The Garden

A four-chapter literary short story that explores the emotional lives of two people

Chapter One - Will Aged 13

"You promise?" Julia asked, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper. Her eyes were still sore and red around the edges from rubbing her tears away with her sleeve. Her blonde hair, once neat and clean, was now tangled and streaked with dirt. The expensive clothes she'd arrived at school in that day were torn and stained with mud and dried blood. Her face and hands were covered in fresh scratches, the source of the blood, though thankfully the wounds had stopped bleeding.

She looked like someone who'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, kicking and screaming the whole way. Sadly, that wasn't far from the truth.

"I promise," Will said, nudging a stone with the toe of his trainer. It bounced across the garden and tapped against the old oak tree at the far end. Above them, the sun filtered through the leaves, casting a swaying, almost psychedelic light on the grass. They stood in the shade, hiding from the worst of the summer heat.

Will shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes fixed on the ground. He couldn't quite meet her gaze, at least not for more than a second.

"They won't hurt you again," he added quietly.

He stood about a foot taller than Julia. Then again, he was the tallest in their class, taller than some of the teachers too, even a couple of the male ones. Thirteen and still plenty of growing to do, his mother had said, lamenting the amount of clothes he seemed to go through. He rubbed at his bruised knuckles without thinking, then gently wiped the side of his palm across his swollen, split lip. They stood in front of each other, the silence between them deafening.

Will broke the stillness with a sudden gasp. "Oh yeah!"
He reached into his satchel, his face tensing as he rummaged through it. "Hang on... Got it."

He pulled out a worn teddy bear and held it out to her.

"Here," he said. "I'm sorry they took this. That... that wasn't cool of them. I found it in some nettles. I hope it's still okay?"

Julia took it carefully, her fingertips brushing against his. She stared at it for a long moment, then hugged it tightly to her chest.

Will scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... aren't you a bit old for teddies?"

To his surprise, she laughed. "Yeah, I guess I am."

She looked up at him then, locking eyes. Something shifted in Will's stomach, not quite nausea, but close. Like something was wriggling in there. Worms, maybe. Not that he'd ever had worms. His dog had, though. He'd had to have a pill, and then they came out in his poo, which had been gross.

His heart thudded. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

He'd only spoken to her a couple of times before. Usually, it was to ask for a rubber or a sharpener. That was the extent of their conversations up to this point. But now she was standing in his garden, holding her teddy like it meant everything, waiting for him to talk to her.

He knew bits and pieces about her, mostly from the school rumour mill. Some said she used to go to a private school, but her dad got in a fight with a co-worker and someone ran him over. Others said he worked for criminals and stole money from the wrong people, and that's why he was in a wheelchair.

Either way, Will wasn't really sure why she'd had to switch schools if it was her dad who got hurt. But he wasn't going to ask her now.

She smiled at him again. His lungs tightened. He'd felt this weird pull from the first time they bumped into each other in the corridor. It was her eyes. They had a kind of gravity. He felt like he was being drawn in, like one of those whirly things in the sea, with sailors being sucked under, no way out.

Julia tilted her head, still watching him. Then she spoke, gently.

"It's not my teddy."

Will blinked. "S-sorry, what? What was that?" He was still trying to break away from her spell.

"It's not mine," she said, stroking the bear's head. "It was my grandmother's. She gave it to me before she died. So now I take it with me... everywhere."

She paused. Her smile faded slightly as a thought seemed to flicker across her face.

"Maybe I should leave it at home. Somewhere safer?"

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly. "Yeah, maybe."

Julia tilted her head and nodded toward his lip. "Does it hurt?"

Will instinctively touched it. "Not really," he lied.

"I saw Luke hit you when you were wrestling with that guy, the one with the hairy lip."

Will raised an eyebrow. "You mean the moustache? That's Harry. He's on the football team with Luke."

"That's a moustache?" she said, eyes wide with mock horror. "Looks more like he's rubbed up against a cat!"

She burst out laughing, and Will couldn't help but laugh too, though he didn't remember deciding to. It just sort of escaped from him.

But then her face softened. The laughter faded.

"That was really brave, you know," she said. "They've been picking on me since I got to St James. And what you did... I just wanted to say thank you. For standing up for me."

