“I have some sympathy with your position,” he said.
“That's a politician's answer, Fraser!”
“You're seeing me as a politician, aren't you?” he said.
She shrugged and began putting the plans back in her bag. “I thought I was talking to you as my brother-in-law. Obviously not.”
“I'm sorry Sam. I'll watch out to ensure due process is followed, but I can't really express an opinion.”
“You can't express an opinion for your local community? Why on earth did people vote for you?” Sam rose from her seat, unsurprised at the outcome, but still furious. She walked out hearing Fraser sigh theatrically behind her.
“I can see dinner's going to be a blast,” commented Charlie, taking one look at her face.
“A completely pointless exercise! He doesn’t care about the Green Belt at all as long as it makes commercial sense to desecrate it!”
Charlie put her spoon down on the counter with a snap and Sam took a deep, deep breath. “I'm not sure I'm going to stop for dinner,” she said.
“Then you can explain to Lisbeth,” Charlie said shortly, bending down to take a huge rib of beef from the oven. “She's been really looking forward to seeing you, she talked about it all the way back from the station.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs, getting changed.”
Sam could hear the music as she climbed the stairs and Lisbeth's surprisingly rich voice singing along. She knocked at the door.
“Lisbeth?”
“Aunty Sam!” Lisbeth threw the door open, her still wet hair tousled around her delighted face. “Brilliant! You're early!”
Sam's heart sank at the welcome.
“Mmm...”
“What's wrong?”
Sam opened her mouth to tell her niece she wouldn't be staying for dinner and somehow what came out was, “Oh, just a disagreement with your dad.”
“Oh? Well, that's hardly news, is it?” Lisbeth grinned at her and then gave her a hug. “I hoped whatever it was wouldn't stop you staying for dinner, but then again, you're a grown-up, aren't you?”
Sam smiled weakly.
“You look great!” Lisbeth enthused, looking her aunt up and down. “That lime green looks amazing on you, really makes you look tanned!”
“I thought I'd make an effort as I was speaking to your dad,” Sam said, smoothing down her skirt. She rolled her eyes. “Didn't work, though.”
Lisbeth made sympathetic noises and then presented two outfits for review and Sam made comments. They exchanged views on the music teacher (sadly now not available), talked about the sitcom they were both addicted to, and at the end of half an hour, Sam felt almost normal again.
Walking back into the kitchen, Sam sniffed and this time, took note of the joint of meat.
“Well? Are you staying?” Charlie demanded. Sam hesitated and then her stomach made the decision for her.
“I couldn't possibly miss out on that!” she pointed to the roast. “This is a bit more than normal Friday night supper, isn't it?”
“Well, I thought I'd soften up Fraser before I give him the news he's going on a diet in the summer,” said Charlie as she shook a pan of crisp roast potatoes. “And of course we have guests...”
“Oh, of course! I'd forgotten, I hope she's had a chance to look at the garden—although perhaps it would be best if we didn't talk shop,” Sam picked at a bowl of raw cauliflower.
“No, I absolutely agree,” Charlie said, hoisting a big pan of greens over the sink. “And talking of our guests, it's not just—”
The doorbell rang.
“I'll get it, you've got your hands full,” Sam said, walking towards the front door.
“Sam!” called Lisbeth from the top of the stairs.
“Just a sec!” Sam threw open the door, and the words of welcome died on her lips.
Standing on the doorstep was Magda. And her father.
14
She just stood there, looking at Magda and Jonas who loomed over her. Lisbeth slid around her and smiled at Magda.
“Hi both! Come in! Mu-um!” she called. “Magda and her dad are here!”
Sam, who still hadn't said a word, blinked at Jonas as the girls chattered off to the living room.
“Good evening Sam,” Jonas said, closing the door. “I take it you weren't expecting us?”
His voice seemed to thrum through her veins. Sam plastered a smile onto her face.
“I was expecting Magda,” she managed. “But it would have been pretty mean to leave you at home, I imagine.”
