Blooming Memories

By Denice Penrose

Shutterstock / Victoriya1994 ©

Illustration: Shutterstock

Molly is soon to learn of a very special rose bush she will be able to add to her ever growing memory garden…

Sitting with my morning tea, enjoying the sunshine, the heady scent of rose blossoms in the air, I smile.

My rose garden is my favourite place in the world, each bush a memory.

The large, pink ‘Love Always’ in the centre started it all. It’s the one I love the most, although it was a different story when Dan gave it to me!

The apricot-coloured ‘Breath of Life’ is in full bloom. Dan bought it for me when Jamie was born.

The yellow ‘Bobbie Dazzler’ marked Julia’s birth.

The soft pink ‘Let There Be Love’ was for our first anniversary, the deep ‘Alec’s Red’ for our twenty-fifth.

The ‘Wedding Day White’ was for Jamie and Linda’s wedding, pink ‘Wedding Bells’ the rose from Julia’s bouquet when she married Mark.

I’d extended the garden in anticipation of grandchildren, and it held the ‘Joy of Life’ for Julia’s daughter, our first grandchild, yellow ‘Golden Moments’ for her son, and ‘Sparkle’ for another daughter.

There are memorial roses too, the thorns among the blossoms of our life.

Dan planted the red ‘Loving Memories’ the day of my mother’s funeral.

There had been space for Jamie and Linda’s children, but instead we’d planted white ‘Little Angel’ for the babies Linda didn’t carry to term. A stone angel guards those four bushes, in a sheltered section of the garden.

It occurs to me that it’s been months since we’ve seen them, although Jamie has rung a few times.

It’s not the same though. Jamie had been promoted to head office, and their new house is closer to his job, but further from us. Their visits have become increasingly infrequent.

At least Julia is still nearby, and will be coming round later with her children. Sparkle – her name is actually Stephanie, but she fell in love with her rose, so insists on using Sparkle – is starting school, and wants to plant a rose for her first day.

Not to be outdone, Timmy and Lucy want to plant one too.

I’m looking forward to seeing which roses they have chosen. I’ve found a space to squeeze them in.

Through the years, we’ve planted, tended and loved our roses. Every rose bush is a memory, and there are so many happy ones.

The garden is rapidly growing too small, and I’ve got my eye on a plot of land behind our garden. Dan thinks I don’t know he is in negotiation with the owner ahead of my birthday.

It’s a big one – an ‘O’ birthday – a bit bigger than I care to admit to.

I know Dan wants to do something special. If he can get that plot, it will be the perfect gift.

I walk over to ‘Love Always’ and breathe in its scent, remembering the birthday when Dan gave it to me…

We’d been married for seventy-five days. I’d been looking forward to my first birthday as Dan’s wife. My birthday falls on Valentine’s Day, so with the copious amounts of flowers and gifts around, I’d expected Dan to be spoiled for choice.

The year before, he’d taken me to dinner, and showered me with flowers, chocolates and champagne.

We’d just bought our house, using all our savings, plus some money from our parents, for the deposit. It was all we could afford, and it needed a lot of work, but we’d decided from the start we’d rather pay to do up our own place, than pay for someone else’s.

I had a part time job in a local shop, which didn’t pay much.

Money was tight, and I knew that a birthday dinner was out of the question. I loved roses, and I had dropped hints to say I’d be very happy with a nice bouquet.

However, when the day came, Dan had woken late and rushed to the shower. After a hurried kiss goodbye, he’d left for work. Not a word about my birthday or Valentine’s Day!

I knew couples argued about remembering birthdays and anniversaries, but we were newly-weds. How could he have forgotten my birthday already?

I lay in the big bed, staring at the space next to me. The more I thought about it, the more miserable I felt.

The doorbell rang. He’s sent flowers, I thought, rushing to open the door.

My smile died when I saw a double glazed window salesman.

They’re not popular at the best of times, but the poor man was bewildered by how annoyed I was.

How could he have forgotten my birthday? I stifled a sob as I closed the door. Surely the romance couldn’t have gone already? Did he still love me?

The day had stretched long ahead of me. I wasn’t working that day, so I’d cleaned and caught up on chores, alert for the phone and doorbell, moving from excitement to anger to despair.

There were phone calls from friends and family, but nothing from Dan, no flowers, no phone calls, throughout that long, long day.

Reluctantly, I began to throw together a meal. I didn’t feel like eating, but Dan would be hungry.

Dan was usually punctual, but it took me a while to notice that he was an hour late.

“Great, he can’t even make it home to me on time,” I muttered, banging around in the kitchen.

Another hour passed. The food grew cold. I began to grow worried.

