Bay Tree Cottage

by Anna Jacobs

  With the outside lights of the house switched on, the driver backed the van to and fro till its rear doors were opposite the front door, then switched off the engine and began to unload, stopping a couple of times to give Mrs Tart a quick hug or a kiss.

  She hadn’t wasted any time giving him what a man needed from a woman.

  Oh my, aren’t we cosy together! Warren thought sourly. How long will that last?

  He sighed as a big yawn overtook him, and made his way slowly up to bed.

  He hoped the Dennings would appoint male artists to the other residency positions or he’d be outnumbered. Surely male artists would have a more businesslike attitude to their work?

  Come to think of it, he didn’t know many artists, male or female. He’d been too busy getting his own skills up to scratch.

  That was what counted, not chit-chat and drinkie-poos, as Michelle called them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning Ginger woke at dawn to see sunlight slipping past the edges of the curtains. Iain was still sleeping beside her but when she looked round, she couldn’t see a clock. And where had she put her watch?

  She leant across and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then slid out of bed to go to the bathroom then nip downstairs to put the kettle on. There was a clock on the wall there and it was earlier than she’d thought.

  She felt great, so happy and relaxed.

  Iain came into the kitchen just as she was making him a travel mug of tea. ‘Ah! Clever woman. That mug is the one I always use when I’m working outside.’ He unlocked the back door and took the mug from her hands, sipping with an appreciative murmur. ‘I’ll be about half an hour, if you don’t mind having breakfast ready. Make yourself at home.’

  After a quick shower, she found her watch on the floor beside the bed and slipped it reluctantly on her wrist. Back to checking off the time and letting it control her actions. Maybe one day she and Iain would be able to spend a lazy morning in bed.

  She got everything ready for breakfast then couldn’t resist wandering round his house. Parts of it were untidy but it was clean underneath the clutter, a real home, not a showplace in spite of the fact that the building seemed quite old and was very beautiful from the outside. Some of the interior was in need of renovation and there was no furniture in those rooms. But the work that had been done so far was tasteful and yet homely. How lovely it must be to live in a house as big as this and bring it back to life by your own efforts!

  She went into the front room to watch for him to return, ready to start cooking the cheese on toast. She’d already put the ingredients together.

  When she saw him, she hurried back to the kitchen to shove the toast under the grill. He brought the smell of fresh air and greenery in with him. She squeaked in surprise as he picked her up, whirled her round the room and kissed her thoroughly.

  ‘If we had more time, I’d do something about how you make me feel,’ he growled in her ear.

  ‘Pity, but the toast will burn if you don’t let me go.’

  She handed him a banana and had a plate of cheese on toast in front of him within two minutes.

  A quarter of an hour later they left. As they were getting into the van, which was now full of plants, a smaller van with his logo on it drew up and a young woman got out of it. He introduced his daughter, who had come in early to receive the delivery of new seedlings.

  To Ginger’s surprise, Katie greeted her cheerfully, not seeming in the least put out to find her father entertaining a woman. That made her wonder with a sudden jab of fear how often he’d done this before.

  ‘I told Katie when I phoned last night that you’d be here,’ he said as they got into the little van. ‘She’s been nagging me to find a partner for a while.’

  ‘No wonder she didn’t mind me being here.’ Partner? What did he mean by that?

  He shrugged. ‘Why should she mind? Katie’s got a life of her own. She doesn’t need to live through me.’

  That gave Ginger something to think about as they drove through the early morning streets. Would his life continue to include her from now on? Oh, she did hope so.

  Iain parked in Saffron Lane. ‘Need any help moving the bigger pieces of furniture around?’

  ‘No, thanks. We put them more or less in place last night. I’m stronger than I look and can easily tug them about on the wooden floor if I have to. Get off to your work now.’

  She watched him move the van to the other end of the little street then realised she was staring like an idiot and hurriedly unlocked the front door of Number 1.

  It wasn’t till then that it occurred to her that Iain hadn’t said anything about seeing her again. They could easily have made arrangements. Why hadn’t they? Surely he wanted to?

  All her uncertainties about men came crashing down for a few moments, then she shook her head and muttered, ‘Just get on with it, girl! You can’t waste your life worrying about what might go wrong.’

  But she couldn’t help hoping desperately that he would want to keep seeing her. He wouldn’t call her ‘love’ and ‘partner’ if he didn’t want them to be together, surely?

  The inside of Number 1 smelt of fresh paint and Ginger couldn’t resist taking a quick walk round the rest of the building before she started sorting out her flat. She could picture clearly how best to fit a small café into one side of the back room and use part of the storeroom between the front and the back areas for the big, ugly boxes of supplies. She hoped the place wouldn’t be difficult to work in when it was fitted out.

  When Nell arrived just before nine o’clock, Ginger came out of the flat. ‘I’m here. We brought my furniture down from Newcastle yesterday and I’ve now moved in.’

  ‘Oh, good. You’ll be able to help keep an eye on the place, make sure no one comes in who shouldn’t.’

  Ginger stared at her. ‘Why are you worried about that? Is something wrong?’

