Chapter 1

A quiet life in the country…

According to Daisy, nothing is ever quite what it seems.

Whenever she comes out with that pearl of wisdom, Aidan shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders, and smiles knowingly... if anything ever defied its appearance, it was surely her.

As she drove slowly along the winding pedestrian path skirting the southern edge of the village duck-pond, Daisy smiled too. A mid-morning August sun beat down out of a cloudless blue sky, and had already taken the temperature well into the twenties. The trip to the village shop had been made at just the right time... any later and it would have been seriously too hot.

She came to a stop, and watched the ducks for a few minutes as they swam lazily in the warm water. Calling it a duck-pond didn’t really do it justice... it was more like a small lake, bordered on one side by trees and bushes, and the other by the huge gently-sloping green, plus a few willow trees to enhance its tranquil beauty.

Daisy moved to the village a year ago, after a very unfortunate incident in London made her decide country life might be the best option. Now she trundles around on a mobility scooter, even though she really doesn’t need to.

That’s not quite what it seems either... after three months of badgering Aidan because it didn’t go fast enough, he finally succumbed to using his mechanical skills to make sure it did.

Adapting to rural Norfolk life went quite well, even though according to Daisy the village of Great Wiltingham is the “place people go to wilt”.

That might be a little unkind. It’s not entirely populated by retired folk... there are some families, and even a few young couples. But it has to be said the village has more elderly residents than anything else. It is a beautiful place to wilt after all, a second pond at the other end of the village, a lot of open green spaces, and the town of Kings Lynn just a few miles away.

The relentless sun reminded her it was time to find shade, so she screwed the throttle open and trundled to the pavement separating Walcotts Lane from the western edge of the pond. She’d left Aidan to unpack the new blender that arrived earlier, so there was no telling what that might lead to. The man was a genius when it came to engines and mobility scooters, but for some unfathomable reason his skills always seemed to desert him when faced with electric kitchen appliances.

The apprehension was justified. As she drove through the open five-barred gate and across the gravel towards the side door of the white-painted thatched cottage sitting on the opposite side of the road from the pond, through the wide-open kitchen window she heard the exclamation that usually meant something had gone drastically wrong.

‘Bugger!’

Daisy came to a stop next to the side door, the expletive from inside confirming there likely wasn’t time to spend parking the dolly-trolley in its little open-fronted shack built as a lean-to next to the garage. Jesse’s truck was in the drive, and as she grabbed her purchases from the basket fixed to the handlebars and headed quickly for the door, she nodded to his cheery wave.

‘Good mornin’ Mrs. M.,’ he called out from the far side of the lawn. Jesse was the young village gardener, and given the advancing years of most of the population of Great Wiltingham, he never had to travel far to keep the work coming in.

‘Good morning Jesse,’ she answered politely, even though she was getting the feeling that at any moment it wasn’t going to be a good morning.

As usual, she was right.

Aidan was just wiping the spots of strawberry-coloured goo from his face as she walked into the kitchen, and glanced around in dismay. His face wasn’t the only thing covered in splatters of strawberry-coloured goo.

‘Damn modern infernal kitchen appliances,’ he growled.

‘Blenders are hardly the stuff of ground-breaking technology, dear,’ she laughed, despite the rather red appearance of the area in the kitchen where the infernal appliance was sitting. ‘But I do believe you’re supposed to put the lid on before you fire it up.’

‘Oh is that what you do?’ he glared at her, grabbing another wad of kitchen towel.

‘No need for sarcasm, dearest,’ she smiled back.

‘I only switched it on for a moment, to make sure it worked.’

She ran some warm water over a cloth, and began to clean the spatters of strawberry and avocado from places they should never be. ‘It’s a super-duper turbo-boosted state-of-the-art mega-blender, dear. Might have been best to make sure it worked before you filled it to the brim?’

He finally smiled, as she wiped a tiny splatter from his nose. ‘Well, at least I know it works now.’

Daisy shook her head, but still had to stifle a giggle for the sake of the slightly-disgruntled Aidan. She looked him and his once-white shirt over. Tall and slender, his short silver-grey hair had a tendency to flop a little over his forehead when he was flustered. Now seventy-six, his hair had migrated from absolute black quite a few years ago, but the occasional flop over the forehead had never changed, right from when she first met him almost forty years ago.

It was a silly insignificant thing that wasn’t insignificant at all, because it was one of the little things that helped her fall in love with him. In truth, he had a lot of those little things, which carried on helping her stay in love with him to this day.

Including exasperating little matters like struggling with kitchen appliances.

She slapped him gently and lovingly on the shoulder. ‘Quite like the tie-dyed red patches on the shirt, actually.’

‘Very funny. But the splattered look is quite trendy right now, I hear.’

