The Winter Garden

by Heidi Swain

  Luke looked intrigued. ‘That does sound wonderful,’ he said, looking towards the borders with fresh eyes, ‘and much more spectacular than what I had in mind. I was just planning to open the place up. You certainly seem to know what you’re talking about. I don’t suppose you want a job, do you?’

  I went to laugh the suggestion off, but he looked as if he meant it. His expression rather reminded me of the one Eloise had worn when she offered me a position practically within minutes of meeting me. Nonetheless, familiar though it might have been, it was still a surprise to be faced with it for the second time in my life.

  ‘Thank you, but I already have one,’ I told Luke, aiming to keep my voice steady. I didn’t add that I had no idea for how much longer. ‘I manage a garden in Suffolk, over near Beccles, on the Broad-Meadows estate.’

  ‘Shame,’ he tutted. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘It’s Freya,’ I told him. ‘Freya Fuller.’

  ‘Well, Freya Fuller,’ he said, setting Abigail back on her feet again. ‘If I can’t give you a job, would you consider leaving me your contact details at the house?’

  ‘What for?’ I asked.

  ‘So, I can pick your brains,’ he smiled. ‘In an advisory capacity.’

  ‘All right,’ I agreed, ‘I don’t see why not.’

  Later that afternoon, having enjoyed a picnic lunch for the masses made from produce grown at the Grow-Well which was on the opposite side of the grounds, I called at the house and left my details with Luke’s wife, Kate.

  She was every bit as kind as Luke and, as I walked back to the car park where I’d left the van, I couldn’t help thinking that Eloise and the summer solstice might not have provided me with a sign about my long-term future, but my trip to Norwich had been a welcome distraction nonetheless. Should Luke ever get in touch, I was going to enjoy being involved in the winter garden at Prosperous Place, even if it was only in an advisory capacity.

  Chapter 2

  I had left my phone tucked away in the glove compartment of the van and, when I turned it on again to help me negotiate my way back to Broad-Meadows, I found there were four missed calls from Jackson’s mobile to tug at my conscience, and by the time I arrived home there were another two.

  I did have a hands-free set-up but, in spite of my loyalty to Eloise and the estate, I didn’t want to talk to him on my day off and certainly not while I was driving. I was more tired than I would have expected and needed to concentrate.

  I hadn’t much noticed it during my quiet working days and even quieter evenings and weekends, but I had become accustomed to spending time alone, sometimes not talking to another living soul from one day to the next. I hadn’t thought it was an issue, but my day at Prosperous Place talking to Luke, Graham and Kate had been exhausting and highlighted the fact that I was perhaps in danger of becoming a little too comfortable with my own company.

  Nell and I enjoyed a light supper and then I had a long bath with the intention of turning in before my usual bedtime so I would be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to start work early the next morning. However, Jackson had other ideas. I had barely finished tying the belt of my bathrobe when I heard him hammering on the door. There was no question of it being anyone else because we were so isolated and besides, Nell only ever growled when he was about.

  I opened the door and peeped out, my still damp hair snaking almost down to my waist. If I didn’t dry it soon, there would be no taming it.

  ‘Oh, you are here then, Freya,’ he frowned, his sarcastic tone and sweeping gaze making my hackles rise as high as Nell’s. ‘I’ve been trying to reach you on your cell all day.’

  I couldn’t help but wince at the sound of his southern drawl and closed the door a little. It wasn’t the sight of him that rubbed me up the wrong way – just a couple of years older than me, he was tall, solid, dark-haired and handsome. Quite possibly fanciable if you didn’t mind the slightly too white teeth.

  And it wasn’t his accent either – I was as receptive to a cowboy as any fluttering southern belle thanks to watching my fair share of Sam Elliott movies – but it was more the way he said things, rather than the voice in which he said them.

  ‘You knew I was taking today off, Jackson,’ I recapped for him. ‘We talked about it last week, remember? I wanted to honour your aunt’s memory by celebrating the solstice.’

  ‘That’s today, is it?’ he said, sounding amused.

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘it is and, as today is my day off, I’m free to come and go as I please.’

  ‘But you’re working next Saturday to make up for taking the extra day, right? I have remembered that correctly, haven’t I?’

  ‘No,’ I said patiently. ‘I worked last Saturday to make up for it. I put the hours in before I’d taken them. We did discuss it at some length.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ he nodded. ‘I do recall now you come to mention it.’

  He certainly should. He had tried to make a pass at me when we were in the glasshouse talking it over and I had been forced to resort to some nifty tactics with the hosepipe to ward him off. Accidentally, of course. Not.

  ‘So,’ I said, raising my eyebrows. ‘We’ve established that I’m here, so if you don’t mind…’

  I went to shut the door, but he took a step closer and I stopped. Shutting the door in his face wouldn’t do anything to enhance our working relationship and besides, one day I might need a reference from this guy.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘there’s something I need to talk to you about. Can I come in? Just for a minute.’

  ‘Can it wait until the morning?’ I asked, trying to sound friendlier. ‘I’m just about to turn in for the night.’

