All the time in the world

“Honestly, Alex, what the hell made you think this was a good idea?” Colette visibly sulked through the dark-panelled rooms of Greatmead Hall.

“I thought,” Alex kept his voice low, “a bit of culture would be nice for a change. Instead of trailing round the shops like we do every Saturday.” He bit his lip. That was going to hit a nerve.

“But this is just so boring!” Colette almost stamped her feet. “You knew I needed a new outfit. Stella will think I’m a tramp if I don’t wear something new tonight. But you wanted to come here. Boring!”

“You know what?”

“What, Alex?”

Alex paused. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” He turned to head back the way they’d come. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

Outside, Alex blinked in the July sunshine. How had it come to this? When did Colette become so self-obsessed? Those cute quirks that first attracted him, had now soured into shallow vanity. I’ll wait here, then leave her at the shops. Or leave her altogether… Confrontation wasn’t his style, nor was shopping. The thought of the garish mall made him shiver. Shaking himself, he walked toward the gardens to recompose before facing Colette again.

The gardens bustled with people, couples walking hand in hand, children darting down flower-lined paths. Alex veered off onto a narrow gravel trail between laurel bushes, then into older woodland. Oaks, beeches, silver birches rose around him, sunlight dappling through the leaves. Finally, peace. Voices faded, and he was alone in the heart of the woods.

A hefty fallen branch offered a quiet seat. As he sat, pondering how to end things with Colette, Alex noticed a mossy stone wall deeper within the trees. It was tall, ancient, perfectly aligned. Curious, he rose and followed its edge, running a hand along its cool surface.

After some minutes of walking, the perfectly aligned stones gave way to a recess, and a low oak door, heavily adorned with iron straps and studs. Small shoots of green ivy curled around its edges, small hands caressing the ancient timber. Drawn by a peculiar pull in his chest, Alex lifted the heavy latch. To his surprise, the door shifted. He shoved with a little more force. The ivy gave way and the door opened. Alex ducked his head and stepped through.

Alex found himself in a secluded garden unlike anywhere he’d ever been. The air was warm, golden hues tinged the blue sky, and an orchestra of birdsong harmonised together creating a blissful melody. Intertwining, twisting paths formed organic patterns, and the place was filled with fruit trees and flowers that bloomed in impossible perfection. Alex took a tentative step inside, closing the oak door behind him. Don’t want anyone finding me here…

All the stress of the morning ebbed away. A surreal sense of calm washed over Alex, and at that single moment, absolutely nothing else mattered. Alex savoured each step as he wound along the swirling path, captivated by the lush tranquility of the garden. At its centre he found a large circular stone seat, curling round an ornate white marble fountain decorated with birds and flowers. It shimmered in the sun but no water poured from its spouts. It was completely dry.

Alex sat on the stone seat, everything here is so perfect, but why is the fountain empty? As he considered why this might be, an unexpected shadow crossed him and he looked up to see an older man in traditional gardener’s attire.

“Hello… I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to come in here,” conscious of his possible trespass, Alex stood up, “but the door opened and…”

“It’s alright lad. Sit back down. Could do with a break myself.” The older man spoke in a rough voice, but quiet and softly. He eased himself down onto the seat.

“This place is beautiful,” Alex sat down and turned towards the man, “are you the gardener here?”

“You could say that.” The man took off his cloth cap and rubbed his eyes, looking out across the garden. “I’ve been here a long time, a guardian of sorts, making sure the garden stays as perfect now as it was back then.”

“A long time?”

“A very long time.”

“Is this garden not open to the public? I mean, should I not really be here?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that lad. This garden’s what you might call special. It chooses who comes in.” The man paused for a moment, pulling his cap back over his fine grey hair. “You’re the first we’ve had in a while.”

“We?” Curiosity pulled at Alex, though he didn’t want to push the gardener too much. “Not just you here then?”

“I’m sure you’ll find Marise somewhere amongst the roses. That’s if you choose to stick around.” The man looked at Alex, pale blue, faded eyes that knew a lot more than he was giving away. “Anyway, I must get on, this place doesn’t look after itself.”

“Of course, thank you for letting me stay.” Alex stood, holding out his hand. “Great to meet you.”

“Likewise, the man shook Alex’s hand firmly, then headed into an area of plum trees.

“Oh, I wondered,” Alex called after him, “the fountain, is it broken?”

The man didn’t turn but continued down the path. “Don’t you mind the fountain,” he said, “it’s best left as it is,” and with that, he disappeared into the trees.

Alex sat down again, enjoying the warmth of the sun, relieved that the gardener had allowed him to stay. He began to relax, soaking in the wonder of the secret paradise he’d stumbled on. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a small smile. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Some time passed, Alex didn’t know how long and unusually, didn’t care. Nothing mattered in this wondrous place. As he enjoyed the sensation of the sun on his skin, his reverie was interrupted by the sound of feet on the path and then a voice which was not that of the gardener.

