‘Oh yeah,’ he nodded. ‘I do recall now you come to mention it.’
He certainly should. He had tried to make a pass at me when we were in the glasshouse talking it over and I had been forced to resort to some nifty tactics with the hosepipe to ward him off. Accidentally, of course. Not.
‘So,’ I said, raising my eyebrows. ‘We’ve established that I’m here, so if you don’t mind…’
I went to shut the door, but he took a step closer and I stopped. Shutting the door in his face wouldn’t do anything to enhance our working relationship and besides, one day I might need a reference from this guy.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘there’s something I need to talk to you about. Can I come in? Just for a minute.’
‘Can it wait until the morning?’ I asked, trying to sound friendlier. ‘I’m just about to turn in for the night.’
I was determined not to let him cross the cottage threshold, even if it was only for a minute. I didn’t trust him and I certainly wouldn’t have felt comfortable talking to him wearing nothing more than my flimsy cotton bathrobe. Nell’s low-level growling behind me told me that she was reluctant for me to let him in too.
‘How about we meet in the office at eight and we’ll talk then,’ I suggested. ‘We can have a coffee.’
He narrowed his eyes but thankfully stood down. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at eight. Sweet dreams.’
Even though the bath had soothed my body and settled my busy brain after my unusually sociable day, my brief exchange with Jackson meant that falling asleep was impossible. There was no doubt in my mind that he was going to tell me he was selling up, and the more I thought about it, the more awake I stayed.
Consequently, rather than feeling rested and refreshed the next morning as planned, I flung back the duvet feeling cranky, looking puffy-eyed, with untameable locks and feeling thoroughly unhappy about having to grant him an early audience. At least I’d been canny enough to suggest we meet in the office, where I could keep the heavy old desk between us.
‘Good morning,’ he called, right on the stroke of eight. ‘How did you sleep?’
One look at my face and it should have been obvious that I hadn’t.
‘Fine,’ I said tightly, pushing my chair further under the table. ‘What did you want to talk about, Jackson? I have a lot to get on with this morning.’
‘Making hay while the sun still shines, hey?’
‘Something like that.’
It had been a hot and sunny September so far and the garden was still wearing its beautiful late-summer bloom. The borders Eloise and I had revamped and replanted together were filling out nicely. I had known, when she suggested the project, that she was planting for the future and it saddened me to think that I most likely wouldn’t see them flourish.
‘You promised me a coffee,’ Jackson reminded me.
‘Sorry,’ I apologised. ‘I’ve run out. I thought there was a teaspoon or two left, but the tin’s empty.’
I don’t know why he looked so put out. He had told me on more than one occasion that he hated instant anyway.
‘Right,’ he said, eyeing me for a moment before lowering himself into the seat opposite so we were at eye level.
My disturbed night had left me feeling cranky and my bad mood was putting me in danger of sabotaging the reference I had a feeling I was going to need, but in that moment, faced with his smug expression, I didn’t much care.
‘In that case,’ he began, cocking his head to one side, ‘let’s get straight down to it, shall we?’
I swallowed and looked him dead in the eye. I had been dreading this moment ever since he turned up after Eloise’s funeral and took over. I had known from the very first moment I clapped eyes on him that he wasn’t going to take the place on and continue to run it as my dear friend had hoped.
I had never fathomed why she had such faith in him, but now, faced with the inevitable, I couldn’t help thinking that him selling up to someone else was probably for the best. Surely, it would be better for the house, garden and grounds to be owned by another family, a family who would love it every bit as much as Eloise and her ancestors had.
‘The sooner the better,’ I therefore encouraged.
‘Okay,’ he nodded, letting out a long breath and making a great show of adopting the role of a doctor about to break bad news. ‘I don’t quite know how to tell you this, Freya…’
‘Do you want me to say it for you then?’ I asked, keen to give him a hint that I had worked it out already.
He didn’t appear to appreciate the interruption and leant forward in his seat.
‘I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,’ he continued, ‘and it hasn’t been an easy decision to make, but I’ve looked at the estate accounts and talked to the bank and,’ he paused for dramatic effect, ‘I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to sell the estate.’
‘I see,’ I said, my voice pleasingly steady and calm.
‘Of course, I know this is the last thing that Aunt Eloise would have wanted,’ he carried on, ‘but I can’t manage the place from the States. It really needs me here full-time to keep a handle on things, but I can’t commit to that. Looking at the paperwork, it’s obvious that my aunt lost her way a little during the last couple of years and I’m looking for damage limitation here now.’
I bit my tongue. I had been with Eloise for longer than the last couple of years and her business mind was as sharp as a packet of pins. Her ability to run the place as efficiently as she always had, had never waned. It was her body that had failed her, not her mind.
‘With regards to what your aunt would have wanted,’ I told him, ‘I think you’ve made the right decision.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m sure she would want the place to be loved as she loved it, and as you’ve said on more than one occasion, it’s not somewhere that matches everything else in your impressive property portfolio.’
It felt good to be able to fire his words back at him.
‘And of course,’ I added for good measure, keeping my chin held high, ‘you really don’t have to justify your decision-making to me, Jackson.’
‘I’m not,’ he said, sounding further disgruntled. ‘That’s not what I—’
‘I’m just the gardener,’ I shrugged, cutting him off. ‘What you decide to do with the place is entirely up to you.’
‘I know that,’ he blustered, turning red. ‘I just thought that you might—’
‘Please,’ I said, smiling sympathetically, ‘you have more than enough to be thinking about. Don’t concern yourself with worrying about me on top of everything else.’
He sat up a little straighter and fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. Why he still persisted in dressing as if he was working in his city office was a mystery, but the steely glint in his eye was a sure sign that he was frustrated that I hadn’t reacted how he had wanted me to. If he’d been hoping to offer a shoulder for me to cry on, then he was well and truly out of luck.
‘I’ve already had the estate valued,’ he then said, suddenly all business, ‘and it will be going on the market in the next couple of weeks. My realtor has said it might take a while to sell. In the current financial climate, it might not be easy to find someone who can afford the place.’