Chapter 3
Mr Langford surveyed the large garden. He looked to be in his late sixties and carried himself with a weariness that seemed born from more than just a bad night’s sleep.
His moustache twitched as he surveyed the garden, and he turned his tall frame in a circle as though trying to figure out what exactly Jamie was supposed to do.
“My wife was always the green-fingered one,” he said fondly. “It was the garden that made her fall in love with the place. The house was fine – but it was the garden she loved. Loves,” he corrected himself. “She still loves it. Just can’t manage the gardening anymore.”
“Is she ill?” Jamie asked.
“She had a fall a couple of years ago. Broke her hip. By the time that healed she was having problems with the other hip. She just had it replaced six weeks ago. It’s been a struggle these last couple of years, but I’m hopeful things will improve now.
” He didn’t seem convinced. “It’s hard to watch someone you love in pain. ”
“Yeah.” His mind flicked briefly to his mum’s battle with cancer, and he pushed the thoughts away.
“Anyway.” Mr Langford – Edward, as he’d told Jamie to call him – clapped his hands together. “I’m supposed to be showing you what to do. Did Moira give you any instructions? She usually just gets on with it, but she hasn’t been here through the winter.”
“She said it would be a general tidy-up. Clearing leaves and trimming borders. She mentioned the patio might need power washing.”
“Yes.” He lifted a finger in the air. “That all sounds right. The greenhouse could do with a clean too. Oh, and I’d like that bush cut back.” He pointed to the mess of shoots and vines tangled over a garden arch in the corner.
“The one above the bench?”
“Yes. Cut it back completely and let the light back into that corner.”
“You want the whole thing gone?”
“Don’t take the roots or anything. It’ll grow back healthier and more manageable, but it needs drastic measures.”
“Okay.” Jamie followed him to the shed, where Edward told him to help himself to any tools.
“Good morning!” a cheery voice called as a young woman appeared around the side of the house.
“Amira! Hello.” Mr Langford took a couple of steps towards her.
“I tried ringing the bell,” she said, shifting a tote bag on her shoulder. “Is Marguerite up?”
“Yes.” Edward frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise we had a physio appointment today. I must have forgotten.”
“Ten o’clock,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. “I’m sure that’s what we said.” Her eyes were on her phone for a moment, then she slapped a hand across her forehead. “Tomorrow! I’m sorry, I got the day wrong. What am I like?”
“Don’t worry,” Mr Langford said. “I’m glad it’s not me losing track of things for once.”
“I’d suggest doing a session with her since I’m here, but I actually have another appointment in half an hour.”
“That’s okay. Best not to spring a session on her anyway.”
“Sorry to have disturbed you.” Her smile was professional as her hand went to her bag.
“I brought some of those spiced date slices that Marguerite loves. Baked them last night. Maybe I’ll pop inside and give them to her.
” She moved towards the door with the confidence of someone who felt utterly at home. “Is Heather here?”
“Not yet. I think she’ll be over later.”
“Maybe I’ll make a cuppa for me and Marguerite. I can sit with her for a little while before I need to go.”
Mr Langford nodded. “Help yourself. I’ll be in shortly.
” He waited until she was out of sight before addressing Jamie.
“The physiotherapist. Lovely young woman. Marguerite tends to get frustrated in the sessions, but Amira’s always wonderfully patient with her.
I think she’s rather fond of us – she often brings us homemade treats. ”
“That’s nice.”
“Yes.” He patted his belly. “Not so great for the waistline, but never mind.” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to it. Give me a shout if you need anything.”
By lunchtime, Jamie was feeling happy with his progress.
He’d cleared the lawn and borders of sticks and winter debris and the patio looked great after he’d set Moira’s power washer on it.
He nipped home for a sandwich early in the afternoon, then returned and got to work washing the glass panels of the greenhouse.
With a slightly eerie feeling of being watched he glanced around a few times. The third time he looked over at the house he spotted an elderly woman standing at an upstairs window staring down at him. When he raised a hand in greeting she moved away.
His arms were aching from scrubbing the moss and dirt from the edges of the glass panes when a voice made him pause.
“Do you want a coffee?” a young woman called from the patio.
“That would be great,” he said. “Thanks.”
Five minutes later, she reappeared and he walked the length of the garden to join her on the patio.