There were no mobile phones back then, so I couldn’t call him. I paced the house, opening the front door, checking the phone was working.

What should I do? Was he all right? Why didn’t he call?

Finally, I heard his key in the door. I rushed to greet him.

“You’re home. I was getting so worried.”

“Hello pet. Sorry I’m so late.”

He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away.

“Where have you been? Why are you so late? And on my birthday. You forgot my birthday!”

I stomped off.

“Molly, wait. I didn’t…”

But I wasn’t listening. I ran to the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

Dan walked in with a rose bush, wrapped in cellophane.

“I didn’t forget. Happy birthday, Molly.”

He tried to hand the bush to me, but I refused to take it. He placed it on the carpet.

“You bought me a rose bush? For my birthday? Something I have to plant and look after?”

“You were meant to get a bouquet, but the florist messed up the order, and I only found out after work that they didn’t deliver it.

“I’ve been out hunting for roses – that’s why I’m late.

“But well, it’s Valentine’s Day. Everywhere is sold out and all I could find was a few scrappy blooms. Then I thought, why not buy a rose bush, and then you can have roses all the time.”

“So you don’t have to buy me flowers any more,” I snapped and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. I sat on the toilet, sobbing.

I caught a glimpse of my blotchy face in the mirror. I looked a sight! What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like me to be so emotional.

Dan had really made an effort. It wasn’t his fault the florist didn’t deliver the bouquet. He’d been searching for roses for hours. That had to count for something. I washed my face.

Dan was sitting on the bed waiting for me.

“I’m sorry, pet. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll take the rose bush back, and get you some roses tomorrow. As many bouquets as I can find to make it up to you.”

“No don’t. The rose bush was a lovely thought. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“I love you,” he said, holding me.

We made up in the traditional fashion. He popped out to get fish and chips, which we washed down with the bottle of champagne he’d bought, before falling asleep wrapped up in each other.

I blamed the champagne when I threw up the next morning.

The garden was a bigger mess than the house, and we hadn’t really tried to tackle it yet. We walked around the space, looking for a spot for the rose bush, before deciding to put it in the centre of the garden.

The first spring blooms were open a few weeks later, when my doctor confirmed I was pregnant. That was when we bought another rose.

As our lives entwined, we marked big events with roses.

In summer, the heady scent of the garden was intoxicating, and I filled vases indoors with the fragrant blooms.

We’d landscaped and extended the garden to the walls. We’d added bird feeders and a fountain – water sparkled in the sunshine, and bird song filled the air.

I walked along the paving stones, stroking velvet petals, and breathing in the distinctive scent of each rose.

My tea had grown cold while I wandered through my memory garden, so I decided to make another.

“Molly, look who’s here!” Dan walked out of the back door, followed by Jamie and Linda.

“Jamie, Linda – it’s so good to see you!”

I ran towards them. I hugged Jamie, and he wrapped his free arm around me.

“Linda, it’s so good to see you, you look wonderful.”

I hugged her. For a moment I thought she’d put on a lot of weight, but as I stepped back, I realised she actually had a large baby bump.

“Are you…? Is it…? When?”

She laughed and nodded her head.

“We haven’t been telling anyone – we didn’t want to raise any hopes until we knew it was certain.”

“Linda’s had to stay in bed most of the time, so we couldn’t travel,” Jamie explained. “But the baby is due next month, and everything is going well.”

“That’s amazing. I’m so pleased for you. We have to celebrate. Dan do we have any champagne?”

“I’ll see what we’ve got.”

“Come and sit down, Linda,” I patted the seat for her, empathising as she eased into it.

“I may need help getting up again,” she said happily. She was glowing, and as Jamie pulled up another chair for her to use as a footrest, I smiled at the perfect picture.

Dan returned brandishing some glasses and a bottle of prosecco.

“To you, and the baby.” He held up his own sparkling glass after pouring ours, and an apple juice for Linda.

“We’re delighted. I couldn’t be happier for you,” I agreed, as we clinked glasses.

Linda smiled mischievously. Jamie handed me a large bag. Which rose would they have chosen? I knew it would be something special, after all these years of waiting.

I reached in, carefully removing a deep red rose, sniffing its soft scent.

“It’s a beauty. We’ll find a special place for this one.” Reaching to fold the bag, I noticed it wasn’t empty. An identical rose remained in the bag. Open-mouthed, I looked at Linda.

“Yes, it’s twins,” she confirmed. “Twin girls.”

“It took us ages to settle on the right roses. We liked ‘Special Child’, and ‘New Arrival’. There were so many to choose from. Then we saw these.”

“So what are they called?”

“‘Blooming Marvellous’!”