The Garden Plot

by Sara Sartagne

  Amanda continued to make suggestions and Sam made notes with one hand and ate with the other. As she reached the end of her food and indeed, the end of the evening, Sam felt her spirits revive.

  As she finished her drink, she caught the eye of the man at the bar, still watching her. He smiled. Ignoring her hands-on-hips libido, she smiled. Amanda was right, he was gorgeous, but something else—powerful? She couldn’t put her finger on it, but her stomach dipped slightly when she looked at him.

  He raised his glass in courteous salute as she gathered up her jacket and bag and reached for her keys. Amanda, watching the exchange, rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Mad. I think you’re mad!” she hissed as they walked out.

  And so do I! cried her libido, tossing its head.

  Sam laughed ruefully and kept on walking.

  “Dad?” Magda said as he walked through the door. “How are you feeling?”

  “Knackered, but glad I went out, if only to get some air,” Jonas said, shrugging off his coat.

  “Did you chat to anyone, or just have a drink?”

  “Mmm?” Jonas stretched his shoulders. The little blonde crossed his mind, and he recalled her delicate heart-shaped features and her slight frame covered in the most shapeless of jeans. His mouth tilted slightly. And her grumbling stomach. Yes, she’d been worth the walk to the pub. He remembered Gerry a little guiltily and pushed the stranger out of his mind, sinking with a sigh onto the sofa.

  “Just a quiet drink.”

  “Can I talk to you about something?”

  That sounds like trouble, he thought. He patted the sofa and smiled at his hovering daughter. Magda sat beside him, fixing him with her big eyes, so like his. “I want to use some of the money mum left me.”

  “Oh? What on?”

  “Well, as you’re going to be here all summer and all the newspapers say we’re going to have a brilliant summer—I thought I’d like to get the garden sorted out.”

  Jonas was silent. And surprised.

  He thought of the uninspiring lawn and lacklustre borders. Even the scattering of bulbs that were in bloom looked meagre, as though they could do with some TLC.

  “This is a fairly big undertaking, liebchen. Are you sure you want to spend that much money?”

  Magda nodded. “This is going to be our home, isn’t it? You can’t do the garden while you’re recuperating, even if you wanted to, and I can’t do anything while I’m at school, even if I knew where to start! So—time to bring in some professionals.”

  “Well…It is your money. But it will be a lot of money, you know? Have you seen any garden firms you want to invite to tender? Do you want any of my contacts? There’s Connor, for example-”

  “Connor would just laugh at me and then do what he wants to, not what I want! And anyway, I know who I want to design and build the garden,” Magda said firmly, dismissing her internationally-recognised godfather.

  “Really? Who?”

  “The company that did Lisbeth’s garden—you know my friend Lisbeth? The garden at her house is awesome—like, really beautiful.”

  Jonas clamped down on his misgivings but made a mental note to pass by Lisbeth’s house at the first opportunity. “Who is this company?”

  “Winterson’s. They’ve done a lot of the gardens in the posh bit of the village.”

  “Do they all look the same?” Jonas asked cynically.

  Magda laughed. “God, no! They’re all very different—one of them is like, really modern, but Lisbeth’s is like something out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. They’re both great in their own way.”

  “Hmmm. Well, it wouldn’t do any harm to get them to quote. But I want to have a look at the plans before you agree anything, I want to see the budget, and I want to check out the firm.”

  “Of course—but really, Dad, do give me credit for checking them out myself! I’m not an idiot, you know.”

  “No need to get cross,” he said, smiling at her. “Of course I trust you, but I don’t trust some of the cowboys out there. And I certainly don’t want a bunch of amateurs destroying the garden—I know it’s not pretty, but it could be a lot worse.”

  “This is not a bunch of amateurs—”

  “Or some pretentious designer, bringing in weird chunks of sculpture which he couldn’t offload on anyone else!” Jonas went on as he warmed to his theme. “I want solid men who know their business and aren’t going to leave us with paths sprouting weeds in three months. Neither do I want some female designer who’s never got her hands dirty, but simply gardens on paper.”

