Paradise Is Where You Find It

By Anne Burry

Lillys life she decided had to change, her eighteen year marriage had come to an abrupt end when Carl had taken off with another woman. Along with this, Lilly could no longer stomach the daily drudge of working in a job she hated in a city that left her empty and cold.
Her decision to move into the country to start a brand new life, took her into the realms of an existence she could never imagine. Putting her finances into the local garden centre owned by a couple who had become her friends and were now retiring seemed simple enough and a way for her to follow her late mothers passion for growing orchids.
Unwittingly this decision had pushed her quite literally into the arms of David Matthews a cool, confident man who was ruthless in business and in his pursuit of her. She thought nothing of putting her trust in a man whos business was property but not only did he offer to help her deal with her purchase of the business he also took her to new heights of passion and lust that until then she had only assumed was made up within the pages of a book.
What she hadnt anticipated was that through Davids ruthlessness she would become entangled into a dangerous web of hate, greed and a risk to her own life.
In amongst all of the madness that had become Lillys life came the love of a man who had been so deeply hurt by the antics of David and his ex-wife Susan that it took the threat to Lillys life to show him that there remained some good in the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491895986

Anne Burry

Having been brought up with Enid Blyton's famous five advendtures and then growing into the romance of Catherine Cookson my enjoyment of books has flourished over the years. I have always had a love of writing, and enjoy the challenge of essays, most recently completing an HNC in Management. I like to people watch and observe them in thier everyday lives. Qualifications include being an assessor whcih requires an eye for detail within the observation process. I live with my husband of 24 years and son of 22 years in a small town on the Sussex coast in England. My birth place was a small village nestled in the sussex countryside. I am in full time employment, but find writing a great escape from my everyday job

Book preview

Chapter 1

S TRANGE AS IT MAY BE, there is something very comforting about the rain and wind lashing against your windowpane whilst you are cocooned within the warmth of a duck down duvet on a miserable November night. Lilly decided at that point that her life must have reached a new low if she felt comforted by the near-hurricane winds and possible flooding outside; perhaps it was just a way to escape her own mi sery.

Lying beside her was a man who automatically turned his back to her every night once he settled in for sleep. This was not of course before disturbing her by coming to bed later than she and then spending an interminable time reading by what felt like a blazing white light, not necessarily done solely to disturb Lilly’s sleep, but that was how it felt. Where had it all gone wrong?

When they first married, Carl always made a point of kissing her goodnight as they snuggled in.

Their nights together had never been known for their endless passion or the thumping of her heart when she was close to him or the tingle of excitement at the feel of his hands on her skin. That kind of passion was only found in novels or romantic films, wasn’t it? After all, the honeymoon period never lasts; eventually, everyone must settle down to the grind of daily life. In the real world love will not pay the bills, let alone allow luxuries such as a holiday abroad. Spending all day in bed or finding any opportunity to make love to the person who sparked that kind of passion was a type of escapism that she could only dream of.

Carl tried to be a considerate lover. Not everyone was fortunate to have such a man, according to her friends, although she sometimes felt that he was considering his own needs first rather than hers.

Eighteen years of marriage had slipped into a comfortable companionship, but more times than not it seemed to Lilly that any in-depth conversation would at some stage turn into a slanging match. The outcome was inevitably days of silence and a prickly atmosphere. Long hours commuting to and from the city also did nothing to dull the loneliness and emptiness that she had begun to feel.

Even the summer days she loved could not quell her feeling of loss and emptiness, though it was not the intense feeling of loss associated with a death, as she had felt when her mother passed away five years ago; that had been and remained an empty feeling. What she felt now came from the realization that she lived in what appeared to be a loveless marriage.

It was on that miserable November night that Carl had come up to bed and suggested in a matter-of-fact way that he felt the marriage no longer had anywhere to go and that it would be for the best if they separated. There had been no suggestion of giving it another go or talking through the faults they perceived in each other; they each knew this list ran the risk of being endless and turning into a point-scoring session.

Then, clearing out one of the cupboards in the study, Lilly realized that her life as she knew it was about to change. Amongst some photos showing images of happier times and documents that related to the general running of the house, she came across a large newer-looking brown envelope. Initially, the contents did not register with her; after all, they were just cards and notelets. She suspected that Carl had cleared out his office desk and absently decided that this would be the best place to store them. However, on closer inspection, she found that they were cards that she did not recognize, and on opening one, she found out why.

