Читать книгу Mum’s the Word - Kate Lawson - Страница 10

Chapter 5

‘Next time you’re going to invite strangers into my house, Jack, I would really appreciate a little bit of warning if you don’t mind. You’re lucky I didn’t panic and call the police. Here –’ Susie said, thrusting a bowl of salad and a dish of prawns at him. ‘Frightened the bloody life out of me.’

‘Oh come on, Mum, Matt’s not a stranger. I work with him. He’s my boss.’

‘One man’s boss is another woman’s armed intruder,’ she snapped. ‘Now can you put those on the table, and then get the cutlery out of the drawer.’

‘For god’s sake, chill out, Mum, you said yourself when I got here that the spare room was a work in progress. Well it’ll just be progressing a lot faster now. The way we’re going, it will be all done and dusted by the end of the week, if not before. We’re doing a great job up there. And besides, let’s face it, Matt’s in the same boat as me. As us, really.’

Susie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Which is what exactly?’

‘The SS Nowhere to go and no one to love us. He’s just split up with his partner – actually, to be fair it was a few months ago now, but it’s not going well. They’re still wrangling over property and money and custody of the cat from what I can gather. All very messy, apparently. Anyway, the college have let him have a flat on campus, but it’s really grim. Circa 1963, lots of concrete and metal-framed windows and some very nasty carpets.’

Susie tipped her head to pick up the sounds of Matt padding around upstairs after his shower. ‘Really?’ she said conversationally, dropping wedges of French bread into a basket. ‘I’m surprised; he seems like a nice guy.’

‘He is a nice guy, Mum, but nice guys can still end up all alone with dodgy carpets for company,’ Jack said. ‘Or sleeping on their mother’s spare-room floor, come to that.’

She nodded distractedly, thinking about Matt. He’d been funny and kind about Robert after Robert had left. Lovely eyes.

Susie reddened. Lousy timing.

Jack stood back to admire the newly laid table. ‘There yer go, fit for a king. Matt is great company – they reckon that Alex, his partner, was a complete and utter pig to him. Everyone says the same thing about those two, chalk and cheese. Matt’s a really sound guy, Alex was pure poison – broke his heart, took him for a fortune and then buggered off with someone else.’

Susie paused. ‘Alex?’

‘Yeah, Alex Dawson – Matt’s partner – something significant in civil engineering or something. We didn’t ever meet but he opens up a bit about Alex when he’s had a few. Matt was really cut up. Alex was a bit, well – you know – liked to play the field. Matt comes home early from a conference one weekend and there is Alex in bed with another guy. Not what you want –’

‘No, not what you want at all.’ Susie shook her head.

She thought about Matt standing in the hallway door with his good tan, nice hands, great hair, immaculate clothes and being worried about getting emulsion on her table.

Mind you, maybe it was for the best after all. Shame, though – Matt Peters was really easy on the eye.

‘He said I can stay there with him if I like. Till I get myself sorted out. I thought maybe we could go cruising together.’ Jack laughed. ‘I mean, why not – we’re both footloose and fancy free.’

Susie opened her mouth to say something when, right on cue, Matt jogged down the stairs, wearing well-worn khaki chinos, another clean shirt, his thick grey hair still damp from the shower and pushed back off his face.

‘Come on, Mum, I mean you’ve got to admit Matt’s not bad looking for an old bloke,’ said Jack.

‘I heard that,’ said Matt. He stretched. ‘God, I needed that shower. It feels so much better – and that looks great,’ he said appreciatively, surveying the spread Susie and Jack had set out on the kitchen table. ‘I could eat a horse – country air and hard work is an amazing combination.’

‘Sorry, no horse, no steak and no onion gravy either,’ she said, indicating that he should sit down, wondering whether she ought to have a quiet word with Jack. ‘But please feel free to help yourself to everything else. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something to stave off the hunger pangs.’

Susie handed him the wine. ‘Do you want to open this while I get the potatoes?’

