by Ally Forbes
1
Tara Applebee drove her old, battered and much loved Fiat 500 up to the enormous and imposing wrought iron gates of Blackfell Estate. She felt anxious as she knew she would. It was a job interview after all but these gates, this place, was intimidating. She lowered the sun-visor and checked her reflection in the small, cracked mirror. She had pulled her long, dark hair back into a single pleat but a few wisps of hair had escaped and fallen loose around her face. She smoothed these back to try to make herself look tidier, more presentable, never quite managing to achieve that smooth, glossy finish that she would love for situations like this. No matter what she did, she always looked slightly ‘just out of bed’.
Rolling down the window, she pressed the intercom button and waited for a response. Nerves made butterflies pirouette in her stomach. She was a fisherman’s daughter and had lived in a tiny two roomed cottage in a remote Scottish fishing village. She had studied and worked hard to be here and she told herself that she deserved to be here. But places like these always made her nervous, the people living here like a different life form, looking down on the rest of humanity and living in a strange and alien world.
“Blackfell Estate. How can I help?”
“This is Tara Applebee. ... I have an appointment with Mr Arlen Emberline.” Her heart stuttered and flipped but she was pleased that her voice remained outwardly calm.
There was silence for a moment, a few seconds at most, the air filled by a static crackle.
“Yes Miss Applebee. Please make your way to the Gardener’s Quadrangle. Keep to the right of the House. ”
The black gates opened, gliding smoothly and silently on to a wide, tree-lined avenue which stretched ahead as far as she could see.
Tara drove her little car through the gates and into another world.
The lawns to either side of the avenue were emerald green and bowling green perfect and a soft heat haze rolled across the panorama. The air was warm, lightly scented with the soft, new leaves of the elegant lime trees which flanked the road, beautiful sentinels of the avenue.
Tara progressed slowly, drinking in the beauty of the stunning landscape but it was the sight of the great house that revealed itself at the end of the avenue that quite took her breath away.
By some quirk of design, the enormous house was hidden from view by the foliage of the trees until the very last was passed. A horseshoe-shaped drive revealed itself, culminating in a wide sweeping stairway which led to the most stunning Georgian country house. The banks of symmetrical windows sparkled in the bright spring sunshine and the stonework gleamed.
“Wow” she whispered under her breath.
Following the main avenue, she was carried round the curvespawid of the road towards the imposing front doors, hypnotised by the house, forgetting the instructions she received at the gates.
As her car neared the steps, she was shocked to see the doors thrown open and a woman pushed out by an unseen hand, stumbling and narrowly missing falling down the stairs.
Tara slowed the car to a standstill, unable to take her eyes off the unfolding drama in front of her, unsure whether to leave the car to try to help the woman, who was obviously in distress and might even be in danger. She wound down her window and soon realised that this was some kind of domestic argument. She decided to stay in the car and watch to make sure that the situation for the woman didn’t get worse. She would step in to help her if she thought it became necessary.
“Why are you doing this to me, you bastard?” the woman sobbed, kneeling and holding her head in her hands.
A man appeared at the door, and looked down contemptuously at the woman as she kneeled before him.
Tara caught her breath. The man was tall, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt open at the neck. His dark hair was swept back from his face and was slightly greying at the temples. But it was his face that took her breath away; his chiselled aquiline nose and azure blue eyes. She could tell that he was angry but it was a controlled anger, restrained under the veneer of a designer suit and sun-kissed complexion.
She watched him turn sharply on his heel and close the door behind him. The noise was solid, dismissive.
The beautiful woman at the top of the steps continued to sob.
Abruptly the door opened once again and a suitcase was thrown out beside her.
He stood at the door.
“John will be round to collect you. Do not return,” he paused and then added quietly, “Do not ever return.”
As he turned to go back into the house, he caught sight of Tara’s car and strode past the woman, down the stairs and towards her.
Tara’s heart sped up like a frightened rabbit, stomach clenching tight as realisation dawned rapidly that she shouldn’t be here and shouldn’t have witnessed the private drama on the steps.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” he demanded as he reached the car. His accent was hard to place. He had a slight Scottish accent mixed with a little something else. He was tall and she caught the faint scent of a cedar aftershave. He radiated an aura of power.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I’m here for an interview with Mr Emberline. I.... I think I’ve taken the wrong turning.”
“Emberline’s the gardener. What do you want with him?” he demanded.
He opened her door, invading her sanctuary.
“Get out of the car and answer me.”
Tara< ofspan> unclipped her seatbelt, aware that the woman at the top of the steps had stopped sobbing and was watching them intently, their roles in this drama now transposed. She slipped out of the car, keeping her back pressed to the warm metal of the door as she did so. He stood very close to her, his physical presence overwhelming. She was dismayed to feel her legs shake slightly. He scared her, his voice demanding and his close presence intimidating. She couldn’t think straight, her thoughts a panicked jumble.
His eyes flicked down to her cleavage and Tara instinctively pulled her long pleat of hair over her shoulder to cover herself.
