by Emma Davies
He seemed to sense her lagging behind and turned back. ‘All I did was open the window,’ he said, shrugging.
She stared inside the building, at the rows of seedlings on a table at the far side. Plants which presumably would benefit from a little ventilation alongside the warmth of the spring sunshine.
‘You weren’t inside?’
He stopped for a moment and looked at her as if she was mad.
‘I wouldn’t be talking to you now if I was. No need to, thanks to our friends the Victorians. Look, I’ll show you.’
Doubling back, he rested his hand on a large handle attached to a wheel on the outer edge of the greenhouse, just above her head. It was painted dark green, generations of paint flaking off to reveal alternate colours beneath.
‘See, the drive shaft runs the whole length of the greenhouse. When you turn the wheel the whole shaft turns too, winding the mechanism that opens each window. You’ve no need to open them all by hand, and you can do it all from outside. Canny, don’t you think?’
Madeline looked at the rusting metal.
‘Except it’s broken the glass.’
Seth looked at his feet. ‘Well, strictly speaking it didn’t. The glass slipped out of the frame, that’s all. It needs repairing in any case. All of this.’ He shrugged again, and waved a hand at the dilapidated structure. ‘Come on.’
She looked first at the greenhouse and then back at Seth, the question she most wanted to ask staying safely in her head. After all, she had no proof that the glass had slipped due to anything other than weak joints and gravity, though the large brick which sat squarely in the middle of the floor told a slightly different story.
Once past the outbuildings, the garden opened up in front of them and as Madeline walked toward it she felt her heart begin to beat a little faster. Surely this was where the complex lay? Her professional enthusiasm tingled in the small tug of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
Twenty seconds later both her smile and any trace of professionalism left her as she stared open-mouthed at the scene in front of her.
Her gaze swept from left to right and back again, taking in the full length of the gardens on either side, which looked surprisingly neat and well ordered. They were the only things that were. On one side was a small thatched cottage, set in an overgrown tangle of weeds and bushes. Lying on the front path was a pile of rusted metal that might have once been garden railings, and even from this distance it was clear to see that the roof was in as sorry a state as the windows and the front door, which sagged against its hinges.
Across to the left lay three more cottages, slightly larger than the first, and all thatched, but with whitewashed walls instead of exposed brick. However, so much of the paint had already peeled off that Madeline couldn’t tell whether it had been purposefully removed in the name of restoration, or whether it had simply fallen away. An outbuilding of some sort stood forlornly behind them. The whole site had an air of neglect and if the condition of the outside of the cottages was anything to go by, then Madeline dreaded to think what she might find on the inside…
‘It’s what you would probably call work in progress,’ said Seth, indicating the first cottage.
‘Are they even habitable?’ she hissed.
‘Well, that depends,’ replied Seth. ‘For me, yes. For you? Probably not so much.’ He really didn’t need to say any more. ‘Do you want to go on, or have you seen enough?’ he said.
She wasn’t sure if he said it to be unkind or not, but at that moment it felt like the final straw.
‘Yes, I want to go on,’ she demanded. ‘At least show me the ones that have already been completed.’
Seth stared at her, an uncomfortable silence growing as he said nothing; he simply stood rooted to the spot.
‘Is this it?’ She rounded on him furiously. ‘Are you honestly telling me that four semi-derelict cottages and an old ramshackle barn are the sum total of what Joy’s Acre has to offer? I was told there would be a range of luxury holiday accommodation as well as conferencing facilities for business customers. Where are you going to put them? In a tent on the lawn?’
She drew in a breath. ‘There must be some law about getting people to come and work for you under false pretences. I’ve come all the way down here expecting to find something really special, and what I actually find – in the middle of nowhere, I might add – are four shitty little cottages and about as much luxury as a pig pen…’
She trailed off, a sudden unwelcome rush of emotion making the breath catch in her throat. She swallowed hard. She didn’t want Seth to see how upset she was, but this was still a wholly unacceptable situation. She pushed down the raw feeling inside her and glared at him.
‘I’m not finding it particularly humorous either,’ he said, his jaw working. ‘Especially as these… shitty little cottages, as you put it, are part of my home.’ He glared at her. ‘I own Joy’s Acre and everything in it, and the last thing I need is some trumped-up bloody know-it-all from London coming down here to insult me and worse, thinking she can tell me what to do.’
His eyes flashed with anger, but she was too concerned with her own situation to give too much thought to his feelings just now. What on earth was she going to do? He pushed past her and headed off at speed, giving her no choice but to trail after him.
As he rounded the corner back to the main house the dogs began to bark furiously again, dashing over to a tall figure standing by the farmhouse door.
‘And call your hounds off, man, I’ve told you before.’
Seth’s hands went to his hips.
‘You know, Agatha, if you ever gave me some warning about your little visits, I could make sure the dogs were inside if it bothers you so much.’ He gave a sharp whistle. ‘Bonnie! Clyde!’
The two dogs slunk to his heel and Madeline noticed that he made no move to put them inside.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘There’s a woman arriving today. My niece informed me by telephone yesterday evening, and you’re to be polite to her, and make her feel welcome, is that understood? She’s here to sort you out, and I will expect regular updates.’
