“You seem a bit...tense.”
“No, not at all.”
Jonas opened his mouth to speak again and Magda shot up out of her seat. She leant and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek.
“Just off to email Nanna—I want to ask her what she wants for her birthday.” She left the kitchen almost at a run.
Jonas stared after her and then, shaking his head, poured a coffee to take to Gerry.
“You’re very quiet,” commented Andy as he climbed into the Land Rover. Sam gave him a faint smile.
“Yes, I am, aren’t I? Probably because I’m expecting some ancient old bloke who hates women to be the final decision maker on this job.”
Andy laughed. “You’ll cope. I can remember how it was with your Dad and you soon got everyone round your thumb.”
Sam didn’t reply but started the Land Rover.
The journey didn’t take long, and Sam was again struck by the beauty of the house as they pulled into the drive. Andy let out a low whistle.
“Bloody hell,” he breathed. “Are there bat poles?”
Sam giggled as she parked, suddenly feeling better. After all, the designs were good—some of her best work, in fact—and if Mr Old Fashioned couldn’t get over the fact a woman drew them, then that was his problem. She rubbed sweaty hands down her clean jeans and zipped her leather jacket.
Although we could really do with the work came the thought.
“They’re here!” Magda swung from the window and ran to the door. “Dad? Are you ready?”
Jonas came out of the study and Magda looked him over critically. First impressions were important. She reached up and smoothed his collar at the back of his neck. Jonas looked at her quizzically.
“Am I presentable?” he asked.
“You could do with a haircut shaggy,” Magda said, but really, she thought he looked as handsome as ever. His green eyes twinkled at her and she was relieved he was in a good mood. It might not last too long, she suddenly thought. She drew a breath and Jonas looked at her curiously.
“Shall we?” She took his arm and opened the door.
Sam saw Magda and a tall man at the door as she locked the Land Rover. Looking at him properly, she saw he was very tall. He looked familiar, she thought, but from this distance, she couldn’t be sure. She glanced at Andy who grinned reassuringly at her and she grasped her portfolio case more firmly and started forwards with a smile on her face.
The tall man came towards them, Magda on his arm. Sam could see his green eyes from where she stood, and she recognised him as the expensively dressed man from the pub. He was as handsome on this view as he had been on the first.
Oh my, was the first thought that went through her head. Magda is NOT the child of aging parents, then!
Oh good God, what did I say to him at the pub? Was the second thought. He looked at her, startled recognition dawning in his eyes.
“Hello, I’m Jonas Keane, Magda’s father. I think we’ve met at the pub? And aren’t you on the website with long hair?” He smiled and without waiting for a response, he thrust his hand out to Andy. “Could Sam not make the meeting? I wanted to congratulate him on a first-class design job.”
Sam’s smile, already wobbly when thinking about their exchanges at the pub, faltered even more, and she flicked a glance to Magda.
“Um… I’m Sam—short for Samantha. I designed the garden.”
There was an awkward pause as Jonas took in this information and looked at Sam.
“Ah. I was expecting Samuel.”
Oh-oh...
Despite the pleasantness of his tone, his voice was now more formal.
“That’s my father,” said Sam. “He died eighteen months ago, and I took over the company. I’m the garden designer and director of WGD.”
Another pause.
“I can see you’re under a misapprehension,” said Sam as lightly as she could. “I’m Samantha, I developed the plans for the garden, and I’m not my dad. I cut my hair about six months ago. Is there a problem?”
Jonas turned to his daughter, his eyebrows raised.
Magda grinned. “Well dad, you really did like the plans, didn’t you? You said they were the work of a genius, so I don’t think it matters that it’s Sam, rather than her father who did them. Does it?”
Jonas shook his head, as if to clear it and gazed at Sam, who looked back at him steadily.
“My daughter is often telling me my attitude is that of a dinosaur,” he finally said. “She’s possibly quite right, and I owe you an apology, Ms Winterson. The plans are fantastic, and I’m delighted to meet the designer who created them. The photo I saw of you on the website might have been old, and it also featured Andy here, hence the confusion. I obviously didn’t read the text closely enough. I like your short hair. And I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Sam was nonplussed at this sudden change of direction and could feel a blush starting to colour her cheeks. She finally put her hand out and he shook it. His hand felt cool and firm.
“So, shall we start again?” she said, striving for some of his suavity. “My name’s Sam Winterson and I own WGD. This is Andy Jackson, my assistant, who’s in charge of any hard landscaping we do.”
The meeting moved smoothly on after this. Magda skipped about, obviously pleased with herself, Jonas continued to be pleasant, although Sam felt minutely scrutinised. While they walked through the garden in the weak sunshine, she took out the plans, and talked through the decisions and the materials they planned to use.
Andy was calmly supportive, disagreeing on one suggestion Jonas made about the paving, and agreeing with another about the walls surrounding the lawn.
Given the start, she thought after an hour, it’s been ok, despite what he might remember from the pub. I wonder what he’ll say about the budget.
But in the end, it wasn’t the budget that caused the tension to flare again.