“Absolutely,” said Charlie, coming up behind her, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Hello, I'm Charlotte, Lisbeth's mum, and this is my husband, Fraser.”
There was a general shaking of hands and Sam slipped away, into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine.
Medicinal, she thought grimly. You've worked bloody hard this week and you deserve this. Particularly given the evening you’re about to have.
Charlie bustled back into the kitchen.
“And before you say anything at all, Lisbeth sprang this on me about an hour ago, and she asked me to include Magda’s father as his partner’s gone to Manchester!”
Sam took a gulp of her wine, reflecting absently that she'd need to walk home this evening.
“No problem,” she said, taking another swig.
Lisbeth came in. “Are you coming into the lounge?” she asked, twisting her hands.
“I'll stay and help your mum,” she said. “I'll be there in a minute.”
“OK,” Lisbeth nodded and staggered out, her arms full of wine glasses.
“What you actually meant was you'll stay and get under my feet,” commented Charlie.
“Ah, but I make fabulous gravy!” said Sam, thankfully grabbing an apron.
Jonas sat in the lounge, outwardly relaxed and inwardly on edge. At first, he hadn't been very enthusiastic about coming out, but Lisbeth had asked so sweetly, and Magda had been so keen he couldn't refuse. And anyway, it was good to be out of the house, particularly as Gerry had gone to London to buy the sculpture she wanted.
And now, out of work boots and smelling delicious, the garden designer was here.
The girls were chatting about school and Fraser McAllen was listening, smiling occasionally. Eventually, he turned to Jonas.
“Are you as happy with the school as we are?”
“Clavedene? Oh yes, it seems a great place—Magda loves it.”
Fraser nodded in satisfaction.
“We're pleased we managed to get Lisbeth in—much better than the local comp.”
Jonas, who'd heard pretty good reports about Ashton's comprehensive, simply looked enquiring. Fraser, needing no more encouragement, launched into what Jonas recognised as his political party’s manifesto.
“After all, what else can you do but give your children the best start in life? And let's face it, State schools aren't the best launch pad.”
“I thought the Government was ploughing considerable investment into State Schools?” said Jonas.
“Well, yes, obviously, but given the mess the Opposition's made of education, it will take years to recover,” Fraser said smoothly. “In the meantime, I have a daughter to educate!”
Jonas stifled an immediate dislike, saying instead, “Magda is certainly enjoying her time there—her grades have gone up.”
Magda, catching her name and swiftly zoning into the conversation, gave him a cheeky grin.
“Yeah, but that's because I'm brilliant, it's nothing to do with the school!”
Lisbeth, Jonas noticed, glanced at the door and rather obviously changed the subject, beginning to talk about her planned holiday in France.
“When do you break up, again?” asked Fraser.
“The first Friday in July,” responded Magda promptly. “I've started tennis lessons and the next time we play I'm going to wipe the floor with you, Dad! And I hope we can get in a few games too, Lisbeth.”
“I'm not quite as good a
s you are!” Lisbeth said with a laugh.
“Well, I can see about private lessons at the school if you want,” Fraser said, and Lisbeth shook her head as Sam came through with a bowl of steaming vegetables.
Jonas found his eyes drawn to Sam as she walked across the open plan lounge and placed the dish on the table. She was wearing some kind of floaty green top under the apron, and an electric blue stretchy skirt which just brushed her knees and tightened over her thighs and bottom as she bent over the table.
Dragging his eyes away from the curve of her rear, he sipped his wine.
“Should we sit at the table, Aunty Sam?”
“Yes please, pet. Fraser, Charlotte wants you to carve the meat.” Jonas thought her voice lost some of its warmth.
“Goodness—Charlotte is giving me a knife?”
“To give you a fighting chance, no doubt,” Sam said, turning away as Fraser got to his feet.
“Touché!” he murmured as he went to the kitchen.
Lisbeth shepherded them all to the table and there was a momentary lull in the conversation.
