Deadhead and Buried

by H. Y. Hanna

  “Most of the capital in the estate is tied up in the cottage and gardens,” Charles Mannering explained. “And I am afraid that it might be a tricky property to sell. You see, there have been extensive changes made to the house and grounds over the years, to support a working garden nursery, and so any family looking to move in would have to do some major renovation in order to turn the layout back into a more traditional residence.” Mannering adjusted his spectacles and made a tutting sound. “In addition, the cottage itself is actually quite small, with fixtures that have not been upgraded in decades. The bathtub, I believe, could be a relic from Victorian times!”

  “What about trying to sell it as a garden business?” Poppy asked hesitantly.

  “Hmm… hmm… well, we could certainly try,” said Mannering in a tone which suggested that it would be an even greater challenge. “However, you must be aware that a very large garden centre has just opened nearby and—as is usual with these large chains—it has the advantage of lower prices.” He looked apologetic. “I must say, I have been guilty of going there myself, just because it is easier, and they have a larger range. This has been happening up and down the country, and it is difficult for small, independent nurseries to compete.”

  Poppy sighed. “Well, I’ll leave it with you and keep my fingers crossed.” She started to rise, then paused as she spotted the bunch of keys on the table in front of her.

  “Those are the keys to the cottage,” said Mannering. “Perhaps you would like to go and look at the property? It is in a village in south Oxfordshire.”

  Poppy hesitated. She knew it was silly, but despite what Nell had said, she still felt a niggling sense of disloyalty to her mother, and going to visit her grandmother’s cottage in person seemed somehow to be an even bigger betrayal. Besides, if she was going to sell it anyway, what was the point?

  “Um… no, I don’t think so… I’ve… er… got to get back to London,” she said.

  “Well, they’ll be here in the office, should you change your mind, Miss Lancaster,” said the lawyer, rising as well and coming around his enormous mahogany desk to shake her hand with old-fashioned formality. “And I shall keep you informed of developments.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Poppy stepped out of the train station and felt a sense of déjà vu as she hurried across the road and joined the queue outside the espresso bar. Was it only one week ago that she had been standing here, waiting to buy Amanda’s morning coffee, unaware that a letter was going to arrive that day and change her life completely?

  Not that much has changed as yet, Poppy reflected wryly. Nell might have had visions of her being swept off—Little Orphan Annie-style—to a glamorous makeover and a new life in a luxurious mansion, but the reality was a bit more mundane than that. In fact, very little had happened since her meeting with Charles Mannering and life seemed to have quickly returned to its dreary old routines.

  She glanced idly around as she shuffled down the line; she couldn’t see the charity volunteer today—instead a flower seller had taken up residence on the street corner, with a makeshift stall and bundles of colourful flowers spilling out of plastic buckets arranged in a row. Poppy watched enviously as a woman stopped to select a generous bunch of colourful blooms. She sighed. How she would have loved to buy a bouquet herself. Other women might love jewellery or designer shoes, but for Poppy, it was fresh-cut flowers. Beautiful, romantic, perfumed—and horribly expensive—they’d always seemed like the ultimate extravagance. They were certainly a luxury that she could never afford. Even for her birthdays, she could never justify spending her hard-earned cash on something that would fade in just a few days.

  A vision of a cottage garden bursting with flowers flashed in her mind and Nell’s voice came back to her: “…you’ll be able to have a beautiful cutting garden to make your own flower bouquets, and live in a quaint little cottage with gorgeous climbing roses…”

  “Next!” called an impatient voice.

  Poppy snapped out of her thoughts and hurried up to the counter. Once she got the coffee, she raced to get to Amanda’s desk before it got cold—but to her chagrin, she discovered that her boss was not in the office that morning. How nice of her to bother to tell me, she thought irritably. Still, it meant that she was able to get on with her work in peace and she finished in time to leave early for her lunch break.

  On her way out, she paused to examine some of the plants around the office and was delighted to see that they seemed to be recovering. A few had even started growing new leaves! Her good mood made her slightly complacent and she lingered too long over her sandwich as she sat on a bench in the sun. When she rushed back, however, she found to her surprise that Amanda’s desk was still empty.

  “Don’t worry—Her Majesty won’t be back for a while yet,” said Chloe with a smirk.

  “I didn’t realise her meetings today would be so long,” Poppy said.

  Chloe made a rude sound. “Meetings? Huh! Amanda’s not gone to see any clients—she’s gone to a day spa.”

  “What?”

  Chloe nodded. “I made the appointments for her myself. Getting some kind of micro-whatsit for her face. Y’know, when they pour on acid to burn the dead skin away… or something like that. It was some package that the spa was offering—together with a body polish and massage and this special treatment for cellulite.” She looked ruefully down at her own thighs. “Wish I could afford to do that—I’ve got cellulite something chronic! Must be nice to just lie there and have someone massage it all away, while you’re relaxing and listening to music…”

  “But… I thought Amanda said… I’m sure she told me that she would be busy going to client meetings all day,” said Poppy, frowning.

