Summer at The Little Duck Pond Cafe

by Rosie Green

  ‘You can’t be that desperate, Jaz.’ Ellie feels strongly enough about my suggestion to come out from behind the little counter. She folds her arms and stares at me with concern.

  I shrug. ‘The thing is, I am desperate. I only took – um - limited funds when I left Palmerston. And the money is draining away pretty quickly. Don’t get me wrong, doing the yoga and zumba classes for you is a great boost to my finances and I’m so grateful, but . . . ’

  She nods. ‘But it’s not enough to pay the rent. I understand. And listen, I’m the one who’s grateful. Your exercise classes are so popular, I reckon I’d have a mass protest on my hands if I stopped running them.’

  I laugh, feeling buoyed up by this. At least that’s one thing that appears to be going well, in this mess that is my life!

  A big group of women walk into the cafe, chatting and laughing.

  ‘I wish I could help,’ murmurs Ellie, ‘but I’m maxed out as it is, having just shelled out for the new studio. Have you tried the supermarket?’

  ‘Yup. I’m on file, apparently.’ I flick my eyes to the ceiling. Everyone knows that’s polite speak for ‘we’ve got nothing for you and probably never will have, so please don’t hold your breath!’

  Over the past few months, I’ve tried every avenue going to try and get work. Every shop I enter, I make a casual enquiry, but so far: nothing.

  ‘Something will turn up,’ says Ellie with a reassuring smile.

  I wish I could be so sure . . .

  CHAPTER SIX

  It’s the last week of July and the heat wave we’ve been enjoying for a while looks set to break soon.

  I’m rather glad because the recent clammy heat has meant numbers are down at my zumba classes, a worrying development for my finances.

  It’s Friday and Fen has invited Ellie and I over for dinner at Brambleberry Manor, the spectacular home that has been in her mother’s family for generations. I can’t wait to see it.

  ‘Imagine being able to call a place like Brambleberry Manor home,’ I remark in the car on the way over there.

  Ellie, who’s driving, grimaces. ‘Not sure Fen sees it like that. I think she’d rather her family were a good deal less eccentric and lived in a three-bed semi, instead of a huge place akin to Downton Abbey!’

  ‘Ah! And are they getting divorced, Fen’s parents?’ I know Fen’s dad has recently moved out of the manor and into a flat in the village. ‘What are they like?’

  ‘Margery and Will? Well, they were a high-flying couple, married to their work as well as each other. But recently Margery has become obsessed with opening up the manor to the public. She’s convinced that’s the only way they’ll be able to keep it in the family for future generations. To be honest, I think she’s probably right.’

  ‘What does Will think?’

  Ellie frowns. ‘Margery’s the go-ahead one, full of ideas and enthusiasm. Will prefers a quiet life and he’s not at all keen on the idea of strangers tramping around his home every weekend.’

  ‘I don’t blame him.’

  ‘Yes, but if it saves the house from having to be sold?’

  ‘True.’

  ‘They’ve been arguing like cat and dog over it recently, and Will moved out a few weeks ago, saying he’d had enough.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘Yes, Fen’s pretty cut up about it. And now Margery, with Will gone, has decided to go full-steam-ahead with her plan to open the house to the public. She’s given up her job so she can devote herself to it.’

  ‘Wow, how exciting.’

  ‘Fen’s dreading it. Margery gets really hyper when she’s got a project on the go and Fen’s worried she’s going to get dragged into the frenzy!’ She turns. ‘What was your home like, Jaz? Before you came here?’

  Her question silences me as a host of images starts playing through my head. I moved into Grant’s house with such excitement and optimism, never imagining the day would come when he’d despise me so much, he’d lock me out.

  ‘Oh, it was a four-bed detached. Bog standard, really. On an estate with lots of houses that looked exactly the same.’

  Ellie gives me a little knowing look, as if to say, That wasn’t really what I was asking, Jaz.

  I swallow hard. ‘It’s complicated. I’ll tell you one day, I promise.’ If I could explain, I would. I hate keeping secrets from Ellie and Fen. But there’s too much at stake.

  Ellie smiles. Then she nods in front of us. ‘Right, are you ready?’