“I’m Heather,” she said, smiling warmly as she handed over a steaming mug. “This is my parents’ place.”
“Do you live here too?” She was probably only a couple of years younger than him – late twenties, he’d guess – so a little old to be living with her parents, but Monday afternoon was an odd time for a family visit.
“No.” Her fringe of fiery ginger hair hung so low that it rested on her eyelashes. “I have a flat over in Dunbar.”
“I was there the other day!” It had been one of the places on Violet’s list. “I heard there’s a seal who swims around the harbour, but I didn’t spot him.”
“Sammy,” she said with a small smile. “Go back again sometime and you’ll probably see him. Or a seal. It’s not necessarily the same one. We tend to call them all Sammy.”
“I’ll definitely go again sometime.” He glanced inside. “I hear your mum is recovering from an operation.”
“Yeah. She’s improving but it’s been slow going.
That’s why I’m here so much at the moment.
Dad’s nervous of leaving her alone, so I help out where I can to make sure he gets a break.
Plus, Dad’s a hopeless cook, so I like to make sure they’re getting at least a few decent meals a week.
I bring my laptop and work from here if I don’t need to be in the office. ”
“What do you do?”
“Digital marketing. I work for a small company who handle websites and social media for small businesses. The office is in Dunbar but I can work remotely most of the time.”
“Nice to have that flexibility,” Jamie said, thinking back to his previous job which had required him to be in the office from nine until five, Monday to Friday. Quickly, he snapped his mind away from that depressing thought. “It’s really good of you to help your parents out so much.”
Her cheeks brightened noticeably against her pale skin. “It’s nothing.” Her gaze travelled up the garden. “It’s looking good out here.”
“It’s amazing what a bit of tidying-up can do.”
“Dad said you’re house-sitting and looking after Moira’s business for her . . .”
“Yes.”
“Lucky you. Moira’s house is in such a lovely spot.”
“It’s incredible. I can’t quite get over the view.”
Heather smiled widely, then glanced inside. “I better get on with some work.”
“Thanks for the drink,” he said as she moved towards the door. He took a step after her. “Would it be all right if I nipped in and used the loo?”
“Yeah, sure.” She led the way through the kitchen, then pointed down the short hallway. “It’s just by the front door.”
“Thanks.” Family portraits adorned the walls in the hall and larger photos were hung in the spacious entranceway.
He glanced up the wide staircase to the large landing on the upper floor.
He’d grown up in a cramped council house, and lived in modest flats as an adult, so the grandeur of the house unnerved him slightly.
Ignoring the feeling of being out of place he continued to the toilet. When he stepped out again, his gaze went straight up to the top of the stairs.
The elderly woman from the window clutched at the banister rail which created a barrier between the upstairs landing and the drop down to the hallway below. Leaning heavily on the rail she moved slowly to the top of the stairs.
A trickle of fear ran down Jamie’s spine and he glanced towards the kitchen before looking back up at the woman taking the first step down the stairs.
“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, terrified she might tumble all the way down, given how unsteady she looked.
“I’ve a bad hip,” she said, easing herself to the next step. “I can manage, I’m just slow.” Her lips stretched to a smile. “And not as graceful as I’d like.”
Jamie took the stairs two at a time to reach her. “Let me help,” he said, offering his arm, and bracing himself to catch her if she slipped.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.
“I’m Jamie,” he told her. “I’ve been doing some work in the garden. Taking over from Moira while she’s away.”
“I saw you through the window. It’s looking much better out there.” She put more weight on Jamie’s arm as she slowly descended the stairs. “I’m Marguerite.” The glamorous name suited her sleek black hair and heavily made-up face.
“She’s single, you know?” she said.
Jamie’s eyebrows shot together. “Excuse me?”
“Heather. I saw you two through the window. Looked as though you were hitting it off.” Her eyes twinkled as she paused and looked up at Jamie. “In case she didn’t mention it herself, she is single.”
“Right.” Jamie swallowed hard. “Okay.”
Marguerite chuckled as she took the last step. “I think I’ve made you blush. I’d apologise, but I’m afraid I’ve got to the age where I just don’t care. I’m happy to be a menace at this stage in my life!”
“We were just talking,” Jamie said feebly.