Bloom

Harold and Betty Bloom had moved into the bungalow about ten years ago, because Betty was about to have two hip replacements. She had already had two knee replacements due to the bone cancer that was affecting the bone density in her body. Harold knew when he saw Betty face the first time they viewed the bungalow that this was the one. She fell in love with the garden as soon as she saw it. While Betty was recovering from the hip replacement Harold built raised planters all around the borders so Betty could sit and potter in the garden rather than struggling to get down on the lawn. They had eight wonderful years together in that garden, and when Betty passed away Harold vowed he would look after the garden just the way she did. He wanted to dedicate the garden to her, so he sprinkled her ashes onto the rose garden, her favourite part. So he could talk to her as he potted about, and she could make sure he was doing things right.

“Morning Betty"; Harold said as he collected his gardening tools from the shed. “It's a lovely day,” he added, taking a look up at the big blue cloudless sky. “I know, I know, I'm pruning the laurel today,” he said, coming out of the shed with the loppers. The laurel had grown huge and it had lost its shape over the summer, Harold had always trimmed into an egg shape but as he looked at it today it was more like a fried egg.

Betty had taught Harold to trim the big bushes, and to always take a step back and have a look at the shape. “Make sure you assess at every step,” Betty's voice rang in Harold's ears.

Harold took a step back, the laurel was taking shape, on one side the egg shape was nearly there. “Just a couple more cuts on the right side, then I'll have a cuppa Betty,” Harold said, climbing back into the border to finish one side. He placed his loppers on the patio table, took a long good look at his handy work and went to make a cuppa.

When he came back out he made his way up the garden and onto the bench overlooking the whole garden. The roses were to his left and the smell hit him, he took a deep breath and held it for a little while. Harold sat and drank his cuppa and maybe a biscuit or two was eaten, just for strength gardening is hard work.

As he sat listening to the birds he looked down at the rose garden and saw a strange plant that hadn't been there yesterday. “Hello, what is your name?” he said to the plant. “Too shy to tell me, well don't worry I can find out.”

Harold got up from his chair and went back inside the bungalow. Betty had a lot of gardening books, they had been handed down from her great grandmother to her mother and then Betty, Betty was an only child so she was the only one who could inherit. Harold grabbed a few books and went back outside to go through them to find the name of the mystery plant.

“No, no, no, oh maybe, no, no, oh, no,” Harold went through each book and nothing.

“You are a mysterious little plant,” Harold said, “but we’ll give you a name.” He decided to finish trimming the laurel then take a photo of the plant and go to the local garden centre.

It was such a lovely day he decided to walk to the garden centre, treat himself to some lunch and ask his friend who worked there, what this little plant was called.

“Hello Harold,” said Bill, Harold's friend at the garden centre. “What brings you here, I thought you were tackling the laurel today”. Bill said, looking at his watch. It was only 12.15pm, Bill had assumed the laurel would take Harold all day.

“I’ve done the laurel, but a little mystery has brought me here,” said Harold, getting the photo up on his phone. “Take a look at this Bill,” Harold passed the phone to Bill.

Bill took his glasses out of his top pocket and looked at the photo, “hmmm, ah yes, ok, yes,” said Bill scratching his head.

“Do you know what it is, Bill?” said Harold

“No idea,” said Bill, “that's a new one on me, Jess come and take a look at this plant,” Bill called over his boss

“Hi Harold, how are you doing?” said Jess as Bill passed her the phone.

“Harold got this in his garden, I have no idea what it is. Do you?”

Jess looked at the photo, zooming in to get a better look. “No idea Harold” she said after a good five minutes of zooming in.

“When did you notice it?” asked Bill.

“This morning while I trimmed the laurel,” Harold replied. “I’m going to have some lunch, I'll ask some of the other customers, maybe they will know,” said Harold, thanking his friends for their time. Harold sat in the cafe to eat his lunch and thought about Betty. “I bet you would know what it is,” he said to himself.

Harold walked back home after his lunch, thinking about the mystery plant and what it could be. He knew Betty had another fifty gardening books in a box in the loft. So he decided it was too late today to go hunting in the loft. He will make that tomorrow's job.

He watched a little television but started to nod off, so he took himself off to bed. He dreamed of Betty, like he did most nights. How she was the love of his life and how much he missed her.

The next morning Harold woke up early, well 8am is early when you're retired. He had a task to do, breakfast first, he thought. Then go hunting in the loft. He had a rough idea which box they were in but it had been a long time since he’d been up there. It wasn't his favourite job, there were spiders the size of hands up there.

