Just then a dark cloud of cackling jackdaws swoops across the sky, blistering the silence. They land on the branches of the tallest sycamore, weighing them down, squabbling for position. Maddy and Emily hold hands tightly, heads bowed. A distant gunshot scatters the birds into a splash of black across the sky. Maddy watches them circling the church spire, their mocking chatter grinding through her head.

After Emily has gone to bed, Maddy runs out to the garden and picks up the scythe propped against the greenhouse. Her arms swoop as one in a wide curve, beheading her beloved China roses. This renewed strength surprises her. She clenches her teeth to temper the force pushing her on, groaning with the effort into the eerie silence. Her mind fills with Max’s blackened face floating in water. She tries to shake the image away. She hacks at the rows of delphiniums and hydrangeas, scattering them across the grass. She holds up the blade and turns it so it glints in the light. She wields the scythe again chopping at sunflowers and gladioli, slicing through dahlias and chrysanthemums, watching them topple before she moves on. The compulsion doesn’t end until she has massacred the whole garden. With a last burst of energy, she throws off her shoes and stamps on the fallen flowers, crushing their heads, staining the soles of her feet.

All around her are the remains of the plants and flowers she’s nurtured over a lifetime, like children to her.

The following day, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses, Maddy takes Emily to the nearest garden centre and selects pots of towering black millet, Oriental black bamboo, Black Knight irises, Can-Can Black Moon pansies, Queen of the Night bulbs, black dahlias and Black Baccara roses. She loads them into the car, cramming every space with their fresh pungent smells. The foliage covers all the windows, even part of the windscreen so it’s almost impossible to see out.

Back home, Emily silently helps her unload the various sized pots, lining them up against the wall like a gathering of monks. Maddy digs up any remaining roots, twisting them out of the earth with her fork while Emily sweeps away remnants of the coloured flowers.

They plant deep rows of the millet, bamboo and irises creating a shroud of darkness in front of the fences. They fill the rest of the borders with roses and, finally, nearest the lawn’s edge and around the island of bushes enclosing the sundial in the middle. By the time they finish planting, daylight is fading.

Later, Maddy stands alone in the garden with a glass of white wine, watching the moon’s silver sheen highlight the outline of dark leaves and flowers. She lets out a deep sigh. At last, a sense of peace and calm descends on her. No more pink or blue or yellow flowers, only shades of black.

Chapter Eleven