In a Country Garden

by Maeve Haran

  ‘Yes! I’ve decided to start making slings. Nige was wearing one I made the other day and this incredible hipster woman came up and Instagrammed him then asked where he got it from. My brilliant Nigel said, quick as a flash, “It’s by Bella Minchin, no doubt you know her stuff,” and the woman asked for my details right there on the spot!’

  ‘Bella, that’s terrific.’

  ‘I know, and I’ve got even better news.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Laura led the way to the sitting room.

  ‘It’s very tidy in here,’ commented Bella, then she threw her arms, baby and all, round her mother. ‘Oh, Mum, it’s because you’re having to show people round! How stupid of me.’

  ‘So what’s the other news?’ Laura could do with all the good news she could get.

  ‘Nigel’s been offered a teaching job. Not just filling in, a proper job. He had the interview the other day. He thought it was just a chat but it turned out it was the real thing. And they loved him. It’s teaching comparative religion and ethics for A levels, intellectually stimulating stuff. Mum, he’s so excited! I’m just so happy for him.’

  ‘Where’s the school?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing. It’s in Surrey. Quite near your friend Claudia as a matter of fact. And we thought maybe we’d find somewhere to rent down there, much cheaper than London.’

  Laura’s bubble of pleasure burst at the thought of losing her daughter and baby grandson, who only lived round the corner, as well as her home, but she was careful not to let it show. ‘Darling, that’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for you.’

  ‘And I’m going to start a little online business, nothing ambitious. I thought I’d call it “SlingIt”, as in “SlingIt for modern Mums and Dads”. What do you think?’

  ‘Sounds great to me.’

  She took Laura’s hands and danced her round the sitting room, baby and all. ‘I’m going to be a mumpreneur!’

  ‘And you’ll be brilliant at it, just like you are at everything you do.’

  ‘Oh, Mum.’ Bella’s face suddenly crumpled. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be fair to you to bugger off to Surrey. What with you having to move and this bloody divorce and everything.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Laura heard herself insisting brightly. ‘You’re just worried about losing the free babysitting!’

  They plumped themselves down on the sofa side by side. Noah seemed to be still sleeping, the love. ‘Tell you what,’ Laura announced, ‘this calls for a glass of wine!’

  Fortunately for Laura’s precarious state of mind Sal was as good as her word and swiftly organized their next get-together at The Grecian Grove.

  Ella got there first and was pouring out her woes at losing her allotment to Claudia. ‘I’m trying to sympathize,’ Claudia insisted. ‘But you know me, I’m about as green-fingered as Zsa Zsa Gabor. Maybe you should try Sal or Laura.’

  ‘Sal just says she hates the great outdoors and can’t imagine why I would want to spend time there and Laura’s too taken up with having to sell her house.’ The thought that Laura had much more to be miserable about made Ella pull herself together.

  ‘Here they come.’ They turned to wave at Sal and Laura. Sal, with her new chic look, was looking particularly stylish. There was also, Ella decided, a new sparkle about their friend.

  The others studied her.

  ‘You do look good, Sal,’ agreed Laura, after Claudia and Ella commented on their friend’s appearance. ‘Anyone would think you’d finally met a man!’

  The swiftness with which Sal suddenly delved into her enormous handbag, pretending to look for her phone, made Ella laugh. ‘You have met someone. I know, the rich American who’s staying at that hotel! You did talk about him quite a lot, you know.’

  ‘What utter rubbish!’ Sal bristled. ‘I’ve only met the man for a couple of hours.’

  ‘It doesn’t take long for the coup de foudre!’

  ‘At my age! It would take more than a thunderbolt to make me fall in love. Besides, he’s been married three times and has nine grandchildren. And he’s about to be sort of my boss.’

  ‘That’s never stopped you in the past, as I recall,’ reminded Ella.

  ‘Anyway, Claudia, how are things with you?’ Sal changed the subject abruptly.

  ‘Not that brilliant as a matter of fact. I’ve got to find a carer to come in and look after my dad or my mother is threatening to put him a home.’

