‘Yes? What were they like?’ Vanessa asked.
Tilda considered what Laurence Sturridge had been like.
‘Enthusiastic,’ she said at last. It seemed like the perfect word to sum him up. She declined to mention that he was also quite attractive, because that wasn’t relevant to the conversation, was it?
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Vanessa said. ‘We’ll need someone enthusiastic to take this place on.’
‘I suppose,’ Tilda said. ‘I think he really wants the place. He was asking me all sorts of questions.’
‘I hope you didn’t go telling him about the awful plumbing and the leaking windows in the north wing,’ Vanessa said.
‘No, of course I didn’t. He wanted to know about odd things like the walled garden and our summer fete.’
‘Really? He knew about our fetes?’
Tilda nodded and a melancholic look passed across her mother’s face. Her father had loved the summer fetes – they had been his pet project – but they’d come to a halt when he’d become ill.
‘He knows the place, then?’ her mother continued.
‘Yes. He grew up in Elhurst.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Laurence Sturridge.’
‘Never heard of him. So, what’s brought him back?’
‘He said he missed it.’
Vanessa smiled. ‘This place will do that to you.’
Her mother looked out of the window and Tilda followed her gaze to the fields and woods beyond, but she wasn’t really looking at the view because she was still thinking about Laurence Sturridge, and the light in his eyes as he’d looked back at the house from the walled garden, and that boyish smile of his. She’d liked his smile. She might not have returned it, but she’d liked it.
Chapter 4
The Jacobs received only two offers for the north wing after the open house weekend. One had been ludicrously low and came with a whole host of requests for work to be carried out before the couple moved in. The other offer was for the full asking price.
‘But so many people viewed the place,’ Vanessa said.
‘They were probably just being nosy,’ Tilda said. ‘It would have made a nice day out.’
‘So, are we going to accept?’ Vanessa asked.
‘It’s for the full asking price,’ Tilda pointed out.
‘Who’s it from?’ Grandma Dolly barked from her chair.
‘Laurence Sturridge,’ Vanessa said. ‘He’s the man you met in the garden, isn’t he?’
Tilda nodded.
‘A single man?’ Dolly asked. ‘I thought we weren’t going to accept any single men!’
‘He seemed very nice,’ Tilda said, ‘and he grew up in the village.’
‘Suspicious men have to grow up somewhere,’ Dolly replied.
‘He didn’t seem suspicious.’
‘How could you tell? He might be some lunatic who’ll host those rave things and turn Orley into some hippie festival.’
‘That’s not the impression he gave me,’ Tilda told her grandmother.
Vanessa sighed. ‘I don’t think we’ve got the luxury of being picky. You think he seems sane and he’s made us an offer.’
‘Don’t we get to meet him first?’ Jassy asked. She’d been ripping up old magazines for some work she’d begun, but was now paying close attention to what was going on.
‘The estate agent said he’d like to make an appointment for a second viewing. You can meet him then.’
Jasmine sighed and returned her attention to the magazines. ‘I’m not sure I want to,’ she said.
Vanessa shook her head. ‘Well, I’m going to give her a call and set something up.’ She hesitated for a moment as if waiting for somebody to stop her, but nobody did. ‘Right. I’ll do it now.’
‘You okay, Mum?’ Tilda said. ‘Do you want me to ring her?’
‘No, no! I’ll do it.’ And she left the morning room before she could change her mind and hand the whole horrible business over to her daughter.
Vanessa hadn’t slept well over the weekend. She’d kept waking up in the night, fearful that they were doing the wrong thing. What would Oliver think of them selling half the house? Dolly had told her in no uncertain terms that he would be horrified, and Vanessa had been weighed down with guilt ever since.
