The Garden Plot

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The Garden Plot Page 25

by Sara Sartagne


  “I used to help Nanna plan the Christmas parties in Zurich. It’s a real shame she’s on a cruise…”

  “But won’t your dad be mad with like, all these people tramping all over his property?”

  “Nah…well, he might be at first. But he did say I could do it, and he wanted me to invite Sam. I think he’s still feeling a bit guilty about the development.”

  “OK—what can I do?”

  “Can you start on the bunting?”

  On the day, Sam smoothed her skirt with hands that shook a little. The weather was hot and sunny—even slightly steamy—so she had bare arms and shoulders with a camisole tee-shirt. She wanted to look professional but not too dressed up.

  And utterly irresistible. Don’t forget that, prodded her libido.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” She swung away from the mirror and grabbed her sunhat. She’d arranged to meet Andy and Greg at Brook Lodge. She thought she’d better get there in time for the first visitors—if anyone turned up. As the weeks had passed, she’d become more and more convinced that no-one would turn up.

  She’d delivered the original garden design plans to Magda at the beginning of the week, pulling out of the drive just as Jonas had driven in. Magda had wanted to put them on a display board so people could see them. As she looked at the taillights of Jonas’ car in the rear-view mirror, she didn’t examine her feelings. But she’d got home and drunk a lot of wine that night.

  She smiled as she saw the bunting and the neon-coloured signs as she got out of the car at Brook Lodge. Magda had certainly gone to town. She heard her name and turned to see Andy and Greg. Greg looked as though he’d stepped out of Brideshead Revisited and Andy was wearing a silk striped waistcoat. They made a handsome pair, she thought.

  “Glad to see you looking better than the last time I laid eyes on you, darling girl!” said Greg, looking her up and down. “Been on a diet?”

  “Ready for this?” asked Andy, saving Sam from answering.

  “I think it might be fun. Well, hopefully. And if anyone comes, of course.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting the man of the house! He looks a dish from the photos in the papers!” said Greg, while Andy nudged him, exasperated.

  “I’m sure you’ll be thrilled with him, Greg,” murmured Sam, looking at her feet.

  Magda was flying down the path towards them and Sam turned to her in relief. Magda hugged her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here! Come and have a look at where we’ve put the plans. Lisbeth talked with Paul and got some flyers too. Would you like some tea? Or a glass of champagne? Or we have coffee? And there’s lots of cake, Mrs Brown seems to have been working all night!”

  Sam blinked.

  “Um—it all looks brilliant. I’d like some tea, please. This is Greg, Andy’s partner.”

  Now it was Magda’s turn to blink, but she put out her hand unhesitatingly and Greg shook it solemnly.

  “Great Oxford bags,” she said. “Are they original?”

  “Clever girl,” twinkled Greg. “They are indeed.”

  She grinned and then skipped away to find tea. Sam looked around and unable to stand still, decided to walk around the garden.

  It is glorious, she thought as she walked slowly around. The pergola and the chequerboard patio were Sam's favourite part of the garden. They'd planted different kinds of thyme and Corsican mint around the stones to soften them, and although they'd grow much more over time, the effect was now visible, and the scent was glorious. She breathed it in.

  “It’s heavenly, isn’t it?” said a deep voice behind her. She turned sharply and there was Jonas, looking cool and relaxed in chinos and a white polo shirt. She swallowed.

  “I’m glad you like it, Mr Keane.”

  His lips tightened.

  “So formal, Ms Winterson. I take it we’re still not friends?”

  Sam didn’t know how to respond to the direct question.

  “I was hoping as you’d come, you’d decided to forgive me. Perhaps not,” he added, his green eyes locked on her face.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. You did what was best for your company, I’m doing what I think is best for mine.”

  “Just business?”

  Sam’s chin went up.

  “Hi, I brought you tea!” said Magda cheerily. “Dad, Connor wants a word, he’s in the house. Sam, your sister is here with Lisbeth and the vicar and his wife.”

  Sam took the mug and swigged from it gratefully. She didn’t feel she was up to meeting the designer just yet. Jonas gave her a cool look and made to turn away.