The air between them bristled, and Madeline tried to make herself invisible a couple of paces behind Seth. This must be Natalie’s aunt, who she’d been told would be on hand locally to keep an eye on things. This was not how Madeline imagined her first meeting would go and she shrunk even further behind Seth, but too late, as Seth took a huge sideways step and turned the attention towards her.
‘Ah, I see you’ve arrived.’
Madeline tried to muster a bright, professional smile and thrust out her hand.
‘I most definitely have,’ she said. ‘Madeline Porter, pleased to meet you.’
Her hand wavered in the air waiting to be received. Agatha let it hang there as she looked her up and down before giving a dismissive snort and turning her attention back to Seth with a scowl.
‘And I’m still waiting for my hedge to be cut, three weeks after I first made the request. Perhaps you could attend to it at your earliest opportunity.’
She gave Madeline one final, very thorough look, and turned on her heel.
Madeline’s mouth gaped open. Had that really just happened? What was it with these people? She had half a mind to go after Agatha, to ask her all the questions that were burning through her brain and give her a piece of her mind, but there was something about the uprightness of her back that told her Agatha was not the sort of woman you ran after. Instead, Madeline had no choice but to watch her go, the rising tide of anxiety flooding through her once again.
Beside her, Seth remained silent, his head bowed low, a look on his face that said this was not how he’d imagined today going, either.
‘So that’s Agatha, then,’ she said.
Seth gave her a sideways glance before ushering her back inside.
‘Get used to it,’ he said with a tight smile.
Chapter 2
Back inside the kitchen, Seth
was now sitting at the table, slumped against a chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. Madeline fidgeted nervously beside him, desperately looking for a way to restart the conversation. The silence began to grow.
All of a sudden, Seth drew in his legs and stood abruptly.
‘Well, what an utterly fabulous day this is turning out to be.’ He paused, looking at her. ‘Coffee?’
Madeline nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak, and for the second time that day was forced to watch Seth’s back while he made their drinks.
‘So what exactly did Natalie say to you?’ asked Seth, once they both had scalding cups of coffee in front of them. ‘Would I be right in thinking that you’ve been given a rather different impression of this place?’
Madeline thought about his question for a moment. It was tempting to just spell it out for him, but however cross she was, none of this was necessarily Seth’s fault.
‘I’m just surprised that you don’t know. You said that this is your place and made it quite clear that you don’t want me here, so how come I am here? If you didn’t want this to happen, why have we gone through the whole rigmarole of interviews, references, all of that? It makes no sense at all. Couldn’t you just have said no?’
‘It’s not that simple,’ he sighed into his coffee.
‘No?’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘No,’ he said, his mouth a thin hard line. ‘Agatha and I have… a family connection, and as such she and I both have a vested interest in this place. We have an arrangement. You don’t need to know what that is.’
Madeline held his look. ‘Okay… but I came here in good faith. I’ve given up my house in London, left everything I had behind… Don’t you think I deserve some sort of an explanation? Natalie spoke about a complex; a very upmarket complex. A range of luxury holiday accommodation, she said, together with leisure and business conferencing facilities. I understood it was all finished, but that now you needed input with the launch and ongoing marketing…’
Seth gave a bitter laugh.
‘… and putting aside the fact that this is your home, even you have to admit that this place is none of those things.’
Seth took a sip of his coffee and then a longer swallow, watching her over the rim of his mug as he did.
‘It might interest you to know that Natalie has only ever set foot in this place twice, and that was years ago. She likes to think she’s something big in the city, and usually only condescends to speak to me by email.’ He paused to take another sip. ‘Call me cynical, but I would imagine that the set-up of the whole interview process was designed to give you the impression that Joy’s Acre is rather more… upmarket than it obviously is.’
‘But why? What would she stand to gain?’
Seth cocked his head to one side. ‘Well, let me put it this way. If you had seen this place beforehand, or at least had an honest description of it, would you have been so keen to give up everything and come here?’
He quickly took in her expression.
‘No, I thought not. You’ve been given an impression of Joy’s Acre which sits with the vision that both Natalie and Agatha have for it. Sadly, that doesn’t fit with the way I see things. This place will be successful, unique too, but not on their terms. So, I’m not really sure where this leaves us.’
He fiddled with the edge of an envelope that was lying on the table.
Madeline picked at a mark on her dress for a moment as it finally dawned on her just how much she’d been deceived. For what purpose, she still wasn’t sure, but the fact was that she was being asked to play piggy in the middle in some ridiculous game to prove a point. The thought made her breath quicken, just a little; not again.
She looked at Seth’s tired face. There was a lot more to this conversation than either of them was prepared to discuss, but the long and the short of it was that Madeline was now here, and she’d rented out her flat in London, so she had nowhere to go either. Even if she did, London was not as welcoming as it had once been. There was no way she was going back, not until she could hold her head up high.
She ran through her options; unexpected and unwelcome they might be, but at least she had a place to live for the time being. She also had a salary, and whether it was what she had been promised or not, there was certainly work to do.