"My darling Carl, we are becoming closer and closer; please don’t keep us apart any longer. You know we should be together …"

Lilly had no reason to read any further; as they say, the truth hurts. Strangely enough, though, once she had steadied her breathing and felt the butterflies raging in her stomach from the initial shock slow to a gentle flutter and her heart wind back to a reasonably steady beat, she realized that the marriage really had reached rock bottom. Her nagging suspicions that lately he had been acting differently and the subtle little things he did that had been out of the ordinary were the culmination of the truth that he had in fact been having an affair. She sat with her back against the wall and pulled her hair from her forehead. Letting out a deep sigh, she began to piece together bits of recent incidents to see if she could work out when this affair may have started. The notelets had not been dated, so apart from the relative newness of the paper and ink, it was the only way she could give herself a guide to the deception.

Later, Lilly could not remember how long she sat staring at the large double bed, feeling that its emptiness was just the beginning of what was going to be a difficult time. At this point she decided she would say nothing and see if he would indeed do what this mystery woman had asked of him. It was a coward’s way out – she knew it and told herself so – but maybe in her heart she hoped that this affair, if indeed that was really what it was, had been short-lived and that Carl in fact had decided to choose their marriage, as disappointing as it was, rather than beginning a new life with somebody else.

She spent the rest of that day continuing to think about the times when Carl had been late coming home, the mysterious phone calls, and the constant beeping of text messages on his mobile. She was sure nobody would be stupid enough to use their main home number if they were having an affair, so apart from a niggle at the back of her mind, she had not had any real reason to be suspicious. Clearly, Carl had done a relatively good job of covering up his secret life, and it had only been by chance that she had come upon the envelope.

Nevertheless, she wondered. Had he really been at that business meeting or was he with her? Her … Who is she? Lilly wondered. The cards had given no clues of the sender’s identity. She had met all the staff at the office, and none of them seemed Carl’s type.

But what was his type? Clearly it was no longer her, petite and slim. More likely it was someone he had met at squash; after all, he had been going a lot more in recent weeks, she now realized.

Although the mental distance between them had been the norm over the previous months, on thinking about it now, she realized that there had also been a different type of atmosphere brewing. He seemed almost guarded when she occasionally asked him how work was going, as he must be busy due to the increase of late nights arriving home, or whether he was still enjoying his squash games. Come to think of it, he had been unusually uninterested when she even mentioned taking a trip away. After all, trips abroad generally were when she let her inhibitions fly free, and without the constraints of everyday life to get in the way, their passion gained more spice during the hot sultry nights, and sometimes days, in whichever foreign land they chose to take their precious few days away.

A bitter smile crossed her lips. Had he missed this woman during their last trip abroad? Who was this woman who had taken her place as his main devotion?

She was upset about what she had found, but in truth, he could not be solely to blame for his wanderings. After all, when was the last time they had sat down and talked, let alone made love with any real meaning? Recently, it had been even shorter than normal and devoid of any true affection. She realized now that it had probably been done simply to keep up the pretences or even because he felt he was doing her a favour!

Chapter 2

E IGHTEEN MONTHS HAD HAD NOW slipped by. Carl had moved out of their family home and moved in with his lover, the author of those notes now identified to Lilly as Tina – someone he had met at corporate event. It had been an unpleasant chapter of her life, especially the turmoil and mud-slinging as both solicitors expertly wreaked professional havoc to gain the best outcome for their respective clients. Eventually, when the dust had settled and the end of their marriage was marked by an official document decreeing the end of a chapter of their lives, Lilly took her share of the sale of the house and savings and started what she thought would be a stressful time in finding and building a new life for her self.

She had also felt this juncture in her life should mark a change in her career, too. Hence, within a month of Carl leaving, Lilly had taken a deep breath, marched into her manager’s office – feeling none of the confidence that she hoped she showed outwardly – and handed in her notice. Even as she apologized for leaving them a member of staff down and saying a tearful goodbye to her colleagues of ten years, she felt the stress of the last few months leave her as she closed the office door behind her for the last time.