“My name is Tara Applebee and I have an interview with Arlen Emberline.....for the position of Landscape Architect for the Walled Garden,” she managed to say without tripping over her words, pleased to hear the strength in her voice, despite the fear she felt in the pit of her stomach.
Tara watched as a smile crept over his lips. It was fleeting but it lit up his face. The stunning man in front of her became bewitching with that smile.
But the smile disappeared fast and his brows knitted once again.
“I know nothing about this. I’m sure however that Arlen would love an assistant like you,’ the sarcasm dripped from his voice, his eyes once again casting down her body, over her full breasts, her soft curves barely disguised through her semi-sheer blouse. His appraisal of her body was brazen and she felt like a commodity, something he was considering purchasing.
Indignant anger swelled in her.
‘I don’t know who you think you are but I’m here for an interview ....’
‘I’m Xander Ashbrook, owner of this estate and everything in it. Emberline is my employee.’
He stood very close to her and smiled. Anger rose in her now, hot and sharp. Anger at the way he made her feel, for the condescension and superiority that oozed from every part of him,
‘Mr Ashbrook. You may own this estate but everything I’ve seen in the very short time since my arrival makes me want to drive straight back out again. You are a.... a......’
Someone pulled her arm firmly, taking her away from Xander Ashbrook and towards the back of the car.
‘I think Miss Applebee has taken the wrong turning.’
The man spoke with a soft Irish accent and held her arm gently. He was as dishevelled as Xander Ashbrook was groome
d but no less handsome.
His dark hair was tousled, his skin weather-beaten. The hand that had rescued her was large and rough. He was wearing dark cords and a white T-shirt, his boots covered in earth.
‘Emberline.’ acknowledged Xander. The look that passed between them suggested a respect for each other but also distrust.
Xander size="+0"> Ashbrook turned and stepped back towards the house and towards the woman still on her knees at the top of the steps. The electricity in the air immediately dissipated.
He turned towards them sharply.
‘Emberline?’
‘Yes?’
‘I want to know what you decide to do with Miss Applebee. Understood?’
Emberline did not answer him.
A black Jaguar pulled up behind Tara’s car and a suited chauffer opened the door, moving swiftly to the passenger side to open up the rear door and stand to attention.
‘Xander, no. Please no. Not like this,’ the woman on the steps pleaded.
She pulled herself to her feet, mascara streaked tears running down her face.
‘I love you Xander. I love you.’
Her long blonde hair hung in feathered sheets framing her lovely face.
Xander Ashbrook walked up the stairs and she grabbed his arm.
Without looking at her, he firmly removed her hand, walked through the door and closed it behind him.
‘Come on Miss Applebee. We’ve been here too long. You drive and I’ll show you the way.’
The blonde on the steps had composed herself and had picked up her suitcase. Her high heels clicked as she made her way down the stairs and towards the waiting car.
As Tara made to move to her side of her car, the woman caught hold of her arm tightly.
‘You’ve his eye now, you little bitch but I’m warning you...keep away from him. He’ll come crawling back for me. You’ll see....,’ the hate in her voice scared Tara and she pulled her arm sharply away from the woman for whom, moments before, she had only felt deep sorrow and sympathy.
She moved as fast as she could into the safety of the car, hands shaking as she fished for the keys in her pocket.
She couldn’t control her trembling hands, trying and failing to push the key in to start the car.
Arlen Emberline reached over and took the key from her, pushing it firmly into its slot. Tara breathed in his scent, clean and soap fresh. His glancing touch sparked through her.
‘Mr Emberline. I think I should leave. I’m very sorry to have wasted your time.’ She needed to leave this place. She felt upset and nervous. A little scared. No job was worth feeling like this.
‘Miss Applebee. Please drive me slowly to the Quadrangle – I’ll show you where to go. I promise you, I make a great cup of tea which’ll make things feel considerably better.’
He smiled disarmingly at her and she couldn’t help smiling back.
She managed to drive the car slowly past the great house and, with directi
‘Just pull in here,’ he signalled to her.
Her legs were still unsteady as she climbed out of the car and she was glad to see that there wasn’t far to walk. Arlen led her to the nearest door.
To her surprise it was not an office but a home. They entered through a small wooden floored hallway, filled with boots, myriad jackets on pegs and a shelf filled with an array of hats.
He took her into the living room, a room with an open fire set in an old stone surround, the smell of wood and ash faintly and pleasantly scenting the room. Two beat up old, brown leather sofas and a large armchair gathered round the fire and the wall opposite the fireplace was shelved floor to ceiling and filled with books. The wooden floor was covered with a variety of old Nordic rugs.
‘Miss Applebee. I know this isn’t what you might be expecting but I’m guessing that you don’t particularly feel like going through a formal interview right at the minute,’ He smiled again at her, deep brown eyes crinkling at their corners, his smile radiant.
He didn’t wait for an answer.
‘I’m going to make you that tea I promised and while I’m doing that you just sit right down and make yourself at home.’
Grateful for his understanding and a chance to compose herself, Tara sunk into the soft leather of the larger sofa and took a deep breath.
