Wild About You

Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Jamie’s absence stretched from a couple of days, to a week, to two, whilst Stonemore basked in summer. White clouds like torn cotton wool drifted across vivid blue skies, and the chill breezes combined with fierce sunlight. The beaver family had been carefully introduced to the Claybeck stream, and enthusiastically began their work on the surrounding trees.

It was a bright morning in the staff office, several weeks later, when Hugo gave a sharp little bark of a type I hadn’t heard before.

‘Shut up!’ Tally squeaked, when there was the sound of feet on gravel, and the office door swung open.

It was Jamie.

Clean-shaven, looking almost metropolitan in jeans and a linen shirt beneath a grey jacket – not waxed this time. We glanced at each other, and I was immediately on edge.

‘Hugo knew you’d arrived,’ I said, my eyes fixed on my computer screen as Hugo danced around his master’s legs, barking hysterically, his tail wagging so hard he should, by the laws of physics, have taken off.

‘He must have heard the car.’ Fi was on her feet. ‘Hello, hello!’

‘Hi everyone.’ When I glanced back at him, I saw he had the beginning of a smile on his face as he looked at Fi. ‘Thanks for holding the fort.’

‘No problem/no worries/it’s a pleasure,’ we all chorused. I kept my face neutral, until I felt a wet nose nudging at my ankle. Hugo. Whilst Jamie had been away, he’d spent at least an hour a day asleep in my lap as I typed over his head. Now, having greeted Jamie, he was looking at me in a questioning how-about-a-cuddle way.

‘Hey you,’ I said softly to him, stroking his ears. ‘Not now. Your dad’s back.’

‘She’s going to have to disappoint you, Hugo.’ Without looking at me, Jamie scooped the small hound into his arms and carried him away, holding him close.

Life stayed calm. I deepened my experience of the estate from close observation of every copse and hillside, drawing on Callum’s encyclopaedic knowledge of the landscape and his memory of every snowfall and flood. I even spent a day in the formal garden doing a beetle count, and was delighted to find a black and orange sexton beetle, although Tally didn’t appreciate being shown a picture of it on my phone.

One afternoon I arrived back in the office after a morning striding over Stonemore’s acres with Callum, feeling unusually peaceful. I found Fi packing up to go and Tally’s desk empty apart from its usual piles of catalogues and magazines.

‘Where’s Tally?’ I said.

‘She’s doing a presentation,’ said Fi, sweeping her notebook and pens into her desk drawer with an air of finality. ‘They’re considering a re-hang of the paintings. Tally has done a presentation on her thoughts and Jamie is going to provide tea and scones. They should almost be done, actually.’

‘Employee of the month,’ I said. Apparently it was only me who he couldn’t stand to be around. I sat down and clicked Forestcam on.

‘Right, I’m off.’ Fi stood up, jingled her keys, and looked at me, apprehension in her eyes. It was transfer day; the moment when Fi and Richard’s embryos were transferred into Fi’s uterus and they began their wait to see if the embryos would implant. Rather than rest, she had opted to stay busy and had come to work before the procedure.

I got up, went to her and put my arms around her. I didn’t know what to say, even though I’d been thinking about the perfect words to support her for several days now. I had to wing it. ‘It will be fine, everything will go smoothly and brilliantly,’ I said. It always felt so difficult – how to wish someone luck without building false hope? She rested her head on my shoulder for a moment. When she looked back at me, she was crying.

‘No, no, no…’ I took her face in my hands.

‘Sorry, it’s my frigging hormones,’ she sniffed, trying to smile.

‘It’s a constant battle,’ I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

‘Richard’s cooking my favourite meal tonight.’

‘Lasagne? I’ll be over at seven. Kidding .’ She was properly smiling now. ‘Off you go. No more tears. Tears are forbidden. This is going to be a good day.’

After she’d gone, I felt dull and restless. Where was Hugo? The little hound seemed to quite enjoy being a stress toy. But he was nowhere to be seen, and Callum was out, so there wasn’t anyone to chat to.