Jonas dug up some memories of playing tennis in Zurich and Magda, taking the piss as usual, joined in, making derisory comments about his legs in shorts.
Sam came in again with warm plates and handed them out, went away again and returned with some roast potatoes smelling so delicious, Jonas' stomach rumbled. Sam laughed and he started to apologise.
“Your turn this time!” she said, referring to the first time they’d met in the pub. “But it’s good to know you’re hungry!” she added, her eyes dancing.
“I didn't realise I was until I smelled your sister's roast potatoes!” he smiled back.
“Just wait until you smell the meat—Charlie's certainly pulled out the stops for her guests tonight.”
“That does include you, Sam dear,” Charlie swept in, carrying—oh, bliss of bliss, thought Jonas—a pile of Yorkshire puddings.
“Pah! I normally get pasta!” Sam joked, taking her seat opposite him.
“It's nice to welcome new people to the neighbourhood—we should do it more often,” said Fraser, entering with the carved beef, switching Jonas’ taste buds into overdrive.
“You can increase my housekeeping then,” Charlotte said sweetly, and there was general laughter.
15
Best behaviour, Sam thought to herself as she sipped her wine. With your client across the table and your snarky brother-in-law at the other end, you must be on your best behaviour.
“Magda was saying she was taking private tennis lessons at Clavedene,” said Fraser to Charlie. “I wondered if we should look at getting some for Lisbeth.”
Sam glanced across at Lisbeth and saw her bite her lip.
Breathe, Sam, breathe.
She took a huge bite of Yorkshire pudding which kept her mouth occupied for a few minutes. Lisbeth squirmed a bit under the attention but eventually agreed private lessons would be nice. Sam chewed on through the discussion, saying nothing.
Next on the conversation menu was a by-election, introduced this time by Jonas. A Tory MP in a nearby constituency had been caught with his hand in the till of the local constituency office and down a prostitute's knickers.
Sam had thought cynically that if it had not been for the syphoning off of funds, the official, Tom Anderson, would probably still be in his seat.
“Yes, unfortunate business,” Fraser said airily. “Still, Anderson had a majority of about five thousand, so I imagine the seat will remain Tory.”
Sam couldn't help herself.
“You think?” said Sam idly running her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “You don't think his recent voting record on the high-speed rail link might have hacked off the farmers who own the farmland in the county?”
“That was a three-line whip.”
“I'm not sure that argument will make too much difference to the farmers I met at the Buxton Agricultural Show last year. They seemed pretty livid about it.”
“Not much he can do about the whips, I'm afraid.”
“I wonder why people vote for MPs when they don't have the power to represent their views,” she said. “You'll have to be careful you don't become just a figurehead, Fraser.”
She smiled at him sweetly.
“Sam and I disagree on quite a lot in politics,” Fraser said to Jonas, who was looking at Sam intently. “As I'm a Member of Parliament and actually in it, I tend to have a different view.”
Patronising git thought Sam and then looked around quickly to make sure she hadn't spoken aloud.
“But of course, as part of the electorate, I hope you think my view is both important and valid,” she said instead.
“And although Sam isn't officially in politics, she's nevertheless involved in local democracy, as far as I can see,” Jonas added, to Sam’s astonishment.
“Really? Is she making a bid for the local Council?” Charlie asked, looking surprised and slightly appalled.
“No, I think what Jonas is referring to is Sam's involvement with the action group—” the word had the most distasteful of inverted commas around it, “—which is protesting against the development on Jessop's Field,” Fraser said, pouring more wine. Sam noticed Magda’s eyes swivel to her.
“Jessop’s Field? But that would be awful!” Lisbeth exclaimed. Fraser gave his daughter a stern look.
“People need houses, Lisbeth. We're really blessed with our countryside, but we can't put our lovely view in front of places for people to live.”