  “Jonas!” Sam blurted. “Mr Keane—I’m sorry, I sound very ungracious. I’m very grateful for the opportunity to show off the garden like this. And I also need to say that I know people have been really pleased about some of the changes to the plans for Jessop’s Field.”

  “Try to keep your gratitude in check, Ms Winterson,” said Jonas. “My company is in business to try to protect the environment as well as build houses, the plans you saw were not what I wanted. As I told you. As for today, it’s good that your family and a few friends will have the opportunity to admire your work.” He walked away.

  Sam stared. Family and a few friends? Oh my god, Magda hasn’t told him about the guest list!

  She made to walk after him and then checked. Let Magda handle it. She giggled. Perhaps this afternoon would be more fun that she’d anticipated.

  God, how many more people would arrive? thought Jonas forty-five minutes later. He’d lost count of the people he’d shaken hands with. To his secret relief, Sam had taken charge of introducing him to the people coming in, and he had been thanked time and time again for the changes to the development. The Vicar had practically pumped his hand while talking in detail of the birds that inhabited Jessop’s Field.

  Extricating himself from a conversation about the price of land with a local councillor, he found Magda with flushed cheeks, serving tea at a trestle table. Now he looked, there did seem to be a lot of cups and saucers about, not to mention a mountain of home-made cake.

  “Magda? Can I have a word?”

  “Lisbeth? Are you ok for a minute?” Lisbeth nodded, and Magda came towards him.

  “It’s going really well, Dad, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly how many invitations did you send out?” Jonas said, coming straight to the point.

  Magda’s smile dropped.

  “Um...about two hundred, although not everyone could make it.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I wanted to raise as much money as possible for the hospice,” she said. “And I wanted to promote Sam’s company! It’s a brilliant garden!”

  Jonas stared.

  “You’re not mad, are you? Look, everyone’s being lovely, they’re not in the house or anything and they think the garden is awesome!” Magda pleaded, holding out her hands.

  Jonas caught Lisbeth’s eye. She looked anxious as usual. His gaze swept the garden. About ninety villagers were milling around, laughing, drinking tea and stuffing themselves with Mrs Brown’s delicious cake. Sam was at the flower beds, pointing out the details to keen horticulturalists. It was an idyllic scene, he thought. Exactly right to introduce the Keane family to the village, and enable him to rebuild some of Halcyon’s tarnished reputation.

  He should be thanking Magda, not telling her off.

  “No, pet. I’m not mad.” Magda relaxed. “It would have been nice to be told, though. I might have been able to get you a deal on the champagne.”

  Magda hugged him.

  “Thanks Dad, I did get a reasonable deal from the off-licence, but you’d probably have done better!”

  Privately, Jonas wondered if he would have. Magda looked at her watch.

  “I’ll set up the ribbon cutting. I thought we’d do it by the pergola?” she said.

  “Yes, great. I’ll get Sam, shall I?”

  Sam saw Jonas out of the corner of her eye. A veteran bore from the local horticultural society was scoffing gently a
t her choice of rambling rose while blue-eyed Connor McPherson looked on with a mixture of mischief and sympathy.

  “Of course the choice of roses and pastel colours do tend to make the garden a little—girly—don’t you think?”

  “Ah but sure, roses are a mainstay of traditional gardens, and fit beautifully here,” Connor put in smoothly. “Some people have some outmoded views about colours. And the bright orange of the daliahs add just the right touch of modernity.”

  Horticultural man went red at the implication that he was outmoded, and Sam smiled brightly.

  “Did you know everyone talks about the rose as a flower of love, but to the Arabs, originally it was a flower associated with masculinity,” she said hastily. She could do without Connor McPherson’s input, but he was here as a guest of her client.

  “Really?” said Steve’s new girlfriend, a robust-looking creature with jet black hair and a nose ring.

  Sam nodded, opened her mouth to say more and then closed it.

  “And?” prompted Jonas, joining the group.

  She was embarrassed. “I can run on a bit... I didn't want to bore you.”

