by Anne Weale
‘My label should tell you what I am,’ she said, on a note of contrition. ‘I’m afraid I’m sometimes as prickly as my namesake. I don’t usually flare up at clients, but sometimes you make it hard to remember that you are a client...or may be a client. If we haven’t much time left, I think we should go round again, on a more businesslike basis.’
‘There’s no rush. As I said on the phone, we can spend the night locally.’
Holly said, ‘I left Parson plenty of water, but I don’t have any near neighbours to come round and give him his supper and he’s probably already eaten all the extra food I left him.’
‘In that case, if we can’t get back, he’ll have to go out and catch himself a mouse or two,’ said Pierce. ‘Maybe you should have brought him with you. I did warn you about the weather.’
‘It doesn’t look like closing in at the moment. It’s as warm as September.’
‘As we came in for lunch, I noticed some cloud building up over to the west. But don’t worry. If I can get you back to Norfolk I will...even though a quiet dinner here at the pub would be a nice end to the day.’
For once Holly had no difficulty reading his mind. He was thinking of another agreeable way the day might end. Tuning into his thoughts started a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Why couldn’t she be like other women she knew? Although not as brazenly promiscuous as her stepsister, they didn’t hesitate to go to bed with men they fancied. They didn’t need to be in love to make love. It wasn’t a big deal to them in the way it was to her.
The fact that she was in love with Pierce didn’t make it easier. If anything it made it harder. How could she enjoy being in bed with him, knowing that numerous girls had shared the experience before her, and many more would succeed her? If he loved her, it wouldn’t matter about his past. That would be something that had happened before she’d known him. Only their shared future would be important.
But not only was it difficult to imagine Pierce falling in love; she found it impossible to see him confining himself to one woman for the rest of his life.
As they were leaving the house, he said, ‘Where does a garden designer start? Explain to me how you begin the making of a garden.’
‘It depends what exists already. Sometimes there’s not even topsoil, just a battlefield left by the builders. Nowadays the better builders don’t lay waste to their sites. If mature trees and shrubs don’t interfere with construction, they leave them where they are, knowing they’ll help to sell the properties. Some of the big-name developers even have landscaping done before the houses are advertised.’
‘Your shoelace has come undone. Stand still. I’ll fix it for you.’
With the supple ease which characterised all his movements, Pierce dropped to a crouch and took hold of the ends of the lace.
Looking down at the top of his head, she felt an almost overwhelming desire to reach out and stroke his thick hair. Controlling the impulse took such an effort of will that when he stood up and said, ‘Sorry, I interrupted you,’ her mind went blank and she couldn’t remember what she had been saying.
Perhaps it showed in her face that something had wiped out her train of thought.
He said, ‘With one of those battlefield gardens, how would you start?’
‘First by talking to the owners... finding out what they wanted—a low-maintenance garden to laze in, or a hobby garden, or a place for their children to play. Ideally, a garden should be an outdoor room, an extension and reflection of the house. So we usually begin with a grid based on the external architecture. It’s a very complex process to explain in a few minutes.’
He nodded. ‘I realise that. What interests me is that when you start to talk about it your manner changes. Suddenly you’re confident and authoritative. But when you’re not being professional you’re rather reserved and constrained. Or is that only with me?’
‘Probably. You are rather an... overwhelming personality.’
Pierce looked amused. ‘I wish I could overwhelm you. There’s nothing I should like better. But each time I try you close up... like a tender seedling trying to resist being eaten by a large and voracious slug,’ he said drily.
Holly couldn’t help laughing at the analogy. Without pausing to consider whether it was wise to pursue this line of talk, she said, ‘Oh, not a slug...one of those snails with an attractive shell... but just as voracious as a slug.’
‘Not voracious at all, actually.’ As he said this, his tone was light. But then, his manner changing, he went on in a more serious way. ‘You have me filed in the wrong slot. What I was when I knew Chiara is not what I am today. People change, Holly. At that time my working life was unsatisfying and my private life was a reflection of it. For some years I’ve been ready to try a long-term, stable relationship, but the problem is finding a partner whose life will combine well with mine.’
‘Perhaps the solution is for you to become more flexible. It sounds as if you expect all the concessions and adjustments to be made by your partner.’
‘As I’m likely to be the primary breadwinner, is that unreasonable? When a woman holds that position, it’s logical for her career and her preferred way of life to take precedence. But my work is of real importance in a global context and I shall be doing it for a long time to come, probably past the normal age for retirement. If the woman I marry doesn’t take it as seriously as I do, and accept the demands it makes on me, I don’t think we have much chance of making a go of it.’
‘I’m sure she would respect what you’re doing,’ Holly answered. ‘But, even if her work weren’t as important as yours, it could mean a lot to her.’
‘Certainly. I accept that, and I’d want her to keep up her career, making the appropriate adjustments when our children were young and needed a lot of attention. If I were called overseas, she would have to be there for them. You may say it wouldn’t be fair for that to be her responsibility, however inconvenient. But the fact is that life isn’t fair. Never has been and never will be.’