He looked over the label and nodded appreciatively. ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’

‘Last time I heard,’ said Jack, offering him the corkscrew.

As Matt undid the bottle, Susie watched his long, strong fingers and sighed. The nails were clean, trimmed short and looked manicured. No straight guy ever took that much trouble over his cuticles.

She pushed her glass across the table towards him. Matt looked up at her quizzically. ‘Been a long day; make mine a large one,’ she said as he filled it up. As he poured Matt started to whistle something that sounded suspiciously like something from Oklahoma.

The following morning Susie took Milo out for his early-morning walk. Today Susie walked slowly, letting Milo linger over new smells by the stile while she sniffed back tears of pain and self-pity, hoping that no one would be out this early to see her.

And so maybe this was it – game over, hunkering down to a life of singledom and solitude, with Jack moving into the spare room and his gay friend popping over from time to time to help with the decorating. She rubbed her eyes and sniffed again. Life could be such a pig sometimes, especially when you were feeling sorry for yourself.

It was just before seven, the morning still misty and slightly damp, sunlight glittering in the dewy, diamond-strung cobwebs. Over on the far side of the common other early-bird dog walkers were out beating the bounds around the well-worn paths. Today Susie made a point of avoiding them.

The common was surrounded by a single-track road on three sides. One end of the rough grassland was framed by cottages, with a bench and a seat and the village sign overlooking the village pond, while the other petered out into rolling scrub, farmland and woods, crisscrossed with rights of way and tracks, all eventually leading down to the river. If you picked your route you could walk for hours and barely see a soul. The road out led onto the bypass, the A10, and beyond that, a couple of miles north, Denham Market.

One well-worn path led right past Robert’s front door – it was the way Susie had walked most mornings for the last three years, and from where she was standing now she could see the roof of his house and the chimneys, the pantiles and the dark red ridge caught on the skyline between the trees. In the past, two or three times a week she’d drop in and they’d have a cup of tea together first thing, or hot chocolate in the winter. Sometimes he’d ring to see when she was leaving for her walk, then catch up with her and accompany her round part of the way before he left for work. There had been lots of mornings when she hadn’t needed to go into work so they had sneaked back to bed, leaving Milo dozing by the Aga, and there had been the odd, glorious, over-the-kitchen-table mornings. But not this morning, not any morning, not ever again.

The trouble was that whatever happened next with Robert, it was going to happen right under her nose. How was she going to feel when she met Robert walking hand in hand across the common with some other woman? Worse still, how would it feel when she met them bumping a buggy over the grass?

Susie could see them now, all tousled and Sunday Times beautiful, dressed in matching Aran sweaters. Robert with a toddler on his shoulders, the child amusing himself by giggling at his reflection in Robert’s bald spot, while whatever-her-name-was – who, in Susie’s imagination, had become a leggy blonde from one of the shampoo ads, and not a day over twenty-five – pushed a designer buggy with a plump blonde baby in it, the family Labrador trotting placidly alongside them.

Susie sniffed. Knowing Robert he’d probably invite her to the christening as a consolation prize, ask her to be little Tarquin Oliver’s godmother, so she’d end up having to go round at Christmas, and turn up on sports day to cheer him on, and have him for the weekend while Blondie and Robert caught a West End show for their anniversary.

Susie sighed. Some days, having a vivid imagination could be a real pain in the arse.

‘Susie? Wait –’

Oh no. She closed her eyes and braced herself for whatever was to follow. Maybe Robert had been laying in wait for her; maybe he’d been loitering over by the bushes, anxious not to look too desperate. Maybe he was planning to introduce her to Blondie right this minute? Or maybe he missed her –

What was she going to say to him? What was there to say that hadn’t already been said? Susie tacked on a smile and swung round, only to discover Matt jogging up the track towards her.

‘Hi,’ he said breathlessly, leaning forward, hands on knees to catch his breath. ‘God, I’m so out of shape. Fancy a bit of company? I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend that Jack’s snoring isn’t keeping me awake. On site I have to keep waking him up and telling him to turn over – I mean, my god, how did Ellie cope?’ Straightening up and not waiting for an answer he fell into step alongside her. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘Yes, fine thanks. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Well, for a start you look like shit; and Jack was telling me all about you and Robert last night.’