  I was determined not to let him cross the cottage threshold, even if it was only for a minute. I didn’t trust him and I certainly wouldn’t have felt comfortable talking to him wearing nothing more than my flimsy cotton bathrobe. Nell’s low-level growling behind me told me that she was reluctant for me to let him in too.

  ‘How about we meet in the office at eight and we’ll talk then,’ I suggested. ‘We can have a coffee.’

  He narrowed his eyes but thankfully stood down. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at eight. Sweet dreams.’

  Even though the bath had soothed my body and settled my busy brain after my unusually sociable day, my brief exchange with Jackson meant that falling asleep was impossible. There was no doubt in my mind that he was going to tell me he was selling up, and the more I thought about it, the more awake I stayed.

  Consequently, rather than feeling rested and refreshed the next morning as planned, I flung back the duvet feeling cranky, looking puffy-eyed, with untameable locks and feeling thoroughly unhappy about having to grant him an early audience. At least I’d been canny enough to suggest we meet in the office, where I could keep the heavy old desk between us.

  ‘Good morning,’ he called, right on the stroke of eight. ‘How did you sleep?’

  One look at my face and it should have been obvious that I hadn’t.

  ‘Fine,’ I said tightly, pushing my chair further under the table. ‘What did you want to talk about, Jackson? I have a lot to get on with this morning.’

  ‘Making hay while the sun still shines, hey?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  It had been a hot and sunny September so far and the garden was still wearing its beautiful late-summer bloom. The borders Eloise and I had revamped and replanted together were filling out nicely. I had known, when she suggested the project, that she was planting for the future and it saddened me to think that I most likely wouldn’t see them flourish.

  ‘You promised me a coffee,’ Jackson reminded me.

  ‘Sorry,’ I apologised. ‘I’ve run out. I thought there was a teaspoon or two left, but the tin’s empty.’

  I don’t know why he looked so put out. He had told me on more than one occasion that he hated instant anyway.

  ‘Right,’ he said, eyeing me for a moment before lowering him
self into the seat opposite so we were at eye level.

  My disturbed night had left me feeling cranky and my bad mood was putting me in danger of sabotaging the reference I had a feeling I was going to need, but in that moment, faced with his smug expression, I didn’t much care.

  ‘In that case,’ he began, cocking his head to one side, ‘let’s get straight down to it, shall we?’

  I swallowed and looked him dead in the eye. I had been dreading this moment ever since he turned up after Eloise’s funeral and took over. I had known from the very first moment I clapped eyes on him that he wasn’t going to take the place on and continue to run it as my dear friend had hoped.

  I had never fathomed why she had such faith in him, but now, faced with the inevitable, I couldn’t help thinking that him selling up to someone else was probably for the best. Surely, it would be better for the house, garden and grounds to be owned by another family, a family who would love it every bit as much as Eloise and her ancestors had.

  ‘The sooner the better,’ I therefore encouraged.

  ‘Okay,’ he nodded, letting out a long breath and making a great show of adopting the role of a doctor about to break bad news. ‘I don’t quite know how to tell you this, Freya…’

  ‘Do you want me to say it for you then?’ I asked, keen to give him a hint that I had worked it out already.

  He didn’t appear to appreciate the interruption and leant forward in his seat.

  ‘I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,’ he continued, ‘and it hasn’t been an easy decision to make, but I’ve looked at the estate accounts and talked to the bank and,’ he paused for dramatic effect, ‘I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to sell the estate.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, my voice pleasingly steady and calm.

  ‘Of course, I know this is the last thing that Aunt Eloise would have wanted,’ he carried on, ‘but I can’t manage the place from the States. It really needs me here full-time to keep a handle on things, but I can’t commit to that. Looking at the paperwork, it’s obvious that my aunt lost her way a little during the last couple of years and I’m looking for damage limitation here now.’

  I bit my tongue. I had been with Eloise for longer than the last couple of years and her business mind was as sharp as a packet of pins. Her ability to run the place as efficiently as she always had, had never waned. It was her body that had failed her, not her mind.

  ‘With regards to what your aunt would have wanted,’ I told him, ‘I think you’ve made the right decision.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m sure she would want the place to be loved as she loved it, and as you’ve said on more than one occasion, it’s not somewhere that matches everything else in your impressive property portfolio.’

  It felt good to be able to fire his words back at him.

  ‘And of course,’ I added for good measure, keeping my chin held high, ‘you really don’t have to justify your decision-making to me, Jackson.’

  ‘I’m not,’ he said, sounding further disgruntled. ‘That’s not what I—’

  ‘I’m just the gardener,’ I shrugged, cutting him off. ‘What you decide to do with the place is entirely up to you.’

  ‘I know that,’ he blustered, turning red. ‘I just thought that you might—’

  ‘Please,’ I said, smiling sympathetically, ‘you have more than enough to be thinking about. Don’t concern yourself with worrying about me on top of everything else.’

  He sat up a little straighter and fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. Why he still persisted in dressing as if he was working in his city office was a mystery, but the steely glint in his eye was a sure sign that he was frustrated that I hadn’t reacted how he had wanted me to. If he’d been hoping to offer a shoulder for me to cry on, then he was well and truly out of luck.