Last night, she’d tossed around, twisting herself up in the bed sheets and fighting with the blankets until, finally giving up on sleep, she got up, switched on a lamp and pulled a jumper over her nightgown. She’d then left her room and walked to the kitchen, where she made herself a herbal tea. She had finally acquired a taste for it after several years, having given up regular tea when Oliver kicked the sugar habit as part of his dietary recommendations whilst undergoing treatment for cancer. Vanessa had been a five-cups-a-day girl before then – and each one had had a large sugar in it. She felt a lot better for having given it up, she had to admit, but it hadn’t saved her husband.
Taking her cup of peppermint tea through to the living room, she’d switched on the large temple jar lamp she loved so much. Orley had a fine collection of antiques. She remembered how her mouth had dropped open when she’d seen the house for the first time: the innumerable paintings, fine tables and chairs, rugs and lamps, chaises longues and longcase clocks, tapestries and chandeliers. It had been overwhelming and she’d had to be very subtle when she’d decorated the rooms, carefully embracing the past whilst bringing the house into the present.
And now she was selling half of it. How could she have agreed to such a thing? She would probably be sent straight down to hell when her time came. Perhaps there was a special corner reserved for such people – people who sacrificed beauty, history and tradition for cold, hard cash.
But it had been much too cold to hang around contemplating such things in the living room in the middle of the night. The middle of the day was bad enough during the winter months, unless you were on top of the radiators or the wood burner. That was one of the problems about living in a big old house. It might look glorious and people might envy you your splendid home, but the reality could be bone-chillingly awful. So she had finished her cup of tea and returned to bed.
Now, Vanessa caught sight of the photograph of Oliver on the mantelpiece above the fireplace in the living room. It was her favourite. She’d sneaked it into her bedroom after he died because she’d needed to have it close to her, but Jassy had complained and so she’d returned it. As she looked at it now, Oliver’s handsome face stared back at her with those warm brown eyes of his and that mess of sandy-coloured hair, the curls falling over his brow in just the way that Jassy’s did.
‘What should I do, Oliver?’ she whispered, listening intently to the silence around her as though she might hear the tiniest of voices, the merest hint of help. But she didn’t. She was on her own with this.
All the fears of the night before came rushing back to her as her hand hovered over the telephone. Once she made that call, there would be no going back. This was about as final a decision as she could make. Orley would never be the same again, would it?
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone.
When the call had come from the estate agent to tell Laurence that his offer had been accepted, he’d thought he’d burst with joy. This changed everything. This was the catalyst for his new life.
And nothing could come close to describing how Laurence had felt when he told his boss he’d be leaving the company. The look on Mr Murgatroyd’s face had been priceless.
‘Are you sure?’ he’d said.
‘Absolutely sure,’ Laurence had replied as he’d tried to keep his smile from taking on a life of its own.
‘But nobody ever leaves here voluntarily.’
Yes, he could easily have frittered away his whole life in that stifling building. It would have been a good life, he knew that – secure, with money coming in and all the luxuries that provided – but it wouldn’t be satisfying. He could see that now.
His father, meanwh
ile, had shaken his head when Laurence had told him.
‘You’re crazy’ he’d said. ‘I knew you should have taken one of those gap years after university and got all that madness out of your system back then.’
‘This isn’t madness, Dad. This is absolute sanity. I’ve already had an offer on the flat too.’
Flats with a view of the Thames were like gold dust and he had to admit that he’d actually started taking pictures off the walls after the call from the estate agent. He just needed to feel that things were moving forward.
‘I’d really love to have you on board with me, Dad,’ he said to Marcus one evening when the subject could no longer be avoided. ‘You’ll come and see Orley with me this weekend, won’t you?’
Laurence watched his father’s reaction as he slowly put his book down.
‘You know my feelings,’ Marcus said. ‘I have no wish to return to Sussex.’
‘But we had such great times there, and I think we can have those times again.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘Not without your mother.’
‘Dad, Mum’s gone, but we’re still very much here and, well, I don’t know about you but I’ve got an awful lot of life I want to live and I don’t want to do that in London anymore. So are you coming or not?’
The two men stared at one another for an interminably long moment.