‘How very kind of him.’

‘He did mention you two had split up while we were working on the spare room yesterday, but I had no idea it was so recently.’

Susie said nothing, wondering exactly why Matt was so interested in her love life.

‘We opened up another bottle after you went to bed last night and he told me all about it. Friday? He said you were planning to get married or something. Sounds like the baby thing was a real bolt out of the blue.’

Susie tucked her chin down and carried on down towards the pond. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having her love life used as after-dinner conversation.

‘You must feel awful,’ he said.

‘I never actually said we were getting married, okay? Look, do you mind if we talk about something else? I need to walk Milo and then go home and get ready for work.’

‘Sure, sorry – and I understand, but it’s good to talk. At least I had some warning, some sense that things were going wrong,’ Matt continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘Jack’s really worried about you, you know. He said you were bottling it up. It does you good to talk these things through, to let them out. That’s what I keep saying to him – just stop trying to be such a hero – life sucks.’

Susie stared at Matt, trying to work out if he was being serious. From the expression on his face, apparently he was.

‘And what I think is that Jack’s focusing on my problems rather than looking at what’s going on in his own life, don’t you?’ said Susie briskly. ‘Did he tell you about what’s going on with Ellie?’

Matt nodded. ‘Of course he did, but he’s still worried about you.’

‘Matt, I’m not sure what business it is of yours but it’s never been my habit to discuss my love life with my children.’

‘Fair enough, but you ought to talk to someone. Things had been going bad between me and Alex for a couple of years before we split – lots of non-communication, lots of not quite getting to the bottom of things. Alex wouldn’t open up about what was going wrong, but could make a row last a month and the recriminations and back-biting last three. Scottish, redhead, fiery as hell.’ He shook his head. ‘Mind you, I’m no angel either, I’ve got to take at least fifty per cent of the blame – and I certainly gave as good as I got. But what we never did was talk, not really talk. We just used to rerun old arguments. And it was hard for Alex – my parents didn’t see it as any of their business when we moved in together, but not Alex’s, they’re Christians, really strait-laced – anyway, that caused all kinds of stress.’

He fell silent. Jack was right, Matt was evidently still cut-up about it. They ambled on a bit further down past the willow trees and the pond and the ducks, and Susie waited for him to continue, but instead he waved the words away and said, ‘Sorry. Old news. Tell me about you and Robert.’

‘I didn’t think men were meant to talk about all this stuff.’

He laughed. ‘As a rule I don’t. It’s a completely new thing for me really. Alex and I were supposed to go along for counselling when things started to go wrong, but after the first couple of sessions Alex pulled out, despite having been the one who suggested it in the first place, so I went on my own and, despite all my doubts and mickey-taking, it’s really helped. You know, to work out how I feel and –’

‘Except that now you talk too much?’ Gay and in therapy, what more could a girl want?

‘Yeah, more than likely.’ He paused and then said with a grin, ‘It helped me to get in touch with my feminine side. Alex told me it would.’

Susie swung round, grimacing. ‘Oh please, pass me a bucket.’

He laughed. ‘Prefer your men strong and silent?’

Susie laughed. ‘Uh-huh, I most certainly do. Strong, silent and stinking rich.’

‘So – was that what attracted you to Robert?’

Susie slipped Milo off the lead and watched as he ambled across the rough grass towards the trees, totally engrossed in dog business, and then she stuck her hands into her pockets and sighed. ‘His money? Hardly. I’m not sure what it was … Have you ever been with someone and known that it isn’t quite right but not wrong enough to do anything about? With Robert there were no rows, no great ups and downs, and I suppose if I’m honest, no great passion either, but it was nice to have someone to share things with. And it hurts because I do love him, but I’m not in love with him. It was okay; it was convenient. For both of us.’