Daisy was about to retort something, but a strange, vaguely-tuneful noise coming from somewhere outside stopped the wit in its tracks. ‘What on Earth is that? It sounds like a demented pigeon,’ she said instead.

Together they walked towards the front window. Then they could both see the source of the strange noise.

‘Oh dear,’ said Aidan.

‘I think it’s me she wants,’ said Daisy as she headed to the front door, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she went.

The diminutive, slightly-portly woman was still cooing away at the gate as Daisy opened the front door. ‘Cooeee... cooeee, Daisy?’ she called, waving an arm around to emphasise the shriek.

‘Maisie... what the hell are you doing?’

She stopped cooing and waving. ‘Well... I didn’t want to disturb you...’

‘So standing at the front gate cooing at the top of your voice and waving like a moron isn’t disturbing me... and half the population of the immediate area?’

‘Well, I... um...’

‘Just come in Maisie, before the men in white coats arrive.’

‘Oh... you don’t really think...’

‘No Maisie. Just winding you up. It is the easiest thing in the world, after all.’

The elderly woman trotted over to the door. ‘There’s no need to be so insulting...’

About to say the truth was never insulting, Daisy thought better of it, and instead just closed the door behind the woman in the nineteen-nineties skirt and flower-patterned polyester blouse.

‘I would offer you a strawberry and avocado smoothie, but you’d have to scrape it off the walls first.’

‘I’m afraid I didn’t understand any of that, Daisy.’

‘Never mind. Tea?’

Aidan gave them a slightly-pained smile as they wandered into the kitchen. ‘Ah, Maisie and Daisy, the terrible twosome of Wiltingham!’

Maisie didn’t look too amused. ‘Don’t you start.’

‘Just put the kettle on, dear,’ said Daisy. ‘And remember to close the lid first.’

He lifted a finger to waggle a visual retort to accompany words that never came, as he realised he was outnumbered, and that shutting up might be the better option. And he did close the kettle lid after he filled it.

Daisy and Maisie sank their butts onto their usual stools next to the island unit. ‘So what can I do for you, Maisie?’ said Daisy.

‘Well dear... it’s the strangest thing. Sometime in the night, my floribunda got uprooted.’

‘Never heard it put quite that way before.’

Maisie lowered her head. ‘It’s not funny, Daisy. It’s my pride and joy. I’ve lovingly cultivated it for years.’

Realising how upset she was, Daisy put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, Maisie. My  wicked sense of humour precedes my brain kicking in sometimes. But I don’t see how I can help with a stolen rose bush?’

Maisie looked up, a gloss of tears in her eyes. ‘Oh no dear, it hasn’t been stolen. It’s still there.’

Chapter 2

Daisy glanced curiously to Aidan as he placed two mugs on the island unit. He shook his head slightly, just as puzzled as she was.

‘Maisie, you said it had been uprooted... but then someone left it there?’

She wrapped both her small hands around the mug, and took a sip like a little girl confessing something to the headmistress. ‘Well, yes. It’s... kind of still planted, but not like it was.’

‘I think you’d better tell us the whole story, Maisie.’

‘There’s not much to tell. As I said, it’s my special rose... each evening I water it, and wish it goodnight. Just like last night. Then this morning I noticed it was leaning a bit, and when I went and looked closer, I could see it had been dug up, and...’

‘And?’

‘Kind of... planted again, but not properly, like someone was in a hurry.’

‘In a hurry... to replant a rose bush in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason?’

Maisie shook a rather sad head. ‘I know it sounds crazy. I’ve done my best to replant it properly, but it’s a bit delicate, you know. It won’t be very happy.’

Daisy glanced up to Aidan, who was also shaking his head again, for an entirely different reason. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t some kind of weird dream, Maisie?’ he said in a disbelieving kind of way.

She threw him an angry glance. ‘I know half the village thinks I’m a dozy old biddy, but I’m not as crazy as I look. Then again, after this...’

Daisy pulled her into a hug. ‘Take no notice of Aidan, he’s just a man... I believe you Maisie, although it is a bit out of the box.’

‘Thank you, Daisy. But... what do I do now? If it happens again, that’ll be the end of my prize floribunda.’

Aidan turned away so Maisie wouldn’t notice the grin on his face, but Daisy had a frown on hers. ‘I’m not sure...’ Then she had a sudden thought. ‘Jesse... he’s here right now. Maybe our village gardener could throw some light on it.’ She slipped off the stool and headed to the side door, but then stopped in her tracks as the sound of his truck moving off filled her ears. She ran outside, just in time to see it turning out of the drive, and disappearing behind the trees.

She turned round to face Maisie and Aidan, who had followed her out. ‘Oh well, next time I see him I’ll pick his brains, ask if he’s got any idea why someone would steal a rose bush but then not steal it. It isn’t like him to go and leave the gate open though.’