“When can you start?” Magda asked.
“In about a week, I would say, which will give us time to get the hard landscaping samples to you,” Andy replied. “With reasonable weather, I think it will take three and a half months—that’s what you had in the project plan, isn’t it?” He looked at Sam, who nodded. Three months and two days, to be precise.
“How many in the team—four? Five?” asked Jonas.
“Three—Andy, Steve our new apprentice, and me,” Sam said, putting her plans back into the portfolio.
“Really? That’s it?”
Sam paused.
“Ye-e-e-s,” she said carefully. “That’s our team.”
“I’d quite like the garden finished this year, rather than next,” Jonas said, smiling with his teeth, but not his eyes.
Sam closed the portfolio with a bit of a snap.
“Mr Keane, we have done this before, many times. If I didn’t think it was possible to do this in the time on the schedule, I wouldn’t have sent this schedule, I’d have sent another one. We can certainly deliver with three of us.”
“You’re going to be on site?”
Andy sucked in a breath. Sam hung on to her temper with an effort. “What did you imagine, Mr Keane?”
“Let’s just say you don’t look the sort to be carting around bags of manure,” Jonas said.
“Dad!” Even Magda looked indignant.
“When my father owned WGD I was expected to do my share of the digging and I’m quite used to it,” said Sam.
Jonas looked her up and down and even from here, Sam could see something flare in his eyes.
“Right.” Was his only comment. Sam glanced at Andy to see his jaw jut.
Time to be firm before there’s a punch-up.
“Just to be clear then, I will be working on the project—in a physical capacity, manure-carting and all—and we should be able to keep to the schedule that I forwarded with the plans,” she said.
“Should be able to keep to the schedule?” Jonas pounced. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andy tense again.
“Will,�
�� Sam said with determined patience. And smiled at him, sunnily.
“Do we have a contract, Mr Keane?”
It took a second for him to answer.
“Yes, I suppose we do.”
“Great. If you like we could see if we could bring forward the start date to later this week, rather than next?” she looked at Andy, who nodded.
“That would be great!” said Magda, clearly relieved. “Wouldn’t it Dad?” She elbowed him discreetly.
Jonas nodded, looking at Sam consideringly. “Yes,” he said. “It would be great.”
“I’ll check the office diary and come back to you formally with a date, then,” Sam held out her hand to Jonas. He gripped it, she thought, unnecessarily hard, and kept it for a fraction too long.
Pulling away, she turned to Magda and was surprised to receive a hug and a kiss on both cheeks.
“This is going to be brilliant!” Magda grinned at her, and Sam smiled gently.
“Yes, I’m sure it will,” she said. Then they left.
After Sam and Andy had driven off, Magda bit her lip as her father looked at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me Sam was a woman? I felt a bit of an idiot and I don’t appreciate it, young lady!”
Oh dear, thought Magda. I’ve turned into a ‘young lady’.
“Well, it was probably a good thing I didn’t tell you! Sam wouldn’t have got a look-in, would she?” she defended herself. “Your views on women are so last century, Dad! You thought the designs were brilliant! Does it matter what sex the designer is?”
“Gender,” corrected Jonas. “You could have told me before they arrived, after I’d seen the plans! I told you how wonderful I thought they were! Then they’d have been through the door anyway!”
“But how hard a time would you have given her?” shot back Magda. Jonas scowled.
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence!” he huffed. “That’s very unfair—”
“Are you sure, Dad?” said Magda. Jonas was silent, and Magda, seeing his face, wondered if she’d gone too far.
“I don’t know why you have this, like, thing about women. Wasn’t mum in business, like you?” she finally said. His gaze snapped to hers.
“Yes, so focused on business she had time for nothing else! I don’t think a woman’s place is in the home, but really—do you think Sam should be humping around bags of compost?”
“If she wants to! And she obviously does!” Magda protested. “And I should tell you, Dad, I’m interested in the garden—would it be a problem if I wanted to hump around bags of manure?”
“Do you?” he asked, looking appalled.
“Surely that’s beside the point! But whatever, I will want to earn my own living, like Sam does!”
“That’s different,” he said after a pause. She couldn’t see quite how it was different. She shook her head.
“But really, Dad, what did you think I was going to do after school? Just find a rich bloke and live off them? Or flit around painting my nails and attending gallery openings?” She couldn’t resist the dig at Gerry. “Why bother sending me to a private school if afterwards I can’t do anything I want to do?”
Jonas looked as though she’d struck him. Uncomfortable seeing him lost for words, she changed the subject.
“Look, Dad, I know it’s my money, but you are happy with it all, aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course!” He seemed to pull himself together and the firmness of his response reassured her. “The finished gardens I’ve seen are excellent, really well done.”
“But?”
“No, there’s no but, although I do wonder how a slip of a girl like that will manage the project and do the digging, too!”
“There you go again, Dad!” Madga shook her head. “Making assumptions. They’ll put you in a museum if you’re not careful!”
“Why are they putting you in a museum?” Gerry’s languid voice asked from the door.
