to Sabah Khan, for all things publicity-related. At the time of writing this, we’ve a few months to go before publication, but already the publicity wheels are spinning and it really is wonderful to be working with you.
To my family and friends. So much love to Georgie and Tom, and thank you for brainstorming when I get stuck, for being endlessly positive and supportive. You are my world. To Martin, for helping unravel the glitches when my brain gets tied in knots, and for your endless patience when the pressure is on! To my parents, who first instilled in me a love of books. To my sisters and unwavering supporters – Sarah, Anna and Freddie. To Clare, Lindsay, Katie, Heather and to all my friends, for being more stalwart supporters, coming to book launches, buying my books, spreading the word … Thank you to each and every one of you. Your support is awesome!
And lastly, thank you to reviewers, bloggers, booksellers, libraries and to you, my readers. I’m hugely grateful to all of you. Without you, I wouldn’t be doing this.
About the Author
Debbie Howells is the bestselling author of The Bones of You (Macmillan), a Richard & Judy Book Club pick. The Vow is her first book with HarperCollins.
You can follow @debbie__howells on Twitter.
About the Publisher
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