Aidan nodded his agreement, and swung the big white gate shut. Maisie said she had to go give her prize floribunda some TLC, and disappeared through the little pedestrian gate next to the big one. Aidan threw Daisy his silly lopsided smile as he walked back over to her.

‘You think the silly old biddy has finally lost it, dear?’ he said.

‘You can be so cruel sometimes, Aidan,’ she replied.

‘Oh, and you can’t?’

‘I’m quite capable of being far more wicked than you. But this time... well, this time I’m not so sure.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘So you’re saying you think the village has a ghost gardener, who replants flowers in the middle of the night just to freak people out?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Oh come on, dear. I’m not Mulder, and you’re sure as hell not Dana Scully!’

‘Maybe we’re not in an episode of the X-files here, but Maisie was well upset. And she knows her garden better than most. I think you should pop in and make sure she’s ok first thing in the morning... and that the ghoulish gardener hasn’t visited again, of course.’

He ambled back to the kitchen, shaking his head every step of the way. But Daisy knew he would do as she’d asked, because he was just that kind of guy. She followed a few steps behind, a slight frown on her brow.

Maisie was the nearest thing the village had to a crazie, but in reality she wasn’t crazy at all. A little eccentric maybe, because she didn’t do things quite the way everyone else did. Something Daisy could relate to, and definitely excuse.

Over the last few months they’d become friends, and once she’d forced her way through the eccentricities others saw as definitions of crazy, it was clear Maisie was just as sane as the rest of them.

Not that it said much for the rest of them.

Despite Aidan’s initial head-shaking, she’d taken the time to understand her new friend. And one thing she’d discovered was that Maisie knew every inch of her garden. The floribunda in question was her pride and joy, but the same could be said about the whole of her garden.

If Maisie was convinced someone had been messing with her flora and fauna, then they probably had.

The why might be a little harder to work out.

Chapter 3

Aidan turned up at ten the next morning. He spent the vast majority of his time at Daisy’s, but he officially lived in a small bungalow just around the corner, in the leg of Walcotts Lane that branched off the part that skirted the pond. His street really should have been named something different... but it was rural Norfolk after all.

Despite the fact they’d been married for thirty-five years, Daisy and her husband owned separate properties.

The very unfortunate incident in London three years ago, and the day job Daisy had before she retired, both of which were very likely connected, had convinced them a new life and a modified identity was called for.

For two years after it happened they’d fought reluctantly with both the aftermath and the options, but eventually it was clear only one alternative stood a chance of working long term. So a year ago they’d moved together but separately to Great Wiltingham, purchasing two houses just a few hundred yards from each other, and putting their wedding rings into a velvet box that never left Daisy’s bedside table drawer.

Daisy reverted to Morrow, her maiden name, and as far as anyone in Norfolk knew, she and Aidan were simply the best of friends.

He had initially protested that Daisy would spend most nights alone, wanting to be there to protect her if the worst happened. But as she pointed out, she was far more equipped to protect herself than he was. In the end he grudgingly accepted that, given the situation, she was probably right.

Aidan had spent his adult life working as an accountant.

Daisy hadn’t.

‘So any more ghost gardeners?’

He shook his head as he walked through the kitchen door. ‘Fortunately no, but I don’t think Maisie got much sleep last night. I spotted a pair of binoculars amongst the ornaments on the window sill.’

‘Poor thing.’ She handed him a tall glass. ‘Here, I made you a strawberry and avocado smoothie.’

‘Now you’re just making a point.’

She grinned in the wickedest way possible. ‘See it as you will, splatter-man.’

He took a sip. ‘Calling me that, you’ve left me no option on which way to see it.’

‘Maybe. But is it any good?’

‘Delicious. And I can’t see a single splatter on the tiles.’

She laughed at the sense of humour that was almost as wicked as hers. ‘So how is the dear old biddy?’

‘A little freaked out. She showed me the rose-in-question. It’s in her front garden, which like most of the bungalows along there, is open to the road. Anyone walking past could have taken a fancy to it.’

She frowned at the hidden implication in his words. ‘So you believe she hasn’t gone completely crazy now?’

He managed to nod as he took another sip of the brew. ‘I think I do, despite my reservations. If it had been just any old rose she hardly threw a second glance at for days at a time, I might have felt different, but...’

‘One you kiss goodnight before you go to bed every night puts a different spin on it, yes?’

He laughed. ‘To be fair, she only told us she says goodnight.’

‘Never thought I’d see the day when you defended her.’

‘Let’s just say those who know every little quirk of the ones they love also know when something is different. Maisie loves her garden, and that rose in particular.’

‘That was my thinking too. Could it have been a stray dog, or a fox?’

He kind of shook and nodded his head at the same time, making the lock of silver hair fall over his forehead. ‘It’s possible. But I can’t see an animal uprooting a floribunda and then planting it again.’

‘Hmm... nor me. But it still begs the question why.’