  ‘I’ve already had the estate valued,’ he then said, suddenly all business, ‘and it will be going on the market in the next couple of weeks. My realtor has said it might take a while to sell. In the current financial climate, it might not be easy to find someone who can afford the place.’

  ‘Estate agent,’ I interrupted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘In England, it’s an estate agent, not a realtor.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, drumming his fingers on the desk. ‘Estate agent.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘go on. I didn’t mean to cut you off.’

  ‘Well, I just wanted to keep you in the loop really. In case you were wondering why I was having the place photographed and showing strangers around.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I appreciate that.’

  I didn’t want to have to ask the next question, but I needed to know where I stood.

  ‘And what about me,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to stay on?’

  ‘Of course,’ he smiled, latching on to my one show of vulnerability. ‘It’s more important than ever that the gardens look good now.’

  I nodded.

  ‘You will stay, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course.’

  It wasn’t as if I had anywhere else to move to and it felt important to keep the place exactly as Eloise had loved it, right up until the moment it became someone else’s. I had no idea what I would do after it was sold, but that could be a worry for another day. Eloise had taught me that it often didn’t pay to look too far ahead.

  ‘So, that’s that then,’ Jackson said, pushing back the chair and standing up.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that’s that.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ he casually added, ‘there is just one more thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I want you to move out of the cottage.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve checked the paperwork,’ he carried on, looking down at me, ‘and the place isn’t officially part of your contract, is it?’

  ‘Well, no, but…’

  I was pleased I was still sitting down because I wasn’t sure my legs would have held me. They had turned to jelly and Jackson would have loved the spectacle of seeing me stumble.

  ‘Not that you’ve actually got a contract,’ he pushed on, ‘not a legally binding one anyway.’

  I couldn’t argue with that. My arrangement with Eloise had been above board when it came to paying taxes and so on, but beyond that our business association was pretty casual.

  ‘And given how long the sale is likely to take,’ Jackson pushed on, ‘I’ve decided to let the cottage out. God knows I need to try and generate some sort of income from the estate. I’ve already got tenants lined up who are willing to pay the market rent.’

  ‘But where will I go?’ I stammered. ‘And why didn’t you ask me about paying the market rent?’

  ‘I don’t quite think the pittance you’re paid would make that a feasible option, Freya.’

  ‘Eloise and I agreed that figure on the basis of me being provided with a roof over my head,’ I said firmly. ‘I do have certain rights, you know.’

  ‘And so do I,’ he retaliated. ‘And which particular roof is over your head has never been specified, has it? There are plenty of empty servants’ rooms in the house. You can move into those. Think how convenient it will be for us to be living closer together.’

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out, which was probably just as well, given the profanities I could have resorted to. When Eloise first broached the idea of me living and working at Broad-Meadows, she had offered me the choice of either living in the cottage or taking rooms in the house. She was pleased I’d gone for the little cottage.

  ‘It will give you some space and privacy,’ she had said kindly.

  And it had. It was going to be a blow to leave it.

  ‘And just to prove I’m every bit as generous as my aunt,’ Jackson added, with a nauseating smile, ‘how about I give you today off so you can move your things. After all, there’s no time like the present when it comes to getting stuff done, is there?’

  * * *

 
; Given the little I had, it had taken me no time at all to move my things from the cottage into the house. Most of the furniture belonged to the estate and everything else I could squeeze into the back of my van. I picked a couple of rooms furthest away from the wing Jackson was lording it up in and both Nell and I did our best to avoid him, but it wasn’t easy.

  Whenever our paths crossed, I would paste on a smile, resolute that I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I was missing my cosy little bolthole and the privacy it had afforded me, but suddenly the days seemed to drag and autumn felt like it was taking forever to land. That said, I had found one way to keep my spirits up, and thanks to Nell, mine and Jackson’s contact to a minimum.

  When I first moved into the house, Jackson had insisted on me coming to the kitchen at the end of every day to talk through what I had been doing, but one night Nell’s strange behaviour ensured I would no longer have to endure his daily interrogation.

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t bring that damn dog with you in here,’ Jackson had grumbled, when he noticed her circling and whining in front of what had been her old spot next to the range. ‘It’s not hygienic, and what’s the matter with her anyway?’

  I knew Nell wanted the loo, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  ‘It’s Eloise,’ I said, looking about me and into the distance over Jackson’s shoulder.

  ‘What?’ he snapped.

  ‘Nell senses her everywhere,’ I said, trying not to laugh as the colour drained from his face. ‘But especially in here.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ he swallowed, his eyes darting around.

  I called to Nell and shrugged. ‘It’s true,’ I said, making for the back door before Nell embarrassed herself. ‘I’ve heard her footsteps at night, haven’t you?’

  He avoided me and Nell after that, but I still found the change to our residential circumstances difficult. Had I somewhere else to go, he wouldn’t have seen me for dust. However, my only real option would have been to phone my parents and ask if I could stay with them, and I couldn’t face that. Besides, the commute would have been impossible.