‘Okay?’ Matt said. ‘And is okay and convenient what you wanted?’

Susie reddened self-consciously, feeling the return of tears and self-pity. ‘No, no, of course not, but it was what we ended up with and it was all right – and let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger.’ It sounded so lame and so very pathetic said out loud. ‘It wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined my life turning out but it was – okay.’

Matt snorted. ‘For god’s sake. None of us are getting any younger, but that’s no excuse for settling for okay.’

‘I know,’ she snapped, suddenly angry, ‘and you know what, Matt, it’s none of your bloody business. I can live without the pop psychology. I’m not even sure why I’m so upset really, it’s ridiculous. Hurt pride probably. Robert wasn’t right for me at all, and I knew that, but I suppose I’d got to the point where I was prepared to settle for him.’ She paused, rapidly running out of steam. ‘It’s not a great reason, is it?’

Matt shook his head.

‘And then all of a sudden there was all this bloody business about him wanting a baby; it blew me clean out of the water. And that’s the bit that really hurts. When I was young I’d been all grown up and responsible before I really had time to think about it, looking after Jack and Alice. Their dad, Andy, was – well, we were both too young to be parents really but we muddled through. I’ve been happy about getting older, having more freedom, less responsibility, travelling, having more money and more time for myself – the kids are gone now – and then this came along and just slammed me up against all my insecurities.’ She paused, dipping deeper into her pocket to find a tissue. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I asked, remember?’

Susie laughed. ‘More fool you. You know, that whole feminine-side thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Instead of crying I’ve been thinking it would feel so much better to storm over there, kick the door open and punch his lights out. And anyway, I’m too old to have a baby.’

They fell into step, Milo pottering up ahead of them between the trees. After a little pause Matt said, ‘I’m sure it’d be possible if you’d got the money. I mean, you’re not that old. I’ve seen the stories in the paper, one woman was sixty, wasn’t she? Maybe you should ring Robert, talk to him, and tell him you’re ready to give it a shot. The thing is, do you want a baby?’

Susie swung round to glare at him. ‘For god’s sake, of course I don’t want a baby. When I say I’m too old it isn’t just about the physical thing. I’ve thought a lot about it since Robert sprung it on me, about whether I’d really want to go through all that again if I had the chance, but the bottom line is that I don’t. It’s not just having a baby, is it? Although at my age even that’s not going to be a doddle. It’s bringing it up, all those sleepless nights, teething, crying, never having a minute to yourself – nursery school, babysitters, the worry. When I did it first time round it wasn’t any easier but I loved it, it felt the right thing to be doing at the right time. But not now. God, no.’

And it was true, and saying it out loud made her feel better.

‘And most certainly not with him. Good god, I don’t think I’d want to have a baby with Robert, however old I was. The man is such a stiff. Pompous, arrogant, always right. He’d drive me crazy.’

‘As the father of your baby?’

‘As anything.’ She stopped, looked at Matt and then laughed. ‘You know, you’re right, settling for okay and convenient should never be an option.’

Matt smiled broadly as if all this was a personal triumph. ‘See,’ he said. ‘You’re doing the right thing, you’re just hurt at the moment.’

‘Trust me, Matt, just hurt doesn’t anywhere near cover it, but this is the right thing. Robert wanting a family is a perfectly reasonable thing to want, but not with me. Oh, and on top of all that it looks like I’m going to be a granny,’ she said. ‘A granny – can you believe it?’ And to her horror, Susie heard her voice crack and then break.

‘Really? A granny? Wow. Congratulations,’ Matt said with a grin, looking across just as she started to cry. ‘That’s amazing. Oh no, don’t,’ he said, reaching out towards her. ‘Don’t cry, I think it’s wonderful.’

Milo started to fret too; he hated women crying.

‘Easy for you to say,’ Susie snorted, brushing the tears away, stooping down to clip Milo’s lead on. ‘It’s not you it’s happening to. I’m really pleased for Alice but it makes me feel so – so –’

‘Old?’ suggested Matt helpfully.