  We take a bend in the road and then I catch a glimpse of the manor through the trees. Entering at the main gateway, I get my first proper view and draw my breath in sharply.

  ‘Wow, it’s like an old painting.’

  ‘Isn’t it? I love the honey-coloured stone and the turrets at either end. Like something out of a fairytale.’

  Brambleberry Manor, built in the eighteenth century, nestles in a slight dip and is surrounded by rolling green parkland dotted with ancient trees that look as if they have stood there for generations.

  ‘Bet their heating bills are astronomical,’ I murmur, admiring the main entrance with its honey-coloured stone balustrade.

  ‘Oh my God, look! It even has a lake.’ I gaze over at the calm stretch of water, glinting in the summer evening sunlight.

  ‘Yes, and there’s this beautiful kitchen garden at the back, where the cook can wander out and harvest fresh vegetables for dinner.’

  ‘They have a cook?’ I correct myself. ‘Of course they have a cook. You just have to look at the place to realise that!’

  ‘Well, she’s more of a housekeeper, really. Plus there’s a whole team of gardeners. Obviously. Since it takes slightly more than Fen’s mum getting the lawn mower out on a Sunday to keep it looking this splendid!’

  ‘They’ll need a lot of paying visitors through the doors to keep the place going without Margery’s salary,’ I murmur. ‘How will she manage on her own?’

  ‘Pretty well, by the sounds of things. Apparently Fen’s dad can be quite hard to live with . . .’

  ‘Oh God, does he gamble?’ It’s out of my mouth before I realise.

  ‘Er . . . no, I don’t think so,’ says Ellie, glancing over. ‘I just mean he can be stubborn. What made you ask that?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ I force a smile. ‘It’s – um – just one of the reasons for relationship break-ups.’

  Ellie nods. ‘Along with money problems and affairs.’

  ‘Was there an affair in this case?’

  She frowns. ‘I don’t think so. Will’s apparently quite a romantic at heart and Fen reckons there’ll probably never be anyone else for him, even though he’s decided he can’t live with Margery right now. When he proposed to her, he flew her to New York and took her to Central Park because she once said it was a dream of hers to ride in one of those horse-drawn carriages they have there.’

  After parking up in a courtyard at the rear of the house, I’m assuming Ellie will lead us to what used to be the tradesman’s entrance, but instead, we walk across the cobbles all the way round to the imposing main entrance which has been left ajar for us arriving. Feeling as if I’ve slipped back in time a few hundred years, I follow Ellie as she leads me across the vast hall with its impressive, curving staircase to the first floor, and along a corridor.

  A door up ahead bursts open and a young woman dressed in a smart suit hurries out, looking flustered. When she sees us, she slows down and hisses, ‘If you’re here for the job, I’d advise you to run for the hills. She’s completely barmy. If you don’t know what a ha-ha is, you’ll get a lecture on Georgian gardening which believe me, you absolutely do not want.’

  ‘Miss Johnstone? Come back here. I wasn’t finished,’ calls an imperious voice, causing Miss Johnstone to speed off in a panic.

  We exchange a look and make our way along to Fen’s room, I can’t stop glancing this way and that at all the portraits of stern-looking, long-dead ancestors on the walls. I’m almost expecting Fen to be in full gown and embr
oidered slippers but rather disappointingly, when she answers the door, she’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

  ‘Hi, come in. Did you manage to avoid my mother?’

  Ellie grins. ‘She was interviewing some poor woman who fled screaming into the night.’

  ‘Oh, God. That’ll be for the tour guide job. She wanted me to do it but I’d rather scrub the ballroom floor with a toothbrush than put myself through that! We need a couple of people to show groups of tourists around the manor when it’s open to the public but so far, Mum’s interview technique seems to be scaring the applicants off.’

  ‘Miss Johnstone didn’t know what a ha-ha is,’ I add. ‘What is a ha-ha, anyway?’

  ‘Some sort of ditch to stop the cattle and sheep getting too near the house,’ says Fen.

  ‘Mum’s planning a big official opening day at the end of August and we’ll all have to wear Georgian costumes,’ says Fen. She crosses to her wardrobe. ‘My gown,’ she says, pulling out a long dress in a soft gold colour with a delicate floral pattern in daffodil yellow and pale green. She holds it up against her and we admire the fullness of the skirt and the intricate embroidery on the low-cut bodice that pulls in tight at the waist.