  “I think you should have a look at the website, be completely reassured, and leave me to liaise with the designer—I want the designs to be a surprise, and as you’re going to look at them before the work starts, surely that should be ok?”

  Jonas stopped himself smiling as he recognised Magda’s ‘soothing’ voice.

  “OK, that sounds reasonable.” Jonas said after a pause, thinking how grown up she seemed.

  “Great. I’ll get it organised,” Magda said briskly, getting to her feet.

  “Magda—”

  She stopped, and he smiled warmly at her.

  “This is really thoughtful of you.”

  “I’d like a garden Nanna and Opa would like to visit,” she said simply. “Somewhere we can all be together here, not just in Germany.”

  Jonas thought back to German summers in his parents’ glorious garden, which never seemed to fade into just green, regardless of the season. Also tumbling into his thoughts was Nicole, Magda’s mother. His face tightened.

  Magda was looking at him uncertainly and, pulling himself back in to the present, he smiled at her. “I’m sure it will be a wonderful surprise, and it’s really sweet of you to think of it.”

  Magda smiled sunnily at him and left the room.

  Lisbeth answered her phone a couple of minutes later.

  “What happened?” she said immediately.

  “Dad’s going to look at the internet site. Is Sam on the website as the owner? Dad muttered something about ‘female garden designers’ and I don’t want him interfering before they even meet. Does it look like she’s in charge?”

  “Well, Zach normally updates the site, but he hasn’t done for a while. Sam’s hopeless when it comes to technology. I’m not sure if her dad is still featured on the site. He was called Samuel, and knowing Sam, he’s still there…But are you sure we should be doing this?”

  “Zach? Is this some boyfriend you’ve been hiding from me?” Magda ignored Lisbeth’s concern.

  “Zach? Oh, no! I’ve known him forever—he was two years above me in infant school!” Lisbeth was diverted for the moment. “He’s done bits for Sam’s website before.”

  “So all I need to do now is make an appointment to see her?”

  “Well, yes—but honestly, should we be doing this, Magda?”

  Magda paused. “Look—it can’t do any harm, can it? If nothing else, we’ll get a fabulous garden and I’m giving your aunt some business. If they don’t like one another, neither will be any the wiser, will they?”

  “I suppose not,” said Lisbeth doubtfully.

  “Try not to fret so much—it’ll be fine,” Magda said soothingly. Lisbeth murmured something unintelligible, and then rang off, sounding unconvinced.

  5

  Sam put the phone down, feeling pleased with herself. The discussion with the editor of the Northern Chronicle had gone much better than she’d hoped—she had a piece to write about spring planting and a photo to provide. It would go on their website with a credit for Sam and a namecheck for the company.

  She rose from her desk, ran her fingers through her short hair and reached for the kettle, to celebrate.

  A small piece of work had come in yesterday—a tiny back garden which needed new borders and some serious work on a crumbling pond. She’d stuck to her guns in the initial quote—despite Andy’s misgivings. There had been a tense day or so when she thought the quote was too high and they�
��d lost the job—and then the owner had agreed. Sam was so relieved she could have wept in gratitude.

  “I can see you’re a proper gardener,” the owner had said. “Not just a bunch of labourers doing hard landscaping and traipsing all over my roses.”

  Andy had grunted, talked about the economy and how they were a luxury commodity. And then hugged her. She’d told him about the bank, and his calm response about cutting back on some basics had steadied her.

  “It’ll get better,” he’d said.

  She was stirring her tea and thinking about other ways to bring in business when the phone rang in the main office. She heard Andy answer.

  “Winterson’s Garden Design, good morning...Yes, I’ll just see if she’s available. Who’s calling?”

  Andy put the caller on hold and peered into the tiny kitchenette. “Someone with an enquiry about a garden design. Says her name is Magda Keane.”

  “One sec,” Sam grabbed her tea and retreated to her office, leaving the door open. Andy put the call through and then came in and sat at the table, listening.

