by Katie Fforde
‘Not paying attention, Jack? This is Lorna Buckthorn.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘you must think me very rude but I thought I recognised you.’ He took her hand and squeezed it.
‘Hello,’ said Lorna, suddenly feeling scrutinised.
At that moment Philly came up with a tray of champagne. ‘Oh, Philly,’ said Lorna. ‘How lovely, just what I need. How’s it all going? I gather you’ve averted catastrophe downstairs.’
Philly, who did look slightly strained, smiled. ‘Well, the cooker breaking down was a bit of a disaster.’
Jack took a glass of champagne too. ‘I’ve got another glass somewhere,’ he said.
‘Oh, it’s OK,’ said Philly. ‘We’ve got plenty of glasses. I’ll be round with the bottle to top you up now I’m sure everyone’s got something to drink out of.’
‘Philly’s here under false pretences,’ said Lorna. ‘She’s acting as a waitress but really she’s a wonderful plantswoman. She raises plants for the garden here.’
‘Whatever she does as a day job, she’s been an absolute star for us,’ said Kirstie. ‘If she’s as good at raising plants she must be brilliant.’
‘I’ll go and get some more canapés. I’m not quite sure when we’ll be serving dinner,’ said Philly after a quick glance at her watch.
‘Well, the canapés are fabulous,’ said Natalie. ‘I’m afraid we scarfed down the first lot in record time.’
‘And if dinner is late, it’s not the chef’s fault,’ said Kirstie. ‘Although I would say that. I recommended him.’
Peter came up to join the group and Lorna couldn’t help noticing how sweet he was with Kirstie. He didn’t claim her with an arm round her waist or anything obvious, he just touched her arm and smiled down fondly at her.
Lorna looked away to spare herself and found she was still being studied by Jack. Rather than watch Peter and Kirstie, she went over to him. ‘Are you still trying to remember where you’ve seen me? I’ve probably got a doppelgänger or something.’
He smiled and his severe features were hugely improved. ‘I’ll work it out. In the meantime, tell me about you?’
Lorna didn’t awfully like talking about herself but she brought out her prepared patter. ‘I’m a garden designer – and restorer. I’ve been working on Peter’s garden for about three years but we’ve known each other since we were children.’
‘Is that why you got the job?’
Lorna laughed. ‘No, that was because I’m also friends with Peter’s mother, Anthea. Have you met her?’
‘We haven’t been introduced but going by what I’ve seen, she’s a formidable woman.’
Lorna nodded. ‘When she told Peter I was the one to get his garden into order he was obliged to agree.’ She paused. ‘So what do you do?’
‘I’m a stonemason. Also a sculptor.’
Philly appeared with a tray of things to eat. ‘So, how’s it going down there?’ Lorna asked, taking a blini.
‘Put it like this: it’s just as well there are plenty of canapés. Fill up,’ she suggested. ‘Dinner will be a while.’
Lorna sipped her champagne. She knew there would be plenty of drink and she hoped everyone wouldn’t be rip-roaring drunk before they sat down to eat. And champagne, though delicious at the time, could give one the most monumental hangover.
Jack’s voice broke into her rather gloomy thoughts. ‘I think I’ve worked out where I’ve seen you, but I’ll have to check at home,’ he said. ‘Do you live locally?’
‘Yes, pretty much. I can walk home from here, so I can drink. Which is just as well. Peter always has lovely wine and masses of it. It’s funny because in some ways—’ She stopped, aware she was about to tell a complete stranger that their host was mean. That would have been disloyal.
‘I’ve only just met him but he seems nice enough.’
Lorna was grateful that he’d overlooked her stumble. ‘Nice enough for Kirstie do you mean? As I’m a friend of Peter, I’m checking that Kirstie is nice enough for him. And I think she is, as far as I can tell.’
‘I don’t really know her. We only met a couple of weeks ago. But she has a reputation for being a mover and shaker. My friends told me that once she has taken on a project, nothing will stop her seeing it through. And of course, it’s always exciting to be invited to the Big House for dinner.’