  Steve hit her gently on the arm.

  “Don't be daft! You're never boring!”

  “No,” said Jonas, his eyes on her face. “You're never boring.”

  Sam felt Connor’s blue gaze snap to Jonas and a speculative glint enter his eye. She rushed into speech.

  “Do you know the term 'sub rosa'?” she asked. Steve’s girlfriend looked puzzled and shook her head. “It means under the rose, or in confidence. In the Middle Ages, diplomats used to hang a garland of roses over the door of the meeting room as a sign of confidentiality.”

  “Wow,” Steve’s girlfriend said, looking awed, and sniffing the rose. The horticulturalist slunk away. Connor grinned at her.

  “Well played,” he said.

  “Magda is asking for you to come and cut the ribbon,” Jonas said.

  “I’ll get a glass to toast it all,” said Connor and he strolled off, his long legs eating the ground.

  Sam and Jonas walked in silence to the pergola. Magda had found a handbell from somewhere and was ringing it. People obligingly gathered by the pergola.

  Magda thanked people for coming and welcomed them to the newly-renovated gardens. She then asked Sam to say a few words. It was an astonishingly assured address from the teenager, thought Sam, suddenly nervous at the last moment. She fumbled with her notes.

  “Thank you Magda—”

  “Can’t hear you, duck! Can you speak up?” came a shout from the back.

  There was a ripple of laughter and Sam straightened her back and raised her voice. It was a bit stilted, but after a moment, she got into her stride.

  She talked about the importance of gardens to people and their well-being. She talked about the skills she wanted to help keep alive and mentioned Steve, who went red and whose girlfriend giggled. And finally, she talked about Brook Lodge.

  “Magda had a clear vision for the garden here,” she said. “In an age when most new houses have envelope-sized gardens, this is a luxury--” Sam glanced at Jonas, who looked steadily back at her, “--and she wanted it to be a part of, rather just bolted onto, the house. She wanted it to be part of her life and her family’s life, to be something to be loved and lived in, not simply looked at. I love what we’ve developed together and I hope that everyone coming today—well, I hope that you will too.” She raised her glass. “To Brook Lodge.”

  The audience responded, drank, and there was applause. The Vicar and Jenny came to congratulate her on her speech and the garden, Connor raised his glass to her from a distance. Sam kept a wary eye on Jonas, who was mingling and smiling.

  “Brilliant!” Lisbeth said, hugging her. “I think you’ll get loads of new business out of this!”

  Sam smiled.

  “We’ll see. They’ve been interested in this garden, certainly.”

  Magda bounced up, Jonas following her more slowly. Sam tensed.

  “Before I forget, ages ago, Andy mentioned something about a garden design competition,” said Magda. Sam’s eyes flew to Jonas’ face.

  Hell, I’d forgotten all about that...

  “It had gone out of my mind,” she said. “I’m not sure in the circumstances that it’s appropriate.”

  Magda stared.

  “What do you mean? What circumstances? Oh—” she waved her hand. “The development? I thought that was being sorted out now?”

  There was an awkward silence. Jonas smiled bitterly.

  “I’m not sure that Sam has forgiven me for trying to hang on to my privacy or for being a developer in the first place.”

  You bloody toe-rag. As if that was all it was! Sam fumed. She shook her head and kept quiet.

  “So for once at least, we are in agreement,” said Jonas. “It’s not appropriate. We have enough problems with the press as it is, I don’t want to add to those, particularly given where we live. And if Sam doesn’t want the garden to be entered, then there’s nothing more to be said, is there?”

  Sam felt her heart was being ripped in two. No, of course it wasn’t appropriate, but God! How she wanted recognition for this glorious garden.

  “And you wouldn’t want to be accused of siding with the enemy, would you?” Jonas added. “Bribed into accepting the development through a competition entry?”

  Sam’s head went up and she felt the flood of red pour over her cheeks.

  “No, as you said—completely inappropriate,” she gritted.

  Magda was looking between the pair of them in disbelief, Sam thought. She turned away to find Andy and Greg looking at her in concern.