  “Sam Winterson.”

  “Hi, my name is Magda Keane. I’m friends with Lisbeth who’s told me you’re a garden designer. I’d like to talk to you about ours.”

  Sam wrinkled her nose, recognising the name, but unable to pin it down exactly. “I think I remember Lisbeth talking about you, thanks for calling. How can I help?”

  “Our house is Brook Lodge and the garden is a mess,” said the voice on the phone. “I’m planning the new design as a surprise for my father.”

  Brook Lodge? God, that’s a huge house.

  “That sounds very exciting,” she said. “Perhaps we should get together for a chat? It might be better if I came to your house so I can look at the garden.”

  There was a pause on the end of the line.

  “Well, my dad’s here at the moment, which would ruin the surprise, so can I come and have a chat with you at your office? We can arrange for you to come to the house when he’s out.”

  “Ok…” Sam said slowly, faint alarm bells starting to ring. “When are you available?” They arranged to meet later that day. Sam put down the phone.

  “Sounds promising,” said Andy when she said nothing for a moment.

  “I’m not sure. She says she’s a friend of Lisbeth’s—she wants the designs as a surprise for her dad. She lives at Brook Lodge, she says.”

  “Brook Lodge is an Edwardian mansion. The garden is a big one,” Andy said, stroking his beard.

  “She sounded very confident, but I imagine she’s Lisbeth’s age. I’ve no idea where she’d find the money...”

  When Magda walked in three hours later, two things happened. The first was that Sam thought they’d met before. She wondered if she’s seen a photo of her with Lisbeth. Something nagged at her but didn’t blossom into recognition. The second was that Sam realised just how young Magda was. Her heart sank. This girl wouldn’t be able to make the decisions, she would have no idea of the cost of redesigning a large garden, she wouldn’t recognise a good design when she saw it, Daddy might not like it…

  A thousand objections to us getting any business.

  Nevertheless, she smiled, shook her hand and took her into the office, shaking her head when Andy made to follow her. She didn’t want to overpower the slender teenager who sauntered in.

  “Perhaps you’d like to tell me a bit about the garden?” Sam began with a smile.

  Magda reached for her huge handbag—which looked like genuine Prada, Sam noted. Not that you would have known if it was a fake, she scoffed at herself.

  “The garden is south-west facing, and there’s a little stream running down one side where it’s a bit boggy. I have the plans here somewhere...” She pulled out some rather crumpled plans and smoothed them onto the table. “The house is Edwardian, I think. I’ve taken a few photos...” She rifled in the bag again, pulling out some six-by-eight colour photographs, and Sam’s eyebrows went up at the teenager’s very adult preparation. The garden was big, about a couple of acres.

  And Magda was right—the garden was a mess, a few ragged bulbs and what looked like apple trees in dire need of pruning, scrubby shrubs, a couple of low walls surrounding the lawn. It would cost a small fortune to put it right, Sam thought a little gloomily.

  She took the photographs and looked at them closely, and then back at the plans. Despite thinking it would be too big a job for the teenager in front of her to pay for, her mind started racing with possibilities.

  “I think we’re quite lucky with the soil which is neutral bordering on acid—or so the housekeeper tells me,” Magda said after a pause. Sam looked at her.

  “Do you have azaleas? Hang on, I thought I saw one in a photo...” She hunted through the photographs and saw a sad looking specimen on the side of the lawn. “Yes, here we are. I think your soil may be a bit acid, but we’d check…” Sam reined herself in. “You do realise this will cost a lot of money?”

  “Oh yeah—I’m not worried about the cost,” Magda said blithely. “I have some money of my own and if Dad likes the designs, he’ll make up any shortfall.”

  Sam, used to cost-conscious customers, only just stopped herself from staring.

  “What does your father do?” Sam thought Magda withdrew a little.

  “He’s head of a European company that sells property. He’s not been well, and I want to develop the garden so we can use it this summer.”