  ‘I know what you should do!’ Sal started to laugh, completely forgetting she’d meant to change the subject. ‘Lou Maynard – he’s the rich American who wants to buy into the company – he’s got this robot with him called Hiro. He’s really interested in the subject of ageing and this robot is programmed to look after old people. I’m sure he’d lend Hiro to your dad.’

  ‘Sally Grainger.’ Claudia shook her head. ‘Have you completely lost your marbles? It’s either that or you really are in love. Of course my dad doesn’t want a bloody robot. He needs a kind, caring human, not a machine, who’ll make sure he eats when he should and takes his medicine.’

  ‘I’m sure Hiro could do that.’

  ‘Then why don’t you have him come and work for you?’ Claudia insisted. ‘Your flat could do with a bit more tidying and hoovering.’

  ‘Now, come on, girls.’ Laura put her arms round her friends. ‘Don’t let’s fall out over a robot. Let’s all just have a nice group bitch about Simon instead.’

  Sal called for a bottle of their dreadful wine and they had a very enjoyable interlude listing the shortcomings of Simon and the male sex in general.

  ‘Just as well we’ve got each other!’ Ella concluded, laughing.

  This reassuring fact tempted Claudia to raise her dream of all living together but she decided they’d only laugh at her again.

  ‘Oh, and another thing.’ Laura remembered her promise to her daughter. ‘Bella’s boyfriend Nigel has been offered a job.’

  ‘The giant goth? What as?’

  ‘Teaching A levels in Ethics and Comparative Religion as a matter of fact,’ Laura replied quellingly, forgetting how stunned she’d been herself to discover this surprising side to her enormous son-in-law substitute. ‘And the thing is, it’s down near you, Claudia, and they’re looking for somewhere to rent. She wondered if you had any ideas.’

  ‘Oh, Laura.’ Ella instantly understood how sad this would be for their friend. ‘When are they moving?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ sighed Laura.

  This time Claudia couldn’t resist. ‘If we had Igden Manor, they could come and live with us. It has the most lovely almshouse cottages. Perfect for a couple and a baby.’

  ‘Claudia,’ Sal said, shaking her head, ‘you’re not banging on again about us all moving into some crazy retirement home?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a home!’ protested Claudia. ‘It would be an intentional community. The lease on the most gorgeous country hotel has just come up, with all these cottages round it. It would be perfect! Everyone would have their own front doors but still be together!’

  ‘And how would we pay for this gorgeous country hotel?’ demanded Sal, conscious that she didn’t even own her own property. ‘That is, even if we wanted to get it, which of course we don’t!’

  ‘That is a bit of a problem,’ grinned Claudia. ‘But I’m working on it.’

  ‘Have you met my friend Claudia?’ Sal enquired of the others. ‘She’s barking mad.’

  ‘I don’t suppose Bella would be up for being a carer for my lovely dad?’ Claudia asked.

  ‘I could ask,’ Laura replied dubiously, ‘but what with a newborn baby and she says she’s starting her own online business, making baby slings, I’m not sure it’d be practical.’

  ‘No, I can see that. I’ll just have to find an agency.’

  ‘Don’t forget Hiro,’ Sal chipped in.

  ‘Who did you say was barking mad?’ Claudia quipped back.

  ‘Okay, okay. But Lou says in Japan having a robot looking after old people is getting really common. T
hey even play them the violin.’

  And on this vividly bonkers image of a metal manikin serenading her father with Vivaldi, Claudia announced that she really ought to go and catch her train.

  Pushing all thoughts of electronic assistants out of her mind, Claudia set about finding a carer of the more conventional kind. There were plenty of agencies for live-in helpers, she discovered, with costs ranging from the just-about-affordable to the seriously astronomical. She decided the agency in nearby Manningbury had the twin benefits of being based only a few miles away and not too outrageous in its fee scale. Claudia decided to enquire first and tackle her mother once she’d found someone who would fit the bill.

  The woman behind the shiny desk in Your Home Help was reassuringly calm. She listened to Claudia’s description of her father’s issues and also the fact that Olivia might be somewhat obstructive to the idea.