I did a couple of emails then decided to check on Belheddonbrae. There’d been some spells of sunshine and showers, and I guessed the wildflower meadow would be showing progress. I also wanted to check whether Keith and Mica had enjoyed the cherry biscuits I’d made them the week before.

As I put my jacket on, I heard my phone chime.

SEAN Are you screening my texts?

I narrowed my eyes at the screen and tapped back.

You can’t screen texts, Sean.

I left out the eye roll emoji I was tempted to add.

SEAN I need to speak to you

ANNA Any missing CDs can be charged to my account .

SEAN It’s not that .

I put my coat on.

SEAN I miss you.

The gut punch of feeling almost floored me. It took me back, in an instant, to a London street the year before. All of life moving around me – traffic, shoppers, a lady with a pram tutting because I was in the way. Exhaust fumes and the faint sweet smell of fruit, stacked outside a corner shop. As I stood there, watching my fiancé turn away from me, unable to meet my eye, because we’d just heard the worst news together, hand in hand. But now, having left the doctor’s office, he had let go of my hand.

For months, this text message would have been what I wanted to see. I would have broken down in relief and joy at the sight of it. Now, I felt…

Numb? Happy? No . Disappointed. Really ?

I tried to breathe, as my self-help books had told me. I counted on the in-breath, counted on the out-breath. I tried to name the feeling that felt like a balled-up fist in the depths of my stomach.

Disappointment couldn’t be right. Irritation? I checked again and again in those few moments.

Yep, I was disappointed and irritated that Sean had contacted me.

SEAN Anna????

I jabbed at the settings of my phone, and blocked him. I needed time to think, free from his messages.

There was no reason to delay going to Belheddonbrae, despite the fact that I now felt a bit shaky. So I locked up the office and went out into the fresh air, relishing the glances of some curious tourists. I loved the backstage, behind the scenes feeling of emerging from the staff office.

I heard the distant baying of the beagles as they took their afternoon play time in the enclosure, poor munchkins. Kept on walking that same route Callum had shown me on my first day, which was now as familiar to me as the walk to my own cottage.

I stopped dead at the gate to Belheddonbrae.

Jamie and Lucinda were sitting on the bench. Enjoying the view of the infant wildflower meadow, talking, a slight smile on his normally grumpy face as she spoke to him. Just as when I’d received Sean’s message, I stood stock-still, an animal frozen to the spot.

What was this pain ? A delayed reaction to Sean?

They were engrossed in each other. Ugh . Carefully, I turned, and began to move away, very slowly, trying not to capture their attention.

At that moment Keith appeared, carrying some Verbena bonariensis , the tiny purple flowers shivering on their long stalks.

‘Hiya!’ he said, smiling. ‘Are you alright? You look like you’re practising deer stalking or something.’

I bit my lip. ‘Quite the opposite actually. I didn’t want to disturb them.’ I tilted my head slightly.

‘Well, they’re looking now. Do you want to come over there with me? I was going to show Jamie the verbena.’

‘No, that’s fine.’ I noted the slight puzzlement on his face. ‘As you were.’ For some reason I’d started talking like a colonel on parade. ‘Pip pip and all that.’

He looked puzzled. ‘Are you alright, duck?’

‘Hi Anna!’ Mica came through the gate, wiping her hands on a cloth. ‘You have to give me the recipe for those biscuits. They were incredible. Not that I got to eat many of them.’ She nudged Keith.

‘So glad you liked them,’ I said. ‘I’ll send you the recipe.’ I could feel Jamie and Lucinda looking at me. ‘Sorry, I’ve just remembered something I have to do. I’d best be off – can we catch up later? I’d like your opinion on the parterre.’

‘Sure,’ she said, smiling. Keith carried the verbena off in the direction of Jamie.