  ‘That stupid official at the council, who is the ultimate caricature of the worst kind of bureaucrat, keeps finding more paperwork and insisting we fill in forms. She won’t take no for an answer and is still insisting she has the right to poke her nose into everything we’re doing. Angus won’t let her. He thinks she’s a weirdo and a control freak.’

  ‘She does sound a bit strange.’

  ‘Tell me about it. She rang again yesterday afternoon, demanding to view this house, saying she couldn’t sign it off for use as a café without checking it in person.’

  ‘Is she from the catering department? I thought when you mentioned her before you said she was the acting head of planning or something like that.’

  ‘She is in temporary charge of planning, I think. But they’re about to appoint someone permanent to the position and I doubt it’ll be her. She’s very good at getting on your nerves and no one has a good word for her.’

  ‘Why is she interfering in catering affairs, then? Perhaps you should get in touch with the food services department and ask them what’s going on, or I can do that if you like. My former employer always left the paperwork and permissions to me so I’m used to dealing with that sort of thing. I can tell them I’m new here and I’m going to be in charge of the café, so want to get everything right. They usually prefer it when you ask their advice and keep them informed, and actually they can be very helpful.’

  Nell gaped at her. ‘You are a constant surprise to me, Ginger Brunham! You have so many skills, yet you never mentioned any of them at the interview, only your embroideries.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I’d never done an interview like yours, so I didn’t know you’d want me to talk about the rest of what I’d done. Before that I’d only applied in person for jobs at cafés which had signs saying Help Wanted in their windows, and not even that for the last ten years. But I’ve worked in catering most of my life so I know about a lot of the details of how it’s run.’

  She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Working as a waitress can be quite a window on the world if you’re interested in people. And even though I
’ve only been in lowly roles officially, I’ve got eyes in my head, haven’t I? As well as having had a lazy boss for the past ten years who dumped everything he could on me.’

  ‘What you did can’t have been all that lowly if you did the liaison for permissions and inspections and so on.’

  Ginger shrugged. ‘I preferred to do it. Heaven help whoever has taken my place if they’re not used to the paperwork because Joe will let things slide till the very last minute. He’s hopeless. When I was working there I didn’t want the authorities closing down the café, did I, so I took over. It was convenient to work within walking distance of home when my husband wasn’t well and I simply stayed on afterwards, I don’t know why.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t mind taking that over here from now on, I’ll leave everything that concerns running the café to you. Will you be all right with that? I’ll give you a raise for doing more, of course.’

  ‘Fine by me.’ She hadn’t even had to ask for this raise in wages. Ooh, she wished Joe could have heard that offer.

  ‘Good. I’ll bring the latest letter from Charlene Brody to show you after lunch, but just ignore it and do what you said: contact the catering department. How’s it going in your new home? Did we forget anything when we set it up?’ She gestured towards the little flat.

  ‘I’m getting settled in nicely. Come and see it.’ She was rather pleased with her rapid progress. She hated living surrounded by mess.

  Nell stared round, then, at Ginger’s handwave in that direction, peeped into the bedroom. ‘Wow! You’ve got it incredibly neat and tidy already. Do you need any more furniture? We have all sorts of bits and pieces at the big house in the attics. You’d be quite welcome to pick through them.’

  ‘Thanks, but for the first time in my life I’m going to take my time choosing how I live. I can manage with what I’ve got here for the time being. The only thing I still need for certain is storage for my sewing materials and equipment. For that, I’ll probably go to a second-hand office supplies place and get one of those old-fashioned cabinets full of pigeon holes and little drawers.’ She’d been wishing she had somewhere to put one for a while.

  ‘You know, you’re amazingly well organised.’

  ‘I’ve had to be, Nell.’

  ‘I do understand. I brought my three children up mostly without my ex’s help, except for the financial payments. At least he kept up with those.’

  ‘You haven’t always been rich, then?’

  Nell laughed. ‘We’re not rich financially now, because we don’t have a lot of spare money. Though I must admit, I do consider it wonderful to have the big house and the special gardens. Believe me, I know what it’s like to count every penny and I still try not to waste anything. If everyone had to cope with a period of being poor when they were young, I doubt there’d be so much debt in the so-called advanced world. Those adverts on TV about borrowing money make me furious. So irresponsible to encourage that.’

  ‘I hate them too. I shout at them when they come on sometimes.’

  After a few moments of companionable silence, Nell changed the subject. ‘Another thing: I’ll be bringing Emil Kinnaird here tomorrow morning to discuss the little museum his father is funding in the secret room. We won’t need to disturb you. From now on, your flat is your home and isn’t in any way public territory, which is why we put a proper lock on the entrance. I just thought I’d emphasise that.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Now, there’s another thing I’ll need your expert help with and we need to do it quickly: the shopfitters want to finalise the design for the café and the art gallery side of things, so I’ll need your input. Could we get together with them, maybe on Thursday afternoon, about the final details? Here are their contact details.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that. I have all sorts of ideas about how cafés should be set out, having had to work in inefficiently designed and unorganised places for most of my life.’

