Chapter 39
Jake approached the garden bench. ‘May I sit?’
‘You can do what you like,’ Marcus replied without looking up.
‘Would you rather be alone?’
Marcus slowly turned his head to look up at Jake. ‘I am alone.’ He looked across at the memorial stone in the centre of the garden.
Jake hovered, unsure what that response was meant to mean.
He sat. Jake didn’t know whether Marcus wanted silence while he sat there, but Jake desperately wanted to say something. He turned to look at Marcus’s profile. ‘Back in the house, in the cellar, I wanted tell you something,’ Jake began.
‘Don’t talk, Jake – please.’
Jake had known it was a bad idea. He got up to leave.
Marcus reached for his arm. ‘Don’t go.’
Surprised, Jake sat again.
Marcus turned to him. ‘Will you do something for me?’
Jake looked over at the stone, feeling absurdly guilty all of a sudden. ‘Sure, anything you want – just name it.’
‘Will you look at the contents of the envelopes?’
‘But …’ Jake stopped short. Marcus was probably right – this wasn’t the time or place to talk about what had happened on that mountain.
He was surprised by Marcus’s question though. ‘Why are you so bothered about those?’ He imagined it was because his father’s name was on one of the envelopes.
‘For starters, I know you,’ said Marcus. ‘You’ll just feel as guilty as hell if you don’t at least look at them for a dying woman. Oh, and I think you’ll find them quite interesting.’
Jake raised an eyebrow. Marcus had piqued his interest. ‘All right. The envelopes are in my coat pocket. I left them in the car.’
Marcus nodded. After a time, Jake left Marcus alone in the garden and made his way back to the car. He sat motionless in the car, staring at the house for a while before gathering up his coat from the back seat and taking out the crumpled envelopes from his pocket. He looked at them. He did not feel in the mood to get involved in other people’s issues. He had enough of his own. But for some reason, Marcus thought it was important for him to see them.
Jake opened an envelope, fishing inside with his fingertips for the letter. Strangely, he couldn’t feel a sheet of paper inside. He turned the envelope over. A single photograph fell into his lap. He picked it up. A child, a boy of not more than five years old, stared back at him with a remarkable likeness to himself. He was holding a ball in a playful pose, suggesting he was about to throw it at the photographer as soon as the picture was taken. With the other hand, he was brushing a mop of blond hair out of his blue eyes.
It must have been this that had got Marcus’s attention; it was unmistakably Jake in the photo. Jake wondered how this picture had come to be in the hands of a complete stranger. He examined the photo carefully, trying to ascertain whether he was looking at a childhood photo of himself or not. He didn’t recall the photo being taken, or indeed ever having seen it.
He turned the photo over. ‘ Ralph ,’ he said, reading the single word scribbled in the upper left-hand corner. ‘Then this can’t be me in the photo.’
He recalled that during his visit to see Arnold and Martha, Arnold had mentioned that Martha had said the name Ralph . Jake had suggested that perhaps it was someone from her past, maybe a previous husband, even though Arnold was adamant that this wasn’t the case.
A tap on the car window startled Jake. The red-headed young gardener was peering in at the window. Jake hastily put the photo back in the envelope. When he looked back, the lad had stepped from the car and was standing a few feet away, the rake he had been carrying now lying on the shingle drive.
Jake reached for the car door handle. He got out of the car. ‘Marty, isn’t it?’ Jake extended his hand and discovered that the lad, on closer inspection, was a little older than he’d first thought; perhaps twenty.
‘Mr Campbell-Ross.’ Marty leaned forward to take his hand. He had a mobile phone in the other hand. ‘Gayle texted me, said you might be popping round.’
Jake nodded, not surprised. Gayle probably knew he nipped in the house for a drink and a break, and didn’t want him getting into trouble if Jake caught him. She didn’t realise that Marty wouldn’t be in trouble – far from it.
‘I’m sorry for growling at you this morning.’ Jake glanced in the direction of the hidden garden.
‘You gave me quite a start, I can tell you.’ He laughed light-heartedly, which made Jake relax. Both their moods seemed to have improved since they’d first met.
‘Yes, I suppose it was a shock to find some stranger wandering around the garden.’
‘Oh, I recognised you straight off,’ said Marty.
Jake thought back to the red-headed lad he’d occasionally seen with his father, helping him on his gardening round.
‘I’m glad I caught you before you left,’ said Marty, ‘the reason I wanted to speak to you—’
Jake held up his hand. ‘I’ve spoken to Gayle.’
Marty looked at him quizzically, ‘Gayle?’
‘From Lark Lodge,’ Jake added unnecessarily.
‘Yes, I know where she’s from.’ Marty held up his phone. Jake wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Marty added, Duh! He didn’t, but he did add, ‘What’s this about?’
Was it his imagination, or had Marty’s tone changed? ‘She mentioned,’ Jake tried to sound casual so that it didn’t appear that they had been talking about him behind his back, ‘that I had neglected to thank your father for all his hard work over the years, so I want to wish him a very happy retirement.’