Will felt as if his face was about to explode. The heat was immediate. From the look on her face, he knew it was obvious. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but it didn't seem cruel, quite the opposite. Will wished for a second that he could just disappear into the tree.

"Er... it's nothing," he muttered, staring at the grass. Though in truth, he felt a few inches taller.

"I just hate bullies, that's all. And the way they were with you, you know... it wasn't fair. When they threw your teddy in the bush, I thought, no, that's it. Enough."

"Well," she said, smiling again, "I don't think it was nothing. I think it was really sweet."

She looked up at him. And this time, her expression had changed. Her eyes softened in a way Will couldn't explain. He'd never had someone look at him like that before, not with kindness, or understanding, or something else he didn't have the words for.

"Are... are you hungry?" Will asked, scratching the back of his head. "I could grab us a snack or something?"

Julia's eyes lit up. "I could definitely eat. To be honest, I'm absolutely ravenous."

She sat down against the trunk of the tree, tilting her head to look up at him with a small, sly smile.

"You feel what?" Will squinted at her.

"Hungry," she said sweetly.

Will nodded and walked, slowly and casually, toward the house. As soon as he was inside, he sprinted into the kitchen, flinging open every cupboard in a frantic search for something even halfway decent. Most were empty. He cursed under his breath and opened the fridge. One yoghurt. Expired. Useless.

Eventually, he found a few things that would have to do.

When he returned, Julia was still sitting under the tree, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked calmer now. The redness around her eyes had faded.

Will carried out a dinner tray with two plastic cups of squash and an assortment of scavenged snacks.

"Sorry, my mum needs to do the big shop," he said, awkwardly lowering the tray onto the grass.

Julia peered at it. "What've we got?"

"Right," Will said, clearing his throat. "Four and a half custard creams, a bit of half-moon cake, and a beef and tomato Pot Noodle."

Julia grinned. "I'll take a custard cream, please."

She plucked one from the wrapper and took a small bite. Her expression lifted. She sighed a happier sigh.

They sat like that for the next two hours, tucked in the shade of the tree, sharing snacks and stories.

Julia explained that the rumour about her dad being run over was true, though not the gangster part. He'd been hit by a car in the office car park. He'd been some sort of manager. The accident left him paralysed. Her mother had lost a lot of money on something called the "stuck market," and they'd had to sell their house. That's how they ended up here.

Will told her his dad had gone to prison. His mother worked two jobs and was barely ever home. The upside, he joked, was that he could have friends over without asking, not that he really had any.

Julia didn't say much to that, but her eyes lingered on him for a long time.

As the sun began to set, Julia stretched and stood. "I should head home."

Will scrambled to his feet. "Wait, hang on. Just, er... just give me a second."

He ran into the house and came back holding a large kitchen knife.

Julia's face flashed with alarm.

Will slowed, raising a hand. "Oh no! Not for you! I mean, not like that," he said quickly, stepping past her toward the tree. "I just wanted to... I dunno. Mark today somehow. If you think that's cool to do?"

She tilted her head. "What kind of mark?"

He crouched by the base of the oak and started carving. The knife was far too big for the job. His hand slipped.

"Ah, shit! I mean... er... whoops." He winced, holding his palm.

Julia stepped closer. "Let me see."

It wasn't deep, just a thin surface cut, but a small stream of blood had already soaked into the wood beneath the carving.

She took the knife from him.

"What are you doing?" Will asked, eyebrows raised.

Julia didn't answer. She drew the blade gently across her own palm, biting her lip as blood welled along the line.

"Julia! What? Why would you do that?"

"Well," she said quietly, "you bled for me today. Seems only fair I return the favour."

She pressed her hand to the carving, smearing her blood over the bark beside his. The heart he'd carved, simple and slightly wonky, now had a dark, earthy tint around the edges.

They stood there for a long moment, shoulder to shoulder, hands still bleeding. Julia's hand brushed against his, and he opened his hand, taking her smaller one in his. She turned to him, her eyes fixed on his again. Then she leaned in and kissed him, just once, soft and warm.

In that moment, Will's heart detonated. Not literally, obviously, but it may as well have. The air seemed thinner. The garden tilted slightly. Will wasn't sure if he was floating or melting.