‘You don’t leave me much choice, son.’
‘You’ve got a world full of choices, but you’ve got to put that bloody book away and get out of that chair.’
Laurence’s heart was racing as he spoke. Was he being wickedly cruel to put his dad through this? he wondered. Mind you, his father didn’t have to come with him – he could start a new life for himself. But Laurence had the feeling somehow that he wouldn’t; that he’d be quite content to spend the rest of his years staring out at the river and occasionally pretending to read.
‘I’d like to have you with me, Dad. We rub along okay, don’t we?’
His father nodded, but he still hadn’t committed himself one way or the other.
‘Look,’ Laurence said, ‘at least come and see the place and then make your mind up, okay?’
His father nodded again and Laurence watched as he got up and left the room.
Well, it was some kind of progress, wasn’t it?
The Jacobs women were at the morning room window again. At least, three of them were: Vanessa, Tilda and Grandma Dolly.
‘I can’t stand waiting,’ Vanessa said. ‘I suppose it’s hard to time a journey from London, though.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be here soon,’ Tilda replied.
‘Oh, there’s a car now!’ Vanessa pointed at the lane as a black BMW pulled up. ‘My word, look at that car! Did we ask enough for the north wing?’
‘That’s really expensive-looking,’ Tilda said.
‘Huh!’ Grandma Dolly said. ‘Not very practical for these country roads. First pothole and he’ll be done for.’
Vanessa smiled at her mother-in-law’s grim prediction.
‘Who’s that?’ Vanessa asked as she watched two men get out of the car.
‘There’s two of them!’ Dolly announced. ‘You didn’t say there’d be two of them!’
Vanessa turned around to face Tilda. ‘Who’s that other man?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You said a single man was buying the north wing,’ Grandma Dolly said.
‘Maybe it’s a friend,’ Tilda suggested. ‘Lots of people take friends with them to view a property. Anyway, I thought you said a single man would be suspicious.’
‘A single man is always suspicious, but that doesn’t mean two men is a better option.’
‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’ Vanessa said. ‘Where’s your sister, Tilly? I thought she wanted to meet our new neighbour.’
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘I specifically asked her to make an effort and be here to greet them.’
‘You know she hates that kind of thing.’
‘I know, but this Mr Sturridge will be living with us and it’s important that we all make him feel welcome.’
‘I’m not going to make him feel welcome,’ Dolly said. ‘I’m going to tell him that he’s trespassing.’
‘Please don’t!’ Vanessa was aghast at the sudden image of Dolly chasing poor Mr Sturridge off the premises with her walking stick. ‘He’s paying a lot of money to live here.’
‘Huh! A lot of money indeed. This place is priceless. It should never have been for sale.’
‘I’m not getting into all that again,’ Vanessa said, tidying her hair with an anxious hand as she crossed the room. Calm, she told herself. She needed to be calm.
Tilda followed her out the door. They’d have to bring Mr Sturridge and his companion up to Grandma Dolly if they wanted to meet her.
‘He’s very nice,’ Tilda said as they walked down the stairs, just as the knocker sounded.
‘Yes, I’m sure he is.’ Vanessa took a deep breath as she reached the door and then opened it.
‘Welcome to Orley,’ she said, holding her hand out. ‘I’m Vanessa Jacobs and this is my daughter Tilda.’
‘Laurence Sturridge,’ the younger man said, shaking her hand, ‘and this is my father, Marcus.’
Vanessa nodded and smiled as she took in the rather stern expression on Marcus’s face.
‘I met Tilda last time,’ Laurence said, nodding towards her. ‘She kindly showed me the walled garden.’
‘Yes, she mentioned that. Come in. How was your journey?’
‘Oh, unbearable,’ he said.
‘Oh, no!’
‘Well, just getting out of London,’ he said with a nervous little laugh.
‘It’s so long ago since I made the journey by car that I’ve forgotten what a nightmare it can be.’
‘You used to work in London?’