“Hello?”

Alex opened his eyes, raising a hand to shield the light. How long have I been sitting here like this? As his eyes focussed, his gaze fell on the most naturally beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She wore a lush green silk gown, with gold edging and beneath it, a simple dress, the colour of flowers and meadows. Her hair was long and dark, a slight wave caught the light of the sun, and her skin glowed as radiantly as the smile from her curved lips.

Alex quickly stood up. “You must be… Marise?”

The woman nodded gently, still smiling. She motioned Alex to follow her and held out her hand. “Come, let me show you my garden,” she said, and without any hesitation, entranced by this enigmatic being, Alex took her light, smooth hand and allowed himself to be led further into the garden.

As they walked between the flowers and fruit laden trees, Alex remarked at the garden’s abundance, how he’d never seen anything like it.

Marise laughed a little, as though his observations were foolish. “This place has always been this way,” she stopped and turned to face Alex, “here, everything remains perfect. Nothing fades, nothing dies.” Her gentle expression captivated Alex. He found himself absorbing her words unquestioned.

“It’s beautiful,” Alex stalled for a moment, not wanting to break the spell, then found a handful of words. “So, do you live here? All the time?”

“Time isn’t really the word, but yes, I live here. I’ve always been here.” She looked at Alex intently with deep brown eyes. “If I can trust you, I will show you.”

Alex nodded, his eyes telling Marise all she needed to know. She led him into a richly scented rose garden, thick with blooms of all colours, their heady perfume filled his senses, enveloping him with a nostalgic blanket of sanctuary. Marise explained how the garden had always been like this. The gardener, who she referred to as the Guardian, tended around the edges but it was not a burdensome chore. She had always known him to be there. He had a small home in one corner of the garden and she in the opposite, and it was there that the blissfully content Alex found himself.

Marise’s home was small on the outside but opened into a number of large, simple but beautifully furnished rooms. The sitting room with deep velvet sofas, was filled with bookcases containing leather bound tombs, and in the kitchen, the pantry door opened onto a vast store of all the food imaginable, all fresh and pristine.

“Nothing ever spoils here,” said Marise, “everything is eternal.”

And eternal it was. Alex found that nothing mattered anymore. When he questioned his reasoning, he found no answer. Marise asked him no questions or enquired how he’d found the garden, nor did she ask him anything of his life before his arrival. She took him simply as he was. Alex liked that, and in return, he didn’t pry into her existence. Why would I want to spoil this? Why question something so utterly perfect?

The days blended together in a haze of peace. Alex found contentment from Marise’s quiet wisdom and calm presence, a stark contrast to Colette’s constant demands. Colette? Oh, yes, I remember… In the garden with Marise, everything was blissful and a bond that Alex could never have thought possible grew between them. They rarely saw the Guardian and with no cares or concerns, they became completely captivated, besotted. Existing together, time could standstill. Nothing else mattered.

Alex lay warm and quiet beneath the bed’s soft sheets, Marise breathing gently as she slept by his side. Their togetherness was something he’d never known before. No demands, no pressure, just pure sensual warmth. And dare he believe it, love? He would do anything for her. The inner beauty she’d shown had gently crept inside him, into his every part, touching him with warmth and purity. She gave openly and in return, he’d let down every barrier he’d ever built and offered her all the parts of himself. And yet here in the dark, with just the night for company, the surrealness of it all began ever so slightly to unsettle him.

He’d begun to notice more about the garden since his arrival, how long ago was that? The fruits remained perfect on the trees, petals of the flowers never fell. Marise remained as youthful and enigmatic as the day they met. It was all beautiful, the most glorious life to live. But it’s not life and we’re not living. And for a reason he didn’t understand, his thoughts returned again and again to the fountain.

"That is the heart of the garden," the Guardian said when Alex asked. "Leave it alone, or everything will change." And whenever he mentioned the fountain to Marise, she only said that it had always been that way and could not understand why Alex thought it should be filled with water.

But at night, as he lay close beside Marise, the same dream began to visit Alex. He dreamt of the fountain flowing, of seasons turning, of Marise laughing in the rain. He began to wonder if their love could be real in a world where nothing changed. It persisted in tormenting him. He tried to push it away, protecting his new existence, but something deep inside began to continually wake him in the night.

He couldn’t sleep and taking care not to disturb Marise, Alex dressed and went outside to walk in the garden, contemplating under the stars that held the constellations in the same place every night. In the moonlight the garden glowed gently as Alex made his way to the fountain. Compelled to understand more about the cool marble structure, he clambered over the stone seat and the fountain's low wall. Vines had grown around the base of the central structure and as Alex tugged at them, he revealed a heavy lever bound in ivy. Why is this not a surprise? Why did I know I’d find this here? Alex hesitated, the thought of Marise and all they held together, but surely there can be more? He tugged at the lever. The lever resisted. He heaved harder. Something shifted. Another pull. Everything moved.

