by Leo McNeir
What made her feel uncomfortable was knowing she could not reject Philip’s request to help a colleague with a problem. Two years earlier he had offered Marnie a sabbatical, and she had borrowed Sally Ann, travelling the waterways for the summer. Now here she was successfully established in the country. Philip had given her his blessing when she left the firm, and had put projects her way, including her biggest client, Willards Brewery. Anne called them the staple diet of Walker and Co.
Marnie resolved to meet Estelle with an open mind and a positive spirit. Looking out of the window, she was astonished to find that the train was pulling into Euston station. She had arrived.
*
Marnie studied the file of photographs. Philip, sitting opposite her at the low table by the window in his office, finished the remains of his coffee.
“This is quite a place,” she said without looking up. “I was expecting a kind of farmhouse.”
Philip shook his head. “Used to be the manor, home of the local aristo, quite a big landowner at one time.”
“I thought you said it was sixteenth century.”
“It is, mainly.”
“These vaulted cellars look ancient.”
“Yes. The original house was medieval. The cellars are all that remains of it. I’ll let Estelle fill you in on the details … if you want to go down that track, that is.”
Marnie put the file on the table. “The least I can do is meet her. She can brief me, talk about the project. Has she come up with any ideas?”
“A few, I think. We only got the photos on Monday.”
“Fair enough.”
“I don’t want you to feel under any pressure about this, Marnie.”
“That’s all right. Tell me how you see it working out, where she’d be based, who pays her salary, expenses, practical matters.”
“Up to you. I’m open-minded. She’d stay on the payroll here. The project would cover travel costs, plus your fees and expenses, of course. Usual rates. But I’d like her to have a break from the office. I think it might help.”
“Presumably, she’s able to work from home?”
“That might be one solution.”
“Where does she live?”
“Barnet.”
“Right side of London for getting to us. Or perhaps she’d be better not working in isolation? Personally I wouldn’t mind that, but not everyone’s the same.”
“You can judge when you meet her. It depends on the two of you. I’m out for the rest of today. I’ll call you this evening to see how you got on.”
“OK. Let’s meet.”
*
Estelle opened the briefcase and began spreading photographs on the boardroom table, while Marnie watched her. She had expected someone nervous or at least serious, but Estelle seemed totally at ease. She was petite, about five foot two, with dark auburn hair and grey-blue eyes, light make-up discreetly applied. Dressed in a pale grey silk shirt over black trousers, she looked business-like.
Her handshake had been firm and cool, her smile friendly. If she had any apprehensions about working with Marnie, she did not show them. On entering the boardroom she had at once opened the window, complaining about the fug.
Marnie looked down at the photos. “Great place, this.”
“Oh, it’s fabulous. Have you been there?”
“Umbria? No. Been to Tuscany a few times. You?”
“I’ve been through it. Absolutely gorgeous.”
“Phil said you had some ideas about the job.”
Estelle began extracting sketches and notes from a folder for every room. She set them out in the middle of the table, fitting them together to show the whole of the ground floor. Next, she lined the photographs up beside the corresponding rooms. Within a minute most of the table was invisible under paper.
Marnie blinked. “These are good. Who did the plans … Philip?”
“No. I just drew them myself. The owner had a list of room sizes plus the photos. I thought it’d be useful.” She pointed to a site plan. “North is that way, and there’s a line of cypresses here in the grounds to mask the afternoon sun on this terrace.”
“Right.”
“I’ve got some preliminary ideas about how we might handle this.”
Estelle opened a file to reveal page after page of schemes, room by room, with samples of fabrics and furnishing materials. As she laid them out, she gave a running commentary, explaining how the design fitted together and what furniture was to go in each room.
Marnie was incredulous. “I must’ve misunderstood. I thought you only had the photos on Monday.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’ve done all this in the past few days?”
“Not quite. They phoned us last week. I went round to see them on Friday. You know the Gunns, of course, Marcia and Terry. I think they were disappointed when I turned up. You see, they really asked for you. I told them I was your assistant.”
“Yeah. We got on OK when I did their Notting Hill place.”
“It’s brilliant, Marnie. And they absolutely love it. That’s why they wanted you again.”
Marnie picked up one of the sketches. “I think they’ll like these colours. They go for bold. You’ve made a good choice. How long were you there?”
“Ooh, an hour maybe.”
“And you did all this after one meeting?”
“I got them to describe the house as they saw it, showed them pictures of Italian villas, asked them about their tastes, what they wanted.” She shrugged.
“I’m impressed.”
*
“Philip, I was impressed.”
Marnie was sitting at her desk in the office barn that evening, going through the day’s post and Anne’s list of messages when Philip rang.
“Good.”
“Had you seen what she’d done since meeting the clients?”
“A few of her sketches.”
“She’s produced a whole scheme, wall finishes, curtains, fabrics for furniture. Extraordinary.”