During a protracted search for a new home and life in the Sussex countryside, Lilly had happened upon a small but busy garden nursery, and in the space of a few days found a beautiful country cottage she instantly fell in love with and a job at the nursery just a short drive away. The money would never be as good as the salary she commanded in the city. In fact, once news got out on the grapevine that she had left her long-standing employer, she received many good offers from similar organizations, both in the city and abroad. She had stoically stood by her decision though, after several long nights alone in her hastily found temporary base, a short-term let apartment, with just a bottle of wine for company and many bouts of tears and questions to herself about what had brought her to such a predicament. She decided the questions should probably best remain unanswered, as the truth sometimes just hurt too much. She would not take the easy route but instead leave her past behind and stand on her own two feet.

She had also had a long list of offers to keep her company too, some from within a close circle of friends that she and Carl had entertained in their home over the eighteen years of marriage. Many of these she’d thought were happily married. It struck her funny to screen the latest message from Tom, a business associate and friend of Carl’s who for two weeks had steadily attempted to lure her out of her apartment for a drink at the local bar since spotting her in the busy coffee-shop queue. It had seemed a simple chance meeting, but the touch on her arm lasted longer than would seem necessary. Although the kiss on each cheek was outwardly innocent, what would pass between friends, his embrace pulled her closer than she felt necessary.

Lilly couldn’t lie. The attention was nice, and she had doubted herself considerably since the revelation that Carl had found somebody else to love. She had never considered herself beautiful or even attractive (perhaps at most pretty), so the advances helped heal her pride and made her feel that she was still attractive to others, creeps or not.

It had also been a while since she had felt an intimate touch from anyone, even Carl, and the male scent of Tom and his alluring aftershave had made her catch her breath and allowed her to imagine for a moment what it might be like to share an afternoon in bed with this man. After all, he was no stranger, and she had always admired his well-toned physique when he spent casual afternoons in their back garden or when she watched him move with quick ease around the squash court. She was also no stranger to flirting, but until now this had always appeared harmless.

After that chance meeting, Tom tried on many occasions to lure her out for a quiet drink – You know, a shoulder to cry on. Creep! She was briefly tempted to inform his wife, Karen, of his overfriendliness towards her, but she’d decided that Karen would have to find out for herself.

Tom wasn’t the only one either. There were the blind dates that her friend Melanie had set up in an attempt to get her back on the horse; these had been embarrassing disasters. She would have thought that for all the years Melanie had known Lilly, she would have had a better understanding of her type. Clearly she did not, given the limp handshake she had to endure at the beginning of each date (never a good start) and their overcompensating effort to seem interesting. She was sure that they felt the same about her; after all, she had not exactly met their attempts at conversation with any real enthusiasm.

Eventually, both the men and Melanie had given up trying to set up any more dates.

The men she knew had become almost Neanderthal in their hunter tactics, seeking out their prey by trying to tempt her for just one drink, no strings. And the wives treated her differently too. Those she had considered some of her closest friends suddenly became suspicious of her intentions and wary of letting her remain within the circle for fear that she might decide that their husbands were fair game (if they only knew!). Maybe they just felt a sense of unease that their idealistic worlds could in fact topple like a house of cards just as hers had done. She had no offers from them to catch up since their initial meeting when they had been more than happy to invite her into the circle to offer her their condolences on the news and offer apologetic noises and pitying looks which everyone knew meant nothing beyond the effort to glean the juicy gossip on offer. Not even a quick meet for coffee had been offered since, nor were her calls returned. She received just a simple text: Thinking of you, hope you’re doing ok.

It was soon apparent to Lilly that one never knew what went on behind closed doors. Perhaps as much as it hurt that it was at her expense, Carl should perhaps be congratulated for taking the lead and doing something that many of these husbands could only dream of. Perhaps they just needed to grow a set of balls!

These new experiences over the past few weeks had actually made her decision easier, centring less on financial issues than the blunt fact that she had nothing and no one left, no reason to stick around. It seemed that every passing day took her further away from her old life.

Carl had always been thrifty with the household budget and never entered into loans or credit. He had taught her well, however frustrating it may have been when trying to make a large purchase – new furniture or cars, even day-to-day purchases sometimes.

If we cannot afford to pay for it with cash, then we will wait and buy it when we can was his mantra.

Looking back, she realized that this had been a good trait, because the proceeds from selling the house did not go to pay off reckless debts and to the max credit cards. They had both been earning similar salaries, so they decided that it would be fair to split the sale of the property straight down the middle, giving them each a substantial amount of money to work with.