  ‘Perhaps your mother might not really know how very expensive residential care actually is. A lot of people are genuinely shocked. The fees can be between five hundred for the absolute basic to three thousand pounds a week, more if nursing is required. Has your mother considered how she might pay for it?’

  Claudia listened, appalled. How on earth did people pay for places like this? She suspected her mother had absolutely no idea about cost, and possibly some vague thought that the local authority might pick up the bill.

  ‘It sounds like that’s your best argument for her accepting home care. As a matter of fact, we have a very nice and experienced lady, Mrs O’Brien, who might suit you down to the ground.’

  Hearing this was an enormous relief, but even the cost of home care wasn’t cheap. She was going to have to have a serious discussion with her mother about how it was going to be paid for. ‘When could this lady start?’

  ‘As soon as you’d want her.’

  ‘I’d have to interview her first. Possibly with my mother.’

  ‘Naturally. You can’t have a complete stranger in your home without making sure you like them. Of course, she has excellent references.’

  Claudia left Your Home Care feeling relieved but also ridiculously nervous about how her mother was going to react.

  ‘How is your morning looking, Sal?’ Rose enquired. ‘Only Lou Maynard is coming in to discuss how his investment might work and I wondered if you’d like to join us?’ Meetings were always amazingly informal at New Grey.

  Without even realizing she was doing it, Sal nipped into the ladies’ and surveyed herself in the mirror. She really wasn’t looking too bad. Of course one view was that a clash with death should mean you no longer cared about such trivial things as your appearance. After a brush with the Grim Reaper you should either give yourself over to endless pleasure-seeking or exotic travel and work your way through your bucket list or go the other way and try and Do Good. Sal, on the other hand, was just relieved she was still on the planet, and even more that she still looked quite good. Who would have thought after all those years of trying to appear half her age she actually looked better when she accepted it? Thank you, God.

  What was more, maybe it was bloody ridiculous, but she was conscious of an unfamiliar excitement. A smile kept trying to creep across her face which she was finding hard to repress.

  ‘Sally! Good morning!’ Lou had leaped to his feet, as sprightly as a man half his age. ‘Rose told me you would be joining us. You’ve probably heard that she and I are pretty near to reaching an agreement.’

  It struck Sal that it was very odd that Michael, the CEO, wasn’t present. Oh dear, that meant he must oppose the scheme. But of course, it was Rose’s company.

  They spent the next hour discussing the way his involvement might work and the plans he had for the future. It all sounded very exciting that the magazine would have a link with New York, one of Sal’s favourite cities in the world.

  ‘I always think London is more like New York than any other place I visit,’ Lou smiled as he got up to go. ‘By the way, if you want me, try my cell phone. I’m checking out of Brook’s.’

  Sal was conscious of a kick of disappointment. How ridiculous.

  ‘Are you going to stay somewhere else?’ she found herself asking.

  ‘At my daughter’s down in Surrey. Seeing the newest grandkid.’

  ‘Whereabouts in Surrey? Only my very good friend Claudia lives there. The one who wants to start the crazy retirement commune.’

  Lou laughed. ‘The cross between the frat hall and the kibbutz?’

  Sal laughed at this Americanization of student living.

  ‘Maybe I should meet her and hear all about it,’ Lou laughed.

  A thought struck Sal. ‘Will you be taking Hiro with you?’

  Rose had been watching this interchange with great amusement. ‘Who the hell is Hiro?’ she demanded.

  ‘Lou’s pet robot,’ Sal enlightened her. ‘He keeps him in his wardrobe.’

  ‘It’s not one of those sex toys, I trust?’ Rose enquired.

  ‘Hiro would be most offended,’ Lou replied sternly. ‘He and I are just good friends.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s keep in touch,’ he smiled at them both.

  ‘Well . . .’ Rose raised an ironic eyebrow at Sal when he’d left. ‘You and Lou seem to be on even better terms than I’d imagined.’

  Sal got hurriedly to her feet. ‘I must dash. I have to brief the designer on next month’s cover.’

  ‘Of course you do, Sally,’ nodded Rose with an infuriating smile on her wrinkled face.