  ‘It’s gorgeous,’ says Ellie and I murmur my agreement.

  Fen smiles for the first time since we arrived. ‘I must admit, I do like it. Mum had it run up specially. It’ll be a bugger to keep clean, though.’

  We wander over to the long sash windows and gaze down over the glorious parkland. The sky looks dark and threatening, as if a thunderstorm is imminent.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asks Ellie, pointing. ‘He’ll get soaked if he’s not careful.’

  We gaze out to where she’s pointing and I spot a familiar figure.

  ‘Harry Bentham. He’ll be taking photos of the parkland,’ I say shortly, and they both look at me curiously.

  ‘Gosh, you’ve got good eyes, Jaz. I’d never have recognised him from this distance,’ says Ellie.

  ‘Me, neither. Do you know him well, then?’ asks Fen.

  ‘No, not at all. At least, I mean, I know him. But I don’t know him any more than you know him.’ It all comes out in an awkward rush and I’m furious at myself for blushing. ‘If you know what I mean,’ I add, and they both burst out laughing.

  ‘He’s quite the dish,’ says Fen, who has a whole array of old-fashioned expressions up her sleeve.

  ‘A bit of a hunk,’ agrees Ellie. ‘What do you think, Jaz?’

  I wonder if she’s teasing me because I’ve gone bright red. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me! Then I realise I’m probably blushing because he gets under my skin and I don’t really know why and I’m disgruntled as a result. Or something like that . . .

  ‘I find him a bit irritating,’ I admit. ‘He’s all happy, cheeky chappy, little friend of all the world, life and soul of the party. But you wonder what’s going on underneath the superficial chat.’

  ‘Really?’ says Ellie. She and Fen stare out, clearly seeing Harry in a whole new sinister light after my not-so-subtle character assassination. And right at that moment, we hear a rumble overhead and a fork of lightning splits the sky.

  ‘Ooh,’ we all murmur in unison.

  Harry looks up at the sky but continues to take his shots.

  I feel suddenly guilty. Just because Harry’s cheery manner and habit of seeing the funny side of everything puts me in mind of Grant when he’s showing his exuberant, engaging side to the world doesn’t mean he’s actually like Grant!

  I shudder. Actually, there is no one like Grant.

  ‘How is Margery, by the way?’ Ellie asks Fen, changing the subject.

  ‘I don’t know. She never stands still long enough for me to ask.’ Fen smiles ruefully but I catch a flicker of worry when she turns back to look at Harry. ‘She’s pouring every last ounce of energy and more into this opening-to-the-public project. Her latest thing is to wander round imagining she’s actually living in the time of Jane Austen. Honestly, it’s driving me mad. I’m amazed she doesn’t make the poor housekeeper courtesy.’ She pauses then says sadly, ‘I wish Dad would come back.’

  Ellie puts her arm around Fen. ‘I’m sure he will.’

  ‘He probably just needs a bit of space for a while,’ I murmur.

  Fen tries to smile. ‘Yes. You’re probably right. Anyway, Mum says we can dine in the small library. She’s going to write some letters in her room and take dinner on a tray.’ She raises her eyes to the ornate ceiling rose in despair. ‘God, even I’m talking like a character out of a Jane Austen novel now!’

  On our way downstairs, Fen suddenly turns to me.

  ‘I’ve just thought of something, Jaz. You need a job and my mother needs a tour guide. I know it’s not exactly the dream job but . . .’

  ‘Gosh, you’re right.’ Ellie turns to look at me. ‘I never thought of that.’

  I stare from one to the other.

  I’ve imagined myself doing other jobs – but tour guide? I’d have to talk to groups of people and I’ve never been much good at public speaking. On the other hand, can I really afford to turn it down?

  ‘You could just do it for a while, until something better turns up,’ says Ellie.

  ‘That’s true,’ I say slowly, and Fen nods eagerly.

  ‘It would be lovely to have you around the place instead of a stranger,’ she says. ‘Please say you’ll do it, Jaz.’

  I smile. As bizarre as it seems, this could be the answer to my prayers - a way to continue living in my rented flat, in the safe little world I’ve created for myself here. Because if I don’t find a solution to my money worries, I don’t know what on earth I’m going to do.