Then it was over, the moment ending far too quickly.

"It would be nice if I came to see you again tomorrow," she said.

"Yeah," Will managed. "That would be, er... cool."

She smiled. "Guess it's a date then."

Turning toward the gate, she started to leave. Halfway down the path, she looked back and gave him one final smile.

Will stood frozen, watching until she disappeared.

He turned back to the tree. The carving stared back at him: a heart, uneven and bloodstained, with the initials W & J inside.

He sat under the tree until dark, eating the last half of his cold Pot Noodle, wondering if he'd ever be this happy again.

Chapter Two - Julia Aged 18

Julia stood under the old tree at the bottom of Will’s garden. She was still reeling from the events of the last twenty minutes. The warm summer day was now fading, replaced by the cooler breath of night. The sun was setting, but the moon had not quite arrived to take its place. Julia shivered.

She stared at the ruined carving on the trunk, the small axe still embedded at its centre. Sap ran down the tree like blood from a wound. Will stood facing away from her. She could see his back rising and falling in quick succession.

Her own heart was still pounding in her chest. Her throat ached from the crying and the shouting of the last two hours. While the argument had started as suddenly as an explosion, its subject had been meant to be a happy one.

Julia had recently received her acceptance letters to the universities she’d applied to. Her grades had been excellent, and this was in no small part thanks to Will.

Will’s grades had been, not to be blunt, quite poor. He’d had a lot on his mind during the exams. His mother had recently been diagnosed with a progressive disease, one that would, over time, rob her of who she was. He had become understandably distracted and absent-minded. When they’d opened their results together, she’d seen him rubbing his head, deep in thought. But when Julia had asked what his plans were, he’d just given her one of his infectious laughs and a wicked grin. He told her she was his ticket to greatness, that he would ride her coattails as long as she’d let him.

She’d joked that he could ride more than her coattails if he wanted, and they’d ended up in bed.
He had seemed so passionate about helping her, even at the expense of his own future. So when he erupted at her tonight, it had come out of the blue. She’d been so excited to tell him, so excited to break the surprise.

She had applied to several universities, including the famous Harvard University in America. For her prospective career in law, it was a lottery-ticket chance, one in hundreds of thousands. But she’d won. She’d beaten heaven knows how many candidates, and they had offered her an unconditional place. It was a rare opportunity to change both her and Will’s stars. To make something of themselves.

When she read the letter, she could barely contain her joy. She’d leapt into her car and driven as fast as she dared. She’d arrived with the best bottle of champagne she could afford and broken the news to him.

Will’s reaction had been visceral. He went quiet, then launched into a tirade, accusing her of being materialistic, of being insensitive.
“So I’m just supposed to drop everything?” he’d shouted, pacing the kitchen.

“What about my mum? What about me?”
“I never asked you to drop anything,” she’d fired back. “I asked you to believe in me.”

Julia had tried to explain that she had applied before they knew about his mother’s illness. That the odds of getting in had been almost nonexistent. That this opportunity could change everything. She reminded him how they’d talked about it. How he had even encouraged her to go for it.

Then it dawned on her. He had never really believed it would happen. He had never truly believed she could do it.

That realisation fell on her like a building. Will, her shining light, her champion, was just like the rest of them. The naysayers. The disbelievers.
The argument turned personal very quickly. Will brought up Julia’s dad, making correlations to his success and how he’d ended up in the wheelchair. Julia had tried to remain calm, but bringing her dad into the mix boiled her blood.

Before she knew it, they were screaming at each other.

Will accused her of believing he wasn’t good enough for her, an insecurity that had surfaced in other arguments over the years. No matter how much she told him, how much she showed him he was, he just couldn’t see past it.

He couldn’t understand that while all she wanted was him, she also wanted a life where she achieved what she was capable of. A life where she could make her mark on the world, protect people, like she had once been protected. She was strong, but not a fighter. She was smart. And if she couldn’t fight, she would defend. She would protect people using the law.

But all Will could see was that she wanted him to abandon his mother. To leave her to die without help. Couldn’t he see that his mother would want him to go? That she would want him to live his life?