Susie glared at him furiously, struggling with the temptation to punch him as well as Robert. ‘No, not old,’ she snapped. ‘It feels kind of responsible. Granny sounds like a really big thing to be, and I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m really pleased about it for Alice’s sake, but the word doesn’t fit me, it doesn’t go with how I see myself at all. I can’t be a granny. I’m just getting my own life together,’ she said, blowing her nose. ‘I’m not grown-up enough to be a granny.’

Matt looked at her, his expression softening. ‘Granny, eh? I really loved my granny, she used to knit me woolly hats and buy me jelly babies – how are you with Fair Isle?’

Susie slapped his arm. ‘It’s not funny,’ she snorted. ‘And I’m not going to be that sort of granny.’

‘Shame,’ Matt said with a grin. ‘I really miss her.’

Despite the early-morning confessional and having to deal with puffy eyes and heavy-duty bags, Susie got to college on time, not really wanting to share any more girly heart-to-heart time with Matt, despite his offer to make her tea and fix her a full English breakfast. He was officially perfect, and at that time of the morning a bit bloody irritating.

‘How’re you feeling?’ asked Nina, her expression all concern and empathy, as Susie bowled in through the door to the main studio. The aroma of fresh coffee and turpentine greeted her like an old friend.

‘Why is everyone obsessed with how I feel?’ she growled, taking the mug Nina had in her hand.

‘Eyeliner and lippy first thing?’ said Nina. ‘Trust me, it speaks volumes.’

‘Okay. Truth? I’m in bits, with a pain in my chest the size of a London bus, but I’ll be fine. Just fine. Eventually. I just need to occupy my mind till then.’

‘How long do you think that’ll be?’

‘Six months, a year, who knows.’ Susie took a long pull on the coffee before handing it back. ‘God, that’s good. Any more in the pot? And besides, Robert was a shit.’

Nina nodded. ‘Well, yes, we all knew that, but he was your shit. And yes, there’s more coffee. Have you forgotten? Tuesday morning meeting? Posh coffee and good biscuits. We’ve got a budget for it.’

Susie laughed. That’s what real friends were for – to support you when you made stupid choices and then help pick up the pieces when it all went horribly wrong. ‘So, where are we with the master plan?’

‘Follow me,’ said Nina, beckoning her closer with a hooked finger.

Tuesday morning and the regular staff meeting – they were meant to be discussing progress for the arrangements for the departmental end-of-year exhibition, which was less than a month away. Truth was, as always, it fell squarely on the shoulders of those that did, the ones that talked a good game having long since vanished over the horizon – and that meant it always seemed to be the same faces gathered around the big art-room table.

‘Where’s everyone else?’ asked Susie, sliding her bag under the desk.

‘Traffic, bus strike, leaves on the line, dog ate their homework,’ said Nina, counting the excuses off on paint-stained fingers. ‘God only knows. I’m only on time because I walked here.’ She glanced down at her watch. ‘You should know by now. They’re all artists, darling; time is not what they do best.’

‘Robert used to say that, and he works for the Environment Agency.’

Nina pulled a face.

‘So, how’s it going then?’ asked Susie.

Nina pulled a sheet of A1 paper out of a folder and slid it across the workbench towards Susie. On it were drawn a series of cubicles, bays, display boards and plinths, with numbered stickers on each one. Nina took a notebook out of the desk drawer and opened it up to the first page.

‘It’s filling up nicely,’ she said, pointing to bay number one. ‘Ceramics, mostly blue dishes and those great big garden pots. Bay two we’ve got slumped glassware and some lizards.’

Susie sipped her coffee. ‘What I meant was, instead of talking about me, how’s it going generally, you know, as in life?’

‘Oh, that? Generally? Fine. Specifically? Not bad at all, just finished grouting the bathroom, cat had kittens, and as for how the end-of-year show looks, it will make everyone look fucking marvellous. Again. What else do you want to know?’