  ‘It would only be for weekends at first,’ says Fen. ‘Then if it proved a success, you’d probably get more hours during the week. And the pay is pretty good. That’s one good thing about my mother. She’s always generous.’

  They’re both gazing at me expectantly.

  When I nod, they both cheer and my heart does a little flip of gratitude to know I have the friendship of these two. I hardly deserve it. I keep so much from them and yet they’re still there for me . . .

  ‘I’ll go and see her now and get you a interview.’ Fen shows us where the small library is and disappears, arriving back in a few minutes with Lady Redpath herself.

  ‘Is this the young lady?’ She must only be in her fifties but her severe bun and high-necked black dress makes her look much older. She could almost be in mourning.

  ‘Yes. This is Jaz and she’s a fitness instructor but she’s always wanted to be a tour guide.’ Fen shrugs at me and grins behind her mother’s back.

  ‘Jaz?’ repeats Lady Redpath doubtfully. ‘I think we might have to do something about the name. It’s not exactly reflective of the Georgian era.’

  I shrug and smile. ‘Fine by me.’ I don’t care what I’m called as long as I can stop waking up in a cold sweat over money most nights.

  Lady Redpath gives a brisk nod. ‘Call on me tomorrow. Four o’clock sharp. And we’ll have a little chat.’ She’s already hurrying off to her next task. At the door, she turns. ‘How about Georgiana? That’s got a nice ring to it.’

  Fen and Ellie are beaming at me, glad to have helped me solve my problem.

  But then it hits me.

  Four o’clock tomorrow?

  But tomorrow is Tuesday!

  ‘Oh God, I can’t make it. I’m going to have to tell her.’ I run after her.

  Catching up with her at the foot of the grand staircase, I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. ‘I’m so sorry but I can’t make it at four o’clock tomorrow. Could it be earlier in the afternoon? Or in the morning?’

  She shakes her head. ‘It’s four or nothing, I’m afraid. Up to you. It depends how much you want the job, I suppose.’ She frowns at me in a disappointed way and hurries off.

  ‘Is there a zumba class on the schedule tomorrow afternoon?’ asks Ellie when I rejoin them. ‘Because if there is, we can easily change it th
is once.’

  ‘No, it’s not zumba. I . . . just have something I need to do.’ I shrug helplessly.

  Tuesdays at four o’clock are set in stone. For two precious hours each week, nothing else matters.

  I have to be there to see Titch.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I drive into Palmerston, feeling the usual unsettling mix of happy anticipation combined with gut-wrenching anxiety.

  I’m always terrified my car might be spotted by someone we know. But as I drive out of the town and take the road to the riding stables, my breathing steadies a little. Turning in at the gates, I do some deep breathing to calm my emotions as I bump along the pot-holed track to Mariella’s farm.

  It’s important that I appear serene and completely together – for Titch’s sake.

  I park at the farm, round the back just in case, then I sling my handbag over my shoulder and walk across the grass to the stables. Mariella is there, looking sleek as usual in her uniform of jodhpurs, boots and T-shirt. Seeing me arrive, she smiles and waves, then carries on helping little Anna onto a pony, as the girl’s proud but nervous mum looks on.

  And then I spot Titch.

  Dressed in her beige jodhpurs and black T-shirt, she’s murmuring to one of the ponies, leaning close and stroking his neck.

  My throat closes up. As always, she’s wearing her favourite navy and pink body protector, the one I bought for her just before I left. Her dark brown hair has been styled in braids specially for the riding lesson.

  Jules is there, too, with Chloe.

  Every Tuesday, she collects Chloe and Titch from school and drives them here, where I join them for those precious few hours. After the lesson, we all go for pizza together. Then we say our goodbyes and Titch goes off in Jules’ car and she drops her back home.

  Without Jules, I don’t know what I would do . . .

  A second later, Titch catches sight of me and her whole face lights up. She says something to Jules and Chloe, who both turn and smile over at me, then she hares across the stable yard to join me.

  ‘Jaz.’ She pushes her over-long fringe from her eyes and smiles shyly up at me. I grab her in a big hug then tickle her till she shrieks.