He raised a puzzled hand in the air. ‘It’s a brain-boggler for sure. Even if someone got disturbed when they were stealing it, they wouldn’t have bothered replanting it again.’

Daisy filled the blender jug with warm water, and then let out a giggle. ‘Are you listening to us? We’re brainstorming the fact a rose bush didn’t actually get stolen? Hell dear, we’re turning into Norfolk country bumpkins for sure!’

He laughed. ‘Maybe so... but I do like the Times crossword!’

‘So you’re saying this is something we have to spend hours doing, which has no actual benefit at all?’

He walked over to her, and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Not exactly. But you do have a point. Then again, aren’t you curious to know the whys and wherefores of something that clearly happened, but has no obvious benefit to anyone?’

‘Of course I am... but I’m not sure how to actually go about it.’

‘I might have an idea.’

‘Oh dear, dear. I know that look...’

For a moment he seemed reluctant to speak, but in that moment Daisy knew exactly why. ‘I take it you brought the tech from London?’

He nodded. ‘I was reluctant to raise the subject, but...’

Suddenly she was holding him tight, the gloss of tears in her eyes. ‘It’s ok, darling. It was three years ago, and it’s starting to seem like it was in another life, even though it never will be. The night-vision camera never helped with Celia, but maybe it could assist us to solve a little puzzle now?’

He wiped away his own tear. ‘Maybe,’ he said quietly. ‘From the bay window in my living room I can see right down the street. Maisie’s place is only a few doors down, but on the off-chance whoever it was tries the same thing in another garden in that street, the camera will pick it up.’

‘Back in London we rigged it to turn on a light to warn us if anyone came into range. Could we do something the same now?’

‘Yes. I can rig it to switch on my bedside lamp. If I point the camera down the road and set it to run from midnight, I might at least get some sleep if Foxy doesn’t go foraging too much.’

‘It’s a very slim chance it would happen again in the same street, but I can’t believe you’d do this for Maisie.’

‘You know me better than that, dear. But it’s not just about Maisie. Between the pair of you, you’ve fired up my curiosity. It may be an insignificant little thing, but now it’s puzzling the hell out of me!’

Chapter 4

 Daisy didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. Nothing was any different in the cottage... as always her phone was on the bedside table, and everything was as silent as it always was once the residents of the village went to bed.

The word sleepy definitely described Great Wiltingham. It was like the entire population hibernated after ten in the evening. On the occasional night she would hear a car drive past, but once midnight came not a sound broke the tranquillity.

Not from the human population anyway. Now and again the quack of a duck drifted through the open window, and even less occasionally when she couldn’t sleep, a rustling in the bushes told her Foxy was on the prowl.

But that night, in the long periods punctuated by bursts of fitful sleep, not a single sound disturbed the peace. She’d told Aidan to ring her if anything happened, and somehow that knowledge was persuading her subconscious it was better not to sleep. The bad memories didn’t help either. The man she loved had brought the surveillance tech with him, but not told her he had. It was the same tech they’d used back in London to try and shed light on the mystery that still didn’t have closure.

Now he’d told her, and somehow it had made the events of three years ago seem like yesterday.

That hadn’t exactly encouraged sleep either.

At three in the morning she ambled to the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea, and then padded into the garden. It was a hot summer night, almost stifling. A full moon cast its spotlight across the rear lawn, illuminating the trees and bushes in a ghostly and yet soothing light as she sat quietly at the table on the terrace, sipping her drink.

She allowed her thoughts free rein, even though some of them were hard to think. The hard ones came every day anyway, by choice. Without closure on what happened three years ago, most days she hit the PC in a so-far fruitless search for that closure.

She would never stop until she found it, one way or another.

Life in the village couldn’t be more different to life in London. Yet even after she retired eleven years ago, her former employment didn’t seem to want to let her be. She did make a few enemies after all. A while after her retirement the message seemed to get around that she’d left the life, and for a number of years life fell into a relatively peaceful routine.

Then one day that peace came to an abrupt, and rather violent end. Daisy didn’t suffer physical harm, that was never the intention. But the emotional harm for both her and Aidan was far worse, and a lot harder to repair.

Those responsible were eventually brought to justice. But Daisy was all too aware the people behind bars had plenty of loyal friends who weren’t.

Because of the end result that was way too close to home, it was very likely there would never be an end at all.

Daisy forced her thoughts to the there-and-then. Aidan’s good heart had overpowered his reservations, as she knew it would. And the desire that matched hers to solve puzzles was a pretty sure guarantee he would try all he could to discover why an innocuous rose bush was disturbed in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason.

She smiled to herself, picked up her phone from the wooden table, and headed back inside. She’d almost willed it to burst into life, with Aidan on the other end telling her the ghost gardener was working away further down the street.

But willing something didn’t make it happen, as she knew all too well. In less than an hour the sky would lighten in the east, as a new day announced its imminent arrival.

