The Garden Plot

by Sara Sartagne

  “We've brought the stone samples we think will best suit the design and the house, but obviously, you're free to choose others,” she finished carefully.

  “Should we see them in the garden?” asked Magda and Sam nodded.

  “Ideally, yes.”

  “I'll get some shoes on. See you outside!” Magda said, turning on her heel and dashing off upstairs.

  Sam made to put the samples back in her satchel, cursing silently as the flap of her bag frustrated her.

  “Let me help,” Jonas said, taking the bag from her and holding it open. Sam caught his scent as she placed the slabs in the bag and was uneasily aware of his proximity. Jonas huffed as the last sample went in and he tested its weight.

  “Yes, you certainly are strong,” he commented, and she noticed his arms bracing to take the weight. “I don't think I would have wanted to drag that far!” He grinned at her and she was suddenly a little breathless as his green eyes twinkled. Flushing a little, she held out her hand.

  “Oh no, I'm sure you can carry it alone, but allow me. Please,” he added after a minuscule pause.

  “Before I start carting around bags of manure?” she asked sweetly.

  He grunted quietly as he hefted the bag on to his shoulder and opened the patio doors onto the garden. “Indeed. After you?”

  She stepped down into the garden and seemed to feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck. She smoothed her hair.

  Her flat shoes sank into the wet grass and she wished for her boots. Sensible footwear, Sam, she thought ruefully.

  As she strode across the garden, Jonas kept pace with her easily, his long legs eating up the ground. Glancing sideways at him, Sam was aware of a strength about him. It wasn't just that he was tall, he was powerful.

  Like he's really used to getting his own way, she thought wryly. I wonder what his illness is...

  They stopped by the garden wall and she turned to get the samples. A breath of wind swept across her arms and neck and she shivered, wishing she had her jacket. Even under her sweater, she could feel the goose bumps. She took the satchel from him.

  “I'll get your coat,” said Jonas abruptly and turned on his heel and marched away, to Sam's surprise. After a second staring after him, she placed the samples on the ground and rubbed her arms, peering up at the sky. No rain, at least.

  Jonas returned with her coat, with Magda in tow. She zipped it thankfully.

  Flicking a glance at Jonas, who seemed entranced by the samples, Sam began to talk about them. Jonas, she noticed, was a little short. She wondered what had changed his mood.

  They chose the grey, picking up the tones of the hydrangea she planned to plant, and contrasting with the sunny yellow crocosmia which was also in the plan.

  As they walked the rest of the garden, the plan fell into place in her head; Sam's palms itched to get a trowel in her hand and start work.

  Magda grinned at her. “You can't wait, can you?” she said.

  Sam smiled ruefully while Jonas looked steadily at her. “No,” she said. “I like to see changes come quickly.”

  “As, I imagine, do your clients,” said Jonas. “After all, that's what they're paying you for.”

  Well, that's killed the atmosphere, thought Sam, amused and annoyed in equal measure.

  “Yes, I hope our clients get as enthused as I do,” she said blithely. “We try and involve them in the various stages of the build as it goes on, and we often take them to the wholesalers so they can choose the plants.”

  “Mmm, a good idea,” he said. They returned to the house in silence.

  “Right, well, we'll get these ordered and when I've got a date for delivery, I'll come back to you with a date to actually start work,” she said, hefting her bag on to her shoulder and patting her pockets for the keys to the Land Rover.

  Magda beamed at her. “Awesome! It’s going to be epic!”

  Sam laughed. “Perhaps you could let me know when there will be someone in the house? We can reach the garden without disturbing you, but it's always good to know when people are about.”

  Jonas smiled without much humour. “I'll be around most days, Magda will be going back to school next week.”

  Oh, goody. That's all I need—misery guts hanging around, thought Sam. “Excellent,” she said. “You'll be able to see it all taking shape.”

  She held out her hand, and he shook it. She thought she saw a slight flush on his cheeks and wondered about it, but then Magda was hugging her.

