Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
FROM: Anna Whitlock
TO: Jamie Mulholland
Hi Jamie, I have inspected Belheddonbrae this morning. Also the castle ruins, which were wonderful! I would suggest converting Belheddonbrae into wildflower meadow. Best, Anna.
FROM: Jamie Mulholland
TO: Anna Whitlock
Anna, was expecting something more innovative than that. I could throw a few handfuls of wildflower seed around myself without a professional’s input. For discussion. JM.
P.S. The ruins are unstable. I hope you wore a hard hat.
I screwed up my face in the least flattering way possible, aware that Tally was watching me. I wondered why I had abandoned all attempts to appear glossy and composed: I’d always been extra smiley when I was working in London, in buildings made of glass and steel, in my uniform of black skinny jeans (or not-so-skinny jeans as Sean snarkily referred to them sometimes), sharply pressed white cotton shirts, and blazers. Oh, and my hair always cut every six weeks and expensively highlighted.
Yet here I was: 1) No haircut for two months, it was starting to straggle out of its sharply defined style, the natural curl breaking out. 2) Sharp wardrobe being eroded by ‘country style’, including my clodhopper boots and the holey old woollen jumper in Scandi pattern I was wearing today. 3) I was making no attempt whatsoever to hide my true feelings about anything.
I tapped my phone open and messaged Rose in London.
Help. All style and composure gone. Am turning into country bumpkin. Was stylish now I added colour to them. It was some of my best work: focused, detailed, colourful. Perhaps a bit OTT for a wildflower meadow plan, but who cared? The random earl couldn’t accuse me of not putting the effort in. Plus I was loving it.
I was letting the plan dry, and standing in my kitchen area wondering whether to have cheese for dinner, when a face suddenly appeared at one of the tiny cottage windows.
I did the only sensible thing: screamed and dropped my mug.
It was Fi.
‘Sorry love,’ she said, when I recovered my wits enough to open the front door. ‘Did you break it? You’re a bit keyed up, aren’t you?’
‘Podcast,’ I said. ‘Probably shouldn’t have binged on ghosts and demons. The mug’s fine – it bounced on the rug.’ I waved it at her and went to fill the kettle.
‘I’ve just come to drop this off. And I’ve never seen a ghost or a demon round here, if that helps.’
She was offering me a casserole dish. When I lifted the lid a wave of aroma hit me – slowly simmered veg, dumplings bobbing in the rich brown sauce.
‘You have to let me make you a cup of tea now,’ I said. ‘To say thank you. I’ll get out the best biscuits?’
She grinned. ‘Oh, go on then, just one.’
I put the kettle on. ‘This meal looks amazing, but I’m going to have to call a halt to you cooking for me,’ I said. ‘You’ve got enough to do.’
‘It’s just… I’d noticed you’re not eating properly,’ she said quietly. ‘Snacking won’t see you through the day.’
‘Says the girl who lived off French fries when we were teenagers,’ I said. ‘I’m grateful, but you don’t have to look after me. Besides, I had one of Callum’s hot chocolates today, which provided a whole day’s worth of nutrition.’
She laughed. ‘Week One, and he’s already made you a hot chocolate? You are honoured. I’m sorry I’ve been in and out so much. I’ve got the new merch to sort out and we’re doing budget projections next week. Is Tally giving you a hard time? Callum messaged me to ask if you were okay.’
‘Did he?’ I felt touched at the idea of him looking out for me. ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘She’s just a bit spiky.’
‘She’ll warm up,’ said Fi. ‘And Jamie, too – I know he can be a bit forbidding, but he’s a great boss once you get to know him.’
‘Hmm,’ I said, trying to smile.
‘Anna?’
I gave a half-laugh, trying to keep things light. ‘I guess – I just wasn’t prepared for him, and her, to be so…’ I screwed my face up. ‘Posh, and frosty . I don’t react well to it. I just automatically go into – poor person mode, like they’re looking down on me. I start doubting myself.’
‘Seriously?’ Fi frowned. ‘Hand me one of those good biscuits.’
I pushed the packet towards her.
‘I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation,’ she munched a chocolate-covered cookie. ‘You’re amazing at your job and Jamie knows how lucky he is to get you. And as for Tally, where do you think all of that iciness comes from? She’s insecure, that’s all.’
‘I just don’t react well when people look down on me,’ I said. ‘I remember when I first started at Mackenzie’s, a well-off client asked me what school I’d attended, what university. When I told him – the expression on his face… It was like he was automatically deducting twenty points from my IQ. I just froze.’
‘What an idiot.’ Fi sipped her tea. ‘Sounds totally deliberate to me. People do things like that to get you on the back foot. Jamie’s not like that, and neither is Tally, not really.’
I nodded, but her words weren’t hitting home.
She finished her tea. ‘Look, you ever start feeling like this again, just message me Snookered and I’ll be over here in two ticks to give you a pep talk.’ When we were teenagers, Fi had gone out with a bloke who was mad for snooker to the point he dumped her because he wasn’t getting enough playing time, leaving her sobbing in my arms on a Saturday night. Since that day, the word Snookered was our bat signal.
‘Will do,’ I said. ‘Do you want to take some biscuits for Richard?’
‘We’re good for biscuits,’ she said. ‘Now, my love, eat all of the casserole. See you tomorrow.’
An hour later, I was aglow with warmth. Casserole eaten, garden plan dry and beautiful before me with its rainbow shades, wind dying down outside and the room toasty warm from the woodburner. I sipped my cup of tea and opened up the work email on my phone. If I sent Jamie an email now, he would see it at whatever ungodly hour he chose to start work.
FROM: Anna Whitlock
TO: Jamie Mulholland
Hi Jamie, I’ve put together a plan for Belheddonbrae. May I take you through it at your earliest convenience? It’s probably best if I show it to you in person. Best, Anna.
Job done, I snuggled under the crocheted blanket on the sofa and fell into a light doze, which was broken by a notification. I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw that only five minutes had passed.
FROM: Jamie Mulholland
TO: Anna Whitlock
Hi Anna, I’d like to see the plan. Tomorrow at 9? Please come to the flat – Fi will show you the way.
Best, Jamie.
P.S. I assume you’re not allergic to dust, animal hair or woodworm. Mentioning that just in case. Living in a manor house isn’t as glamorous as it sounds.
Surprisingly cheery! I just about managed to piece together: Hi Jamie, that’s great, see you then – and no, not allergic to anything. Best, Anna.
I was wide awake now.
Plink.
Looking forward to hammering out the details of Belheddonbrae. And so is Hugo, who you haven’t met yet. J.
I decided not to send a cheery response in case we were messaging all night, in one of those cringey, too-polite circles of correspondence where no one can bring themselves not to reply. When my phone pinged again I felt slightly nervous.
It was Callum: Congratulations on getting through the first couple of days. Hope we’re not putting you off.
I tapped back a ‘smiley face’ and ‘strong emoji’. Then I realised I had a large smile plastered across my face. But I was not going to get my hopes up about Callum and his twinkly eyes.