Read The Red Book of Primrose House: A Potting Shed Mystery (Potting Shed Mystery series 2) for Free Online

after the end of the war—not long after I was born. My mother was Birdie’s sister, you see. Uncle George was the Parke—so, probably he’s the relative, if there is one. But he’s long dead now, and they had no children of their own. Birdie’s still alive, though.”
    “Birdie might know something about your mother, Pru,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Weren’t your parents from Ibsley, Simon?”
    “Ibsley? Is that where your mother was from?” he asked Pru.
    She’d followed their exchange, but the disappointment that rose up inside threatened to overcome her and she didn’t speak, but only nodded. She had got her hopes up and now they were dashed. Simon was no relative—oh, perhaps he was related to someone who might have known her mother, but he wasn’t directly family. She smiled at him. “Thanks for coming over today, Simon, during the holidays and all—it must’ve taken you away from your family. You have a family?”
    “My wife, Polly, and two girls—grown now, but they don’t live far, and so they’re home for Christmas.”
    Mr. Wilson reappeared with a camera, and with a kind but reproachful look at his wife said, “Vernona, I found it in your box of knitting patterns.” He turned the camera on and aimed it at Simon and Pru. “There now, big smiles from the gardeners. Right, I’ll email you a copy, how’s that, Pru?”

From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    25 December
    Dear Pru,
    We are so pleased with the progress you are making in the garden, and we know that the open day in July will be a huge success.
    I wanted to dash off this quick email to you while it was still fresh in my mind. You are becoming quite the Repton expert, and so I know you won’t mind investigating this one little thing. You know that large beech at the far corner of the terrace? It’s so very tall—I wonder if this wasn’t the one that Repton planted to hide the view of the village pub. Of course, the only way we would know that now is to look for the pub from the very top of the tree as it stands. Would you mind climbing up for us to see what you can see?
    Best wishes,
    Davina

Chapter 5
    Pru had emailed Davina back immediately, saying she couldn’t possibly climb the beech—eighty feet high if it was an inch—citing health and safety regulations, and not her fear of heights.
    Returning to Primrose House the day after Boxing Day, Pru first turned off the lane and onto the gravel drive to her cottage—not as grand an entrance as the approach to the big house, but entirely her own. The workers were off now until after New Year’s. Through the kitchen window she could see the small, dark blue, previously used Aga cookstove that Davina had found for her. Still partially assembled, the cast-iron enamel pieces were scattered about and rock wool, used as insulation, erupted from the top of the cooker. She laughed to herself—dear Davina, did she really think Pru cooked? Still, it would be a great source of heat for the cottage.
    She turned her Mini back out onto the lane and up to the drive for Primrose House. The Templetons were to return later that evening from the Seychelles, and Ivy and Robbie had gone off to Bristol to stay with her sister, so Pru was surprised to see a car parked at the side of the house and a man standing beside it, looking around as if appraising the view. Pru parked just past his car and got out.
    “Hello, are you looking for the Templetons?” she asked.
    “Are they at home?” He walked to Pru, holding out his hand. “Sorry, I’m Jamie Tanner. Are you the gardener?”
    “Yes, I’m Pru Parke.” She looked down at her hands, still grimy from digging up the cyclamen and the snowdrops that Simon gave her. “Sorry about that.” She held up her hands to him.
    He laughed and held up his own. “There you are,” he said, “gardeners’ hands.” It looked as if he’d had his hands in the dirt, too, and she also noticed a couple of raised scars on his left thumb.
    “You’re