  “Let’s get some champagne, sweetie,” said Greg, linked her hand through his arm. “You look like you could do with a drink.”

  28

  “It's all so idiotic!” Magda wailed to Lisbeth the following week. Lisbeth was thoughtful.

  “I’m not quite sure why it happened like that,” she said, settling a cushion behind her on the bed. “It was a golden opportunity for Sam and Wintersons, your Dad seemed OK with the idea, and the development has changed. I talked to my Dad about it last night. I know Aunty Sam was unhappy at any houses being built, but it’s so much better than it was, and that’s down to your Dad! So what she said doesn’t make any sense!”

  “And then Dad got the hump--”

  “Well, I do think they’re both being a bit irrational. I looked online and the winner isn’t announced until October, so everyone will have forgotten about the development by then.”

  “Oh, I could scream! He’s like, impossible to live with at the moment, even Connor said so! I'll be glad to get back to school at this rate! I nearly asked to go back to Ireland with Connor, I was so fed up. Did you see Sam afterwards with Andy? She looked, like, sick to her stomach,” Magda said glumly. She punched one of the cushions strewn over Lisbeth’s bed in frustration.

  “It’s such a waste, and sooooo stupid! And I’m disappointed too! After all my planning! I even bloody paid for the garden!”

  Lisbeth looked struck. “Yes, you did, didn't you?” she said slowly. Magda looked at her.

  “What?”

  “The contract was with you, wasn’t it? Not your dad?”

  Magda looked blank for a second and then an unholy grin spread across her face. “Yes, it was. Technically, I'm the client, aren't I?”

  Lisbeth watched her. “Do you dare?” she asked finally.

  “Yes, I bloody do dare! I have the plans Sam drew, and everything! What does the entry form look like?”

  They scrambled to the computer.

  “Well, that doesn't look too difficult. Although we could do with some Winterson’s headed paper,” said Madga, scanning it.

  “Zach designed the logo—I’ll get the template from him,” Lisbeth reached for her phone and started to text.

  “We'll need to get photos,” Magda said, her previous grumpiness completely forgotten. “I'll take those tomorrow. We've only g
ot a week or so, but--” Lisbeth looked up as she paused. “Are you ok with this?” Madga said seriously.

  “Are you kidding me?” Lisbeth exclaimed. “Sam’s a brilliant designer and frankly, I think she’d stand a good chance of winning! It’ll be good for her—just like the garden launch.”

  Magda grinned and bumped shoulders with her and then began tapping on the keys.

  Charlie, coming in to announce lunch an hour later, said to Lisbeth, “Well, I’m pleased to see a bit more colour in Magda’s cheeks. We can do without all this drama…”

  “Mum!” Lisbeth protested. Charlie went on. “She needs a calming influence in her life and I’m glad she’s got you, Lisbeth. It’s a shame you don’t have as much influence over Sam. Or your father...”

  “So—what'll you have?”

  Sam winced slightly at Fraser’s fake bonhomie, asked for a gin and tonic and then changed her mind to a white wine spritzer.

  Great start. Dithering is not what's needed here.

  “I’m sorry about the planning application,” Fraser said when they'd sat down. Sam took a sip of her drink to give her time to think of a response.

  “Well, at least the developers are listening to local opinion now. And it was a democratic decision, we have to live with it,” she said finally, smiling.

  “Who knew we had a property magnate to dinner?” Fraser took a sip of his drink. Sam clenched her teeth together. “And I daresay it’ll hit the press next week, so keep it quiet—but Halcyon has put in a bid to develop the brown field site on Lower Edge Field.”

  Sam stared.

  “Didn't you know? I'd have thought your client—” Fraser stressed the word “—would have told you.”

  Sam let that slide, concentrating on the other information.

  “They're developing Lower Edge Field? But that's marvellous! Are they withdrawing from Jessop’s Field?”

  “Well, no. But there may be fewer houses on Jessop’s Field, as a result. So everybody wins—the local authority gets its housing, local people have places to buy, the wildlife is protected.”

 

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