‘Would you like my personal or professional opinion?’ I asked him.
They weren’t all that dissimilar, but I could easily soften the personal one a little.
‘Are you a professional horticulturalist then?’ Luke asked, raising his eyebrows.
‘More or less,’ I said evasively.
I wasn’t sure my experience warranted such a lofty title, but gardening was the job I had been happily employed to do for the last three years and I had kept Broad-Meadows beautifully. Jackson might have taken every opportunity to point out that I didn’t have a formal qualification to back up my expertise, but he hadn’t yet worn me down enough to stop me sharing my thoughts.
‘Professional then,’ said Luke, biting his lip. ‘Tell it to me straight.’
After giving Nell some encouragement to move – a treat from my pocket – we walked around the gardens together and I pointed out a few of the things I had already noticed. The herbaceous borders warranted the most comment. Had they been regularly deadheaded, they would have continued flowering far longer, and it would have been better to stake the delphiniums in the spring to hide the supports, rather than leaving it until they were fully grown and then lashing together canes and twine Heath Robinson style to try and keep them standing.
‘I do what I can,’ said Luke, sounding gloomy, ‘but for most of the time it’s just me and a volunteer, and she’s only here a couple of days a week. I know I could ask my friends and neighbours, but they already have their hands full with the Grow-Well.’
‘In that case,’ I said, keen to make amends for my pronouncement on the place, ‘you do very well indeed. There’s nothing here that couldn’t be salvaged, given the right attention, and its potential as a proper winter garden is immense.’
‘You really think so?’
‘Definitely,’ I said firmly. ‘A full-time professional would have it all back on track in no time.’
Luke nodded thoughtfully. ‘And what do you mean,’ he asked, ‘by a proper winter garden?’
‘One that showcases shrubs, bulbs and trees that are at their very best from late autumn through until spring,’ I explained. ‘These dogwoods over there for example,’ I said, pointing, ‘with the right pruning they could be a blaze of colour again and there are lots of winter shrubs that could easily be incorporated and which flower on bare stems and have the most delicious scent.’
Luke looked intrigued. ‘That does sound wonderful,’ he said, looking towards the borders with fresh eyes, ‘and much more spectacular than what I had in mind. I was just planning to open the place up. You certainly seem to know what you’re talking about. I don’t suppose you want a job, do you?’
I went to laugh the suggestion off, but he looked as if he meant it. His expression rather reminded me of the one Eloise had worn when she offered me a position practically within minutes of meeting me. Nonetheless, familiar though it might have been, it was still a surprise to be faced with it for the second time in my life.
‘Thank you, but I already have one,’ I told Luke, aiming to keep my voice steady. I didn’t add that I had no idea for how much longer. ‘I manage a garden in Suffolk, over near Beccles, on the Broad-Meadows estate.’
‘Shame,’ he tutted. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
‘It’s Freya,’ I told him. ‘Freya Fuller.’
‘Well, Freya Fuller,’ he said, setting Abigail back on her feet again. ‘If I can’t give you a job, would you consider leaving me your contact details at the house?’
‘What for?’ I asked.
‘So, I can pick your brains,’ he smiled. ‘In an advisory capacity.’
‘All right,’ I agreed, ‘I don’t see why not.’
Later that afternoon, having enjoyed a picnic lunch for the masses made from produce grown at the Grow-Well which was on the opposite side of the grounds, I called at the house and left my details with Luke’s wife, Kate.
She was every bit as kind as Luke and, as I walked back to the car park where I’d left the van, I couldn’t help thinking that Eloise and the summer solstice might not have provided me with a sign about my long-term future, but my trip to Norwich had been a welcome distraction nonetheless. Should Luke ever get in touch, I was going to enjoy being involved in the winter garden at Prosperous Place, even if it was only in an advisory capacity.
Chapter 2
I had left my phone tucked away in the glove compartment of the van and, when I turned it on again to help me negotiate my way back to Broad-Meadows, I found there were four missed calls from Jackson’s mobile to tug at my conscience, and by the time I arrived home there were another two.
I did have a hands-free set-up but, in spite of my loyalty to Eloise and the estate, I didn’t want to talk to him on my day off and certainly not while I was driving. I was more tired than I would have expected and needed to concentrate.
I hadn’t much noticed it during my quiet working days and even quieter evenings and weekends, but I had become accustomed to spending time alone, sometimes not talking to another living soul from one day to the next. I hadn’t thought it was an issue, but my day at Prosperous Place talking to Luke, Graham and Kate had been exhausting and highlighted the fact that I was perhaps in danger of becoming a little too comfortable with my own company.
Nell and I enjoyed a light supper and then I had a long bath with the intention of turning in before my usual bedtime so I would be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to start work early the next morning. However, Jackson had other ideas. I had barely finished tying the belt of my bathrobe when I heard him hammering on the door. There was no question of it being anyone else because we were so isolated and besides, Nell only ever growled when he was about.
I opened the door and peeped out, my still damp hair snaking almost down to my waist. If I didn’t dry it soon, there would be no taming it.
‘Oh, you are here then, Freya,’ he frowned, his sarcastic tone and sweeping gaze making my hackles rise as high as Nell’s. ‘I’ve been trying to reach you on your cell all day.’
I couldn’t help but wince at the sound of his southern drawl and closed the door a little. It wasn’t the sight of him that rubbed me up the wrong way – just a couple of years older than me, he was tall, solid, dark-haired and handsome. Quite possibly fanciable if you didn’t mind the slightly too white teeth.
And it wasn’t his accent either – I was as receptive to a cowboy as any fluttering southern belle thanks to watching my fair share of Sam Elliott movies – but it was more the way he said things, rather than the voice in which he said them.
‘You knew I was taking today off, Jackson,’ I recapped for him. ‘We talked about it last week, remember? I wanted to honour your aunt’s memory by celebrating the solstice.’
‘That’s today, is it?’ he said, sounding amused.
‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘it is and, as today is my day off, I’m free to come and go as I please.’
‘But you’re working next Saturday to make up for taking the extra day, right? I have remembered that correctly, haven’t I?’
‘No,’ I said patiently. ‘I worked last Saturday to make up for it. I put the hours in before I’d taken them. We did discuss it at some length.’