  ‘Don’t hesitate to change the design, then, if you know a better way. What do I know about cafés? And finally, on Friday, we’ll be holding the interviews for the rest of the residencies in the art gallery space. I know the café won’t be in place, but do you think you could supply us with tea and coffee? I’ll bring down some crockery and Angus will install a couple of garden tables and some chairs in the front room for us to use. I’ll pay you for doing the refreshments. Just something simple.’

  She snapped her fingers as an idea occurred to her. ‘Maybe you could check with Winifred about her making us a cake for Friday?’ She fumbled in her handbag. ‘I’ve been writing down phone numbers that might be useful to you. Hers is on this list. It’s nowhere near complete, I’m sure, but it’ll give you a start.’

  ‘Happy to. Thanks.’

  ‘What a blessing it is to have you here! Now, I have to dash.’

  Ginger hadn’t seen Nell when she wasn’t in a hurry to do something. Talk about busy! Angus and his wife might have inherited a huge old house, but they weren’t living a life of luxury and ease. They seemed to be very hard workers and if there was one quality Ginger respected in people, it was that. Well, maybe that and kindness were equally important.

  She went to Number 3 to retrieve the rest of her personal possessions and thank Elise for giving her shelter. Then she came back and began to organise her sewing materials. For once she’d be able to leave them lying about openly, instead of having to put them away to keep them safe. Neither her husband nor Donny had thought twice about plonking mugs of tea or coffee down on them if they were left on the table.

  But as she pottered round, she couldn’t help listening for her phone. Only it didn’t ring and Iain’s van had left. Surely she hadn’t been mistaken in his feelings about her? Surely he’d want to see her again?

  Why hadn’t he said something about next time, then?

  Whenever he heard noises outside Warren nipped into the front room to keep an eye on the comings and goings in the street, staying at the back in the shadows. He scowled to see the tart settling in at Number 1. Such a stupid accent she had, all sing-song. You couldn’t take her seriously.

  He scowled out at the pots of flowers a few times. He was surrounded by idiots.

  And when Mrs Denning went into Number 1 carrying some papers and left without them, he couldn’t help wondering what the hell was going on there.

  They hadn’t invited him up to the big house for drinks as they had Elise and Stacy, nor had either of the owners come to see him today to ask how he was.

  When he went to get his lunch, he discovered he’d nearly run out of food again, so would have to go shopping before the end of the day. He ought to be putting the tiny details of the tiger’s coat on to his carving not playing housekeeper, but he couldn’t settle to it knowing he had to go shopping soon.

  Some residency this was turning out to be! He’d expected much more free time now he didn’t have to go out and earn a living, he had indeed. But the shopping and housework ate into it and he kept forgetting to buy things. He’d have to start making lists.

  Oh, hell! He might as well get the shopping over and done with for a few days at least, then settle into his work again. He’d make sure to buy a lot of frozen stuff for when he didn’t want to stop work. You could put bread into the freezer as well, couldn’t you? Yes, of course you could. He’d buy several loaves.

  He stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and went out to his car.

  The shopping centre was as horrible as he’d remembered, with its glaring lights and echoing noises. He kept having to avoid women pushing little children in buggies or old people tottering along with their walking sticks or little children running about heedless of other people.

  It was the final straw when he realised he’d forgotten to bring shopping bags with him and would have to pay for plastic ones. He muttered a curse.

  The checkout operator stiffened and glared at him. ‘I’ll thank you not to use language like that in front of me, sir, or I’ll refuse to s
erve you.’

  ‘They don’t care what they say these days,’ the old man behind him said loudly. ‘You tell him, lass. Don’t put up with rudeness from anyone.’

  Rage boiled up in Warren, as it did sometimes, but he managed to control it. He had to shop here, because he didn’t know where else to go, so he couldn’t afford to make a scene. At least here he was beginning to know where to find things. Who’d think they’d have so many different types of each item on the shelves?

  As he unloaded the plastic bags from the trolley into his car, he admitted to himself that he was missing Michelle’s help and support on the domestic front more than he’d expected to. He wasn’t missing her company, though, or her inane chatter about what she’d done at work and who had said what.

  Just before six that evening Ginger realised she hadn’t phoned Winifred to ask about a cake for the interviews. ‘Sorry to be giving you short notice, but I’ve been so busy I’ve been spinning like a top.’

  After chatting they arranged for cupcakes instead, as being much easier for Angus and Nell to hand round.

  She’d just put the phone down when someone rang the doorbell of Number 1. She saw who it was through the fluted glass panels in the door and her heart started to beat more quickly.

  Iain stood there, hands held up with palms outwards as if to protect himself. ‘I’m sorry, really sorry, love. I meant to phone you, but there was trouble at the garden centre, some youths trying to nick plants, and in the scuffle my phone fell out of my pocket and got trodden on. I was going to call you on the landline at the centre once things had settled down, but we were so busy I didn’t have a minute to myself because my daughter had to pick up my grandson from school and I couldn’t leave the till unattended.’

  He waited, head on one side, eyes crinkled with laughter. ‘Am I forgiven?’

  ‘Of course you are. Come in, you fool! You look as if you’re expecting me to slam the door in your face.’