‘What’s wrong?’ Mark asked.
‘Nothing. Let’s go upstairs.’
‘You were pulling away from me.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘You were.’
‘No, I wasn’t. It’s just…’
‘It’s alright. I get it. I’m no use in that department now.’
‘That’s not true! Look, this is hard for both of us. We knew it would be.’
Mark nodded. ‘Mmmm. Okay. Well I’m off to bed.’
30
On any other morning, a leisurely walk around one of Britain’s most loved and best-known gardens would’ve sounded like a great idea, but Caroline barely had the energy to get out of bed. She looked at the icy blue sky through the window and considered that the bitterly cold morning might at least help wake her up.
The black roses she saw at Amie Tanner’s house had played on her mind ever since she’d spotted them. When Amie had said she’d always presumed her mother or husband was sending them after her father’s death, but that they had always denied this, Caroline noticed a look on Amie’s face that perturbed her. It was as if Amie herself was confused by the situation, but still grateful for the memory of her dad.
Coupled with Amie’s father having worked at Barnsdale Gardens in the years leading up to his death, it seemed a logical place to visit for potential information. And, if nothing else, it might help clear her mind.
She’d arranged to meet Jon Brocklebank, the Head Gardener, who’d agreed to have a chat with her. She’d already discovered from her own research that Barnsdale had been created by Geoff Hamilton, a former presenter of the television programme Gardeners’ World, and that Barnsdale had been the official Gardeners’ World garden for many years, until Hamilton’s death.
She was pleased to find Jon waiting for her at the ticket office, smiling and ageless in only the way someone who spends their life outdoors can look. Although she didn’t know the first thing about gardening, she’d been sorely tempted on many occasions to jack the job in and take to the soil. She couldn’t deny there was a certain romance about it.
‘Blimey. Quite a big site, isn’t it?’ Caroline said as Jon took her on a short guided tour.
‘Yep, eight acres. We’ve actually managed to pack thirty-eight gardens in here, would you believe.’
‘Wow. I struggle keeping up with my tiny garden. I can’t imagine having to look after something like this. Especially considering its history. Must be quite daunting.’
‘Ah, I’m used to it. I see you’ve been doing your research, though.’
‘Naturally,’ Caroline replied, smiling. ‘Geoff Hamilton. I remember him from the telly.’
‘Yes, he was very popular. One of his protégés is a presenter on Gardeners’ World now, actually. Adam Frost.’
‘Never heard of him. I guess that means you’re next in line for the telly job, then, does it?’
Jon smiled and chuckled. ‘I’m not sure that rule’s set in stone, if I’m honest with you. But anyway, how can I help?’
Caroline took a deep breath, feeling the chill morning air coating her lungs. ‘Well, it’s about roses. A rose called Black Baccara, to be specific.’
‘Okay. I hope you’re not going to ask if you can see one, because I might have to ask you to come back in a few months,’ Jon said, smiling.
Caroline chuckled. ‘No, not quite. Although that does lead me on nicely to what I wanted to ask. I mean, I know roses bloom in summer, but there must be a way of having them bloom in winter. I’m thinking Valentine’s Day, things like that. You see them in cut displays all year round. How do they do that?’
‘Well, they’d either be imported from abroad where the flowers are already in bloom, or they’d be “forced”, as it’s known in the horticultural world.’
‘What does that mean?’ Caroline asked.
‘Essentially, forcing the plants into flower by tricking them into thinking it’s a different time of year. It’s all about controlling warmth, adding artificial light and so on. It’s much more scientific than that, but those are the basics.’
‘I see. And would that be done locally?’
‘It could be, but probably not. Most cut flowers in the UK tend to come from Holland. There are producers in the UK who force roses on for shows and events, but I don’t know if it’s year-round. And, in any case, I presume you’re specifically referring to Black Bacarra?’
‘Ideally, yes. The long and short of it is we need to find out where someone might have sourced them to get them into a vase in Rutland in February. Each February, in fact.’
Jon cocked his head slightly and raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, it’s possible someone could be growing their own if it’s on a small scale. It’s expensive and hard work to set up. You’d need sodium lighting and all sorts of heating apparatus. But that would be the least traceable way of doing it, presuming this is connected with some sort of crime. Otherwise, I’m almost certain there’ll be commercial nurseries online who’d be happy to supply. Sorry — it’s not really my area of expertise.’
‘No, no that’s great,’ Caroline said, admiring the beauty of her surroundings. ‘This is extraordinary,’ she said.
‘Ah, this is the Geoff Hamilton Winter Border. Named after the great man himself. He designed it specifically for winter interest, and it was redeveloped a few years ago.’
‘Wow. I didn’t realise there was that much you could do with a garden in winter.’
‘Oh, always. It’s not all about cut flowers,’ Jon replied, smiling.
‘No, indeed.’
‘So, is there anything else I can help you with at all?’
‘There is one thing,’ Caroline said, her voice low. ‘But you’ll have to promise never to breathe a word to any of my colleagues.’
‘Erm. Okay. How can I help?’ Jon gave Caroline an awkward look as she leaned in conspiratorially.
‘How do I become a member?’
31
A few minutes after Caroline arrived at the station, she had convened the morning briefing. She updated the team on what she’d learnt at Barnsdale.
‘In short, we’re probably best off contacting commercial growers and