‘I don’t disagree with that. Women themselves are coming round to the view that having it all isn’t always possible.’
‘As the woman who thought up that credo wasn’t practising what she preached, it’s always surprised me that so many women swallowed the concept for so long,’ said Pierce.
Holly had heard the same view expressed by her father and could have rattled off reasons why ‘having it all’ had seemed an attainable goal to women now in their thirties and forties.
But she felt it would be more productive to return to the point they had started from.
‘Oh, look...Miss Willmott’s ghost!’ she exclaimed, pointing to a clump of Eryngium giganteum.
‘Why is it called that?’ asked Pierce.
‘Because Miss Willmott used to scatter the seeds as she walked round other people’s gardens. She’s been dead a long time...since 1934, I think...but she’ll never be forgotten by gardeners who like eryngiums. I’m very fond of them myself. There’s a lovely bright blue one which may be around here somewhere. The thing about a garden like this is that you really need to watch and wait for a whole year before you can tell what you’ve got in it. That’s what I’d recommend you to do, especially if the house is going to take time to renovate.’
‘All right, that’s what we’ll do. We can come down together every two or three weeks and you can make notes and take photographs in the garden while I consult with the specialists about the interior restorations.’
‘But you will also consult other garden designers? I’d feel happier if you did.’
‘If you insist. Who would you recommend?’
‘I’ll jot down some names on the way back. You were right about the cloud building up. Ought we to be getting back to the airfield?’
Pierce laid a hand on her shoulder, the one furthest from him. ‘If the idea of spending the night here really bothers you, then we’ll go back at once.’ He looked down at her, cocking an interrogative eyebrow.
‘It bothers me, lea
ving Parson on his own,’ she said. ‘I know it wouldn’t hurt him to miss a meal, but when bedtime comes he’ll wonder why I’m not there.’
‘What about the nights you spent in London? Who looked after him then?’
‘I took him with me in his basket. He likes travelling.’
‘I certainly wouldn’t want Parson to be frantic with worry,’ said Pierce, in a serious tone. And then he threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter.
He knew as well as she did that the reason she wanted to leave had nothing to do with her cat’s peace of mind.
That night, tucked up in her own bed, with Parson kneading the quilt and emitting the satisfied purrs of a cat who has yet again proved his prowess as a hunter and is now in domestic mode with a tin of sardines inside him and his housekeeper back from her day out and gently rubbing his chin, Holly felt considerably less satisfied with life than her happy tabby.
From the moment they’d left Talavera, Pierce’s manner had been noticeably brisk, as if, having failed to persuade her to stay over with him, he had lost interest.
When they had landed on the Norfolk airfield to which she had driven that morning, she had wondered if he might invite himself back for supper and, later, have another crack at coaxing her to let him supplant Parson as her sleeping partner.
But he hadn’t. He had seen her to her car, offered his hand and, without so much as a social peck on the cheek, said goodnight.
Now, mulling over the day, she had a sinking feeling that by insisting he consult other designers she had lost a commission she wanted more passionately than any of her previous heart’s desires.
The only thing she longed for more than to restore the garden at Talavera was for Pierce to fall in love with her. That, she knew, was crying for the moon. But the garden could have been hers, and now, more than likely, she had lost it.
The days that followed seemed interminably long as she waited for him to call her. Yet why should he call her? He had talked about visiting Talavera every few weeks, but with Christmas now in the offing he might be otherwise occupied.
For someone like Pierce the festive season would bring many invitations. Probably he would be spending Christmas in some exciting way. Skiing, perhaps. Or flying to a place in the sun to join a house party of important men and alluring women.
For her, Christmas was a lonely time. She had no one but Parson to spend it with. Once, when Chiara had been involved with a married man who had gone home to his family for Christmas, she and her stepsister had spent the holiday together. But Eric was divorced from his second wife and would very likely be taking Chiara to the Costa del Sol.
A week after the trip to Devon, Holly had another visit from Ben. He took her out to lunch at a country hotel he had noticed while driving his grandmother.
Holly was surprised and puzzled by this second visit. Although she liked him very much and thought he felt the same way, she was almost certain he wasn’t attracted to her. So why had he come? Could Pierce have asked him to come? But for what possible purpose?
The motive behind Ben’s visit emerged during lunch.
He said suddenly, ‘Holly, I have a problem I’d like to discuss with you. I need an outside opinion, but it’s not so easy to find someone whose advice is worth having. Although we haven’t known each other long, I feel I can trust you to keep my affairs to yourself and to make sensible comments.’
‘You can certainly trust my discretion, but I can’t claim to be at all wise, except perhaps a little about gardening.’
‘This has nothing to do with gardens,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘It’s a love problem.’
‘In that case why not ask your grandmother...or Pierce? They both know a lot more about that sort of problem than I do.’ She couldn’t resist asking, ‘Have you seen him recently?’
‘Not for a while. He’s a very busy guy. He’ll call when he has a space in his life. There are one or two details to finalise before we go to Argentina. After that, I must settle down and get my future organised. The trouble is, I don’t know what I want to do with my life but I do know who I want to share it with.’