‘Okay,’ Marty said slowly. ‘Do you want me to pass that on to my dad?’
Jake smiled. ‘Yes, of course.’ He had one other request. ‘Can you tell me, was your father paid a bonus?’
‘A bonus? I don’t think he got anything when he retired.’
Jake’s face dropped. The Rosses were known for their generosity. Marty’s father should have received some recognition, hopefully in the form of a generous bonus, when he’d retired. William always saw to those sorts of things personally. Jake had an idea that Mr Henshaw’s retirement had probably been around the same time as the family tragedy. Now he understood why William had neglected to give Marty’s father a nice send-off, and instead he had received nothing.
Jake was going to rectify the situation. ‘I want to give your dad that bonus. It’s overdue.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, absolutely. Call it a retirement present. And for you too, a nice little bonus for all the hard work. I’m not sure how much you’re being paid, but I wanted to check you’re being reimbursed fully for all the work you’ve been doing since you took over from your dad.’ He paused. ‘And from now on, of course.’
Marty regarded Jake thoughtfully. ‘I already get paid.’
Jake was aware of that.
‘Do you think I’d do all this work for nothing?’
‘Well, no, of course not.’ Jake said slowly, although despite what Gayle had said, it had crossed his mind. Perhaps Marty had been just too polite, or embarrassed, to raise the topic when he’d agreed to take over from his father – maybe Marty had continued the business, but someone had neglected to put him on the payroll.
Jake was still confused. ‘I don’t understand.’ And he didn’t have time for riddles. ‘Do you get paid – or not?’
‘I do, just not by you.’
Jake stared at him. ‘Well, of course you don’t get paid by me personally.’ The Ross Corporation always took care of things.
Marty shook his head. ‘That’s not what I meant. The company hasn’t been paying me either. You see, when my father first retired, the job was being transferred into my name. He had informed the company, written to the corporation, explaining I would be taking over. He would have written to Mr William Ross here at The Lake House. This was the only address he knew, but he couldn’t imagine someone would be back here any time soon …’ Marty trailed off. ‘Sorry.’
Jake breathed a sigh. ‘Don’t be. I think it’s me who should be apologising.’ The Ross Corporation was gargantuan; Jake could just imagine that letter bouncing around the company, from one department to another, nobody taking any responsibility for the payment to a gardener working on the Rosses’ holiday home far away in Scotland.
Jake got out his cheque book to write two cheques. He always carried a cheque book around with him. Marcus used to find it peculiar, and rather funny. But today was one of those days when it was useful.
Marty said, ‘What are you doing?’
Jake was busy writing out that generous bonus to Marty’s father. It was a nice round number. He wouldn’t need to fill in the cheque stub to remember.
Jake ripped out the cheque with a flurry. One down, one to go. ‘Now, how many months to do I owe you since they stopped paying your father?’
‘You don’t owe me a thing. I told you that I’ve been paid.’
Jake scratched his head. ‘Am I missing something?’ This conversation felt as though it was going around is circles. ‘Look, if I’m not paying you, and the Ross Corporation isn’t, then please tell me how it is that you’ve been paid for your work?’
‘Someone else has been paying me instead.’
Jake looked up in surprise. ‘Who?’
Marty said, ‘I doubt you’d know her.’
Jake looked over Marty’s shoulder to the house beyond. ‘Robyn,’ he said having a good idea not just the whom , but the why . ‘Robyn pays you.’
‘Yeah, she does now. You know Robyn?’
‘Nope.’ Jake looked back at Marty.
‘Gayle,’ they both said in unison.
‘But how do you know she’s the one who pays me to do this?’
‘Let’s just say it was a lucky guess.’ Jake thought of the doll’s house and the room they had stayed in at Lark Lodge. Marcus was right: she had stolen the ideas, she had plagiarised them, but by paying for the upkeep of the gardens, when she’d found out that Marty wasn’t being paid after all, she’d had the decency to give something back in return. Jake was sure that if he got the opportunity to meet Robyn, he would like her.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me why she does it?’ said Marty.
‘No.’
‘That’s just as well,’ said Marty, ‘because I wouldn’t know.’
Jake looked at the second blank cheque and thought of the money that William was still paying into his bank account. He didn’t want money from the Ross Corporation, but he knew William would not take the money back. He eyed Marty, wondering when he’d ever afford a place of his own. ‘Are you still living with your parents?’
Marty shook his head, surprising Jake.
‘You’ve got your own place?’
‘Oh, no.’ His eyes momentarily shifted to The Lake House. He looked at Jake sheepishly. ‘My parents retired to Edinburgh. I was going to rent with a friend, but they let me down. Luckily I’ve got a room at Lark Lodge.’
‘I see.’ Jake hadn’t seen him there, but then he’d only been there one night, and he had skipped breakfast. ‘Here. This is for your father. It’s the bonus he should have had.’