  An unfamiliar flush had spread over Sal’s face and neck. Probably another bloody side effect, she reassured herself. Certainly nothing to do with Lou Maynard. She was over sixty, for God’s sake, not some simpering girl, and besides, she’d never been the soppy sentimental type. On top of which she’d only known him five minutes. She popped into the ladies’ again, threw cold water on her face and got herself ready to meet the designer.

  Laura returned from her early stint at LateExpress to find three messages from the estate agent, all with news of eager prospective buyers.

  She sat down heavily on her sofa, then jumped straight up again. If she wasn’t going to be a successful divorce resister and barricade herself into her own home, then she’d better face reality and take control. And that meant finding herself somewhere she’d at least like to move to.

  She assumed it would be simpler if she started with the agents who were supposed to be selling this place. Maybe then she could get a deal on their commission. She opened her laptop and studied their website. They had about twenty flats on their books, most of which were both characterless and tiny. Laura knew what she wanted. Minimum two bedrooms and there had to be outside space. She hadn’t been a Location Location Location junkie without taking in the wise advice offered by Phil and Kirstie. She clicked on her house-hunting heroes and instantly came across Phil’s top tips: make friends with your estate agent, look for natural light, get a view you like, hold out for a garden if it matters to you and remember ‘the feeling’ – you have to really like the place.

  Armed with lovely Phil’s advice, she decided to drop in on the agents and start making friends with them. To be frank, she hadn’t made a very promising start.

  The first person she met was the sharp-suited young man called Stu. ‘Ah yes,’ he replied, ‘the lady from Shirley Avenue.’ He smiled maliciously, obviously eager to get his own back on a dangerous divorce resister. ‘Estate agents won’t admit it,’ he replied confidingly, ‘but we dearly love a divorce. Three potential sales, you see.’ Had she imagined it or had the revolting little yob actually winked? ‘First is the family home, next the bijou flat for the ex-wife and – if we’re really smart – a third for the husband and the new lady in his life.’ If she’d been holding a coffee, this was the moment Laura would have thrown it over him. ‘So, Mrs Minchin, what can I interest you in?’

  Laura stood up. ‘Nothing, thank you.’ She summoned up the most disdainful smile she could muster; after all, Phil couldn’t be right about everything. ‘I think I’ll s
tick to Zoopla. At least a website can’t insult its prospective clients.’

  When she got out she was almost shaking. Thank God she had a message from Ella. She called her straight back.

  As soon as she described the encounter with the revolting agent, Ella insisted she come straight over.

  An hour later they both sat in Ella’s front garden watching the twilight settle over the river, listening to the birds begin their evening chorus, drinking glasses of palest pink rosé. Thank God for friendship.

  Ella at least seemed happy with her newly downsized house. ‘It’s a hell of a lot less hassle,’ Ella said. ‘And just look at these views.’ She almost added that the only wrinkle in her happiness was that she kept forgetting things, but decided not to spoil the moment. An idea suddenly came to Ella, and she hesitated, not wanting to interfere, but then she couldn’t resist. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like me to help you look, would you? I mean, I did find this place – and that was even in an auction. I think I’m quite good at it.’

  ‘Ella!’ Laura sprang up and embraced her. ‘I can’t think of anything more brilliant! You can be my very own Kirstie Allsopp.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad it isn’t your own Phil Spencer!’ and wonderful efficient Ella refilled their glasses.

  ‘To the perfect post-divorce pad!’ Ella clinked her glass against Laura’s, relieved that Laura was looking as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was a lovely moment, only slightly spoiled by the fact that suddenly she desperately wanted to pee.

  Claudia’s mother Olivia sat stony-faced across the untidy kitchen table, her arms crossed over her not inconsiderable bosom, looking like a particularly unamused Queen Victoria. ‘Do you mean to say you’ve been talking to agencies without even consulting me first?’

  Claudia tried not to look at the state the house had got into and answer the question. No carer would come here unless they got the cleaner back first anyway. Another battle. It was as if everything was becoming a battle with her mother these days.

  Claudia decided the time had come to stop standing for any more nonsense.