If anything was going to happen, the chances were it wouldn’t be that night.

She snuggled herself back into bed, and turned out the light. Maybe it would still be possible to get a couple of hours sleep before Aidan wandered round.

‘No action then?’

‘Not a sniff. Or a wisp maybe.’

Daisy smiled, and gave him a kiss. ‘You still think the village has a ghost then?’

He laughed. ‘It’s as good a theory as anything else right now. I even watched the tape back on times thirty-two. But we can’t survey the whole village. Any of that smoothie left?

She lifted out a covered tumbler from the fridge, and placed it on the worktop. ‘Saved it just for you. On one condition...’

‘You want breakfast?’

She nodded. ‘Yes please. Being awake most of the night seems to have left me starving.’

‘You didn’t...’

‘Just a little. Mostly my subconscious was waiting for you to ring.’

He pulled out the bread from its container. ‘Must confess I spent some of the night watching out of my bay window, even though I knew the system would wake me if anything happened. It was like watching paint dry.’

‘Never mind, dear. Maybe we should give it three or four nights, and then put it down to a one-off.’

He nodded as he grabbed a couple of items from the fridge. ‘Maybe. Hellishly puzzling though.’

Daisy flicked the kettle, made them both a coffee, and then sat on her stool next to the island unit. A minute later a plate was plonked in front of her.

‘Tuck in, darling. Welsh Rarebit, just as you like it, with pepperoni and jalapenos!’

She shook her head. ‘Dearest, do stop calling it that... you sound like a wrinklie. Just say cheese on toast.’

‘Well I would, except it’s more like pizza.’

‘Now you’re splitting hairs.’

Chapter 5

 They gave it three or four nights. It didn’t make any difference. The ghost gardener refused to make an appearance. Aidan said he would leave the surveillance tech set up just in case, but he wasn’t holding out much hope.

Daisy agreed, even though it was mystifying her just as much as it was Aidan. But then on the fourth morning something did happen, although it was nothing to do with night-time surveillance.

Daisy had driven to the local shop, as always on what Aidan affectionately called her dolly-trolley. As she walked through the door, someone was having a moan to the young woman behind the counter.

That in itself was hardly surprising, given who it was. Matilda was the village moaner, who seemed to be able to find a hundred things every day that didn’t please her. A voracious member of the parish council, she was the self-styled high-standards warden of the village, making sure things that didn’t need fixing got fixed anyway.

When Daisy first moved into her thatched cottage, Matilda was the one who insisted the trees which bordered the pedestrian pathway outside her house were cut back, so people walking past didn’t get poked in the eye.

The only way anyone would get poked in the eye was if they were leaning through the trees to be nosy and see what was going on in the garden, but Daisy was a village newbie at the time, so meekly did as she was told.

These days she was quite prepared to tell Matilda where to go in no uncertain terms, but back then the last thing she wanted was to upset those who had been resident far longer than she had.

So when Matilda also told her she should keep her driveway gate closed at all times, she just smiled sweetly. She had no intention of leaving it open as an invitation to all and sundry.

Daisy often saw the village busybody in the store, sometimes buying a few bits, more often sticking some kind of notice on the board to tell people what they should and shouldn’t do. It was one of life’s unfortunate timings that Matilda and Daisy seemed to be out and about at the same time most mornings.

But this particular day, Matilda’s wailing was more interesting than usual. Not the moan itself, more the person she was moaning about. Daisy tried to ignore the irritatingly loud voice, which managed to be both grating and squealy at the same time, and concentrated on the words instead.

‘Well I don’t know what to think, Sadie. I think he’s just charging me for work that doesn’t need doing. Since my husband died I don’t have a lot of money, you know. And keeping an eye on the village takes all my time. He shouldn’t take advantage of people like that.’

The young assistant smiled in a slightly-uninterested way. ‘I’ve not heard anyone else complaining about Jesse’s work, Matilda.’

‘Well you know what British people are like, dear. We just don’t complain enough.’

Daisy, keeping out of the way by idly examining the French sticks, found a rueful smile creeping over her face at Matilda’s last statement. The same couldn’t be said about everyone. She hadn’t finished ranting...

‘Why, just this morning I looked out of my window and saw him replanting a rose bush in my front garden. I only asked him to do a bit of weeding. That rose was flourishing just as it was... he’ll charge me for it, of course.’

‘Maybe he felt it was necessary?’

‘Absolutely not. People don’t just replant roses for the sake of it. It’s disgusting.’

‘So did you say anything?’

‘Of course I did. I went out and had a go at him. He tried to tell me it needed it. Load of nonsense, if you ask me.’ She tucked her purchases into the capacious bag she was never seen without, and paid the assistant. ‘He’s gone to fleece someone else now, but when I get his bill I shall be deducting a sum for unnecessary work, mark my words. I’m now going.’