Then Will said he wasn’t going to fly halfway across the world to be a bit of rough, to be a lackey. Julia tried to tell him that she believed in him, like he had believed in her, but he wouldn’t hear it.

Eventually, the argument slowed down, becoming something closer to a sad conversation.

Will had asked her, “How dare you ask me to leave?”
She had replied, “How dare you ask me to stay.”

Then it had been quiet between them, as if they shared an understanding. They were at an impasse. He would not leave. She would not stay. So they had to part ways.

Will had exploded, grabbing a small axe from the garden. Julia had been terrified. For a moment, she had felt like the same little girl she had been all those years ago, standing in this garden. Except this time, Will was not the protector. He was the cause.

Will had never, ever hurt her, but this time she thought he might. Then he turned and smashed the axe straight into the centre of the carving they’d made that night.

Now she stood looking at him, his breathing deep and laboured.

“I think it’s best that I go,” she finally whispered.
“I think it’s best that you do,” he’d said.

The night air had cooled since she arrived. She rubbed her arms without thinking and took a step toward the gate, then paused.

The tree creaked behind her, and for a moment she thought she heard Will sobbing faintly.

She didn’t look back.

Not because she didn’t want to, but because if she did, she wouldn’t leave. She opened the garden gate, its hinges squeaking loudly in the night, and left the garden forever.

Chapter Three - Will Aged 38

Will stood in what was now his garden. He took a deep breath, enjoying a rare British summer day. He looked up at the vast, open blue sky. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight. His mother would have loved it today, but she was at peace now.

Will loosened his tie and walked down the garden path to sit under the tree. It was one of his favourite places in the world. He had sat under this tree during many of the happiest times of his life.

It was where he kissed Julia for the first time, where their relationship and love had blossomed. It was where they had been intimate for the first time, around the back of the tree, awkwardly fumbling at each other's clothes. During said fumbling, Will had banged his kneecap on one of the tree’s roots. It ached for days. He laughed now, rubbing the same spot. At his age, it would have put him out of action for at least two weeks.

Will bent down and scooped up some of the green leaves that had fallen to the ground. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind gently moving through the branches. He thought of his mother, and how much she had loved Julia.

She had been distraught when Will told her that Julia had gone to America in search of a better life. He found out later that his mother had been trying to get in touch with Julia, hoping to arrange for Will to go and be with her. But Will had put a stop to it. He told his mother that Julia had had an affair. A little white lie, but one that stopped her from meddling.

His mother had survived far longer than the doctors had expected, a testimony to her warrior’s spirit. Will was so proud of her. He hated that he had lied to her about Julia, but at the time, it had felt necessary. Ironically, all he had to do was wait a few years and his mother wouldn’t have remembered who Julia was, or even who Will was.

About eight years ago, he had searched for Julia on social media. His anger had faded quickly. He realised now that he had just been angry and insecure. She had been so driven, so focused. It had blinded her to his sense of duty, just as his obligations had blinded him to her ambition. So he created an account and found her. It was much easier than he’d thought it would be. She was married now to some American, but had kept her maiden name, which hadn’t surprised Will at all. She had two children, both beautiful. They clearly didn’t have a drop of their father in them.

No, they were all her, both blonde-haired and blue-eyed.

She looked happy. She had always been the most amazing thing he had ever had the fortune to find. Of course, she was older now, as was Will, but as soon as he saw her smile in those pictures, his old feelings came rushing back. His heart rate spiked. His anxiety surged.
For months he toyed with the idea of clicking the button to connect, his hand hovering over it but never finding the strength to press it.

Then one day, he awoke to a notification.

There she was.

Her profile picture sat there, waiting, with two options: accept or decline.

It took Will a full hour of staring at his phone screen before he finally pressed the button to accept. No going back now. He opened the instant messenger app and sat staring at the blank text box. After writing and deleting the message over and over again, he eventually sent her a single word.

“Hello x”

He spent the next six hours checking his phone, unable to focus on anything else. Then, finally, it happened. She had messaged back.

“Hello stranger x”

They talked for hours, eventually exchanging phone numbers. They spoke for long periods, every day, for a month. Will even set alarms for the time difference, just so he could say good morning and goodnight. Eventually, they had to start being careful. Her husband had grown uncomfortable with how much they were talking. It turned out Julia and her husband were going through a rough patch, something that stirred a guilty flicker of hope in Will.