He pulled down the loft ladder and looked up into the darkness, he took a deep breath and said, “stop being a wimp Harold,” he was still standing there five minutes later so the talking too had definitely not worked. He took another deep breath and this time he reached for the ladder, in three seconds he was at the top feeling around the loft hatch for the light switch. Half expecting a hand spider to leap out at him. He found the light switch closed his eyes and switched it on, surprising no hand spider. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. He found the box straight away, but unfortunately another box caught his eye. It was a box full of wedding photos. “Betty, you looked so beautiful on your wedding day. What I am talking about, you were beautiful every day. I miss you Betty,” Harold wiped the tears away with his sleeve. Good job Betty wasn't here, she would have told him to get a tissue. With that thought in his head, Harold giggled to himself and took the box of gardening books back down the ladder. He flicked through each one and nothing the little plant stayed a mystery. He only wanted to find out what it was so he knew how to care for it. But by 1pm he still hadn't figured out what it was, but he had figured something out he was starving and stopped searching to have something to eat.

It had been an overcast morning, but now the sun was starting to break through the clouds. He decided a cuppa on the patio was in order. He walked into the garden and took a deep breath. The smell of the honeysuckle and roses filled the air. He walked alongside the borders as he went his way up the garden to the patio.

“Hello, Harold the garden is looking beautiful,” a voice said

“Hello,” Harold looked around for where the voice was coming from. None of his neighbours were in their gardens. “Get a hold of yourself Harold,” he said to himself.

“Yes, Harold get a hold of yourself,” the voice spoke again

“Where are you, I’m armed!” Harold said, turning around to see if someone was behind him.

“I don't think a cup of tea is a weapon,” said the voice giggling.

“Where are you hiding?” Harold was getting scared, who was talking to him.

“I’m over here Harold, you found me yesterday,” said the voice in the border with the roses.”

Harold looked towards the roses, the little plant was double the size it was yesterday. It had a little flower bud that looked like a head on it.

“Hello Harold, I’ve missed you,” said the voice.

“Betty?” Harold said, walking over to the plant.

“Yes, Harold my love it’s me,” Betty was the little plant.

“How, why, what, ummm,” Harold blurted out everything at once.

“You scattered my ashes here in the roses, we were supposed to be together forever,” Betty said with sadness in her voice.

“I can't believe it, I must have sun stroke, yes it's sun stroke. I need to sleep it off,” Harold said, pacing backwards and forwards.

“You’ve not got sun stroke Harold, it’s me,” Betty said trying to convince Harold he wasn't poorly and this was definitely true. “Harold Ernest Bloom now stop pacing and look at me!” Betty snapped at Harold. Harold stopped pacing and looked at the plant, only one person used his full name and only one person said it like that. This little plant was Betty. He couldn't believe it. “You needed me, so here I am,” Betty stretched out two leaves for Harold to touch.

Harold fell to his knees sobbing. His wife was here and unbelievably she was a plant. He held her leaves in his index finger and thumb so gently, he didn't want to hurt Betty. He'd missed her so much. Harold didn't care how this had happened but only it had.

Every morning from their first re-encounter he would take his cuppa out of the bungalow and sit on the bench next to the roses and they would talk and talk. Betty would help Harold in the garden, by telling what needed to be done and when.

As the year went on spring turned into summer, and then summer into autumn, Harold worried Betty would get cold out in the garden. He decided to make her a little pergola so she would still get a little rain, not too much. He didn't want the cold wind to blast her, he thought he would surprise her and make it in the kitchen so she couldn't see him. He painted it pink, Betty's favourite colour and painted roses up the legs, so it looked like they were climbing up it. One autumn morning he decided today was the day, “morning Betty” he said as he walked up the garden.

“Morning Harold, what have you been making, I could hear you in the kitchen,” Betty was hoping it was something for her. She was right

“Surprise!” shouted Harold bringing the pergola from behind his back so Betty could see it.

“Oh my goodness, Harold, it’s gorgeous you made that for me,” Betty was very emotional. It was beautiful and absolutely perfect. “All the other plants will be jealous,” she said, looking up at Harold.

Harold placed the pergola over Betty making sure none of her leaves were caught. He was so gentle, “that tickles,” said Betty laughing.

Harold was so happy, Betty was now protected from the elements, he wasn't far away if the weather got too bad.

“I love you Harold Bloom.”

The months turned into years and Harold started to get more and more frail. Age was definitely catching up with him, he had always been an active man. One day Betty heard an ambulance pull up outside the bungalow. She heard the door open and unfamiliar voices coming from the kitchen. “Harold,” she said quietly.

The ambulance took Harold to hospital, Betty was alone for the first time since she appeared in the garden. She was scared, she hoped Harold was alright and would come home soon.

The for sale sign went up a few weeks later, and was sold a few weeks after that. The couple who bought the bungalow had a daughter about seven or eight years old.

Betty could hear them moving their belongings in, she had stayed slightly hidden when they came to view the bungalow. It was April so the garden was starting to come into its own.

One beautiful spring morning Betty heard the family coming up the garden. The little girl stopped and looked down at the roses garden.

“Look mum, look at these two little plants. They look like they are holding hands. They are beautiful,” the little girl called her mum over to where she was standing.

“They are gorgeous, like the rest of the garden. The couple who lived here clearly loved their garden,” her mum said. “Shall we keep it like this to honour their memory” she added

Harold and Betty Bloom were together again, forever.