She flounced out of the shop, and didn’t even pin anything to the notice board.

Daisy saw the assistant shake her head, and then their eyes met. ‘Mornin’ Daisy. How’s you today?’

‘Better than you, by the looks of it.’

‘Oh, I get used to it from her. I just smile sweetly. Water off a duck’s back, as they say around here.’

Daisy smiled at the very local inference of a well-known phrase. ‘You think there’s any truth to her moan?’

‘Doubt it. Jesse’s never upset anyone else... then again, he’s only been here a couple of years. But if you’re going to rile someone, it’ll be Matilda.’

Daisy paid for the French stick, and a jar of locally-made jam. ‘I’ve only been here a year, and I’ve already ruffled her feathers a few times.’

Sadie grinned. ‘It’s ok for you. I have to listen to every moan and groan, being here in the hub of the community, as it were.’

Daisy smiled back. ‘Just remember what an invaluable service you provide for us old cronies, being a sounding board.’

‘It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it!’

Daisy trundled back towards home, but stopped again next to the pond. It was another beautiful day, and it looked like a couple of hundred ducks knew it too, dabbling away in the water in a lazy, unhurried kind of way.

She wasn’t really seeing them. Village busybody or not, Matilda’s moaning was bouncing around her head like a rubber ball on steroids. Maisie’s little incident was still taking up a big swathe of brain-power, and rose bushes featured strongly in that. Now it appeared Jesse the gardener was unnecessarily replanting another rose bush, a seemingly-unconnected fact of life that in Daisy’s mind felt like it was somehow connected.

And the fact he was supposed to do some gardening for her yesterday but hadn’t turned up, seemed to be yet another issue that was, or wasn’t, connected.

There was one question neither she nor Aidan had asked Maisie four days ago, because four days ago it hadn’t even occurred to them. Suddenly it had become relevant, and Daisy being Daisy, it needed to be asked right away.

She narrowed her eyes, and screwed open the throttle. Before she went home, there was a visit that must be made.

Chapter 6

   Daisy placed the rose-patterned bone china cup back on its saucer, and decided it was time to ask Maisie the burning question.

Her prize floribunda didn’t seem to have suffered from its altercation with the ghost gardener, but no one seemed any the wiser as to why it had been disturbed.

The binoculars were still on the window sill.

‘Maisie, this might seem a random question, but was Jesse working here the day of the incident that happened in the night?’

She thought for a moment. ‘Why yes, he was. But I really don’t think he would come back after dark and mess with my rose... at least not in the crude way it was done.’

Daisy couldn’t stop a slight giggle, which made Maisie frown. She waved an apologetic hand. ‘Sorry dear, neither do I. Just a silly thing I heard in the village shop half an hour ago.’

‘So are you going to tell me, or keep me in suspenders?’

‘It’s just that Matilda was in there...’

‘That bossy cow?’

‘Um... yes. Something she said, about Jesse working at hers that morning and replanting a rose, which in her opinion didn’t need it.’

‘She’s far too opinionated if you ask me. She thinks I should move away, reckons I bring down the area.’

‘Seriously? She told you that?’

‘Well, not in so many words. But I’m not as crazy as I look. I know exactly what she’s thinking.’

Daisy frowned. The daft part of her brain was just envisioning the perceived village crazie in the new light of a village telepath. She shook away the thought, before it festered. ‘Don’t listen to her. And don’t think things... promise me?’

‘I have to think some things, dear.’

‘I meant... oh never mind. What was Jesse doing on your garden?’

‘Just a little weeding. My poor old back, you know. Getting down and dirty is difficult. And he’s young and quite fit, after all.’

‘Maisie?’

‘Dear, my back might be past it but my thoughts aren’t... oh sorry, I’m not supposed to think, am I?’

‘I didn’t mean... oh, never mind. Did you watch him the whole time?’

‘That’s a personal question, isn’t it?’

‘I meant... maybe I’m not making myself clear, Maisie. But did you?’

‘I watched him some of the time... he wears quite short shorts, you know.’

‘Maisie...’

‘But no, not all the time. I was on the phone to my sister... and then I made him a cup of tea.’

Daisy narrowed her eyes. ‘I see.’

‘Well I don’t. Are you going to let me in on the secret?’

‘No. Not yet. There isn’t actually a secret right now. Just a slightly-troubling thought...’

‘You’ve been gone a while.’

Daisy found Aidan sitting on the terrace, reading a book under the shade of the big green parasol. She sat down on the chair next to him. ‘I was eavesdropping on a conversation in the village store... well, a rant really. Matilda was bending Sadie’s ear.’

‘Ah, the resident village dragon breathing fire again.’

‘Indeed. But it was what she was saying that set me thinking. So then I went to see Maisie.’

He looked a little puzzled by her words, so Daisy told him all about the fire-breathing dragon’s rantings. Then he looked puzzled for an entirely different reason.