Marty took the cheque. He looked up the moment he saw what that bonus was. He attempted to hand it back. ‘I think you’ve made a mistake. There are too many noughts on this.’
Jake waved that comment away. He signed another cheque. ‘Now, this is yours.’
‘I said that I’m being paid.’
‘Not by me, so consider this back pay, and a bonus too, all your Christmas bonuses for the next … oh, I don’t know … few decades.’
Marty stared at Jake, speechless.
For a moment, Jake thought he might not take the cheque. ‘I insist.’
Marty looked at the cheque in Jake’s hands. ‘The thing is, I wanted to get in touch with someone and explain that I have struggled to keep on top of the gardening job here. My father hired other gardeners to work in the grounds …’
Jake nodded. ‘You could hire some more gardeners to help. Of course I will pay for them. What about the gardeners who worked in your father’s business before he retired and passed the business on you?’
Marty shook his head. ‘They retired too. I’m doing a horticultural course. There might be some students interested in a part-time job.’
‘That’s a good idea. They could get some experience while they are doing their course.’ Jake held out the cheque. ‘I think considering you have been managing all this on your own …’
‘Trying to …’ Marty corrected.
‘Well even so, you’ve done an amazing job. This is well deserved.’
When Marty took the cheque, he said, ‘You’ve only signed it. You’ve forgotten to fill it in.’
‘I haven’t.’ He glanced around the garden while Marty attempted to hand back the blank cheque. ‘I bet you’d like one of your own – a garden.’
‘Yeah. I was hoping to move in with my mate in his two-bed rental. It had a little garden. But then his girlfriend said she didn’t want me there.’
Jake nodded. ‘That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about your own garden. Your own house.’
‘Are you talking about me buying a house?’ Marty laughed. ‘Yeah – like that’s going to happen. Have you seen the cost of houses around here?’ His eyes flickered to Jake’s handsome house. ‘There’s a two-bedroomed house on that new development outside of town,’ added Marty. ‘They’re nice houses. Really nice. I do some gardening work for people who’ve moved into their new homes.’
‘Why don’t you buy one, then?’
Marty shook his head, his eyes roving to Jake’s grand old house, which had so many bedrooms that Marty had lost count. ‘Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think you get it.’
‘I do get it, Marty. That’s what the signed blank cheque is for. Go buy one tomorrow.’
Marty stared at him intently. ‘Are you saying I can buy one of those houses?’
‘Yes. One with a nice garden.’
‘Are you insane?’
Jake wasn’t surprised by his reaction.
‘Oh, this is some kind of joke, isn’t it?’ said Marty.
‘No, and no.’
Marty shook his head. ‘I … I can’t just go handing them a cheque for that money.’
‘Why not?’ Jake opened his wallet, and gave Marty one of his old business cards. God knew why he still kept them. ‘If the sales people have got a problem, they just phone me. I’ll wire them the money, if they want.’
‘I … I can’t accept this.’
‘You can. Another opportunity like this won’t come along.’
Marty stared at the blank cheque with tears in his eyes. ‘Why would you do this for me?’
Jake looked around the stunning gardens of The Lake House. ‘Because I know you love what you do, and you’re good at it, and you bring so much pleasure for people through your gardening and landscaping. The thing is, it’s undervalued, like a lot of jobs. You’ll end up, down the line, doing something you despise to earn enough money to find a place to live.’
Marty stared at him.
Jake continued, ‘I’m doing something I love – teaching. But it would never afford me a house if it wasn’t for the money from the Ross Corporation.’ Marty would never be like Derrick, studying law, aiming for the boardroom, but his skills were no less important. Why shouldn’t Marty have a little bit of what he had given Derrick?
‘If it makes you happy, tell me how much a house would cost, and I’ll write the cheque out.’
‘I … I don’t know. The sales person offered me a brochure when I came to mow the lawn of the show home, but I didn’t see the point. I think it’s because I said how amazing the show home is. The show home has got a lovely garden, the best on the development. That’s not exactly a surprise, though, seeing as it is on the biggest plot.’
‘The show home,’ mused Jake. ‘Are you in any rush to move?’
‘I do want my own place, but I love it at Lark Lodge. Gayle, her mum, Nick, and Robyn and David who used to live there, they’re all like family. And of course, there’s Olive.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Jake smiled. ‘I’m sure they’ll all remain like family when you move out.’ ‘Now, this show home. Presumably you can buy it?’
‘Oh, yeah. You can’t move into it until the estate is completely finished. Won’t be long now. It’s next door to the loveliest couple – Rose and George.’
Jake grinned. He got out his mobile phone.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Phoning the sales office on the development. Have you got their number?’
Marty got out his phone and reeled off their number.
Jake made the call. Five minutes later, after checking Marty’s full name, and agreeing an appointment for him to go in with his identity, and proof of funds, the show home, which hadn’t even hit the market, was officially off the market – for good.