After months of messages and secretive phone calls, she mentioned she was coming to the UK for a conference. They agreed to meet. Will barely slept the night before. He had popped to see his mother in the hospice and told her he was going away for Luke’s stag do, so he wouldn’t be able to do his daily visits. She thought it was a good idea, although she had no idea who he was.

Will waited at the airport, checking her flight details again and again. Finally, there she was. She spotted him first, her smile lighting up the room. She ran across the tiled floor and threw herself into his arms. Will felt like he was on fire. Every nerve in his body was charged with electricity. He pressed his face into her hair, like he had so many times before, her scent both old and new overwhelming him. They hugged and cried for what felt like forever, then headed to Will’s car.

They travelled, laughing and reminiscing, complimenting each other on how they looked. Back at the hotel, Julia checked into her room, and they agreed to meet later for drinks. Will spent the next hour grooming himself to within an inch of his life.

When he saw her again in the bar, he was speechless. He had to step into the lift just to compose himself.

The night was wonderful. It felt just like it had when they were best friends. The conversation drifted to old times. Touches became more intimate. Holding hands, brushing cheeks, lingering just a moment too long.

They spent some time apologising to each other. Will admitted that his mother’s illness had deteriorated despite his help, and even confessed to the false affair. Julia laughed and suggested that might explain the hate-filled letter she had sent. Will made her promise to send him a copy, though she never did. Julia apologised for how she had handled things. In hindsight, she said, she could have postponed applying to school. Harvard hadn’t been the golden ticket she’d thought it would be, and she actually missed the area she had come from, even if it still was a “shithole.”

They walked along the river, hand in hand. The cold winter air spiralled around them. They stopped under the moonlight, the water quietly caressing the river’s edge. Their eyes met.

And they kissed. Hard and deep.

The air seemed to freeze. A decade of longing and unresolved feeling surged between them.

It lasted forever, but also just for a moment.

Then it was over.

When they pulled apart, Julia was crying, her blue eyes filled with sadness. Will understood.

It wouldn’t work.

This night had been their swan song, their goodbye. In the bubble of the moment, they had imagined a life together. But it wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t just their lives they would be affecting. Her children loved their father. Julia loved their father.

Life didn’t offer solutions that easy.

They walked back to the hotel, hugged goodnight, and resisted the urge to kiss again.

When Will woke in the morning, Julia had already left for the airport. He decided not to pursue her and returned to his mother. As he drove along the motorway, he saw a plane lifting into the sky. He wondered if Julia was looking down at him.

He never found out that she was.

That was eight years ago. They hadn’t spoken since. Will had deleted her number the next day and removed himself from her social media. She never reached out.

He looked now at the damaged trunk, where he had taken an axe to the carving in anger. That outburst, which he had regretted instantly, had left it unrecognisable. Now it was just a mess of scratches and chips, darkened by time. He placed a hand on it gently.

"Made quite a mess of you, haven’t I? I’ve made a mess of it all," he said, sobbing into the tree.

"I wouldn’t say that," came a soft voice behind him.

Will turned.

Julia stood there, just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her. She walked over slowly and placed her hands on his face. They were warm and soft.

"I’m so sorry," she said, hugging him tightly.

He buried his face into her hair. Her scent still overwhelmed him. He wept while she held him.

"I tried to get here as fast as I could once I heard. I’m sorry I missed the funeral."

"It’s okay," Will said, wiping his eyes. "You’re here now."

She smiled sadly.

"I guessed you’d be here," she said, walking toward the tree. "It’s where we always came, wasn’t it? When the world got a bit too much?"\\

"Yeah. I guess it is. Can you stay long?"

"I can stay long enough," she replied.

Will smiled. "You scared the life out of me," he said. "I didn’t hear the gate open."

She didn’t answer. She just tilted her head.

"Come on," he said, trying to shake the unease. "I bet you’re starving. I’m sure I’ve got a Pot Noodle somewhere we can share."
He laughed. He already felt a little better.