In that instant Lorna realised that Peter probably needed someone dynamic. While he had been a dynamic businessman, in his private life he was too laid-back and lazy. He needed shaking up, needed to be made to spend his money where it was required and not save unnecessarily. She, Lorna, would have let him bumble on in his own sweet way and put up with it. ‘So how did you meet Kirstie?’
‘It was at an Open View. She’s friends with some other friends of mine. Artists.’ He frowned. ‘I’m not quite sure why she asked me.’
Nothing to do with you being an attractive, apparently single, man, thought Lorna. Out loud she said, ‘So are you a sculptor first and then a stonemason, or the other way round?’
‘I don’t really separate them. But what about you? Are you an artist as well as a gardener?’
‘Well, actually I was. I went to art school but when I knew I was going to be a mother I changed to gardening. It satisfies my artistic needs and is a much more reliable way of earning a living.’
‘So what does your husband do?’ Jack seemed stern all of a sudden.
Lorna shrugged. ‘I really don’t know. We separated soon after my son was born. Nowadays we wouldn’t have got married just because I was pregnant but then it seemed the thing to do. Even if we were both artists and supposedly more Bohemian.’ She paused. ‘So how about you? Married? Children?’
‘I haven’t any children. I was with someone for some years but there were no babies.’ He smiled, a little melancholy. ‘Maybe it was just as well.’
‘So now you’re single? Maybe you should try the website that brought Kirstie and Peter together.’ She stopped suddenly, wondering if how they had got together was a secret and certain that she shouldn’t have said that to someone she’d only just met.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Jack, not appearing surprised or offended at what Lorna had said. ‘I think I like meeting people in real life better.’
‘Me too,’ said Lorna. But privately she wondered how she should go about this. Perhaps the only option was to try and find a boyfriend online. Otherwise she’d just have to look at Peter and Kirstie being in love all the time, which would be depressing. However, she didn’t much like the idea and dismissed it.
Anthea came up, without her consort. ‘Well, Lorna, who’s this? I don’t think I know you, young man.’
Lorna made the introductions and watched with amusement as Anthea studied Jack rather in the way that Jack had studied her. But before Anthea could say anything outrageous, Kirstie clapped her hands for everyone’s attention.
‘Before we go into dinner, folks, I just want to tell you all why we’re here. It’s not only so Peter’s family can meet me’ – Kirstie’s sweep of a smile included Lorna as family – ‘and you can meet some of my friends, it’s because this town has a battle on its hands and I think we should join forces to win it!’
‘Hmm,’ muttered Anthea to Lorna. ‘I thought there was more to this dinner party than just sociability.’
‘What battle?’ asked Bob, the mayor. ‘If it’s about the supermarket on the ring road—’
‘Much more important than that!’ declared Kirstie. ‘I know I’m not local. I don’t come from round here, and perhaps that’s why I see things with a new perspective.’
‘So if it’s not the supermarket, what is it?’ asked Anthea, slightly irritably.
‘It’s the cathedral!’ declared Kirstie.
There was a silence. Then: ‘It’s not a cathedral,’ said Bob, ‘it’s a very large abbey.’
‘And does that make any difference?’ demanded Kirstie. ‘There’s a thermometer outside that “very large abbey” which, if you look at
it closely, shows there has been no money raised for two years! It’s deplorable. It’s a national monument and you’re – we’re – letting it fall apart! Jack, tell us who you are and what’s going on in the church.’
‘I could have done with a bit of warning,’ said Jack, ‘but Kirstie’s right. We do need an awful lot of money.’
‘Sorry,’ said Bob, ‘who are you?’
‘I’m the mason attached to the church. Jack Garnet.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Bob. ‘I do know your name, but not your face.’
‘My fault, I should have introduced him better,’ said Kirstie. ‘But the thing is, I have an idea for fundraising.’
‘What, marrying Peter?’ muttered Anthea so only Lorna could hear.
‘Currently it’s only one event but I think there should be a chain of events for fundraising, which would benefit artists as well as the church.’ Kirstie smiled in the direction of her artist friends. ‘And the event is – opening Peter’s garden to the public!’
Lorna choked and had to take a gulp of champagne. ‘What? It’s nowhere near ready!’