The fountain sprang to life, as though it had never slept. Water flowed from the marble birds and carved flowers and danced in the fountains basin. Alex leapt out and knelt on the stone seat, watching, as around him the sky and stars began to move, shadows stretched and shifted. A breeze rustled the once motionless leaves. Time had returned.

When he woke the next morning, Alex questioned whether the night had just been a dream, but as Marise stirred, he looked over at his damp clothes on the bedroom chair and he knew that everything had changed.

As he and Marise stepped outside, she seemed perplexed by the dew that lay on the grass, reaching down to touch the small droplets. She looked at Alex and then turned her head. She could hear something. The fountain. Marise spun round and ran towards the centre of the garden, not knowing what she would find or what it would mean. As Alex caught up with her, he found both Marise and the Guardian staring aghast as the water poured into the basin below.

The Guardian looked at him. “Do you know what you’ve done?” There was sadness in his voice. “This cannot be undone. The equilibrium has been disrupted. You brought back time and with that you brought back…” his voice trailed off. He looked at Marise. “Take care my dear,” he squeezed her hand and then like a soul that needed to leave, he walked quietly away. He didn’t look back.

Alex rushed towards a confused and frightened Marise, wrapping his arms around her shivering shoulders. She had never known fear but she felt it now. As the garden breathed Alex held her tightly. What have I done? Flowers bowed their heads, petals started to brown and curl, fruit from the trees began to fall. Time is moving so quickly. Alex looked at his nails, they’d started to grow again. He rubbed his chin and felt for the first time in days? years? the roughness of his stubble. Marise lifted her head, her eyes full of betrayal? Alex didn’t know. Her skin had lost its youthful lustre, though her beauty still mesmerised him.

“Marise, I love you,” he held her even closer, terrified that his actions might have lost him everything, “but we can have so much more than perfection. We can live. Really live.” Alex watched for her reaction, realisation dawning that he had completely destroyed everything she had ever known. He cursed himself but knew he could give her more.

“Alex, I don’t understand,” her voice trembled, “what’s happening?”

“If you can trust me, I can show you.”

As the garden continued to decay around them, Alex knew that time was against them. They had to leave before all of their years were stolen away. Already he could see strands of grey appearing in Marise’s hair and he could see from his own hands how age was swiftly creeping into his flesh and bones.

At the house, the stench from the rotting food store was overwhelming, Marise was dumbfounded, never having seen anything like it before. All she could do was put her trust in Alex. She gripped his hand tightly as they left, fleeing through the garden as the leaves began to fall and the sky filled with clouds. At the fountain, they both paused.

“The Guardian…” said Marise, looking toward the corner of the garden where his little house stood.

Alex knew it was too late. That somehow, the garden was a more fitting place for the Guardian’s final sleep than the world outside the walls. “He’ll be okay. I promise.” He looked at Marise. Creases were forming around her dark brown eyes, her lips not as full as they once were, but her beauty shone like the brightest star from within. He kissed her, feeling every part of her fear and confusion. “We have to go.”

Marise stalled for a moment, paralysed by fear.

“Do you trust me?” Alex, his hair greying, his knees aching in a way they’d never done before, took both her hands. “We can live Marise. Grow old together, travel, argue even, we can really live.”

Marise nodded with a sob. She had never known tears and raised her fingers to her damp cheeks. A lump rose in Alex’s throat, and then, with nothing but the ticking of time in his ears and his love for Marise, he lifted her onto his stiffening shoulders, carried her through the perishing garden, and out of the ancient oak door.

In the grounds of Greatmead Hall, time had not moved a second. The same people were milling about outside the house and children’s shouts could be heard from the gardens. Alex’s old eyes could see a woman, her name was Colette. She paced back and forth. As the older couple passed her, she stopped them, absolutely no recognition in her eyes.

“What time is it? Do you know? I need to get into town.”

Alex smiled inwardly to himself. Rude as ever. Some things never change. “I’m sorry, I have no idea,” he said quietly as he put his arm through Marise’s and walked away towards the car park.

Inside the car, Alex stared at the steering wheel. “Funny, isn’t it? Time didn’t exist in the garden. Now I feel every tick.”

Marise leaned her head against his shoulder. “Maybe that’s the point. To feel it. You’ll show me won’t you?”

“Every part of it,” Alex smiled softly, “it might hurt sometimes though.”

“Yes,” Marise replied, squeezing Alex’s hand. “But it’ll be ours.”