He paused, looking out of the window beside their table. Watching him, Holly was struck by the refinement of his face with its subtle combination of East and West. In a Star Wars film, he would have been ideal casting for the part of a superior being from a planet where all Earth’s problems had been overcome.
As she was thinking this, Ben turned troubled dark eyes on her.
‘A year ago I fell in love with an English girl. She feels the same way about me. But because I’m half-Japanese I’m unacceptable to her family.’
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ said Holly. ‘Have they met you? Has she taken you home?’
‘I’ve met them several times. On the surface, they were very nice to me. But as soon as they realised we were serious they insisted we stop seeing each other.’
‘Why? For what possible reason?’ To Holly’s way of thinking, any parents who, having met Ben, didn’t welcome him as a son-in-law had to be out of their minds.
‘It’s a complex situation,’ he said. ‘Charlotte’s parents are well-to-do people...or were until a few years back. Then her father was involved in the great Lloyd’s disaster. Do you remember that?’
Holly nodded. ‘A lot of people were ruined by it. It was front-page news for a long time.’
‘Charlotte’s parents would have been ruined,’ said Ben. ‘They lived, and still do, in a large house with lots of land. All their children went to expensive schools. They were only saved from disaster by Charlotte’s grandmother. She married a guy with a title and acres of real estate in the centre of London. She’s very grand and very rich. She bailed out Charlotte’s father and she holds the family pursestrings. The trouble is, she hates the Japanese. If she knew Charlotte wanted to marry one, she’d blow a gasket.’
‘Why does she hate the Japanese?’
‘In World War Two, her father was a prisoner in Japanese hands. He was treated badly and came back to Europe a wreck. All this time later, his daughter is still breathing vengeance. That the West took a horrible revenge when they dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki means nothing to this mean old lady. She’s still consumed by a hatred going back fifty years. Until she dies—and she isn’t seventy yet—there’s no way I can marry Charlotte.’
‘Have you discussed this with your grandmother?’
‘She thinks painful and unpleasant situations should be avoided. As she can’t see any solution, she thinks we should resign ourselves to the impossibility of finding a way through our difficulties.’
‘And what does Pierce think? Have you talked to him about it?’
‘No, I haven’t discussed it with him. I already know what he’d think. He would regard Lady Bletchley as a domestic tyrant. If he were me, he would marry Charlotte without her family’s approval. She’s twenty. She doesn’t need their consent. Knowing Pierce, he would say the financial aspect is her parents’ problem. He probably wouldn’t be convinced the old lady would cut off the help she’s giving them. But what do you think, Holly?’
‘I can’t go along with your grandmother’s point of view. If you’re right about what Pierce would think, I disagree with that too. Families are important. If Charlotte loves her parents, naturally she doesn’t want to do anything which may cause them hardship. They’ve been through enough as it is, and the present situation, of being dependent on Lady Bletchley’s handouts, must be very difficult for them.’
After a pause for thought, she said, ‘Is there any way you could meet her? I’m sure if she spent a little time with you she couldn’t fail to like you. She might not revise her ideas about the past, but it could make her realise that people of our generation can’t be held responsible for what happened long ago.’
‘That’s what Charlotte says,’ Ben replied. ‘You and she are very alike. I’d like you to meet...but I don’t see any way I can meet Lady Bletchley. It’s obvious to anyone that one of my par
ents was Japanese. That would be enough to put her off me.’
‘She may be grand and rich, but she can’t be very intelligent,’ said Holly. ‘If she’d read any history, she’d know that every nation on earth has committed the most ghastly deeds at some time in its past, and those things are still happening today. She ought to be up in arms about present horrors, not seething about her father’s sufferings. How fond is she of Charlotte?’
‘She adores her. She’s her favourite grandchild.’
‘Then how about Charlotte telling her that she’s fallen in love with a wonderful American but her parents don’t approve of him? She doesn’t have to say why and, if Lady Bletchley asks them, they don’t have to give the real reason. They could say they don’t want Charlotte to go to America where they’ll hardly ever see her. Then Lady B will insist on seeing you for herself and maybe...just maybe...you can charm her out of her prejudice.’
Ben gave her a wry grin. ‘I think you overrate my charm. She would most probably take one look and have me thrown out. But I guess we could give it a go. In an impasse like this, anything’s worth a try.’
When they got back to her cottage, Holly was amazed to see Pierce sitting on the bench outside the front door with an open hamper on one side of him and Parson lying with folded front legs on the other.
‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’ she asked as she opened the wicket-gate.
He rose to his feet. ‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ he said. ‘But I’m the one who’s surprised.’ He was looking past her at Ben.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but the steely glint in his eyes didn’t seem the right expression for a man about to greet a close friend with whom, in a few weeks’ time, he was going to share a small tent on a mountain notorious for its capricious weather.
‘Hello, Pierce.’ Ben came up the path, shook hands and clapped his friend on the shoulder, obviously not receiving the hostile vibrations that Holly thought she had sensed. ‘How long have you been here?’