Hotel Ambrose

Chapter 14: The Garden

The next day Fred followed me out to the shed and helped me sort out the tools. I like to keep things tidy, like sheds for example – it's part of that Disorder I told you about.

"All done," I said, dusting off my hands.

"Or done," Fred said, clapping his hands. Jesus, imagine being four years old and not knowing how to dust off your hands.

That's when I looked up and realised we hadn't done the loft.

I got the ladder from the corner and dragged it over. I told Fred to stay where he was while I climbed up.

I wish I'd never gone up there. It's funny how something like climbing up into a loft can change everything.

Up in the loft there were shelves with tins of paint on them, and cardboard boxes full of brushes and rollers and sandpaper. There were mysterious bottles and cans, and lots of dust. The roof was low – I had to crouch down and waddle around. There was a yellow cupboard in a corner. There were seed packets inside the cupboard, and some bottles with skulls and crossbones on them, and some gloves that had rotted away until the fingers had fallen off, and a little hand shovel.

"Dad?" Fred called from down below.

"Hang on Freddy. Got something for ya."

I filled my pockets with packets of seeds, grabbed the hand shovel, and climbed back down the ladder.

"What did you saw?" Fred asked.

"Look," I said, pulling a fistful of seed packets out and showing him. "Wanna plant some plants?"

"Plant some plants!" Fred shrieked, laughing like crazy.

I gave some of the seed packets to him. He shook them and the seeds swished around inside. I told him the names.

"Snapdragons!" I said.

"Snackdraggers!"

"Sweet peas!"

"Sweepies!"

"Tulips!"

"Tunips!"

"Grab that watering can Freddy."

There was an old tin watering can in the corner. Fred went and got it. Then we went out into the grounds.

I let Fred choose where to put the garden. He paced about for a while, deciding. He eventually settled on a spot halfway between the fountain and the gravestones. The grass was tall there. Perhaps in his four-year-old mind tall grass would mean tall plants.

"Here Daddy! Plant the plants!"

"Stand back!" I cried. "Here comes the steam shovel!"

I came roaring in with the shovel. He shrieked instructions at me. "Faster!" he shrieked. "Deeper! Down to the worms!"

I tossed out a big clod of earth with grass swaying like crazy hair on top. I had gone down to the worms too: I could see a pair of big ones there, fat with soil and twisting about as if to music. Fred told me to stop. He got down and examined the worms.

"Good for the garden," I said, leaning on the shovel and getting my breath back.

Fred nodded sagely up at me. He put the worms in a bucket.

The garden bed wasn't big, but I was completely fucked by the time I was done digging. I sat down in the grass nearby and watched Fred take everything out of the soil that he didn't want in his garden. Rocks were out. Small pieces of rotted wood were in. He found a coin that was so corroded you couldn't see what was on it. He took a while to decide on that one. The coin stayed.

Then he emptied all the seed packets onto an upturned bucket and swept them into little piles. Even I knew that was way too many seeds, but I didn't say anything. I looked at the instructions on the seed packets, but they were too faded to make out. The seeds were probably so old they wouldn't grow at all.

Fred got a stick and drew lines in the garden bed. Then he dribbled seeds into them and covered them up. Finally, he placed the worms strategically around the garden bed. He watched them wriggle about. When they'd all squeezed their way down into the ground he stood up and brushed off his hands.

"Water?" I said.

"Ah!" he said. He grabbed the watering can and looked around.

"No tap," I said. There wasn't either, unless it was hiding under the tall grass somewhere. Then he saw the fountain. He took off for it. I followed him.

The ledge around the pool was too high for him to climb. He put the watering can on the ground and looked up at me.

"Okay Freddy, hang on."

He watched as I got up on the ledge and reached down and filled the watering can. It wasn't a big one, but when it was full of water it was too heavy for him to lift. So I carried it back to the garden for him and we watered it together.

"Drink, plants," I said.

"Drink, worms!" he said.

When the soil was nice and wet he stood back and said: "How long will the plants be?"

"A while Freddy-babe."

"Tomorrow?"

"Longer than that."

"How much?"

"Dunno. You to keep an eye out. When the first one comes out of the ground you tell me okay?"

I knew there'd be awkward questions if the plants didn't grow. He probably would've lost faith in me completely. But they came up just fine. They grew very well in fact. Maybe it was the soil. A few months later the plants were taller than he was. They were flowers mostly – every colour you could think of, and when the wind blew and the windows were open you could smell their scent all through the hotel. I'm not big on girly things like flowers, just so you know, but I was proud of the garden all the same. Even Sophie approved.