“There's plenty of room elsewhere in the village, Fraser. And don't get me started about the lack of affordable housing in the plan, or the fact this is a Tory-controlled council, it has been for ages, and they should have been addressing this years ago!” Sam pointed out. “Or, that the developers will walk off with a tidy profit.”
“Developers take risk, they need to get a return for it,” said Jonas.
“Sam still hasn't forgiven Margaret Thatcher for offering council tenants the right to buy,” Fraser put in, smiling conspiratorially at Jonas. “Even though she wasn't born at the time.”
Jonas didn't smile back. “Well, neither was I, but certainly, I think the idea amounted to an electoral bribe,” he said.
“You do?” Sam said.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” he said. “In big business, and with a social conscience.”
Sam felt her face flush and kept silent.
“So what are your views about the development?” Charlie asked Jonas.
“I don't know enough about it,” he said. “I think you said you’d talk to me about it?” Jonas looked at Sam.
“I will, certainly.”
“But you'd better agree with her, because she flounces off in a huff if you don't,” put in Fraser.
“The local authority—in fact, a number of the politicians we've spoken to—either haven't thought about the impact on local tourism or aren't prepared to take a view. Personally, I think that's ducking their democratic responsibilities,” Sam said, ignoring Fraser.
“Perhaps you had better speak after dinner,” put in Charlie hastily.
Sam, who was about to continue the argument, caught sight of Lisbeth looking anxious, and shut up.
Jonas wrapped his fingers around his wineglass, looking thoughtful. Charlie got up and began to collect the plates. Magda thanked her for the meal, jumping to her feet to help, as did Sam.
“No, you sit down Sam—I’ll do it,” said Magda, waving her to sit down again.
Foiled again, thought Sam, longing to get away from Fraser. Jonas caught her eye and gave her a small grin. She felt a flash of warmth run through her at the tiny communication and was surprised at it.
There was an awkward silence at the table. Sam examined the table mat with great interest.
“More wine, Jonas?” Fraser said, at length.
Jonas refused with a smile.
“So, what is it you do? Lisbeth said something about development in Europe,” Fraser said, topping up his
own glass and settling back into his chair. Sam's ears pricked up.
“Well, at the moment I'm on an extended leave of absence. I caught some mystery virus and it knocked the stuffing out of me. I'm on very strict orders not to even talk about work in case it stresses me out. The doctor was remarkably explicit, so would you forgive me if I just said—I’m the head of a development company which does most of its work in Europe?”
“Sounds fascinating,” encouraged Fraser.
“It is.” And Jonas said no more.
So there! thought Sam with an inward grin, seeing Fraser's attempts to get more information fail. Still... I wonder if Jonas would help us, as it's his area of expertise?
She looked at him. The warm glow of the lamplight made his hair gleam.
Now, wouldn't that be nice? grinned her libido. Getting his expertise?
She looked down quickly into her wine glass, noting with a start that it was empty. So much for her good behaviour. She drank fizzy water through the rest of the meal and asked for strong black coffee afterwards. But there was no question of driving back to the cottage.
“Shall we walk you home?” Magda asked during coffee.
Sam stared at her for a moment.
“Sorry?”
“Shall we walk you home, if you're not driving?” Magda repeated. “It's more or less on our way, and we walked over to give Dad a bit of gentle exercise.”
“A bit like taking an old dog out,” Jonas said. Sam barely heard him.
“That's really kind, but—”
“It's really no problem, is it Dad?”
Sam locked eyes with Jonas and thought she saw an odd gleam in them.
“No problem at all,” he said politely. Sam laughed.
“There's no need, I've lived in the village all my life.”
“I'd be happier if you let Jonas walk you home,” put in Charlie unhelpfully. “The Red Lion's had some trouble the past few Friday nights.”
Sam started to feel vaguely panicked. She found Jonas' cool green eyes, watching her. What is wrong with me, it's a ten-minute walk, for Gods' sake! She mentally tutted to herself.
“Well, if you're sure—”
The Garden Plot Page 13