I went back to the blissful silence of the office, and was making myself a restorative coffee when Tally came bowling through. ‘Gosh, I’m exhausted,’ she cried, picking up her bag. ‘I went to condition-check the paintings in the music room, but I’m too drained. That presentation to Jamie was really tiring. Lucinda made some excellent suggestions.’

‘Lucinda did?’ I frowned at her.

‘Yes,’ said Tally, checking her lipstick. ‘Looks like she’s back in the fold, if you know what I mean. I think I’m going to finish early.’ I heard her rooting around in her desk. Then she said my name. When I looked at her, she seemed uncharacteristically awkward.

‘Fi said I should have a word with you,’ she said, her tone particularly clipped. ‘You were… very helpful at the fete, Anna. I appreciate it.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘No, well, yes. Anyway. Fi said I haven’t been… entirely nice to you. So I wanted to say that I’m sorry.’ She gave an awkward little laugh. ‘I suppose the truth is, I felt a teeny tiny bit threatened when you started working here. As a sophisticated woman, I am very much used to being the alpha female here at Stonemore.’

I clamped a hand over my mouth. I could not laugh at Tally’s heartfelt apology. Luckily she wasn’t looking at me; in her awkwardness, she was playing with the handle of her bag.

‘So. Well. You seemed very capable, and very metropolitan. I could have been nicer,’ she said, as though the words were being wrangled out of her.

In the time it took for her to finally look at me, I managed to get a hold of myself.

‘That’s very decent of you, Tally,’ I said, a slight tremor in my voice. ‘I accept your apology.’

‘Well, yes, anyway, I’m very tired so I’m going now.’ She was gone in under a minute, and I allowed myself a stifled cackle of laughter when I was totally sure she couldn’t hear me.

Despite the diversion, as I settled back at my desk, a restlessness overcame me. I couldn’t help my brain returning to Lucinda and Jamie in the garden. Every time I tried to refocus on a plan to rebuild old hedgerows with wild pear and apple trees, my mind returned to them. Sitting alongside each other, talking and smiling in a way that was so unfamiliar to me.

Name those feelings , I thought idly, as I poured the water into another coffee and stirred. Go on, Anna. Name them .

Irritation, check. Just like with Sean then.

Disappointment, check. But a different kind, somehow. And something else.

Jealousy .

Definitely jealousy. Was I really that much of a loser? Completely unable to support others in their happiness? Why shouldn’t Jamie and Lucinda fall wildly in love? It wasn’t hurting me. It wasn’t their fault that all I had to my name was an ambiguous ex, a failed fling with Callum, and the serious creeps about the idea of jumping back in the dating pool.

I picked my mug up and clomped back to my desk: 3pm. Two hours until home. I could get lots done in that time.

After a week or two of thinking about further steps in our rewilding strategy, but not actually committing things to paper, I decided to request to work from home the following week. When I was at Stonemore, it was way too easy to leave my desk and go out onto the estate. Whether I was weeding, planting, raking or coppicing, the more physical the job the better and the quieter my mind was. But now I had to focus; I needed to think about which partners we should approach, including charities and conservation experts; and there were some smaller projects at Stonemore that I hadn’t nailed down yet. Callum cleared my working from home request, but later that day he came to find me.

I was working at Belheddonbrae, on my knees planting some newly arrived plug plants, when he appeared behind me and nearly made me jump out of my skin. ‘Jeez Louise!’ I cried, almost dropping the red campion plant I was holding.

‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’ve got mud on your face.’ He carefully brushed my cheek with his forefinger.

‘What’s up?’ I said.

‘Jamie just wanted to check you’re okay,’ he said, looking faintly awkward. ‘I told him you’re going to be working from home for a bit. There’s not an issue, is there? Some other reason you want to be at home?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ I said, in a brittle, chipper tone, which he thankfully failed to catch on to.

‘Great, I’ll tell him that,’ he said, assembling his vape.

‘Pass me that trowel, would you?’ I said.