‘No, I know it’s not ready now,’ said Kirstie. ‘But it’s still beautiful and my idea is to have an outside sculpture exhibition, in the garden – probably at the end of May. The last weekend. It’ll be an opportunity for artists to show off really large pieces, which hardly ever get shown to the public. We’d charge admission, do teas, maybe have a concert, a whole weekend of amazing events, right here in Peter’s garden.’
Lorna looked at Peter, expecting him to have blanched, fainted even, at this prospect. But he looked perfectly sanguine.
‘Are you all right with this?’ Anthea demanded of her son, obviously expecting the same reaction as Lorna had.
‘Kirstie has convinced me it’s a brilliant idea,’ he said, beaming down at Kirstie. ‘It’ll inspire us to get the garden looking good.’ He caught Lorna staring at him and possibly noticed her pursed lips and raised eyebrows. ‘Lorna’s been doing a great job since we’ve been here, but she’s been desperately under-resourced. She’s been virtually single-handed and needs a couple of assistants. And Reg would like a bigger ride-on mower.’
‘I think you’d like that too, Peter,’ said his mother.
‘Well, yes,’ he agreed. ‘And I do think it’s time I got more involved. Now I live here permanently – and maybe no longer alone’ – he gave Kirstie a very fond glance – ‘I’d like to do something for the community.’
‘Good for you,’ said Lorna. ‘While obviously I’m very daunted at the prospect of getting the garden ready for the public – even if they will be distracted by enormous reclining nudes or whatever, I do think the town will be delighted and grateful to see you taking an interest in local matters.’
‘You could stand for the council if you liked. They’d welcome you with open arms, a businessman like you,’ said Bob.
‘I’d rather stick to fundraising,’ said Peter. ‘And getting the house back in full working order.’
‘Well, I think it’s a brilliant idea,’ said one of the male artists. ‘I like to do large work and there are very few opportunities to show non-commissioned work. And while I probably shouldn’t do non-commissioned work, I yearn to do bigger stuff than I usually get asked for.’
‘Are you up for it, Lorna?’ asked Peter, moving towards her. ‘I know it’s putting a big responsibility on to you.’
‘Give me the resources,’ she said, ‘and I’m up for it.’ She gave him a warm smile, wanting to make sure he knew she was completely happy about Kirstie and her plans. She wasn’t completely happy at all. The torch she had carried for him for so long would take a lot more extinguishing, but she was withdrawing gracefully. She wouldn’t take on Kirstie. If she couldn’t get Peter when there was no competition she wouldn’t get him now he’d fallen in love with a dynamo like Kirstie.
But she was glad when Doreen appeared, looking unfamiliar in a black dress. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said grandly. ‘Dinner is served.’
‘Only about an hour late so we’re not completely drunk,’ said Anthea, sotto voce. ‘And if they’ve got the temperature of the dining room up above freezing, it may not be total torture. Come on, Bob.’
Lorna, who was escorted by Jack, thought someone – probably Philly – had done wonders with the usually arctic dining room. There was a roaring fire in the grate, a large number of candles, both on the table and anywhere else that could support them, and the floral arrangements were dramatically simple. There was just a hint of smoke in the air which intimated that the fire might have smoked when first lit. Possibly the many candles were there to disguise the smell.
‘Not as dingy as I’d feared,’ said Anthea, more loudly this time. ‘And maybe the food will be edible, if the chef our hostess has been boasting about is any good. Possibly I was wrong to have an omelette before I came.’
Kirstie obviously heard this and Lorna saw that a tiny frown flashed across her features; she even thought she heard a little sigh.
One of the female artists – Lorna remembered was called Natalie – obviously overheard Anthea.
‘I’ve had Lucien’s food before. He’s amazing. Really talented. So unless you’re a really big eater, I should think it was definitely a mistake to have an omelette first.’ She accompanied this with a glaring smile.
Now Kirstie looked panicked. She wouldn’t want her new man’s mother offended when she’d gone to so much trouble to get in her good books.
However, Anthea took this in her stride. ‘You’re probably right but when you’re as old as I am your stomach rumbles rather loudly if you don’t eat regularly. I wouldn’t hear it – deaf as a post – but embarrassing to you younger people.’
Everyone laughed.
