‘We love it, Mum – don’t we Mark?’
Hm. It’ll go with the gnome.’
He hadn’t yet managed to break the garden gnome his mother gave them for Christmas, although the lawnmower came perilously close to it at times.
This was one of those twee little doors meant to look as if an elf or sapient hedgehog lived in your garden.
‘It’s pottery, for your ninth anniversary. I didn’t think you’d want something gathering dust on the mantlepiece.’
Was that a hint?
‘I thought it could go in the rockery by the pond. Let’s go find a place for it.’
‘Just what we need,’ grumbled Mark as she unlocked the back door next morning. ‘Another tacky garden ornament.’
He hated kitsch around his beloved koi pond.
She let the cat out and gasped.
He joined her. ‘What’s up?’
The door was open at the bottom of the rockery.