He did and watched me fill the hole around the plug plant before I patted it into place with my hands, melding the plug with the damp, pre-watered soil. ‘Also,’ he said, with a gust of blueberry-scented vape fumes, ‘Jamie said he wants a field of sunflowers.’

I glanced up at him, raising my eyebrows.

‘His mother’s favourite flower. Reminds him of his childhood. At least an acre.’

I surprised myself by not even considering a yes. ‘Nope.’

‘Really?’

‘Not part of the plan.’ I started digging a hole for another plug in the finely turned soil.

‘How can I persuade you? Can I make you a hot chocolate?’

I sniggered and rocked back on my heels to look at him. ‘Tell him you’ve left it with me.’

Callum saluted. ‘When you’re back in the office let me know, and I really will make you a hot chocolate.’

He headed off and I carried on planting, listening to the birdsong and the murmur of the breeze through nearby shrubs. The conversation had turned a little cog in my brain. It was clear Jamie wasn’t at peace with the idea of Belheddonbrae being a wildflower meadow, and the thought occurred to me that I could always make some reference to its past, even if it wasn’t through a direct re-creation of the old garden.

Back in the office, and waiting for the hot chocolate from Callum, I composed a quick email to Emma, the archivist who worked in the house one day a week, in case she had any historical notes on Belheddonbrae’s history.

As I clicked send, I heard a distant wailing noise, coming closer: a Tally distress call. She was making it as she descended through the house. She appeared, carrying Hugo clumsily in her arms.

‘He’s done a wee on the Boulle cabinet,’ she shrieked, depositing him on the carpet where he gave her a dark look.

‘He’s normally so good though,’ I said, stroking his ultra soft ears. ‘Perhaps he needed to go out and they missed his signals.’ Hugo looked dolefully at me and sniffed my garden-scented jeans. ‘I’ll take him out now.’

Tally stomped over to her desk. ‘I’ll have to get the conservator in again . It’s the cabinet that was just cleaned! Lucinda is furious.’

‘Hmm.’ The idea of the perpetually sunny Lucinda being annoyed was suddenly, wickedly appealing to me. ‘Good boy, Hugo,’ I murmured to him, picking up his lead and delving in my drawer for some treats. ‘Very good boy.’

Hugo looked up at me and licked his lips.

On my first day working from home I was bored by 3pm and was pushing womanfully on with the sustenance of a packet of chocolate digestives when I heard a car pull up. Racing to the window at a speed that would have put Hugo to shame, I saw Fi climbing out, carrying an enormous bunch of flowers in a gift bag.

‘They’re not from me!’ she said as I opened the door. ‘They were delivered to the office so I thought I’d bring them over.’

‘Come on in, it’s teatime,’ I said, ushering her in. ‘Luckily I haven’t hoovered up all of the biscuits. You were just in time.’

She smiled and put her bag down on the sofa. As I clicked the kettle on, I turned and looked at her. There was something different about her face. A clearness in her eyes and skin; a vitality in her movements. Something clicked in my mind.

‘Do you have news for me?’ I said.

Her giggle was breathless, so uncharacteristic that I knew straight away. ‘Are you a witch?’ she said, unable to repress the smile spreading across her face. ‘I might just be a tiny bit pregnant.’

The shriek that erupted from me was unexpected even to me, and Fi laughed as I jumped in the air and stretched out my arms. ‘Oh my God! I can’t even hug you, can I? You’re too delicate. Don’t pick anything up.’

‘Of course you can hug me!’

‘I promise not to squeeze too hard.’ I embraced her and did an impromptu dance around the kitchen. ‘Who else have you told?’

‘No one. We want to keep it quiet until the twelve-week scan. It’s just you and your witchy ways.’ She grinned as I flung a handful of chocolate biscuits on a blue and white plate.

