The Rose Garden Read online

  About the Book

  Molly’s perfect life comes crashing down following the unexpected death of her husband David. She is left alone with a big old house to maintain, finances in disarray and her hopes for happiness in a heap. But Molly is a survivor. Despite objections from her two daughters, Molly fears that the only solution will be to sell their beloved home. But as she finds herself drawn to the old neglected and overgrown walled rose garden and the dilapidated gardener’s cottage attached, she suddenly sees a future as she decides to restore them.

  As the rose garden takes on a new life and starts to bloom again, Molly finds that she can look to the future with new confidence and hope.

  By the number one bestselling author of Mother of the Bride and Three Women.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  About the Author

  Also by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  Copyright

  For my father, Patrick J. Conlon –

  a man who loved his rose garden.

  Acknowledgements

  THANKS TO MY HUSBAND, JAMES, FOR BEING MY ROCK AND support.

  Thanks to my children, Mandy, Laura, Fiona and James, my sons-in-law Michael Hearty and Michael Fahy, and my two pets, Holly and Sam Hearty. You all make my life a joy

  Special thanks to my wonderful editor, Linda Evans, for her enthusiasm, dedication and work on my books.

  My sincere gratitude to Joanne Williamson, Vivien Garrett, Brenda Updegraff, and everyone at Transworld London for all their work and input on this book and their support and encouragement. And thanks to Sarah Whittaker for the lovely cover.

  Grateful thanks also for my agent Caroline Sheldon for her constant belief in my writing and the excitement that working together on every new book brings!

  For Eoin McHugh in Transworld Ireland’s Dublin office.

  For Simon and Gill Hess, Declan Heaney and Helen Gleed O’Connor and everyone at Gill Hess, Dublin, for making it all seem easy and looking after me and my books so well!

  For booksellers everywhere … thanks for bringing my books and readers together.

  For bookshops … what would we do without you?

  For Sarah Conroy … for all her patience and kindness.

  To all the gardeners and gardening writers and columnists that have inspired me over the years … thank you so much.

  Arianne Menut … thanks for helping to keep my own garden in shape.

  For Sarah Webb, Martina Devlin, Larry O’Loughlin and Don Conroy and all my fellow writers … thanks for just being there!

  For my readers … thanks for making writing such a pleasure.

  ‘To be happy for an hour, have a glass of wine. To be happy for a day, read a book. To be happy for a week, take a wife. To be happy for ever, make a garden.’

  – Proverb

  Prologue

  MOLLY HENNESSY STOOD IN THE GARDEN OF MOSSBAWN HOUSE taking in the view.

  She loved this old house, standing amidst acres of land made up of gardens and woods and grassy fields only fifteen miles from Kilkenny. As she looked out over the garden, with its large herbaceous borders, lavender walk and lawn, the pond with its wooden bridge, the distant oakwoods and the kitchen garden with her badly neglected vegetable patch, she felt such a strong emotion. She didn’t know how she could ever bear to leave it.

  But already the garden was falling into disarray, with weeds and brambles creeping where they shouldn’t be. The neat hedges and paths were now straggly and untidy, the borders overgrown and messy, the lawn and grass far too long.

  She was doing her best to maintain the place, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t enough. The size of the garden and grounds of the old country house was proving far too much for her. It was a near impossible task for a woman on her own to manage.

  She and David had fallen in love with the place from almost the minute they had seen it – Mossbawn House, a faded photo in an auctioneer’s window. Coming to view the neglected old Georgian house with its large hall, dusty drawing room and library, its run-down orangery with panes of broken or cracked glass, they had both instantly decided that this was the place they wanted to live. David had been determined to make it their home. They had sunk every penny they had into buying it, taking out a massive mortgage, but David considered it a very good investment and they’d been full of all sorts of plans for the old house, both of them excited about it becoming a perfect family home.

  Mossbawn House had welcomed them, and over the years it had filled with family and friends, parties and gatherings. Work on the house was ongoing: over the years they had fixed the roof, then the windows, replaced ancient plumbing and installed gas heating, lovingly restored old plasterwork and woodwork, and eventually even restored the old orangery, so that Mossbawn was once again a beautiful home. There was still work to do, but they were proud of what they had achieved. Restoring the house was more than a project – it was a labour of love and they were both looking forward to spending the rest of their days there together.

  That was the plan – well, the dream. But David’s death a few months ago had utterly changed everything. Devastated, Molly tried to cope with his loss, struggling to keep herself going, let alone the old house.