  She climbed into the Land Rover and relaxed properly for the first time that morning.

  Back at the house, Jonas viewed his daughter as she stood with her arms folded, glaring at him.

  “What?” he said.

  “Really dad, I don't know what's got into you!” Magda said. “You're treating Sam like she's some kind of servant, not a professional!”

  “Don't be ridiculous.”

  “It's not ridiculous—what was that crack about 'that's what clients pay you for'? How was that called for?”

  “Well, how is it untrue?” he shot back. “This isn't a friend, Magda, this is a contractor, and you need to remember that.”

  Magda stared at him disbelievingly.

  “I thought Halcyon always treated its suppliers as 'family'?” she mimicked quote marks. Jonas felt his face grow a little hot.

  “That's because we've worked with them for many years,” he said.

  Magda said nothing and Jonas could see, for the first time, she looked upset. “Dad, I asked you if you were truly OK with this, and you said you were. One second and everything seems fine and the next, you're really snippy with Sam. I don't understand.”

  Jonas sighed. He could easily explain his attitude towards the young garden designer—but not to his fifteen-year-old daughter.

  “I'm sorry, I'm getting very frustrated about being too ill to go to work and I'm taking it out on someone who's getting out, doing her job and getting excited about it,” he said finally, ruefully noting his choice of words. “I'm jealous.”

  Magda's face cleared. “Oh, is that it? Oh Dad, I'm really sorry—I didn’t think!” she hugged him, and he hugged her back, feeling a bit of a fraud. After all, some of what he said was true, and he was jealous of someone who was obviously in such glowing good health.

  But his shortness had been primarily caused by a surge of lust he had not been prepared for. He had practically run back to the house for her coat, cursing himself for his schoolboy reaction to her erect nipples, teased into life by the cool breeze. His response to her had taken him completely by surprise and he'd been both aroused and embarrassed.

  Pulling his mind away from the cream sweater and the young woman in it, he finally zoned back into what Magda was saying.

  “...but I think it's great they're going to be able to start sooner. Who knows, we might have an Indian summer in the garden!”

  He smiled absently. He still thought the timescale was tight and would be thrown if the weather during the build was bad.

  Which reminded him, he ought to look at the development drawings in the local library late this afternoon. Gerry came in and sank onto the sofa besides him and Magda, muttering, left the room.

  “Shall we go out for lunch?”

  Her question caught him by surprise. And then he was pleased.

  “Are you trying to fill my days with dissolution?” he grinned.

  “Given half a chance,” she pouted, running her long nails up his thigh. “I thought it would be nice to go out, just the two of us. I thought we could go to the hotel at Lydcombe.”

  “Sounds great—do we need to book?”

  “I have done,” she purred. “I felt sure I could persuade you.”

  The door of the library was heavy, and Jonas was surprised at the effort it took him to open it. He had been tired after lunch—enjoyable as it had been—but today, he had refused to have a nap. As a result, he thought wryly, he felt knackered.

  The library was, as he had thought it would be, almos
t completely deserted. There were a few staff flitting around, and he caught sight of a woman with orange hair behind one of the counters. As he stared at her outlandish hair, she caught his eye.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “I'm just looking for the consultation exhibition for the property development,” he said, smiling his most charming smile. The woman looked at him assessingly.

  “It's over there,” she pointed, and Jonas noticed the wink of her diamond nose stud. “But you'll have to be quick—we close in ten minutes.”

  Jonas smiled at her again and walked over to look at the boards. His review was brief, but thorough and his temper rose with every passing minute. These weren’t the plans Halcyon had worked on. These took the development onto to the protected area of land. He saw the access road was now splitting Green Belt land—something he certainly hadn't agreed.

  “We’ll have all kinds of opposition to this,” he muttered to himself.

  “Do you want more information, Mr...?” said the orange-haired librarian from just behind him, making him jump. Jonas simply smiled at her, not giving his name.