He laughed. “So you’re telling me you’re superfluous!”
“Well, she’s made a great start. I must say I wouldn’t have done so much myself at this stage, not without a site visit. But I couldn’t fault her ideas.”
“And you reckon you could work together?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“And on the personal level? How did lunch go?”
*
Estelle turned the Golf into the street round the corner from the pool of Little Venice and pulled up opposite the pub. The car was blocking the rear garage of one of the houses overlooking the water. She switched off the engine.
“You’re going to leave it here?” said Marnie.
“Sure. The house is empty. No-one’s going to want this space today. The builders have been in there for weeks doing it up. There’s nobody around now.”
“All London’s a building site,” Marnie muttered, getting out of the car.
“That’s good for people like us,” said Estelle cheerfully. “If they can afford us.”
They sat with sandwiches and spritzers at a table by the window where they could see the car. The walls around them were covered in pictures of boats, drawings, paintings and photographs, some of them very old.
“So what’s it like having your own firm, Marnie?”
“To call me a firm is an exaggeration. I really work as a freelance designer.”
“There’s just you?”
“I have an assistant – she’d call herself my apprentice. Her name’s Anne. She’s seventeen, about to start doing A-levels at college, wants to be a designer … is going to be a designer.”
“How does she fit in with your work?”
“She runs the office, deals with admin, keeps everything ticking over smoothly. We go through the designs, and she gives her ideas. She’s got a lot of promise.”
“You live together?”
The question took Marnie by surprise, and Estelle noticed.
&nb
sp; “Sorry. I just meant –”
“She has a little place of her own, the loft over the office. I’m living on the boat for the time being, until the main house is ready.”
“You live alone, then.”
“Not exactly. My partner’s around for much of the time. He travels quite a bit, has a base in Oxford. He’s an academic. How about you?”
Her eyes clouded. “Philip’s probably told you about my … relationship.”
“He mentioned that you’d split up. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Estelle said brightly. “Things are much better now.”
“Good.”
“I’ve … met someone.”
“I see.”
“You’re probably thinking it’s some kind of rebound thing, but –”
“I wouldn’t make any hasty judgments,” said Marnie. “In fact, I wouldn’t make any judgments at all.”
Estelle tossed her head. “Well, if you did, you’d probably be right. But I think it’s almost like fate.”
She sipped her spritzer. Marnie said nothing.
“I met him at the gym where I work out. He’s a fitness freak, like me. Only he’s more like a real athlete … weight training, serious time on the rowing machine, in the pool.”
“So he invited you out for a five mile jog?”
Estelle laughed. “I’d never keep up!” She became serious. “I think he’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”
*
Marnie doodled a heart on a pad as she spoke to Philip. “You didn’t mention that she was in a new relationship.”
“A new …? I had no idea. It must be very new.”
“A couple of weeks, apparently.”
“I really didn’t –”
“Not the kind of thing you put up on the office notice board,” Marnie said. “Not if you want any kind of privacy.”
“I suppose not. And she’s really keen? It’s serious?”
“Understatement. Expressions about sliced bread spring to mind. Tell me Phil, is she always like this?”
A pause. “You mean, OTT?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“She does have a reputation for having … let’s say, enthusiasms. Does it put you off?”
“No. Actually, I liked her. She’s got character, a mind of her own. I found her enthusiasm infectious. And she certainly works hard.”
“Some people thought she was obsessive, too obsessive, if that’s possible, got too involved in the projects, in everything really.”
“That’s not rare,” said Marnie. “Anyway, as her employer you should be pleased. You can’t blame someone for being keen on her work.”
“So, we have a deal?”
“Why not?”
4
It was late morning on Saturday when the VW Golf came to a halt in the farmyard and Estelle climbed out. Marnie was working in the office barn and she reached the door to find Estelle standing in the middle of the yard taking in the view.
“Wow, Marnie! This is some cool place. No wonder you gave up your job at Everett Parker. No contest!”
Marnie walked over, smiling and offering a hand, but Estelle kissed her on both cheeks and dived back into the car. She pulled out a huge bunch of flowers and a bottle of sparkling wine.
“Not real champagne, I’m afraid, but it’s a good Aussie. I think you’ll find it drinkable. Watch out for the lilies. That pollen can leave a stain. Are you going to show me round? It looks terrific. Is that your office?”
Marnie laughed. “Do you ever stop for breath, or is that just a misuse of time?”
“Sorry. I get carried away. Calm down, Estelle! Right. I’m calm.”
“Would you like the conducted tour first?” said Marnie. “Or shall we go to the boat?”
“Up to you. But since we’re here …”
Marnie showed her round and was surprised that apart from murmurs of approval and interest, Estelle remained quiet throughout most of the tour, letting Marnie explain the layout, her development programme, her plans for the future. Standing in the front bedroom of the unrestored farmhouse, Estelle looked down on the cobbled yard that had been freshly swept and hosed.