  The girls too were distraught at the sudden loss of their beloved dad. They were both in college, Grace in Dublin and Emma at Galway University. They tried to come home at weekends to help and be supportive, but more and more Molly was left rattling around the place on her own.

 
; When David was alive everything had seemed perfect. He had loved the garden and the house and ensured that everything was kept running smoothly. Year after year they had enjoyed family life in this beautiful place, but now Molly was unsure of the future.

  Keeping the old house was an expensive business. The bank had contacted her again and again; she had tried to ignore them, but knew that she could no longer put off meeting with them. Without David’s income to help with the constant bills she had no idea how she was going to survive … Her family and friends were advising her to be sensible: sell up, downsize and move to a smaller home in Kilfinn, or move back to the city. Perhaps they were right, but she couldn’t imagine leaving Mossbawn behind and trying to make a fresh start.

  She had absolutely no idea how she was ever going to keep this beautiful old house, but looking around her at the garden and grounds Molly was determined somehow to hold on to Mossbawn, the home she and David loved so much.

  Chapter 1

  MOLLY SPREAD SOME HONEY ON A SLICE OF BROWN BREAD AS SHE listened to the radio. More doom and gloom on the morning news. Was it any wonder that the people were downhearted?

  Having breakfast like this, sitting alone in the kitchen, was something she still found hard to get used to. She missed having David to talk to. Now the only one to listen to her was her little Jack Russell, Daisy.

  She was up early this morning, as she was driving to Dublin for a meeting with the bank, something she was absolutely dreading. Her neighbour, Rena, had offered to take Daisy and she would drop her off there en route.

  Later, leaving Kilfinn and heading up on to the motorway, Molly had to admit she was looking forward to a few days in Dublin, with the chance to see her twenty-year-old daughter Grace and to catch up with a few of her old friends. Roz had insisted that she stay with her in Donnybrook.

  Over the past few days she had gone through all her bank statements and accounts, with everything spread out on the big dining-room table as she tried to make some sense of the debits and credits and establish the exact financial position she was in. Following David’s death their remaining mortgage had been cleared by their mortgage protection insurance policy, and another life insurance policy had also kicked in, but Molly was still struggling to pay off the various other loans they had taken out to do essential repairs on Mossbawn.

  Going over it and over it again, she realized that, except for the life insurance payout, she had absolutely no income of her own. They had virtually no savings and she’d no idea what the pension portfolio the bank had recommended for when David retired was worth now. They had barely made a dent in some of the loans they had taken out for running repairs and renovations, but David hadn’t worried about it as he had taken the view that he was generating an income and they were looking after their home. Like every other legal firm, Coleman Quinn, where David had worked as a partner, had seen its business affected by the downturn. Although David had always maintained that they were financially secure, now, without his earnings, Molly had no idea how she would survive. She was dreading her midday meeting with the bank manager. Her brother-in-law Bill, an accountant, had offered to come with her to the meeting, but she had declined and arranged to see him afterwards when she could go through things with him.

  As she neared Dublin, she began mentally to run through possible questions that she had for the bank. It had started to rain and the traffic was terrible as she wound her way through the city streets towards the bank’s head office. Molly prayed that she would find a car park. She felt flustered enough about meeting the bank manager without the ordeal of not being able to park.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Molly,’ said Dermot Brennan, the manager, welcoming her to his third-floor office. ‘I’m so sorry about David. It must be very hard for you and your daughters.’

  Molly nodded, not trusting herself to speak. David’s death had been so sudden. A strong, fit man like David having a massive brain aneurysm and never even regaining consciousness … it still shocked her.

  Dermot ordered coffee for them both and she was glad – caffeine was just what she needed. Dermot had been looking after their accounts for years. Sitting across from him, she could see that he looked tense, as if he was going to be the bearer of bad news. Molly braced herself as he began to produce facts and figures, and she listened in dismay at the decline in value of David’s pension fund.

  ‘Should I use it to pay off the loans?’

  ‘You could withdraw some of the funds, but it’s probably better to stick it out and hope for an increase in values, an upturn in the market,’ he advised. ‘Either way it is a bit of a gamble.’

  Molly had always hated gambling; it was something she and David would never contemplate. David had been sensible, paying into a proper pension fund recommended by the bank and now where had it got them?

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Obviously the fact that the mortgage on Mossbawn has been cleared is of immense value, but it’s the other outstanding loans that worry us. The bank is concerned about how these loans will be serviced given your current circumstances.’

