Poppies and forget-me-nots botanical drawing

The drawer marked FLORA-ODD still sticks, so pull it from the left and lift as you go. Inside you will find the botanical sheet I told you about, the one Ada Quill pressed into the vault ledger the winter the glasshouses went dark. Poppies and forget-me-nots on one stem, drawn in ink by someone who had clearly never seen either growing wild. The petals are hatched in tight little strokes, as if she was afraid of losing them.

Mind the humidity alarm. It chirps when the dehumidifier falters, and it has been chirping since Tuesday. I have moved the poppy seed tins into the cold cabinet by the door, but the forget-me-not packets are the difficult ones. They want light and a fortnight of cool before they will consider germinating, and I have only managed one clean sprout from four attempts. Bring the magnifier. The seed heads are the size of a barley grain and the old labels have faded to nothing.

Here is what I have decided. When the rota comes round in spring, take the drawing up to the north terrace and sow the poppies in the cracked beds where the old wall shades them from the wind. Let the forget-me-nots go wherever the gutter water carries them. I do not expect them to bloom for us. The sheet is only proof that someone once thought they were worth keeping.

Keep the ink dry. Ada's hand was steady, but mine is not, and I would hate to be the one who smudged the last of her.

Yours, Imre