The Goldy Project

Chapter 23

Mrs Potter didn't kill me, which was a miracle since one of the Bakers tattled on me and told her everything, since they were annoyed that they had to pack away by themselves, which in my opinion is ridiculous since all they have to do is put a few cakes in the oven whilst I have to sweep, clean and be a waitress. It was about time they started to do a bit more around here. Mrs Potter's reaction was quite unexpected that Saturday morning. She walked up to me with her walking stick and looked me straight in the eye of a while which was quite intimidating. It was like she was trying to figure something out, then just as quick as a snap of fingers, her eyes start to sparkle and she invited me to her house. Without even a response from my part she rushes away humming to herself, leaving me completely baffled.

Of course I knew where she lived since in our neighbourhood everyone knew everyone, but I had never been invited before, so although I say she hasn't killed me, it could only be a matter of time. I cycle Daisy to Mrs Potter's home, each peddle getting faster with curiosity with a new reason for why she would have called me, would she finally recognise my hard work and give me a reward? Or would she fire me for scaring away a customer by throwing a cake in her face? It could go either way really. Finally I reached the small little rosy cottage at the end of the street, the front lawn was breathtakingly beautiful with about 50 different types of extravagant flowers all neatly displayed. As I came closer I got to smell the over powering summery fragrance of all the flowers, it took me back to when I was little and myself, James and mum would create little adventures from our imagination in our little back garden, where all of our wildest dreams became a reality and time was limitless.

I park Daisy neatly on the curb outside the cottage and I softly nudge the gate open. Mrs Potter is already outside kneeling next to a Lilly, gently pouring water from her vase, for an elderly woman she was very active and invested a lot of time and energy in her garden, you would never see her just keep her feet up and watch TV, which is exactly what I would be doing at her age. As she gets up, she goes to the next flower- a rose, and starts pouring again, all the while she has a warm smile permanently placed in her face, but it seems so genuine that I don't want to interrupt her. Something about her action seemed so motherly and I felt a quick pang of sympathy for her, she was all by herself in this cottage with only these flowers for company, this garden wasn't just her pride, it was the only stable thing in her life, it was her everything.

"Would you mind getting that other watering can and start watering the other side, Miss Pond?" My cheek flush red instantly, she knew I was just creepily watching her. Mrs Potter looks at my reaction and start laughing, her laugh made feel warm and gooey inside, a bit like the inside of a Creme egg at Easter time, it was so sweet that I couldn't help but laugh too. I go and grab the watering can and start watering the camellia's, the rest of the afternoon was spent splendidly, as we stayed in the sun watering her beautiful plants. She was like the grandmother I never got to have since my mum isn't in good terms with her family, and George's mum and dad passed away when he was at a young age.

Afterwards as the sun started to set she got a picnic blanket and we had some cute cakes and tea in her garden, her cakes were so heavenly it reminded me of why she owned the bakery, everyone in our village knew she was the best baker. It was the most fun I had all summer, watering the plants was refreshing, almost like meditation. When I asked Mrs Potter why she loves gardening, she said it was calm for the mind, it gave her a sense of peace, which I could definitely relate to.

"I've really enjoyed myself today, Mrs Potter, but do you mind me asking you why you invited me today?" I ask hesitating, not sure if I wanted to know anymore since I had such a good time, perhaps she was just sick of being alone.

"I could tell that you needed some time out, you've been working for me for so long I can tell when you're upset and you need a rest." She replies smoothly. I stare at her in astonishment, I didn't even know if she realised I was alive most of the time during our repetitive morning ritual.

"I guess you're right, I haven't been feeling over the moon lately. But I don't need a rest, believe me, the bakery is the only thing that keeps me sane." I give her a hopefully reassuring smile, Mrs Potter laughs at my eagerness.

"You just cannot stay away from my bakery can you? Don't worry I was exactly the same, for me it was a hideout, I could bake my cakes and see people smile in my little bakery and it just washed all the worries away. Since I'm too old now to bake a lot, gardening gives me the same satisfaction," she smiles at me but I know her mind is else where, going to a time when she was young, surrounded by her loved ones and happy. "I thought my two boys would look after the business and me once I was this age, I didn't have even an ounce of doubt, because they were so considerate and kind. But you see my boys grew up and found their own dreams, which unfortunately wasn't the same as mine, or even in the same country. Once Charles passed away I was eternally alone, apart from the odd Christmas when either of my sons fly by. But today was like a breath of fresh air, see I don't get much visitors, but I have thoroughly enjoyed today Miss Pond. I have thoroughly enjoyed it indeed. Sorry if I'm talking too much, I don't get to talk a lot anymore." Mrs Potter's eyes start to glisten and I immediately reach out for her trembling shoulders.

After a while of embracing, I help Mrs Potter get up and we start to clear away the picnic, by the time I was leaving there were twinkling diamonds in the dark night sky. Mrs Potter came with me to get my Daisy, "Anyway what I really wanted to say was not everything is permanent, one day you will be by yourself thinking about when the time went," Mrs Potter says, still reminiscing of her past, I nod solemnly, "So go make up with Hunter, he's a dashing young man and more than that, he's a good friend." Mrs Potter winks at me and once again she has left me speechless, how on earth did she know about Hunter? Perhaps she was related to a magical history, I hug her again one last time but the thought doesn't leave my mind the entire night, maybe she was right...