Chapter 29 #2
‘I might, if it gets this kind of response,’ he grinned. ‘But you looked upset when I arrived? S’up?’ he asked, sitting down beside her on the grass.
‘I’m gutted,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve cocked up on the estimate.
Basically, I’ll be working for next to no money as every single plant in this overgrown paradise is more difficult to tame than it looked.
I started in the wrong places and now realise I should have left some things out of the quote altogether. Like that bloody stream over there.’
‘What stream? All I can see is a pile of mucky stones.’
‘Exactly. If the water was running freely, it would regulate itself. But it’s pump-operated and over the autumn and winter it got clogged with silt and leaves. I’m having to individually wash every single pebble.’
‘That sounds like Sisyphus pushing his rock up hill. Why didn’t you ask to be paid by the hour?’
‘Because she told me to provide an estimate for the whole job,’ Aria sighed. ‘And I’m not a gardener. All I know is what my dad taught me when he was helping the old ladies out or sorting the garden at the hut. I miss him, Nic.’
When he offered a hug she leaned into it, putting her head on his shoulder, feeling the solidity of him while trying not to snot on his sweater. But she was also embarrassed about how she smelled.
‘I’m muddy,’ she said, pulling away. ‘But thanks for the hug. Why are you here? I didn’t call you.’
‘There’s no signal, anyway. I found out after trying to phone to ask if you prefer fish or steak. And then I remembered you have a fishing hut and could probably catch dinner for us.’
‘I hope you bought the meat.’ Aria absent-mindedly picked some moss out of the grass. ‘I can’t fish for toffee. That was all a ruse to make people think I was a day-tripping angling enthusiast.’
He snickered and confirmed he went for cow above cod. ‘Or the best part of it, anyway. Two nice wagyu steaks. Let’s do a quick tour of the garden together and then go home and redo the quote you sent your contact.’
‘Oh, I can’t do that. It would be unprofessional. I’m showing another house for her tomorrow, and I don’t want to upset her.’
‘Contractors do sometimes change quotes if they realise they made a mistake on first sight. Trust me, it happens.’ He offered her a hand up and grabbed the discarded wrappings from the ground. ‘Favourite ice cream?’
‘All of them.’
They walked around the gardens as he’d suggested, talking through the original estimate and options for revision. ‘So, you’d let one of your builders go back on a quote?’ she asked, interested to see how he operated and wanting more reassurance.
He didn’t answer straight away. ‘To be honest with you, it depends.’
‘On what?’
‘The stage of the project. Before contracts are signed, I might be more open to some renegotiation. Likewise, if there’s been a genuine error and not just some fuckwit picking a random figure out of the air.
Clerical errors sometimes happen, like someone leaving a zero off.
I guess if we have a longstanding relationship I’d go easier.
And sometimes we have to bend if labour is scarce and we wouldn’t get anyone else to do the job in the time frame.
Sounds like your estate agent needs you as much as you need her, so you might be lucky.
Maybe next time look at a time-plus-materials contract. ’
‘There’s no contract. I put down some figures and she agreed to them.’
‘Just talk to her. People work with people they like and trust. An honest conversation goes a long way.’
She nudged his elbow as an affectionate thank you.
‘You know, you aren’t the ignorant pig I had you down for when we first met.
’ His grin was her reward. As they strolled on, she noticed cleavers had proliferated in the furthest garden – a weed that stuck to clothes like Velcro.
When he was distracted smelling a rose, she picked up a clump of the thin, straggly stems, lightly hooked it to the back of his jumper and giggled.
He turned to her, looking confused. ‘Did I spill my lolly down my front or something?’
‘No…’
‘Then what’s tickled you?’
‘I’m laughing at your sticky willy.’
Quick as lightening he replied, ‘No one has ever had any complaints before.’ When he examined his crotch and found nothing, he held out his hands.
‘Try your back,’ she said, leaving him reaching for the weed as she started to run.
Quickly out of breath, she could hear him pounding behind her as she legged it to the car.
She swung around before he could replant it on her and was taken aback when he pulled out her top and stuck it down her chest. His hands brushed her skin as he withdrew.
Perhaps realising he’d gone too far, he stilled, and they both looked down at the scratchy whorls.
Putting on a head teacher voice, she informed him if his invasive action with the sticky willy put seed balls in her bra, she’d be claiming for the dry cleaning.
‘Seed balls, eh?’ he repeated, one eyebrow raised. ‘Please don’t fish them out and risk making us pregnant on the drive home.’