What a disastrous start to what she had thought would be a great job opportunity. She laid her head on the back of the sofa and sighed. She could hear Arlen in the kitchen, a clink of cups and the sound of water building to a boil. Then silence. She closed her eyes, savouring the peace, thinking of what she would do next. She had a number of job possibilities open to her. She was faintly annoyed that she had wasted her day coming here.
A large hand touched her shoulder gently.
‘Here, Miss Applebee.’
‘Please. Call me Tara.’
‘Sure. But only if you call me Arlen.’
She clasped the large, hot mug of tea he offered and took a sip. There was an easy silence for a moment while Arlen settled in the armchair.
He looked at her over his own cup.
She shrugged and smiled.
‘Not a great start to an interview,’ she offered.
‘But certainly a memorable one.’
She laughed.
‘Look Arlen. I’m very grateful for the tea and the chance to....to get myself together but I think I’d better get going....’
‘You’ve got the job.’
‘I’d like to .....what did you say. Sorry?’
‘You’ve got the job.’id b.’
‘How can you say that? You don’t know anything about me.’
She laughed delightedly, hugging her cup to her, not quite able to believe what she had heard.
He beamed back at her, enchanted with her response.
‘Tara. I’ve read your CV. You’re perfect. You’ve got great experience, fantastic references. Glowing in fact.’
She stood up, crossed the space between them and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back. She could feel his strength and warmth pressing against her breasts, inviting her to linger. Stepping back from his embrace, feeling disarmed by his easy nature but realising that this was not particularly appropriate behaviour for a new employee, she simply said ‘Thank you.’
It was almost an afterthought but an important and dismaying one.
‘What about Mr Ashbrook? I don’t think he’d be very happy about this...you know....after today. I think I saw something I shouldn’t have...he...’
He turned from her and made his way to the window.
‘What I decide is my business. He may own the Estate but he knows I’ll do only the best for it. My only hesitation with you Tara is that...is that....this is somewhat hard to say.....’
Tara waited in silence, afraid of what he was about to say.
He continued, ‘I know this is something that should never be brought up in an interview but I feel I have to say this. You’re a beautiful woman Tara. Your CV tells me you are a single woman. I know it shouldn’t matter how you look but I know....I just know.... that Xander will find you hard to ignore. I feel hiring you will lead to....to trouble.’ He still had his back to her.
Tara felt her cheeks flush with the compliment from this handsome man but felt dismay that he felt hiring her would cause him a problem.
He continued, ‘I understand that this might sound most unfair.....and you’re by far the most able applicant for the job......but I also feel it’s only fair of me to warn you that there might be....a downside... to this job.’
He turned back to face her and smiled again.
‘The job’s yours if you want it. But let me show you round first. You might not like what you see.’
Tara was taken aback by the turn of events, the situation being more than a little out of her comfort zone. She had worked in many important national gardens but her colleagues, her fellow gardeners, were passionate about their profession and not the slightest bit interested in what she looked like, only in
what she knew. She has ended up in this beautiful estate with two of the most handsome men, her employers, that she had ever seen and for the first time in her career, her looks were of note and consternation. She resolved there and then to prove Arlen wrong. He would have no trouble with her at all.
‘Sounds great. Lead the way.’
He took her cup from her and led her"> and le back out the door. The warmth in the air had increased if anything and the sun felt wonderful on her skin.
‘The walled garden is close to the main house and was quite something in its day – 8 whole acres of it. There was a green house on the south wall, full of grapes, figs, pineapple. You name it. There’s virtually nothing left now. It’s an overgrown mess but it’s a great chance to start with a blank canvass. And with an open cheque book.’
‘Yes but what’s the actual budget for this project?’ she asked.
‘Whatever you wish.’
‘But seriously...’ she started.
‘Seriously Tara. Spend what you want to make it right. That’s all we want. Xander Ashbrook has almost unlimited funds to play with. Nothing you could dream of for a walled garden, even a large walled garden, would put even the smallest of dents in his finances.’
Tara could not believe what she was hearing. She gave herself a sharp pinch, sure that it would wake her from what surely must be a dream.
They made their way to the far corner of the Quadrangle and to a small fleet of five black Range Rovers.
‘Climb in. I’ll show you the walled garden and then show you around some of the estate. There’s 20,000 acres and there’re some truly stunning places I can show you.’
Tara smiled as she climbed into the top of the range 4x4 with him. His enthusiasm was infectious and she could see the pride he took in his job and the love he had for the estate. He was almost childish in his delight in showing her round.
She strapped herself in and took the chance to watch him from the corner of her eye as he drove.
He flicked a curl of dark brown hair off his face. His hair was short and softly curling, completely natural, slightly tousled. He was smiling as he talked and he made Tara’s heart speed up as she watched him. His words were washing over her and she had to give herself another small pinch to make her concentrate on what he was saying . He glanced at her as he talked, his deep brown eyes sparkling, framed by dark long lashes, his skin brown from long days out in the open air, his hands rough and work strong.