It had taken Lilly a while to find a new home, but the moment she walked through the door of the two-storey cottage, Honeysuckle, she had known that this was where she wanted to put down her new roots. She was not tall like Carl had been at six foot, so the low doorways and beams did not concern her; she found them rather quaint.

Carl preferred new homes; there was less maintenance and DIY problems for him to encounter.

No, this new home of hers was cosy and had so much character; it was as if every resident who had lived in this hundred-year-old cottage had left some mark on it. Likewise, the smell of years of burnt wood from many fires in the inglenook forever lingered in the air she breathed within the cottage, giving it a life of its own. It also took a little while for her to become accustomed to the creak of each floorboard and the movement of the house during the hours of darkness. It was an adjustment to move from living with someone, however lonely that had felt, to actually living alone with no other physical company for days on end. But eventually she found these noises to be a natural and soothing part of the cottage, and in a way, they were the cottage’s way of reassuring her.

Access into the garden was via a stable door at the back of the house, through the small but well-designed kitchen. On stepping outdoors, she was immediately met each day with the sweet scent of a typical English garden and with the cottage’s namesake running up and over most of the back wall. Its potent and heady scent was especially heavy in the air on warm summer evenings. It was not a large garden by any stretch, but it felt almost secret with its old-bricked walls following along the full boundary of the garden.

A small patch of lawn grew non-stop, always green, surrounded by neatly maintained borders of plants such as foxglove, gladioli, dahlias, lupines, and poppies, all fighting to be the boldest over-stated colour in its surroundings. But within this explosion of colour also came a sensual awareness of Mother Nature’s creations. Only if you were to put all these colours together in a room would they shout bad taste and send a person fleeing from the sensory overload.

Amongst the scents around the garden were the endearing aromas of lavender and wild mint. They greeted her senses at every slight breeze and reminded her of her parents’ garden that they had hung onto until it became too much for them both. They had both been keen gardeners, Mum more so in rare orchids, but ultimately the garden was where she had found her love for watching what seasonal changes brought and the bountifulness of Mother Nature’s offerings. (It was also where her name came from. She had always thought herself fortunate that, of all the names she could have been given relating to flowers, she had come off relatively lightly.) These scents played their part and tempted the bees to taste their erotic nectar. The budlier in the corner of the garden seduced butterflies into feeding and playing. She loved to watch the light breeze rustle the leaves and flutter their delicate wings as they wandered around the purple elongated flowers.

It was, in fact, this garden that tempted Lilly back into the local nursery. There, in the window of the shed housing the pay desk and garden essentials on sale, she found a small but neatly typed advertisement for help wanted.

Martha and Harold Wallaby had run this centre, they said, for more years than they cared to remember, but they were especially fond of the time they spent planting the seeds in the potting sheds through the winter months, and thinning out the shoots as they came through the warming earth in the early spring months. They specialized in traditional border and bedding plants, such as geraniums and busy Lizzies that came in a multitude of colours and scents.

However, they had found over the years that customers no longer typically wanted the traditional plants to fill their gardens but preferred instead to buy phallic-type symbols in the shape of cactuses and tall grasses. Even palm trees and exotic fruit plants such as banana trees were now requested more often than not. It was also true that over the previous few years, the climate in England had changed, especially in this corner of the country, and these new plants required less water and maintenance, in keeping with the new, drier climate. After all, it was well publicized that people should be conserving water, and with regular hosepipe bans in effect, even during the winter months, people were expected to fill their gardens with plants that required less water. Thus, the never-ending barrage of garden makeover programmes had also whetted the appetite of would-be designers, and it appeared that it was no longer fashionable to have just an old English garden.

I’m not sure how much longer we can keep this business running; people are just not buying the traditional plants anymore, said Martha one day as she bent over one of the many rows of busy Lizzies on the large wooden racking in the main potting shed. After all, we may be encouraging people to do exactly what the local water authority does not want them to. The large nursery on the other side of town seems to have the right idea though; they are now selling a bigger range of alpines and grasses and the like, which seem to be a big hit with their customers.

You still have your regulars, don’t you? replied Lilly. She herself had certainly also noticed the drop in visitors to the nursery in the time that she had been working with the couple.

