Annie‘ heard a shout, a cry of pain she couldn’t ignore'

Annie went to the kitchen to make tea, hoping to calm herself. She looked through the window. The man had gone now, and the shrub roses that Ted had been so fond of were looking much smarter than they had an hour earlier.

A long buried memory of their delicate scent filled Annie’s nose, as though Ted were still here, holding out a freshly cut bunch for her.

“They’re marvellous this year,” he’d say. “Are you sure you won’t come out?”

“Not today,” Annie would reply. And that was the end of it.

As the sound of the kettle boiling cut through the memory Annie wished she could smell those roses again. But that wasn’t going to happen.

BY THE end of another month the garden was looking lovely again. The borders had produced a fine flush of delphiniums and the alstroemerias were already on their second flowering.

Annie had considered her competing fears at some length. She could speak to the man, but that would involve at least opening a window. And anyway, Annie didn’t talk to strangers. She could talk to Katy and risk being carted away to an institution. Or she could say nothing and hope he wasn’t an axe murderer with a penchant for horticulture. The last option seemed the best, given that if he was going to hurt her he’d probably have done so by now.

Once she’d decided that this was the new status quo she became less fearful and in a way began to look forward to his visits. It reminded her of watching Ted through the window, snipping and digging and tending. The man looked a little like Ted, and on one occasion she’d almost tapped on the window and held up a mug as a silent offer of coffee, as she’d done when Ted was alive. But she’d stopped herself and the man had never even looked up, never caught her eye and waved, as Ted had done.

Ted was the only one who’d understood. A long convalescence from her broken hip had led to a fear of falling in the street again, then not going outside had become a habit and finally, not letting the outside in. Maybe it would have ended if he hadn’t died. Maybe the temptation of the roses would have made her venture out with Ted and the spell would have been broken. Maybe.

But he’d died nearly a year ago and so that hadn’t happened, and the man in the garden wasn’t Ted, and this was the way it was and always would be.

Annie had been settled before. Now she was unsettled and wished he’d never come. And then she looked at the garden and was glad he had. And then she didn’t know again. Why did things always have to change?

Annie heard a shout, a cry of pain she couldn’t ignore.

The man was on the ground beneath a half-pruned tree, his leg twisted at a funny angle and a stepladder beside him. He called again, looking over to the house, his face contorted. Annie didn’t know what to do.

Maybe one of the neighbours would hear, but she didn’t know if they were in. Maybe it was just a twist and he’d get up and limp away. But in her heart she knew it was worse than that and she remembered the pain and the fear from her own fall. Ted would be ashamed of her, hesitating as she was. Despite her rising panic she was going to have to do something.

Thinking of Ted, she mustered her courage, strode to the front door, flung it open and shouted as loud as she could. “Help! We need help here!” A passerby called an ambulance, people trooped through her house and the man was taken away. As soon as Annie knew he was safe she shut herself in the sitting room and started shaking, continuing to do so until a long time after they’d all gone.

The ambulance crew had tried to talk to her, but she’d sent them away. She just wanted to be left alone. The man had gone and everything would go back to normal.

When Katy came the next day, she’d heard from the neighbours how the ambulance had come and how Annie had been seen for the first time in years.

“He’s going to be fine,” Katy told Annie. “I phoned the hospital.”

“It’s no business of mine,” Annie said, but she was relieved nonetheless.

Now, as she looked out of her window at the empty garden, she wondered who he’d been. She’d probably never find out.

THE man was there again. Two months had passed since “the incident”, and autumn was in full swing. Annie heard a rustling and looked out of her window to see the man in the garden, collecting leaves with a large lawn rake. He looked up at just that moment, saw Annie and gave a little wave. Then he mouthed “thank you” and continued raking.

He looked tired. It was getting cold out. Before Annie could stop herself she tapped on the window and held up a mug. The man looked up and nodded. Annie pointed at the back door. She could unlock it and leave the coffee on the porch. It would be all right.

Bob sat on the back step, warming his hands on the mug. Ted had loved Annie so much, just as Bob had loved his dear Maisie before she’d been taken. It had broken Bob’s heart to see Ted’s garden going to ruin. And anyway, he’d made a promise to Ted that night at the gardening club when Ted had known he hadn’t long left and was worrying about how Annie would cope.

Bob hadn’t been able to keep that promise while Maisie was ill, but after she’d gone and he’d moved into the retirement flat that overlooked the far end of Annie’s garden he’d seen the state of it and started working.

He’d put a note on the step outside the front door to let her know he was coming and was relieved she hadn’t sent him away. He’d really wanted to do this, for Ted and for himself. He didn’t have a garden at the flat and working here made him feel close to Maisie, and Ted had wanted someone around Annie just in case. It was a fair trade.

Ted had said something about the roses, how Annie liked the scent. He’d get some fertiliser and make sure they were spectacular next year. Maybe he could cut some for her and leave them on the porch. Maybe one day she’d come into the garden and they could talk about Maisie and Ted. Who knew? For now, he was simply pleased Annie had decided to unlock the door.