  Chloe gave a cynical laugh. “Well, of course she’d say that. Not going to admit that she’s lounging around, enjoying massages and facials, while we’re here working our arses off, is she? But I told you—I made the bookings: she’s at the day spa today and she’s going back tomorrow morning.”

  Poppy felt a surge of disgust for the woman’s hypocrisy, but before she could say anything, Amanda herself sashayed into the office, her clothing slightly rumpled and her complexion suspiciously glowing. She saw the girls watching her and her eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t pay you to sit around and chitchat, you know,” she snapped. “I’ve had an exhausting day, running around seeing clients, and I’d have hoped that my staff would have the decency to at least look like they’re working when I return.” She stalked past them and went over to her desk.

  “Bloody hell, wouldn’t I love to throw that back in her face,” muttered Chloe under her breath. “But it’s more than my job’s worth, unfortunately.”

  Poppy had a few letters that she needed her boss to sign and she knew she couldn’t delay. Sighing, she picked up the sheaf of typed pages and walked across the office to Amanda’s desk. She found the woman sitting back in her big leather chair, with her eyes closed and an expression of weary resignation on her face, for all the world as if she really had just had an exhausting day liaising with clients. Poppy felt another surge of disgust, but she kept her expression carefully neutral as she waited for Amanda to sign the letters. As she was turning to leave, however, her boss said:

  “Oh, by the way, Poppy, I’ll need you to come in early tomorrow morning. There’s a conference call planned with the Portugal office and I’m out at a meeting all morning. So I’ll need you to take the call for me—they’ll want the updated figures from the charity account and you know where the spreadsheets are—”

  “Tomorrow morning? But I’ve asked for leave,” said Poppy.

  Amanda frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I asked you a few weeks ago—remember? I asked to have the morning off and you agreed.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “You did,” Poppy insisted. “I even had to speak to Accounts about it because you said I had to take it as unpaid leave and get Stan to calculate the deduction from my wages.” />
  Amanda scowled. “Well, you’ll just have to change your plans—”

  “I can’t. I have to go to—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m sure you can rearrange whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “No, I have to go tomorrow. It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death and I want to visit her grave—”

  “She’s dead already! What does one more day matter?”

  Poppy was so taken aback by the woman’s insensitivity and rudeness that she was speechless for a moment.

  “No, you don’t understand—it’s the first anniversary of her death and I made a promise to go and lay fresh flowers on her grave. It’s really important to me. That’s why I especially asked for leave—”

  “Oh, cry me a river… you’re not the first person to lose their mother, you know,” said Amanda with an exaggerated sigh. “Really, Poppy, if you hope to get anywhere in your career, you’ll have to start acting with professionalism. That means not letting your selfish desires or petty personal issues stand in the way of your work ethic. We all have to make sacrifices, you know.”

  Poppy stared at her, too shocked and furious to even reply. How dare the woman talk about sacrifices and professionalism when she was bunking off herself to go to a day spa during work hours! The hypocrisy was unbelievable! Taking several deep breaths, Poppy turned on her heel and began to walk away. But with every step she took, she felt herself seething more and more, until it felt as if her head would explode.

  Suddenly she swung around and faced her boss again. “Actually, Amanda, since you mentioned it… I have been following your lead.”

  Amanda glanced up carelessly. “What?”

  “Well, you set such a brilliant example of how to behave with professionalism—I’m sure you won’t be sacrificing your work ethic when you’re at the day spa tomorrow morning.”

  Amanda flushed bright red.

  Poppy gave her a breezy smile. “But unfortunately, you will have to find some other mug to cover your arse—oops, I mean, take your place in the conference call—because I won’t be here.”

  “What do you mean?” snarled Amanda. “I just told you, I’m not approving your leave—”

  “That’s all right. You won’t need to. I won’t be here because I’m handing in my notice. You’ll have my resignation letter within the hour.”

  Her head held high, Poppy turned and strode away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  An hour later, Poppy walked trembling out of the office building and onto the street, her thoughts spinning. Oh my God, she thought. I can’t believe what I’ve done! She had stood up to Amanda at last! For a moment, she felt a rush of exhilaration and a deep sense of satisfaction at finally putting the horrible woman in her place. Then she came back down to earth with a thump: she had also walked out of a job and was now unemployed with no references and no qualifications, in a time of recession, when jobs were hard to come by…

  Poppy felt her heart give a sickening lurch as reality began to sink in. Then she took a deep breath and hitched her handbag higher up her shoulder. There was no point standing in the street, worrying about it. She would go home first, have some lunch, and then consider her next steps.

  It was strange taking the train home: the carriages that were normally so packed during rush hour were now empty, save for the occasional pensioner or mother and toddler out on a day trip. Poppy stared out of the window and tried not to worry about the future, although now that her temper had cooled and the enormity of what she’d done was hitting her, she was really beginning to panic. Self-righteous vindication might feel great, but it didn’t put food on the table.