"There are many things I’ve missed about living in England, William, and Pot Noodles aren’t one of them." She lifted a carrier bag with a sly smile. "Lucky for you, I brought snacks. I knew you wouldn’t think to eat."

They sat down one last time under the tree and had a picnic, like so many times before. He held her, and she held him. They talked. They listened. The hours passed like minutes. The temperature dropped, cold air forming in front of Will’s mouth as he spoke.

"You must be freezing in that dress." He rubbed Julia’s arms, which were surprisingly warm.

"I’m fine," she said. "We can cuddle for warmth."

She snuggled into his lap, resting her head against his chest.

Finally, as she sat with her back to him, her head still nestled against him, he felt her shift.

"I have to leave," she said.

"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "I know."

"It’d be great if I could see you tomorrow," she said, looking up at him.

"I’m not sure that would be the best idea," he said softly. "Can’t make a habit of this. The commute would kill you."

"It’s not as bad as you’d think." She smiled.

"I’m glad you came," he whispered.

"So am I."

And then she was gone.

Will sat on the blanket under the tree, long after she had left.

He sighed and stood, glancing at the two cups of tea he had made. Julia hadn’t touched hers, which struck him as odd.

He lingered by the damaged trunk for a while, his fingers grazing the splintered bark.

Then he tilted his head back to study the stars.

He wondered if, somewhere out there, Julia was looking at the same sky, or if her stars had finally changed.

Then he turned and went inside.

Epilogue - Mo Aged 42

“Honey? Do you want a drink? It’s roasting out there today!” Manjeet called from the back door.

“No thank you, my love. I’m just putting this swing up and I’ll be in. Need to get it done before the girls get back from your mother’s.” Mo paused to grab the tyre swing from the floor, grunting as he lifted it to his chest.

“We’ll have to get her something nice. She’s had the kids so much during the move. Couldn’t have done this without her.”

“Make sure you remember that next time you’re moaning to me about her,” Manjeet snorted as she went back into the house.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mo muttered, confident his wife couldn’t hear him.

Mo set about fitting the tyre swing to the large tree at the bottom of his new garden. They’d been in the new house a couple of days now, and hopefully the swing would keep his daughters entertained while he and his wife continued to unpack from the move.

He finished drilling the bolts into the branch and stood back to admire his handiwork. The tyre was at a slight angle, but nothing he couldn’t fix. He’d just need to adjust the length of the rope either side to even it out.

He really did love this tree. He had no idea how long it had been here, only that it must have been a very long time. As Mo began untying the knots inside the tyre, he noticed something carved into the bark. Wiping his brow, he stepped closer.

Mo paused. The carving was old. Faded. A little crooked. But around the edges, you could see where someone had once tried to restore it, the grooves retraced, some damage smoothed. As if an artist had painted over his earlier work, not to replace it, but to remember it.

It was a heart, rather crudely carved, but unmistakable. The initials W & J scratched into its centre.

He ran his fingers over the weathered letters, then pulled his hand away.

Can’t really leave it like that, he thought.

After a moment’s hesitation, he walked over to his toolbox, grabbed a hammer and chisel, and returned to the tree.

He stood in front of it for a long moment, tools in hand.

Then, without a word, he set to work.

When he finally stepped back, a second heart had been added beside the first, freshly carved, smoother, but no less sincere.
M & M.

He heard the back door open again. Turning, he saw Manjeet walking down the path with a glass of lemonade in one hand, the ice clinking as she walked.

“You're supposed to be drinking more, mister,” she said, handing him the glass.

“Well, what am I doing right now, my love?”

She tutted playfully and shook her head, watching as he took a sip.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding to the tree.

“Some old carving,” he said. “Figured I’d add to it.”

Manjeet stepped up next to him, brushing her fingers over the new heart. “It’s a bit wonky,” she said.

He grinned. “Yes, dear.”

She let out a soft laugh and leaned into his side, wrapping her arm through his. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, looking at the tree.

“I wonder who they were,” Manjeet said softly, “and where they are now?”

The moment was cut short by the sound of a car door closing. The air filled with the voices of two very excited young girls, clearly on their way to discover their new home.

“Well,” Mo said, kissing his wife on the forehead. “This swing isn’t going to balance itself.”