I think this may have to be our last full season. We have been here for twenty-five years, and the early mornings and damp winters have started to take their toll on my joints.

There’s plenty of life left in you both, replied Lilly. You’re fitter and healthier than a lot of people your age, and the work is something that you love to do.

We can carry on gardening in our own patch at home, replied Harold.

It will still be just as enjoyable, but without the hassle and need to keep this business running, Martha concurred.

You are very well respected for your knowledge within the local community, replied Lilly. You would be sorely missed by your regulars and those who pass by during the summer months. She was now hearing alarm bells ringing in her ears. She had grown to love this job, and the knowledge she had gained from the couple stood her in good stead when setting up the summer planting in her own garden.

On a selfish note, she was not sure if she could go through another upheaval. The move from the city to the country, although relatively smooth, had come with its own stress. The thought of having to move on again, leaving new friends and this job, sent a shiver of fear through her that she had not experienced for some time. This new life and the knowledge that she had gained had also been passed on to her few remaining friends, who loved to visit her during long weekends when they felt the need to get away from the noise and grime of the city.

Melanie, one of her best long-term friends, who had stood by her like a rock whilst her marriage dissolved into ruins, had in fact mentioned it on her last visit. You should branch out into your own gardening business, with the knowledge you appear to have on which plants grow where and which type of compost you should use.

Don’t be silly, said Lilly. There’s a bit more to it than that. Martha and Harold have years of experience, and even they are still learning new things. However, in thinking about it, she had also spent a lot more time recently researching various products and new lines on the web and visiting the local library to find out the names of some of the more exotic plants that had begun to come onto the market or were being brought into the nursery by various reps.

This is the way forward, one of the younger reps had said as he pointed to a brightly coloured plume of flowers exploding from a large, almost grotesque looking cactus in one of his company’s extensive catalogues.

I’m not sure that this is what the owners are looking for in their stock, replied Lilly.

Then the chances are that they will be left behind, he had replied in an almost dismissive tone.

She cut him off in mid-flow, not wishing to be dragged into a conversation about her colleagues’ failings. I have the list of products they require, and that includes one box of runner bean seeds, three boxes of lettuce and radish seeds, six one-litre bottles of tomato feed, and three broom heads.

I’ll put the order through, but do let them know that we now stock this exotic range from countries all over the world

I will; thank you for calling, Lilly said as she drew the conversation to a close by turning back to her work. Just now it was the weekly task of weeding around the seedlings that had just been put outside to be hardened off in the small outhouse.

Martha and Harold had not been at the nursery when she had arrived earlier that morning. This change of routine had become quite commonplace, and more often than not, they would leave Lilly with a list of jobs, including orders that needed sorting. She had long ago been given a key for access, feeling pleased at the time that she had gained their trust enough to be given such a responsibility. Today, after she sorted the small float for the till and opened the various skylights and vents in the sheds and greenhouses, she made herself a hot drink.

It was then that she read her list of instructions fully. At the bottom of the note that had been written in Harold’s distinctive flowing handwriting, was a PS:

Lilly, we have a meeting with the bank this morning, and will use the time in town to also do some shopping. Could you lock up at the usual time and then drop in on your way home, please?

Normally, Lilly would be quite pleased that they had taken some time off and away from the business, but on this occasion, she felt uneasy about their true intentions for meeting her. Perhaps she was reading between the lines, but the frequent conversations about winding up the business had begun to unnerve her.

She made herself busy around the nursery’s various plant sections – annuals, herbaceous, hardy, and so on – and worked her way through the various items on the list. Dealing with the visit from the commercial rep had been one of them.

There had also been a slow but steady stream of visitors to the centre given the unusually warm weather lately. Some bought one or two strips of plants that were strong and well established, and Lilly had welcomed comments on their full and healthy blooms, making a mental note to pass these positive remarks on to Harold and Martha.

One young couple visiting the centre around lunchtime said that they were on holiday and enjoyed visiting small centres such as this one in order to locate unusual plants for their roof terrace back in the city. Did the nursery have anything unusual, such as a bird of paradise? Apparently this species could be grown in the warmer climates of England such as Sussex.

Lilly apologized and said that they were not currently stocking this or similar plants and made another mental note to look up this particular plant on the Internet. Thinking back to the morning’s visit from the plant rep, she thought that she remembered seeing something that looked like this plant