‘Well, do find your places and sit down,’ said Kirstie.
‘Oh, you’ve done a placement,’ said Anthea, using the French word. ‘How sensible. And unusual these days. But I’ll need my reading glasses.’
‘You’re here,’ said Bob, ‘next to me.’
‘And you’re next to me,’ said Jack to Lorna. Lorna found her place and smiled to her other neighbour, Natalie’s husband, Jamie. Disappointingly, he gave her a smile that was perfectly polite, but that dismissed her as a woman of a certain age who could be in no way interesting to him. She decided to prod him a little. ‘So, if you could afford to buy any sculpture in the world, which one would it be and why?’
Jamie looked startled. ‘Well, I don’t know—’
‘I’ll allow you to have a house or garden big enough to accommodate anything, so don’t restrict your choice because of size.’
‘I still don’t know,’ said Jamie.
‘I know what I’d have,’ said Jack. ‘I’d have Elizabeth Frink’s Early Horse.’
Lorna looked at him quickly. ‘That’s what I’d choose!’ she said. ‘What a coincidence.’
‘Somehow I’m not surprised,’ said Jack. And he gave Lorna a look that made her start.
Jamie might have dismissed her as an older woman, but Jack was obviously beyond seeing women only as sexual objects. He could see they might have interesting things to say, too.
6
Downstairs in the kitchen, Philly at last felt able to take off her apron. ‘Is it all right if I go now?’
She didn’t quite know if she should ask Lucien or Doreen, so she said it into the room and hoped that someone would say ‘yes’.
‘Of course, dear,’ said Doreen. ‘You’ve worked like a trouper. I wish I could ask you to come in tomorrow and help me with the breakfast. I wasn’t taken on as a cook. I shouldn’t be asked to cook breakfasts for guests.’
‘I could do breakfast,’ said Lucien. ‘You could ask Kirstie if it would be OK.’ He paused. ‘It’s not that I need permission exactly, but I’d want to get paid.’
Doreen looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I must say it would be great for me if you could do it. I can’t boil an egg, let alone poach one!’
‘Why don’t yo
u go and ask Kirstie now?’ suggested Lucien. ‘Then maybe Philly will get her wages, too.’
‘Very well. They’re past the stage of wanting more coffee or green tea or whatever gnat’s piss they drink,’ said Doreen. ‘I’ll go up.’
She came down a few minutes later with Kirstie.
‘Darlings! You were amazing! Everyone was so impressed. Even Peter’s terrifying mother thought it was good.’
Philly didn’t say anything but she felt a flash of connection with Kirstie. She thought Anthea was terrifying too.
‘That’s great,’ said Lucien. ‘Considering the conditions we had to work in—’
‘I know! Next time you come I promise you we’ll have a proper cooker.’
Lucien smiled, and scooped his hair off his face. He had taken off the chef’s cap he had been wearing and his fringe had fallen back over his eyes. ‘Maybe not the next time. Doreen would like it if I stayed on and cooked breakfast for your party.’
Kirstie’s eyes widened, first with joy and then with disappointment. ‘Oh, Lucien, that’s a brilliant idea, but where would you stay? There are lots of bedrooms but all the ones that actually function are occupied.’
‘It’s OK. I’ll sleep in the van.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Kirstie was horrified.
‘Yes I can. I do it all the time.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve got it all set up so I can do overnight stays. Fixed it myself.’
‘Well, that’s wonderful. I knew Doreen wasn’t keen.’ She flashed Doreen a smile that told Philly she was desperately anxious to keep in with Peter’s family retainers. ‘I don’t blame her. Right, Philly – let me give you some money.’ She took out a stash of bank notes from the pocket of her dress. ‘We said a hundred but I’m going to make it two. You were so brilliant with the stove.’
‘Really?’ said Philly. ‘That’s amazingly generous. I wasn’t—’ She stalled. She liked Kirstie; she didn’t want to put her off Peter by telling her how mean he was.
‘I know. Peter is a bit careful, but he totally agreed we shouldn’t skimp on this dinner party. It’s so important in so many ways. Right, I’d better get back to my guests. By the way, Doreen? Did we buy a bottle of Baileys the other day?’