‘You think our gardener has something to do with this?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘It seems more likely than not. He must have seen Maisie arrive here the other day, and realised why she’d come. He did leave in rather a hurry, and then didn’t turn up at all yesterday. That’s suspicious if you look at it in a different light, but it still doesn’t explain why he’s replanting floribundas that don’t need it.’

‘No, it doesn’t. But there has to be a reason.’

‘I’ll make us some lemonade.’

He headed back to the kitchen. Left alone with her thoughts, Daisy found them running rampant. The location of the incidences was the first piece of the puzzle that seemed to fit.

Walcotts Lane was in three sections. The part of the road she lived on ran for half a mile or so, and then meandered off into the countryside. Fifty yards after her cottage, a road branched off at right angles. It looked like a separate road, but for some odd reason was still called Walcotts Lane. A hundred yards further on, just before the bungalow where Aidan lived, the road split again, into two parallel streets that from the air looked like the prongs of a tuning fork.

Both of these prongs, each called Walcotts Lane, ended in dead ends. And pretty much all the bungalows on both prongs had front gardens open to the road. Maisie lived a few doors further along from Aidan, on the right prong. Matilda lived halfway along the left prong.

If there was something suspect going on someone didn’t want people to know about, that part of Walcotts Lane was surely the place to do it. No through traffic, and the majority of the residents getting on in years, and extremely unwilling to go out after dark.

But what was the suspect thing... and what had rose bushes got to do with it?

She voiced her thoughts to Aidan as he set down a tall glass of iced lemonade on the table in front of her. He didn’t seem too surprised. ‘The same thing occurred to me. But I’m still devilishly puzzled as to the what, and why.’

‘Talking of devils, that’s where the detail is.’

‘I hope you’re not saying what I think you’re saying?’ He looked into her eyes, and shook his head. ‘You are.’

‘Don’t you think digging up Matilda’s rose might give us answers? Jesse only replanted it a few hours ago, so if he left any clues they’ll be fresh.’

‘Can I finish my lemonade first?’

‘Oh, you’ve got plenty of time, dear. If we’re going to mess with the dragon’s den, I’m not prepared to incur her fiery wrath over a hunch that might prove to be nothing. Would you fancy explaining to her why we’re gate-crash gardening in someone else’s patch? I don’t want dear Matilda, or anyone else for that matter, to know what we’re doing. Until we’re sure there’s a sound reason why we’re doing it, anyway.’

‘You mean...’

‘After everyone’s asleep, we’ll raid the grounds. You ever done any midnight gardening, dear?’

Chapter 7

‘You hiding a box of Milk Tray behind your back?’

‘Well I was going to wear my orange visi-vest, but it was in the wash.’

‘Very funny. But you do look like the Milk Tray man... apart from the silver hair.’

‘And you look like... well, like you used to.’

‘Don’t remind me. I thought it appropriate wear for a commando raid on a rose bush.’

‘It’s all quite exciting, dear.’

Daisy shook her head, but didn’t reply. Two minutes ago Aidan had opened the front door to let her into the bungalow, and as he’d looked her up and down, chuckled at her attire. Likely because it was virtually identical to his. Both dressed in black jumpers and jeans, the only difference was the headgear... his a black baseball cap, hers a dark grey woolly bobble-hat.

She’d made the two-minute trek to his as the time clicked to nine in the evening. The sky to the west was still dark blue, the last diffused rays of the sun clinging onto the remains of the day. It was virtually dark, but not quite. She’d been wary of making the trip along the secluded narrow alleyway when it was almost  pitch black. Rural Norfolk was hardly London, but old habits die hard.

The alleyway didn’t really shave much distance off the journey, but it was extremely useful when you didn’t want all and sundry and Matilda to know just how much time you spent with someone. Just a few yards from Daisy’s cottage at one end, it opened out at the other end in Walcotts Lane, right next to Aidan’s bungalow.

It was one of the things that had sold him the property... the short, narrow, virtually-hidden pathway could have been made especially for their situation.

That particular evening it served another useful purpose. Dressed like cat woman in a bobble-hat, Daisy really didn’t want to use the main roadside walkway, and risk running into someone who might have asked awkward questions. So she’d slunk along the pathway like a feral feline, slipped through Aidan’s side gate which opened directly onto the pathway, and smiled a slightly-relieved smile when she saw him dressed in similar fashion.

‘I suggest we don’t make a move until midnight,’ he said as he flicked on the kettle.  ‘I doubt there’ll be anyone awake then, and no insomniac dog-walkers either, hopefully.’

‘We are taking a bit of a risk though.’

‘It is Matilda we’re talking about. As long as she doesn’t discover us, I doubt anyone else who might spot us would incur her fire-breathing wrath by telling her.’