‘Off and on. I used to live there too, but then I found this place.’
‘And saw the light?’ Laurence said.
‘Fell in love with the owner,’ Tilda said. ‘My father.’
Laurence smiled. He had a nice, warm smile, Vanessa thought. The same couldn’t be said about his father, however, who looked as if he’d rather be any place other than Orley.
‘Can I get you a cup of tea before you have a look around? There’s somebody you should meet – my mother-in-law, Dolly. She’s upstairs.’
The two men followed her and Tilda.
‘Isn’t it amazing, Dad? Just look at the stairs,’ Laurence said.
‘This is the original Jacobean staircase,’ Vanessa said.
‘I love these thick oak posts.’
‘Newel posts,’ Vanessa told him. ‘These are some of the best in the county.’
‘Are they yours?’ Marcus asked his son.
Laurence laughed at the impertinence of his father’s question.
‘This will be a communal area,’ Vanessa said diplomatically, ‘but the staircase still belongs to us.’
Reaching the top of the stairs, they turned left into the south wing and entered the morning room. Dolly was sitting in the armchair overlooking the south garden.
‘Dolly? Mr Sturridge and his father are here,’ Vanessa announced.
There was a moment’s hesitation before Dolly deigned to turn her head.
‘So, you’re here, are you?’ she said.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Jacobs,’ Laurence said, moving forward and extending his hand.
‘I wish I could say the same to you,’ Dolly said, ‘but I can’t. I’m not going to lie and say I welcome this intrusion because I don’t.’
‘Dolly, please!’ Vanessa said.
Laurence frowned and his hand dropped by his side, unshaken.
‘And will you be living here too?’ Dolly asked, narrowing her eyes as she gave Marcus Sturridge the death stare.
‘No,’ Laurence said. ‘My dad isn’t—’
‘Yes,’ Marcus contradicted. ‘I’ll be living here with my son.
’
Vanessa noticed the surprised look on Laurence’s face, as if his father’s admission were news to him.
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Dolly said, as if the final decision were hers. ‘We believed there was just the one of you.’
‘I’m sorry for the confusion,’ Laurence said.
‘It’s all right,’ Vanessa assured him. ‘There’s plenty of room, as you’ll see. There won’t be any problems.’
Dolly rudely turned back to face the window and Vanessa nervously cleared her throat. ‘Tea!’ she declared brightly.
‘I’ll get it, Mum,’ Tilda told her, leaving the room.
‘I do have another daughter, Jasmine, but she’s – well – she’s somewhere,’ Vanessa explained.
‘I’m sure we’ll meet her when the time is right,’ Laurence said, daring to walk over to the south window. ‘What a marvellous garden. Come and see, Dad.’
‘I can see it from here,’ Marcus stated.
‘No wonder you can’t take your eyes off it, Mrs Jacobs,’ Laurence said, addressing Dolly, who resolutely refused to look at him. ‘If I was you, I wouldn’t want to share any of this either. I’d see somebody like me as an intruder, I really would.’
Vanessa was watching, her heart in her mouth.
‘It must have been a difficult decision to make,’ he went on.
‘It wasn’t my decision,’ Dolly said, looking up at him.
‘Then it must have been difficult for whoever made it.’
‘I wonder what’s keeping Tilda . . .’ Vanessa said, wishing her daughter would hurry up with the tea things.
‘But I can’t help but be thankful that your family did make this decision, because it gives me the opportunity to start a brand-new life here,’ Laurence went on. ‘Totally selfish, I know, but there it is. I’m really excited to be here.’
Dolly made a funny sort of harrumphing sound.
‘Please, come and have a seat,’ Vanessa gestured to two sofas next to the east window overlooking the front lawn.
‘Another wonderful view,’ Laurence said as he gazed out of the window.
‘And one you’ll have from your part of the property.’
‘I remember it from the first viewing,’ he said. ‘Looks right up into the Ridwell Valley. Look, Dad.’
Love in an English Garden Page 4