‘I’m so happy for you,’ I said, feeling the need to open a bottle of champagne, then realising that was impossible because a) I didn’t have any and b) Fi wouldn’t drink any. ‘Sit down, sit down.’ I served her tea and biscuits then sat down opposite her, squeezing her hand.

‘I don’t want to talk about it too much, if that’s okay,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to count on it – so early.’

‘Understood.’ I raised my tea mug and we ‘cheers’d’ each other. ‘I won’t talk to you about it until you speak to me first. But I’m always here.’

‘I know.’ She touched my knee. ‘Thank you. Now – er – I hate to be nosy, obviously – but who are the flowers from?’

The flowers. I’d completely forgotten about them, lolling in their gift bag on the kitchen counter in shades of cream and purple. I fished around in the bag and found the tiny envelope with the card, addressed to Ms Anna Whitlock. I tore it open and pulled out the card.

So you’ve blocked me. But I still miss you. Talk to me, Anna .

Sean xx

‘Anna?’ Fi’s voice broke into my thoughts. ‘What’s wrong, love? Your face is a picture.’

‘I’m fine.’ I pinned a smile to my face. ‘They’re from Sean. To be honest I wish he’d just do one. I’m impressed he remembered where I’ve moved to. Normally anything I told him was mysteriously wiped from his memory within thirty seconds.’ I went back to the sofa and dipped a chocolate biscuit in my tea.

‘They did the rounds before they got to the office,’ said Fi. ‘Apparently Lucinda thought Jamie had bought them for her so things got a bit complicated. I was glad to jump into the car and deliver them.’

I swallowed back questions about Jamie and Lucinda and moved the conversation on. We talked about books, TV and the glory of the warmer weather.

‘I’d best leave you to your peace and quiet,’ said Fi, after a while. ‘Sorry to interrupt your blissful day working from home.’

‘It was slightly too quiet actually,’ I said. ‘I almost missed Tally.’

‘So you’re finally feeling at home?’ she said quietly.

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

She grinned and we hugged and said goodbye. I faithfully promised to visit her and Richard for film night on Friday.

After she’d gone, I carefully clipped the leaves off my bouquet and emptied the sachet of plant food into a vase, mixed it with water, and slowly arranged the flowers. I even managed to impress myself with my own serenity. I finished the document I was working on, then noted the time and closed my computer down. It was just past five and a soft light was falling through the cottage window, lighting up the grey flagstones. Through an open casement I could hear the birds singing, nothing else.

As I chopped vegetables for dinner, I examined my feelings. Fi had brought big news to my little hideaway and I needed to check the chinks in my armour. But after a minute or two I realised I wasn’t wearing any. There’d been no reason to defend myself, or to hide my feelings.

When Sean and I had been trying fruitlessly for a baby, and we’d started having medical investigations, every baby announcement had cut me. Whether it was a friend, colleague or acquaintance, it had always felt like a dagger to the heart. I knew the unworthiness of these feelings; the smallness that I had resented other people’s babies because I couldn’t have my own. But disliking myself for my feelings had made things even worse, and since I came to Stonemore I’d begun to accept that feelings were just that – neither good nor bad, just there. As long as I didn’t actively do anything to distress anyone, as long as I didn’t wish anyone ill, I could hold on to good Anna, true Anna, even if her inner voice was quiet and tinny like a turned-down radio.

In the past I’d got good at play-acting joy; congratulations were offered without hesitation, and even I knew the right expression to paint across my face. Sometimes acting – you might even call it lying – is the best and kindest thing to do, and I’d elevated it to a noble art.

As I cooked, I checked my feelings again. Once, twice, three times. And I found, astonishingly, nothing negative at all. When I’d danced for joy, it wasn’t some pretence – an automatic performance to hide my pain. I’d been happy, really happy. The feeling was simple: a singing emptiness that left me feeling empty and full at the same time. No complex corners or shadows. No need to hide. My joy was as straightforward as my pain had once been.

Dinner was delicious. The landline phone rang twice that evening, but both times it was Sean, so I ignored it.