Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
It is a truth universally acknowledged that if a person has concentrated on taking home everything that might possibly be needed for working from home, a single vital thing will be left behind. For me it was the tiny memory stick I’d saved some plant lists on. I was planning to turn my attention to the parterre, with the idea of adding some herbs and flowers. My garden design instincts had been coming alive again; I’d been daydreaming about banks of English lavender, fragrant in the summer sunshine, and swathes of love-in-a-mist, with their spiky green foliage and soft blue petals.
Luckily I realised the memory stick was missing at the precise moment I opened my eyes on Wednesday morning, so once I’d showered and dressed, I decided to nip to the staff office before anyone else was around. Sure enough the office was empty, and I quickly found the stick, popping it into my purse and locking the desk drawer.
‘A-ha! Trespasser!’ I turned to see Lucinda standing there. I glanced at the clock – 8.10.
‘Just came to pick something up,’ I said, resisting the temptation to ask her why she was roaming around like she owned the place. ‘See you later.’
‘Anna…’ There was a new note in her voice that made me turn towards her again. It was then I noticed what she was wearing, and it was decidedly non-Lucinda-like: a white outsized shirt over her jodhpurs. A man’s shirt. Her hair loose, tousled – bed head. The conclusion flickered so quickly in my mind that I know I didn’t keep the look of surprise off my face.
‘Yes,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘I know you’ll be pleased for us.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘Before long, I’ll be here pretty much permanently.’
I was trying very hard to arrange my face into a cheerful expression and had the sense I was failing. ‘Great news,’ I said. ‘But none of my business.’ As her smile faded, I tried to recover it. ‘I wish you and Jamie much joy,’ I said, as though I was in a Jane Austen novel.
‘I’m really interested in the work you’re doing, just as I am in Tally’s management of the art collection,’ she said, a shade too brightly. ‘So I’d love to get involved. In fact, any big decisions, I’d appreciate you discussing them with me as well as Jamie.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Right.’
Her smile was acres wide now. Was it my imagination, or was she looking a bit shark-like?
‘I can see I’ve blindsided you,’ she piped. ‘Is it a bit early for Miss Sleepyhead?’
I knew now that my expression was very much not positive and that I needed to get out of there. ‘Totally. Much too early for me,’ I said.
‘Hello yooooou,’ Lucinda cooed. Hugo had just trotted through the office door. He carefully avoided her outstretched hand and went into Callum’s office.
‘He likes me really,’ said Lucinda.
‘Of course he does,’ I said.
I held my head high as I walked away from the house, resisting the temptation to break into a jog. Once I was through the deer park, I pulled out my mobile and messaged Fi. Is Lucinda down to marry Jamie? She just implied she is very definitely the boss of me.
I pressed send and slipped it back into my bag as it tried to find a signal. By the time I got into the cottage the landline was ringing.
‘Anna, it’s Fi.’
I told her what had happened.
‘Crikey,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise things had gone that far. Jamie hasn’t said a word.’
‘I know we all knew they were seeing each other, but…’ That far. I didn’t think they’d gone that far. ‘It’s weirded me out, that’s all. Sorry Fi. I’ll see you later.’
I felt strange, and I didn’t like it. Just for once, I didn’t turn to the carbs to get me through my unsettled feelings. I did twenty jumping jacks, brewed a pot of coffee, and settled at the kitchen table to focus on work. I ploughed through my emails with ruthless efficiency. Cal had forwarded an email from Jamie saying that he wanted us to put Stonemore forward for a new rewilding award sponsored by a well-known conservation charity. If we were shortlisted it would bring attention to the estate and garner positive publicity, plus possible sponsors for our projects. By half ten I’d absorbed the details of the award and was already drafting our submission.
When my phone chimed, my heart jumped. My startle reflex was getting too much.
ROSE I’m going to an art exhibition preview. There will be champagne. Should I go for 50s vintage look or 80s power broker, shoulder pads, etc.
I smiled and typed a response.
ANNA Def 50s. Dior New Look, etc.
ROSE Consider it done .
ANNA Send pics. Love you .
ROSE Ofc. Love you .
When I put the mobile down, I felt restlessness move over me like an itch. Weirdly, I still didn’t want to eat. Instead I changed into leggings and a t-shirt, laced up my trainers and went out for a quick run to the end of the lane and back. It was agony. When I got back inside, I leaned on the kitchen counter to catch my breath. But the fresh air and birdsong had helped.
I looked at my phone. Three missed calls from a number I hadn’t seen for a while.
Jamie.
I sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the phone. Ignoring him completely wasn’t an option. He was my boss, after all.
Hi, I typed into my phone, sorry I missed your call. Is there something up at the estate?
I sat looking at it for a good three minutes, but no response came.