  The penny dropped for Sam as she remembered Lisbeth talking about her friend whose father had been so ill. She looked at her, wondering if Magda had been a child of older parents, and what illness her father had.

  “Well…depending on the plans, I can’t imagine you’ll come away with much change out of thirty-five thousand pounds, possibly more than that,” Sam said, determined to make sure Magda understood the scope of the project.

  Magda nodded her head.

  “Yes, that’s actually slightly less than I was expecting—I had a budget of around forty.”

  Sam was silent, her mind reeling. Slightly less than she'd been expecting?

  “Will you take it on?” Magda said, anxiously when Sam hesitated. “I’m good for the money,” she added, grinning.

  Sam shook her head, remembering details of her conversation with Lisbeth about her 'loaded' friend. Looked like the Prada handbag was real, after all.

  She said, “How about I come and see the garden when your dad is out? I have a lot of questions about what you want to use the garden for. Then I’ll do the design. I’ll charge you a set fee for the design and cost the development of the garden separately—ok?”

  She paused, and Magda nodded.

  “And I'd like payment for the design up front please,” she said firmly, but Magda didn’t even blink.

  “Of course. How much would that be?”

  “It depends on what state the garden’s in and what you want. The initial consultation would be free.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Magda said, getting up and starting to gather the photos and plans.

  “Can I keep these?” Sam stopped her. “They’ll give me something to think about before I see the actual garden.”

  “Of course.” Magda held out her hand and Sam shook it. Very adult, she thought, as the teenager—she was no more—hoisted her expensive, designer bag onto her shoulder.

  To Sam’s surprise, Lisbeth was in the office.

  “Hello! I wasn’t expecting you!” she smiled, hugging Lisbeth.

  “I know you’re busy,” Lisbeth said hesitatingly. “I wondered if you wanted to come for coffee?”

  “I can do…” Sam turned suddenly to Magda. “I forgot to ask—have you had a look at our website? That has some of our work on, and you can show that to your dad, if he wants to see it.” Andy stood up obligingly and she clicked on his desktop.

  “You ought to update the photos,” said Andy, pointing at one of Sam, him, and her dad. Sam paused and bit her lip.

  “I know,” she sighed. Sh
e looked at the photos, taken in bright sunlight before her father had died. They looked so happy. “Yes, I know I should. But not quite yet. I might think about changing the text underneath to reflect the fact that dad’s gone. I’ll do that when I have some time.”

  There was an awkward silence, and despite herself, Sam found her eyes stinging with tears. She clicked out of the website and looked up to find Lisbeth’s sympathetic gaze on her.

  “Is coffee on you?” Sam managed to say, brightly.

  “Actually, yes!” Lisbeth laughed.

  Sam found herself hustled out of the office and into the local coffee shop and gradually, she recovered her equilibrium. She knew she ought to move on from her loss. But taking her father’s photo from the website seemed so—final. Maybe at the end of the year…

  As the two girls chattered, more around her than to her, Sam sat back and compared them. Lisbeth, while she might look young, seemed very comfortable with her sophisticated, confident friend, and the two had a healthy disagreement about the merits of the latest Tarantino film, which was showing in Ashton. Magda, now Sam looked closely at her, had the polished look of the wealthy, with glossy dark hair, intense green eyes and almost flawless skin. Lisbeth's more delicate colouring—red-gold hair and hazel eyes—was a perfect foil for her. She frowned, trying to place Magda. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d met before, but eventually decided she must be imagining it.

  “Would you like to see it, Aunty Sam?”

  Sam was momentarily lost and then realised her niece was asking her about the film. She tweaked a brow. “It's not really about my company, is it? You’re just hoping I'll cover for you being underage!” she responded shrewdly.

  Lisbeth laughed. “Oh, busted! But I do like your company! And you're not shocked by the swearing or the violence and you'll always find something funny when it's getting scary.”

  Sam agreed and then looked at her watch.

  “I must get back. Give me a call about the film—I've nothing on I can think of—oh, apart from the village group on Thursday.”