Magda swung away and watched with irritated as Jonas rose to his feet and kissed Gerry. “I have old fashioned views,” he said to her.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she said, smiling and tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“Thank goodness. Do you want some lunch?”
10
Jonas reined in his frustration. He didn’t like the hint of evasiveness that had crept into Tyler Fairchild’s voice as they had gone through the meeting.
Tyler had done his best to ‘economise’ on the specification for the development and invited a couple of suppliers to tender who wouldn’t have come within a country mile of the work had Jonas been in sole charge.
He listened to Neil ask some innocuous questions about the public consultation.
“Look, it’s all under control,” insisted Tyler. “We’ve had some feedback, sure, but the important thing is that we have some support on the planning committee who are, after all, going to make the final decision.”
“What sort of feedback? From whom?” asked Neil.
“Oh, just the normal NIMBY response—residents concerned about the site traffic, the usual stuff.”
There was a silence and Jonas waited.
“OK, there seems to be some sort of petition, but it’s nothing we can’t handle—the PR company is already on it,” came the exasperated voice of Tyler down the line.
“And exactly what are the objections in the petition?” Neil’s voice was level.
“Just as I said—site traffic, concerns over wildlife, and the access from the main road out of Derbyshire,” said Tyler.
“How do we know this?” interjected Jonas.
“We’ve had word from one of the planning officers,” said Tyler.
Jonas frowned. Planning officers should be independent until the recommendation to the planning committee. That one of them was passing information to Tyler’s staff didn’t bode particularly well for the ethics of the authority—or indeed Anglo Homes.
“But we’ve briefed the PR agency, as I said and they’re working on putting our side of the story to the local press,” Tyler insisted.
Phone clamped to his ear, Jonas searched his desk for the as yet unread local paper. As the conversation continued, with Neil getting shorter and more direct in his questioning, Jonas leafed through the pages. There it was. So, it hadn’t made the front page—which was something—but there was a large item on page three, with the headline New Homes to Desecrate Wildlife Haven.
He closed his eyes in frustration. He opened his mouth to say something about the story and then thought better of it. Neither Tyler nor John knew he was in Sherton and might well ask where he’d seen the local press coverage. So instead, he said casually:
“Has there been any local coverage?”
“We’re waiting to hear from the PR agency,” said Tyler.
After the meeting, as planned, Neil called back.
“Jonas, I’m starting to get an uncomfortable feeling about this,” he said.
“And you’d be right to, I’m looking at the coverage in the local paper right now, and it does not make for happy reading.”
He read the headline to Neil.
“Christ, that’s all we need,” Neil responded with a sigh.
“‘A housing development for three hundred-plus new homes in Sherton will threaten a precious wildlife habitat, campaigners have warned,’” read Jonas. “‘Campaigners believe property giant Anglo Homes is building too close to Jessop’s Field, a protected area of natural beauty. ‘This development will place unsustainable demand on local amenities as well as eating into the Green Belt land which characterises the area,’ said Mr Desmond Black, chairman of Sherton Environment Protection Group which campaigned successfully against the Stockwell bypass two years ago. ‘We’ve seen the plans and we think we the council should be gravely concerned about the environmental impact of the building work,’ he said. Council officers refused to comment, saying the consultation was still underway.’”
“Well, not good, but not yet a disaster,” said Neil.
“I think I’ll wander down and have a look at the consultation plans,” mused Jonas. “It might be the campaigners are just being hysterical.”
“Be careful—you don’t want to be recognised, particularly looking at plans for a supposedly rival company,” warned Neil. “That would be a public relations nightmare, not to mention blowing our silent partner status.”
Jonas said nothing. Neil was right.
“I’ll go to see the consultation as the Library’s closing,” he said finally. “There won’t be many people about late on a weekday.”
“I don’t like it Jonas,” Neil said. “Apart from anything else, you’re supposed to be resting!”
“I know, but I don’t have any other ideas—do you?”
“No,” said Neil reluctantly. They talked of other projects and then Jonas said, “Neil? Could I ask you something?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Am I... Have you ever seen me be...damn, I’m not sure how to put this.” Jonas raked his hand through his hair. He wasn’t used to feeling defensive. He tried again.
“Have you ever noticed me to be prejudiced against women?”
There was such a long pause, Jonas wondered if the line had been cut.
“Well…you have appointed an all-male board,” Neil said finally.
“But Stephanie isn’t a man,” protested Jonas, thinking of his red-haired, temper-to-match finance director.
“Well, yes, but Bernard employed her, not you. I think you wanted an old—male—colleague, didn’t you?” Neil said. Jonas was uncomfortable.
“Well, erm…”
“And remember the HR director we interviewed last year—she was a woman, and although the rest of the panel wanted to appoint her, you overrode the decision to appoint Mike instead. Ditto our recent legal post.”
Jonas sat in silence.
“But what’s brought all this up?” asked Neil curiously.
“Magda,” sighed Jonas. “I questioned whether the woman designer we’re hiring would be able to deliver our garden project with just her and two other workers.”
The Garden Plot Page 9