This was a good thing, I thought to myself. One of my self-help books had made a big deal out of ‘sitting with difficult feelings’, rather than trying to suppress them or (as in my case) eat my way out of them. It was a skill I’d been planning to master and it looked like I was going to get some advanced training in it. So I left the phone next to me and concentrated on writing the award submission, pushing away the difficult thoughts that crowded my head, including the idea of Lucinda and Jamie in bed together.
Two hours later I’d finished the first draft, without a meltdown or a single piece of toast in sight.
My dinner was cooking and I was so absorbed in the book I was reading that when the landline rang next to me, I snatched it up without thinking.
‘Hi Anna.’
I froze at the sound of Jamie’s voice.
‘Anna?’
I cleared my throat. ‘Oh, hi! Hi, sorry, wasn’t expecting it to be you.’
‘Sorry to call out of working hours. I did try calling earlier.’
‘I saw. I’ve been writing the prize submission. I’ll have something for you to see in the next day or so. Can I help you with anything? Nothing’s gone wrong on the estate, has it?’ I had clicked into smooth efficiency and helpfulness.
‘It’s not about Stonemore.’ His voice was crisp. On edge. ‘Lucinda said she saw you this morning.’
I paused. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m sorry if she upset you.’
I felt my stomach take a dive. ‘It’s really no business of mine who you’re sleeping with,’ I blurted out. I had meant the words to sound cheery, but somehow they hadn’t come out like that.
He sighed. ‘I’m not sleeping with her. We’ve had two dates. And she has no responsibility for the running of the estate, or the rewilding project.’
I frowned, thinking of Lucinda: her tousled hair, the white shirt falling off one of her shoulders, the sense of ownership she’d conveyed. And the word permanent had definitely been used at some point. ‘But she’s living at Stonemore now, right? I’m sorry, I’m just confused.’
His voice tightened. ‘No. She came over last night and her car broke down. I’d drunk half a bottle of wine so couldn’t drive her, and she couldn’t raise anyone at the cab company.’
Oh right , I thought. If ever there was a pretend phone call, that was it .
‘Anna?’
I blinked. ‘Sorry, I must have got the wrong impression.’
We sat there in silence. For some reason I didn’t want to hang up, and it seemed he didn’t either.
‘I saw the flowers. Very nice.’ His voice was quiet, even.
I studied the grain on the pine kitchen table. ‘Not really. They’re from my ex. Trying to make amends.’
‘Has it worked?’
‘Nope.’
‘Right.’ He sounded hesitant. ‘So that means we get to keep you a little longer?’
I couldn’t help myself. ‘If you play your cards right.’
I heard him laugh quietly. ‘What do we need to do?’
‘Oh, you know, the usual stuff. Regular picnic hampers from Fortnum and Mason’s. A year’s supply of coffee. Maybe a small sports car at Christmas.’
‘I can offer you beagle service at your desk and access to a pony at all times.’
I laughed. ‘Not sure I’ll ever be getting on a horse again.’
‘Not even if I ride with you and protect you from hedgerows?’
‘I doubt you could guarantee my protection,’ I said archly.
‘I’d try my best.’
My breath hitched.
‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Still here.’
‘I guess I should thank you,’ he said, the amusement fading from his voice. ‘It was what you said about background being so important that made me… take another look at what might happen with Lucinda. Romance is a busted flush. Look at my parents.’
‘And to think you teased me about my family’s age-old saying,’ I said, in as bright a tone as I could muster.
‘Ah yes, what was that crappy saying again?’
‘You can’t put a hot pan on a cold stove.’
‘That’s it.’ He paused. ‘No, it still doesn’t make any sense.’
I bit back a laugh. ‘Of course it does. You’ve just said it yourself. Certain types of people fit together.’ I put on my poshest voice. ‘It’s all about the breeding.’
I heard him sigh. ‘You’re so chippy.’
‘I’m amazed you even know the word.’
‘Perhaps I know more than you think.’ The slight roughness in his voice silenced me again. ‘Is there a chance, Anna, that you might ever think of me as an actual human being?’
I swallowed hard.
‘Anna?’
‘I’m thinking.’
I heard the sound of his outbreath; I hoped it was a laugh.
‘I’ve thought. Maybe. One day. If you try very hard.’ It was meant to be a joke, but it sounded wrong.
‘And you think I’m difficult.’
‘I never said that.’
‘You didn’t have to.’ Suddenly, I couldn’t read his tone. His voice was soft, but we were in dangerous territory. I had the urge to keep him talking, to battle out the differences between us. At the same time there was a dull ache of awareness that this conversation was a dead end. One, he was my boss. Two, he belonged to Lucinda now – whatever he said, that had been made patently clear to me.
‘I won’t keep you,’ I said. I could feel myself closing up, reverting to professional politeness. My telephone voice. ‘Thanks for calling. I’ll get the award submission to you tomorrow.’
The silence went on a beat too long. ‘Thanks. I’ll funnel any comments back through Callum.’ He put the phone down without another word.