She should have known it wasn’t going to be the lifeline she’d been so desperate for. The last few months had been tough, and this first step on the road back to the kind of life she’d had before had fallen into place so easily. She had taken it as a sign that it was meant to be, but how wrong could she have been?
It was almost too much to bear. She could feel her heart beginning to beat faster and fought down the urge to cry. She needed to keep her breathing slow and shallow. Controlled. Her fingers pressed against the side of her mug. She must not give in to self-pity whatever happened – that was the deal she had made with herself.
She lifted her chin and cleared her throat, summoning the last dregs of her confidence.
‘I probably ought to make a few phone calls,’ she said. ‘Is there somewhere private I could go… or perhaps my accommodation, now that I am here?’
Seth looked rather uncomfortable and the penny finally dropped.
‘I’m staying here, aren’t I?’ she said, sighing. ‘In this house? I might have known.’
Seth got slowly to his feet and held out his hand, waggling his fingers.
‘Car keys?’ he said. ‘I’ll go and get your bags. And it’s not all bad,’ he added. ‘At least you have your own room.’
* * *
In fairness, the room was lovely; large, airy, and perhaps surprisingly, nicely furnished. There were huge voile drapes at the window which billowed in a gentle breeze blowing in from the garden. And yet, after fifteen minutes, Madeline was still slumped on the bed, unmoving. Her fingernails were pressed hard into the palm of her hand, but even this could not deter the onset of stinging tears. She blinked rapidly, trying to slow her breathing before a full-blown panic attack ensued. She was stronger than this, she reminded herself. She had to believe that.
Seth had carried her bags effortlessly up the stairs, pointing out his room, the bathroom and a few others before leaving her to settle in. Should she need it, he had added, then she would find the telephone in the living room. Her signal-less mobile phone lay beside her on the bed, completely useless.
What could her contact at the recruitment agency even do, she wondered. No crime had been committed – a gross exaggeration maybe, but nothing that would stand to be in breach of contract and she certainly wouldn’t be the first person in the world to discover that their new job wasn’t quite what they thought it was going to be. As far as Madeline was concerned she had two choices: she could stay, or she could go. It was as simple as that. Right now, she had money coming in and a roof over her head; both of which she desperately needed.
Wearily she got to her feet and unzipped one of her bags; she might as well unpack. A large oak wardrobe stood in one corner of the room and she shook out her dresses and suits one by one, moving aside the lavender sachets that hung there to fill the empty space. After that, she placed her toiletries in the adjoining bathroom. All of ten minutes had passed and there was nothing else to do. Officially, she didn’t start work until the morning, but she doubted she was going to receive any formal induction of any kind. She had no idea what was required of her, or whether she would be allowed to do anything at all. But unless she wanted to hide in her room all day weeping into her pillow, she might as well go and see what she could find. She picked up her bag, slid a notebook and pen into it and pulled open the door, heading back downstairs.
Retracing her steps from earlier, Madeline went through into the garden and surveyed the scene in front of her, trying to ignore the dereliction and instead gain an overall impression of the place. Apart from the gardens themselves, which looked neat and well cared for, the whole place looked very sorry for itself, and yet… She turned her head from left to
right, trying to orientate herself. If she was right, they should be somewhere near to the top of the hill.
She moved in the direction of the first cottage, standing back and peering at the exterior with a critical eye. She tried to view it dispassionately. It wasn’t her cup of tea. The top-floor, ultra-modern loft apartment where she lived in London was far more to her liking, but she could see how this place could be considered charming – after a huge facelift, that is. She followed a path to her right which led around the rear of the cottage and almost gasped when she realised that, instead of simply leading to the other side of the house as she had thought, the path opened out, sweeping on to a set of large wooden gates set in the boundary fence. The view behind had been quite hidden by the angle of the cottage. Perhaps this was not the full extent of Joy’s Acre after all. Her professional interest rose a notch.
It was like being in a different world. Whereas the main house seemed almost cloistered, approached from the road via the tiny lane, the world beyond the gates was an expansive sweep of fields and trees, a patchwork of colours and textures that, especially to Madeline’s city-jaded eyes, seemed like a small miracle. She had lived a large part of her life surrounded by buildings and industry, roads and noise and she had never ever thought that there might be an alternative. What must it be like to wake every morning to this…? Even if just for a holiday?
As she watched, the sun broke free from behind a group of clouds and lit up the fields, light and shadow falling in turn as the breeze chased the clouds across the sun’s path once more. She stood for a minute before turning around and looking at the sorry state of the building behind her. Joy’s Acre might be a pastoral gem, but it was a long way from being polished.
She stared for a few moments more, lost in thought, and then made her way to sit on a bench she had noticed in the middle of the garden. It, too, had seen better days and she sat gingerly on the edge of the wooden slats, looking with distaste at the bird droppings that covered one half of it. Her dress was already stained from the dogs’ saliva and some other mark she had picked up from somewhere. A nice view was one thing, but so far the countryside had proven itself to be a dirty inconvenience.