  ‘I have no idea,’ she admitted honestly. ‘I’ve got the life insurance policy money but that’s about all. David’s pension, from what you are telling me, is worth nothing by all accounts and I’m not working.’

  ‘The important thing for the bank is that you find some way to clear these loans or reduce them to a manageable scale. Would you consider using the insurance money you received for David’s death?’

  Molly didn’t believe what he was saying. That insurance money was all she had.

  ‘Or perhaps you’d prefer to free up some of your assets?’

  ‘What assets?’

  ‘Well, there is the house itself, of course, now that it is “mortgage free”,’ he said calmly. ‘Perhaps you should consider selling Mossbawn, though unfortunately property prices are low at present.’

  ‘Sell the house? It’s my home, the girls’ home …’

  ‘Then perhaps there may be some antiques or heirlooms or the like?’

  Molly had to stop herself from laughing aloud at the thought of some valuable undiscovered heirloom! If there were anything of value they would have sold it by now.

  ‘I need to think about this,’ she said, trying not to give in to the panicky feeling that made her feel like she couldn’t get a breath.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘of course.’

  ‘I’m meeting my brother-in-law Bill later. He’s an accountant. I’ll talk to him about it.’

  ‘I know how difficult this must be for you, Molly,’ Dermot said apologetically. ‘But the crash in the market and drop in bank shares is something none of us could ever have expected.’

  She didn’t know what to say to him. She had no intention of letting him off the hook.

  ‘My own pension is only a fraction of what it should be,’ he admitted, ‘and I’m due to retire next year so it is a worry, a big worry.’

  ‘Perhaps you will have to sell your home?’ she offered testily.

  At least he had the good grace to look discomfited.

  ‘Molly, we need to work things out in the most financially beneficial way for you and the bank in order to ensure a way for you to clear or pay down these loans and the overdraft.’

  ‘David was putting money into his pension here in the bank month after month under the impression that he was building up a nice nest egg for when we were older and he’d retired,’ she said angrily.

  ‘Nest eggs are few and far between these days.’

  ‘I have to think about all this, talk to the girls, get Bill’s advice …’

  ‘Of course, but I shall expect to hear back from you within the next few weeks,’ he reminded her firmly, standing up from his desk. ‘Then we can clarify the new loan-repayment schedule.’

  Walking away from the bank, Molly was shaking. Her world was falling apart and she had no idea what to do. She just longed to be out of the city and back home in Mossbawn, far from all this
stress and pressure.

  Chapter 2

  WALKING TO THE NEARBY MERRION HOTEL, MOLLY’S MIND WAS IN turmoil. As she entered the old Georgian building opposite Leinster House she was relieved to see that Bill O’Reilly, her brother-in-law, was already sitting in the hotel’s comfortable drawing room perusing the Financial Times.

  He got to his feet the minute he saw her approach. Bill, as handsome and strong as ever, was sporting a tan and was more relaxed than she had seen him in a long time. A bit greyer, but still dressed immaculately in a good shirt and smart blazer.

  ‘How are you, Molly dear?’ he asked as they hugged each other.

  ‘Upset,’ she admitted.

  She could see concern flit across his broad face as she sat in the plush, gold-striped velvet armchair across from his.

  ‘I’ve just come from meeting the bank manager,’ she confided, ‘and basically they want me to consolidate the loans and pay them back immediately. He even suggested that I sell Mossbawn!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Bill. ‘I suppose it was to be expected, given the situation.’

  ‘I have no idea what to do … what David would have wanted …’

  ‘First let’s order something – you must be exhausted,’ he coaxed.

  ‘A double brandy, that’s what I need,’ she joked.

  ‘Not to be recommended this time of the day,’ he smiled, ‘but what about the warm chicken salad, or soup, or the smoked salmon?’

  Molly studied the menu quickly and opted for the chicken salad.

  Bill sat back, listening as she began to tell him about her earlier meeting. Being an accountant, he had a sound business brain and she knew that she could trust him to have her best interest at heart. He was a good man, the man her sister Ruth had fallen in love with and married. When David had died last year, Bill was the first on the phone to her, not just to commiserate but to help organize things. He’d been wonderful, as he was the one person who knew and understood exactly how she was feeling – for he had lost Ruth a few years ago.

  Her sister and Bill had been such a great couple, with three great kids. She and David had always loved when they came to visit them at Mossbawn and the two families had got together at weekends and holidays. She missed those days – and still missed Ruth terribly. Losing her older sister to cancer twelve years ago had been such a blow. Bill and their three children, Liz, Kim and Mike, had been left utterly devastated.