  “Who should I contact?” he said instead, just as he caught sight of the brightly coloured poster on the wall. He saw Sam's name and his mouth curled wryly. Of course it would be Sam Winterson, he thought.

  “Well, I'm Amanda Devreaux and I'm part of the group so you can talk to me,” said the librarian. “Or you can talk to either Desmond Black, the chairman, or Sam, who's on the poster there,” she gestured to it. “She runs Winterson's Garden Design here in the village.”

  He smiled, thanked her and walked out of the library. He saw her still watching him from the window as he turned back onto the road.

  12

  Steve took the mug of tea from Sam with a brief word of thanks. She grinned at him and screwed the top on the thermos.

  The garden build at Brook Lodge was going smoothly. Any plants worth saving had been dug up and put in pots. All the hard landscaping was on order and would arrive in a couple of weeks. Today, it was time to dig the pond, and then the firepit.

  Sam looked at the plans and pursed her lips. The soil, having lain for some time without anyone coming near it with a garden implement of any kind, was rock hard.

  Andy scratched his head. “Well, this pond won't dig itself. Shall we?” He picked up his pick and swung it down. With some effort, it sank into the ground.

  Chatter was limited as Sam and Steve joined in, moving the hard, clay-ey soil. In the spring sunshine, Sam felt the beads of perspiration gathering on her brow. After about twenty minutes, she stopped, took out a tissue and wiped her face.

  Glancing at the house, she saw the shadows of Jonas and his girlfriend at the study window.

  “So—does it look like I'm not doing my share?” she muttered under her breath, as she stuck her spade into the hard earth again.

  Andy, catching her words, also looked at the window.

  “Don't give yourself a hernia to prove a point, lass,” he said.

  Four hours later, the pond was dug, and Sam was looking at it with satisfaction. At its deepest, it was up to her thigh. A check with the spirit level, a bit of stamping by Steve and Andy, and Sam was happy. She checked her watch.

  “Time for a break, I think,” she said. “We’ll finish it after lunch.”

  “Client coming,” said Steve, looking past her. Sam turned around, her heart sinking. Jonas was walking over the lawn with a tray with what looked steaming mugs on it.

  “I saw you'd paused and thought you might welcome a drink with your lunch,” he said. “I brought tea and hope that's ok.”

  “Thanks, that's kind of you,” said Andy. Too surprised to speak, Sam took the hot mug Andy thrust into her hands. Jonas peered over at the pond.

  “Is it deep enough? It's a bit shallower than I imagined.”

  “Nah, it's fine. We planned for a pond, not a lake,” said Andy.

  “The centre’s deep enough so it won't freeze solid in the winter,” Sam said, finding her voice again.

  Jonas looked at her, his green eyes flicking over her damp forehead and dirty shirt. She managed to keep herself from putting a hand to her hair—it would only spread the dirt anyway.

  “And the sloping sides will be better for wildlife,” Sam added, wondering if she sounded defensive.

  But then again, he might not know about these things she thought, trying to be fair. To better explain, she climbed into the pond to explain about the lining, and how they would cover it with sand to stop the sunlight damaging the membrane which would make it watertight. To her surprise, he jumped beside her into the hole.

  “Oh!” she said as his large form arrived alongside her, causing her to lose balance. She grabbed his outstretched arm to save herself from falling onto her backside.

  “Ooops! Sorry, that was my fault,” he smiled easily, and she was suddenly aware of him—his scent, spicy and warm, and his firm grasp as she found her feet again. She thought she noted a lazy glint in his eyes.

  “No problem,” she said, and he released her. “So—” she said, turning her back on him and gesturing towards the pile of flat stones nearby, “—we'll place the stones around the edges and these will hide the edges of the liner and help wildlife climb in and out of the water.”

  “I'm sure it will look great—was there a reason you didn't put it under the tree?” Jonas asked, climbing out of the hole easily with his long legs. Andy and Steve were walking towards the Land Rover.