  She sighed, fiddling nervously with the buttons on her jacket, then paused as her fingers brushed something soft and feathery. She looked down. It was the pin that the charity volunteer had given her last week—the sprig of heather flowers, made of papier-mâché. She had completely forgotten that it was still pinned on her jacket. She stared at the delicate lavender-coloured blooms as the woman’s words came back to her: “…heather symbolises transformative change—from the mundane to the extraordinary…”

  Poppy pulled a face. Well, her life was certainly going through transformative change, all right, although right now it looked more like it was going from the mundane to the disastrous!

  She was grateful when the train finally arrived at her stop and put an end to her brooding thoughts. She hurried the short distance back to the shabby old townhouse and let herself in, then hesitated outside the door to her own rooms, before turning and walking down the hallway to Nell’s part of the house.

  “Poppy!” Nell said in surprise when she saw her. “What are you doing home? Is something wrong? Are you ill?”

  “No, no, nothing—I’m fine,” Poppy assured her. She hesitated, then blurted, “Nell, I walked out!”

  The older woman stared at her. “You what?”

  “I told Amanda where to stuff it! Well, not in so many words, but she got my drift. I just couldn’t take it anymore. She’s an absolute selfish cow—and the most disgusting hypocrite too! She refused to let me have leave tomorrow morning to visit Mum’s grave, even though I—” Poppy broke off as she realised that Nell didn’t seem to be listening. “Is something wrong?”

  Nell sighed, picked up a piece of paper from her coffee table, and handed it to Poppy. “This came today. It’s from the owner of this townhouse… my landlord. He’s claiming that I’ve broken the terms of the tenancy by subletting rooms—”

  “But that’s rubbish!” cried Poppy. “I can remember clearly having a meeting with him before Mum and I moved in. He was fine about it, as long as he got a cut of our rent.”

  “That’s what he said on the day. Now he’s denying that he ever agreed to it.”

  “But he can’t! It must be down in writing somewhere—”

  “Actually…” Nell looked slightly shamefaced. “It’s not. He kept promising to bring me the amended contract but he never did and I guess I got busy and forgot about it. You know how it is—you just get on with life. You and your mum were living here anyway with no problems, and I suppose I just let things slide…”

  Poppy looked down at the letter again, then said to Nell, “I’ve got to move out. Otherwise, he might evict you and then you’ll have nowhere to live and it’ll be my fault.”

  “But where will you go?” asked Nell worriedly. “You’ll have to find somewhere cheap and that’s going to be really difficult in this area. So many people have moved here now, because of the easy commute into London—they’ve pushed the rental prices up. And now that you’re unemployed—”

  “I have my grandmother’s cottage,” said Poppy suddenly.

  Nell gaped at her. “But… but you’re selling that—”

  “Yes, but until it’s sold, it’s still mine, isn’t it? I mean, I know there’s a condition attached to living there but I’m sure even my grandmother wouldn’t quibble if I just stayed there temporarily. It’s only for a few weeks, until I find another place to live. It’ll give me the breathing space I need and help save money too, since I won’t have to worry about paying rent while I’m living there.”

  Nell still looked doubtful but Poppy smiled, feeling a sense of certainty for the first time since walking out of her job that morning. She reached out and gave Nell’s hand a squeeze.

  “I’ll visit Mum’s grave tomorrow morning, then go up to Oxfordshire to check out this cottage.”

  ***

  As Poppy boarded the train for Oxford the next morning, she was filled with a carefree abandonment that she hadn’t felt in a long time—like that delicious sense of freedom on the first day of a long summer holiday. Charles Mannering was away when she arrived at his office, but luckily his secretary remembered her and showed no surprise or curiosity when Poppy asked for the keys to the cottage. Perhaps the woman was used to clients making odd requests. At any rate, she got up from her desk without demur and want to rummage through a cabinet of drawers. She seemed to be a long time a
nd straightened at last with a puzzled look on her face.

  “Strange…” she muttered.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Poppy.

  “The keys don’t seem to be here,” said the secretary, frowning.

  “Perhaps Mr Mannering has taken them?”

  “No, no, he’s up in London today… and in any case, he wouldn’t need to. He has a second set in his office safe. Excuse me… I’ll just go and fetch those for you.”

  She returned from the inner office a few minutes later with a set of keys clutched in her hands. “Here they are. I must let Mr Mannering know that the main set is missing. I wonder who might have taken them?”

  “Is the drawer that they’re kept in locked?” asked Poppy.

  “No… but I’m usually here and the cabinet is behind my desk, so I would know if anyone was trying to get something.”

  “Perhaps someone came during your lunch break?” suggested Poppy, thinking back to her London office. The receptionist’s desk there was often unattended for short periods during lunch. “Does Mr Mannering have a junior partner who might have taken the keys?”

  “No, there is no other lawyer here; Mr Mannering works alone. No one else would have access except me… oh, and I suppose the cleaner who comes after office hours. I normally have my lunch here at the desk, so it’s never unattended for long periods but I suppose someone could have come in when I popped briefly to the loo. Still, why would a stranger take the keys to the cottage?” She shook her head, then gave Poppy a smooth, professional smile. “It’s certainly a bit of a mystery but no need for you to worry about it. This second set should work fine. If you could just sign for it here…”