‘If she sees us, she’ll make sure no one in the village will ever forget who midnight-raided her floribunda.’

‘Now I’m getting an image I don’t want.’

‘Be afraid. Be very afraid...’

‘Just... just be quiet, dear, and drink your tea.’

‘I brought my torch.’

Aidan glanced at the big silver cylinder in Daisy’s hand as he closed the side door behind them. ‘Just point it at the ground... if you wave that thing in the air it’ll seem like the blitz again.’

‘How would you know? You were just a glint in your daddy’s eye then.’

‘I’ve seen pictures.’

‘Of torches?’

He shook his head, but seemed to be smiling. ‘Of wartime searchlights... and if you point that thing upwards, that’ll look just like one. I can imagine the rumours spreading through the village like wildfire... strange lights in the sky, aliens landing in Great Wiltingham...’

‘You’re such a dipstick, Aidan Henderson. But you do make me laugh when I need it.’

‘Only when you need it?’ he retorted as they reached the pavement and hurried across the road, turned left and then almost immediately met the sharp junction in the road that was the start of the left prong.

Not a light shone from a window. There was very little light from anywhere. Although one or two people had rigged up their own, streetlamps didn’t exist in that part of the village. And a hazy cloud had drifted across the sky a short while ago. They could just about see the moon, but it was a pale, diffused effigy of the bright spotlight it seemed to have been for the last four weeks.

It was like Mother Nature knew it wasn’t really wanted that night.

The cloud cover had brought with it a faint, cool breeze. It felt like the long dry spell was coming to an end, and as they walked quickly towards their target, the dark, faintly-spooky hulks of the bungalows either side of the road weren’t helping the atmosphere.

‘I’ve got goose bumps,’ Daisy whispered.

‘You?’ Aidan whispered back. ‘I thought this would be a walk in the park for you.’

‘Plonker. I’ve never been on a midnight raid to dig up a rose bush belonging to a fire-breathing dragon before. Anyway, it’s not the mission... it’s just the chill in the air.’

‘Sure it is. And please stop stage-whispering. Someone might hear.’

‘You’re stage-whispering too, Dipsy.’

‘Only to answer you, Laa-Laa.’

‘Shall I switch the searchlight on now? I think I can hear enemy bombers in the distance.’

‘Daisy dear...’ His words faded away as he realised they were right outside the fire-breathing dragon’s lair. He glanced around furtively. It seemed they were the only two people in Norfolk right then. And the dragon’s windows were shut, another slight bonus of the chilly night. ‘Ok, but point it down to the soil.’

‘Did you bring the trowel?’

‘Damn, I knew I’d forgotten something.’ He shook his head as he pulled it out of the capacious inside pocket of his parka. Daisy panned the torch around the front garden. It was mostly bushes, but right in the centre was a patch of gravel, with a flower bed in the middle of that. It was almost covered by a mass of bright orange marigolds, except for the centre. That was dominated by the floribunda.

‘That’s got to be it,’ whispered Aidan.

‘You don’t say.’

He ignored her grin, and started to make his way through the bushes to reach the rose. Until he felt a restraining hand on his arm, and glanced up to see Daisy’s cheeky face. ‘Be careful, dear. Knowing whose lair this is, those bushes might rear up and eat you.’

‘Will you please be quiet?’

‘Just saying...’

Together they made their way gingerly through the bushes. Daisy did keep the torch on the ground. As they knelt next to the rose, they could see straightaway it had been messed with. The beam threw a bright spotlight on the soil surrounding it. It looked like it hadn’t been firmed properly, hardly the work of a professional gardener.

While Daisy ferreted around for any clues that might have been left, Aidan sunk the trowel into the ground next to the rose. He glanced up to her. It had slipped in far too easily. The soil was bone dry too.

Anyone replanting a shrub would have known the fact that, especially given the long dry spell, the first essential would have been to water it.

The village gardener should have known that.

‘Try lifting it up and back a little, dear. I’ll get my hands underneath the roots,’ Aidan whispered.

Daisy’s leather-gloved hands grasped the stem, and she did as he asked. She didn’t need to exert much effort, the rose moved easily. His hands disappeared into the cavity in the loose soil, and two seconds later he let out a whispered gasp.

‘There’s something here.’

Daisy couldn’t see properly, the blooms and leaves in the way. Her heart began to pound. Aidan tended to say ‘bugger’ a lot, but he rarely gasped. A gasp meant something completely different. Something a lot more spectacular.

As he lifted the package away from the roots, Daisy gasped too. It was wrapped in thick clear plastic to protect it, but it instantly switched her heart to overdrive. Not just because she already knew what it was, but because of the sheer size of it.

Aidan whispered the words, in a shocked, faltering kind of way. ‘Now why would anyone bury a bag of flour underneath a rose bush?’

‘I don’t think it’s flour, dear.’

‘You don’t say.’  

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