  “Because the tree will lose its leaves in autumn and you won't want to spend all your time fishing them out,” she said.

  Sam eyed his long legs somewhat crossly, not sure how she was going to get out with any elegance. He held out a hand. After an infinitesimal pause, she took it and he pulled her out. His palm felt smooth and firm.

  She nodded her thanks and headed for the Land Rover to get her doubtless squashed sandwiches. To her surprise, he fell in step with her.

  “Do you have any other jobs on at the moment?” he asked suddenly.

  “We've got a couple of enquiries about a new garden refresh product we've just launched,” Sam told him reluctantly. The last thing she wanted to do was have him think the schedule would go to pot. “I'm visiting one potential client this weekend, but please don't worry—as far as the actual labour goes, you're our priority.”

  Jonas looked at her.

  “Good, I'm glad to hear it,” he said. “It doesn't sound like you have much of a private life,” he added with a smile and Sam's stomach gave a little jump. I need my lunch, she thought.

  “Well, obviously I do!” she laughed.

  “Really?” he replied. “What else do you do outside work?” She looked at him. “Obviously, if you think I'm prying, please tell me to mind my own business,” he added smoothly.

  Mind your own business.

  “Not at all. I love the cinema, I read, I walk, and I judge the village garden competition every year.” Good god, I sound about seventy! she thought in despair. “I travel whenever I can, and I ski,” she added.

  He smiled and she rather hated him at that moment.

  “Ah. And you're part of the—what is it?—Sherton Protection Group? Is it the one with...what's his name...Daniel Black as its chair?”

  “The Sherton Environment Protection Group. And his name is Desmond,” she corrected.

  “Desmond. Did I see him in the local paper last week?” They were now back at the Land Rover and Sam could see her sandwiches and her flask on the seat, calling to her now grumbling stomach.

  “Mmm. He was being interviewed about the housing development we're opposing.”

  “Ah,” he said again. “That's what protest groups do, isn't it? Oppose new building? Are you a local activist?” He said the last word with a slight emphasis.

  Sam looked at him, not sure she liked his tone.

  “There are plenty of very good reasons to oppose it,” she said.

  He smiled. “I’m sure you think there are.
But I can see I'm keeping you from your lunch—perhaps you could tell me about them another time?” he said. He strode away. She stared after him until her stomach complained again.

  “Irritating man!” she muttered under her breath as she reached for her lunch. “I’m sure you think there are.” Patronising git! she thought as she sought out Andy and Steve, lounging on the grass.

  “Big boss happy?” Andy asked, chomping on an apple.

  “Yes,” Sam said, sinking her teeth into the crusty ham bap she'd brought for lunch. Steve and Andy exchanged glances while she chewed.

  “Not sure he wants an activist working for him,” Sam added, almost spitting out the word. She ran through the conversation as briefly as she could.

  Steve grinned. “He's just winding you up,” was his view. Andy nodded.

  “I agree. Why not tell him about it all? Perhaps he could help—he’s in development, isn’t he?”

  “Only if he agrees with us and I imagine as a businessman he's got profit as his primary concern, rather than the environment.” Irritated, Sam took a swig of tea.

  “You might be being unfair,” insisted Andy. “Didn’t you say he knew about ethical sourcing when you talked about the stone?”

  Sam was silent.

  “True,” she said. “However, allow me to suspend judgement until proven otherwise.”

  Jonas was thoughtful when he returned to the house. Sam was very transparent, visibly irritated by his tone and what she no doubt saw as his nosiness. He thought she’d tell him to go to hell when he asked about her private life—certainly, regardless of what came out of her mouth, she'd been very reluctant to discuss what she did outside work. Politically, of course, they were poles apart.

  She was also, he reluctantly admitted, a very lovely woman. He had seen the shirt sticking to her back as she dug the pond, outlining her slim body and small breasts. He sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

  “Not your type,” he muttered.