The Gardener

By Zelah Meyer

Sarah Mountlow, a pretty young widow, can’t help but fall for Ben Haythorn. He is good, kind, thoughtful - everything her late husband wasn’t. Ben took her in when she had nowhere else to turn. She wishes she could help him with his own problems, but he’s reluctant to tell her what they are.

Successful market gardener Ben Haythorn accepted an exemption from active service during the war in order to care for his sick mother. He’s often called “yellow as hay Haythorn” by people in the village, but when there’s a crisis involving his family from the manor house, Ben might just have it in him to surprise everyone.

The Gardener is a sweet romance set in 1950s rural England and published in UK English.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zelah Meyer
• Release date: Dec 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310455933

Zelah Meyer

Zelah Meyer is a British author, improviser, and all-round arty-crafty type. She studied Creative Writing at Manchester Metropolitan University, but doesn’t recommend that anyone else do the same! She credits books and narrative improvisation with teaching her everything she knows about writing. She loves to learn new things, and could potentially paper at least one wall with certificates in everything from hypnotherapy to health and safety on a rail track. She currently lives in Southeast England with her husband and their son.

Book preview

The Gardener

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Zelah Meyer

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The Gardener

Copyright © Zelah Meyer 2014

Interior and Cover Design by Zelah Meyer at Beresford Brown

Cover Image Credits: Kzenon at Bigstock.com, Zelah Meyer, Brenda Starr at Flickr.com (textures and frame - frame shape altered for this design.)

Published by Beresford Brown: http://beresfordbrown.com

All rights reserved. This book may not be sold or reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without permission from the rights holder.

This work is fictional. Any similarity of names, places, or events to any that exist, or have existed, in reality, is purely coincidental.

Any product names, brands, and other trademarks that may be referred to within this book are the property of their respective trademark holders. Unless otherwise specified, no association between the author and any trademark holder is expressed or implied. Use of a term in this book should not be regarded as affecting the validity of any trademark, registered trademark, or service mark.

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To my husband. Because good men exist outside of books!

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Sarah Mountlow, a pretty young widow, can’t help but fall for Ben Haythorn. He is good, kind, thoughtful – everything her late husband wasn’t. Ben took her in when she had nowhere else to turn. She wishes she could help him with his own problems, but he’s reluctant to tell her what they are.

Successful market gardener Ben Haythorn accepted an exemption from active service during the war in order to care for his sick mother. He’s often called yellow as hay Haythorn by people in the village, but when there’s a crisis involving his family from the manor house, Ben might just have it in him to surprise everyone.

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Chapter One

Sarah Mountlow scaled the sloping farm track with mingled hope and anxiety, mostly anxiety. The dust from the dried mud swirled up and clung to her black skirt and shoes. She hoped that she would get the opportunity to remove the dirt before she was granted an audience with the owner of the manor house. Sarah had left her four suitcases in the care of Mrs Bunton, the landlady of the Pig and Pocket inn, just to be on the safe side. They contained all that remained of her worldly goods.

She hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary for her to return to the inn and make use of the room she’d reserved. She had provisionally asked for one in case things didn’t go as planned up at the manor. It was a very nice inn, and Sarah would be happy to stay in it, if it weren’t yet another expense out of her ever dwindling savings. The cost of the car to bring her from London had been painful, but carrying four suitcases on the train with two changes …. It wasn’t possible. There was a chance that some chivalrous gentleman would come to her assistance, but also a stronger chance that she’d wind up separated from one or more of her items of luggage en route to Little Fillybrook. So, car it had been—negotiated for the lowest price she could manage—and resulting in a drive in the company of a surly man, who realised that an impoverished widow wasn’t likely to bestow on him the handsome tip he considered his due.

Mrs Bunton had told her that this was a shortcut to the manor, quicker than following the winding road through the village. Sarah wasn’t afraid of being late, because the occupants of the manor didn’t know she was coming. Perhaps she should have warned them? She bit her lip. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were angry at her turning up without notice. However, it was too easy for them to say no over the phone, and she was desperate.

As the track met a path that crossed the orchards either side of her, Sarah saw a stile off to her left, and—through the gap in the hedgerow—her first glimpse of the manor.

Dusting off her skirt as best she could, she walked across the lawns. After a moment’s hesitation, Sarah went to the front door and knocked. After all, she was family … by marriage anyway.

A manservant answered the door, not a butler, but he did his best to look her up and down superciliously anyway. Yes?

I would like to speak to Mr or Mrs Mountlow please, I’m Sarah Mountlow. My late husband, Neil, was their nephew, she explained, feeling the need to justify her presence.

If you would like to take a seat in the bookroom to your left, I will see whether either of them is free, the manservant said, ushering her in to a clean but fading room.

After a few minutes, during which Sarah didn’t like to take a seat in case it looked presumptuous, the lady of the house entered, looking as faded as her surroundings. She walked over to Sarah and held out her hand. Good afternoon, I’m Rebecca Mountlow. George … that is, my husband, Mr Mountlow, will be with us shortly. Miles has gone to fetch him. Please, take a seat, she said, indicating towards a circle of sofas.

Sarah gingerly placed herself on one of them as her hostess sat down opposite.

So, what brings you to Little Fillybrook? Rebecca asked.

Sarah flushed. I … that is …. I don’t really have anywhere else to go. You see, Neil died, and we didn’t have much money as it was. I tried to find work, but I couldn’t. I sold the flat, but most of the money went back to pay the bank. We didn’t have much capital. So, I wondered, if … if it would be possible to—

Oh dear, Rebecca said sounding flustered. I’m very sorry but perhaps your family …?

"All I have left is an aunt, who is employed as a companion to an old acquaintance of