“Mistress of all you survey,” she muttered quietly. “You must be really proud.”
Marnie shrugged. “To tell you the truth, Estelle, I have so much to do, I never think about it like that. I just get on with the job and hope it turns out right. So far, so good.”
“If all this belonged to me, I’d be so over the moon, I’d go around in a daze half the time. It’s wonderful. And just think, when it’s completed, you’ll actually be living here, so it’s not just a gorgeous scheme for someone else to enjoy, you get the benefits, too.”
“It sounds good when you put it like that.”
“Come on, Marnie. Show me the rest of the place. I’m dying to see your boat.”
Marnie was closing the front door behind them when the sound of an approaching car made them look towards the field track. A grey Vauxhall came into the complex and parked at the edge of the yard with a familiarity born of practice.
Estelle said, “I was just thinking you’ve got loads of space for a car park here for when friends come to call.”
“These aren’t friends,” said Marnie, her expression suddenly serious.
Estelle looked concerned. “Is there a problem?”
“We’re about to find out.”
Two men walked over. Both were tall and wore dark suits. One slightly built, the other more burly, both in their forties. Detective Chief Inspector Bartlett and Detective Sergeant Marriner were no strangers to Glebe Farm.
“Good morning, Mrs Walker,” said Bartlett.
He nodded in the direction of Estelle. Marriner, the older man, smiled briefly.
“Good morning,” said Marnie. “This is unexpected. Would you like to come into the office?”
“This is just a short visit.”
Marnie had learnt not to say more than was necessary to the police and never to be flippant. Saying the wrong thing had caused her problems with Bartlett in the past. Serious problems.
“What can I do for you?”
“Have you seen any strangers in the area lately, anyone acting oddly?”
“What sort of strangers do you have in mind, Mr Bartlett? We’re rather out of the way down here. Or do you think weirdoes and villains have a natural tendency to congregate at my door?”
“It’s nothing personal, Mrs Walker. But you are off the beaten track, that’s why we’re checking. And you’re beside the canal. You might’ve noticed if there’d been any suspicious characters around.”
“I haven’t seen anybody here or on the canal who’d answer to that description.”
“No odd people at all?”
Marnie shook her head. “The odd boatload of New Age travellers, I suppose, but they’re not rare, and they don’t do any harm to anyone.”
“If you do see anyone, let me know, will you?” He handed her a business card.
“Of course. What am I looking for exactly? Drug dealers, escaped convicts, stalkers, prowlers?”
“I don’t want to put ideas in your head, Mrs Walker. Just be aware and keep a lookout, if you would.”
“Could these people be dangerous?”
“Not to you.”
“OK. That’s reassuring … I think.”
Bartlett looked around him. “It’s come on very nicely here. Is the work finished now?”
“I wish. Some time to go yet.” She restrained herself from repeating her old joke that she was thinking of allocating a parking space just for their police car.
“Good morning, then.”
As they turned to go, Marriner winked at Marnie, and she smiled back.
After retrieving the flowers and wine from the office barn, the two women headed for the canal. On the way through the spinney, to Marnie’s surprise, Estelle linked arms with her and showered her with questions.
“What was all that about? How do you
know those two? And how come they know you so well? They seemed to know a lot about you.”
“I’ve had … let’s say, dealings with them before.”
“Ah. That must’ve been when you were nearly …”
“Killed, yes.”
Estelle squeezed her arm. “Sorry, Marnie, how thoughtless of me. Not the sort of thing you want to remember.”
Marnie forced a smile. “Not the sort of thing it’s easy to forget.”
“So what did they want, do you think?”
“You heard them as well as I did.”
“Sure, but they didn’t give much away.”
“Do they ever?” said Marnie. “Suspicious characters, odd people …”
“I didn’t like the way he looked at me when he said that.”
“Perhaps he didn’t realise flared jeans were back in fashion.”
Estelle laughed. “Still, he didn’t seem to think they were dangerous, not to you, at any rate.”
“Not to me, no. That was very curious.”
“But possibly dangerous to somebody else? Was that what he was implying?”
“I wonder. Not like Bartlett to be enigmatic.”
“Perhaps some time you’ll find out what he meant.”
“I hope not.”
They were walking together arm-in-arm like old friends, sharing confidences. Marnie found it hard to believe they had only met for the first time two days before. When they arrived at the docking area, Estelle stopped abruptly.
“Which is your boat? Oh I can see. It’s that one, Sally Ann. Marnie, this is so beautiful, so pastoral. I never realised canals could be so … charming.”
“That’s why lots of people spend their holidays on them.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. I’d never thought about it. Is this the same canal as the one outside our office window in London?”
“Not strictly speaking. That’s the Regent’s Canal. This is the Grand Union.”
“But they’re all joined up? This ultimately leads back to the firm?”