Susie decided to give up on the social niceties and get on with the job in hand. She pulled the sheet of paper nearer and cast a world-weary eye over the floor plan. ‘Once we’ve put in god knows how many hours overtime, chased up the work, hung it, lit it, manned the bloody thing and resisted the temptation to strangle the sideline whiners, you mean?’

Nina grinned. ‘Exactly. By the way, have you heard from Hill’s Nurseries yet? You know, flowers, plants, ambiance, style?’

‘Bugger me, I’d forgotten all about them. Good news is I have done a skeleton press release, though, we just need to add the names in. I’ll chase the nursery up. I’m really hoping that they’ll stump up some sort of floral display outside the main foyer. I mean, it’s great advertising for them and we send enough slave labour their way from the floristry department.’

‘The college prefer to call it work placement,’ said a male voice from the back of the art room.

Susie looked up and grinned at Austin, their head of department, who was heading in through the glass doorway. He was a man who had made his way up through the ranks. An artist first and foremost, Austin wore his administrator’s hat at as jaunty an angle as was possible to achieve while keeping the machinery oiled. He had the look of a rugged, earthier Melvyn Bragg and was not only a devoted Christian but seriously married, which made him a bit of a rarity in higher education.

‘Maybe you should get the boss to ring?’ said Nina with a grin.

‘You mean grub around for sponsors and support – not really his style, is it?’

‘I heard that. Taking my name in vain again, are we?’ Austin said. ‘Coffee smells good. Who do you want me to ring and where the heck is everybody else?’ he asked, glancing around as he settled down at the table with the two of them.

Susie shrugged. Nina shrugged. He opened his briefcase and slid a piece of paper Nina’s way. ‘There we are. One of my minions managed to persuade Pettifers to sponsor the wine, and Browns have said they’ll cover the cost of the catering again.’

The two women nodded appreciatively as the double doors swung open, and Colin, the ceramics studio technician, ambled in, pulling off his beanie hat. He was followed by a small plump woman from textiles called Eleanor, who always spent a lot of her time at meetings saying, ‘I’m not sure I should be here, after all I’m only part time, and to be honest I feel I’m out of my depth. I mean, I don’t really know how relevant my input is.’

‘I thought we’d got all the sponsorship sorted out?’ said Colin, sliding onto a stool alongside Nina.

Nina consulted her notebook. ‘Basically we have now, thanks to Austin, although this year apparently we are supposed to refer to it as contributory partnership, not raffle snafflers or soft touches. So that’s catering, wine.’ She ticked things off on her list. ‘We’ve got some great fabric for banners, printing costs are all covered – just the sourcing of the busy lizzies to go now.’

‘Which is down to me,’ said Susie, holding her hand up. ‘I’m really hoping we can get the place brightened up a little more dramatically than last year. Robert –’ saying his name made her feel as if she was crunching across glass shards in bare feet ‘– suggested that we try a company he’s had dealings with to supply tubs and hanging baskets and stuff for the area around the main entrance. Hill’s Nurseries? The college already have links with them in terms of work placement. Apparently they’ve just started doing a lot of corporate work and he thought they might be keen to get involved with something like this. I’ve got a name –’ Susie pulled a notebook out of her bag. ‘Usual stuff, from their point of view we’d give them publicity for their new venture, lots of people would see it, mention it in the press, etc., etc. And I thought we could maybe beef up their bit in the catalogue as they’ve also provided twice as many placements in their business this year as last.’

Austin nodded. ‘Good plan. Front foyer and that grey bit outside, with the sliding glass doors and the prevailing sense of doom, always reminds me of an abattoir. Who’s your contact there? I’ll give them a ring if you like, no point in having a fancy title if you don’t get to flaunt it once in a while.’

‘Do you mind?’

Austin shook his head. ‘Not at all.’

Susie flicked through the pages of her notebook till she got to one with a slim, winding, detailed doodle of a rambling rose that made its way up the side of the page, winding its way through a shopping list and a dental appointment till it got to, ‘Saskia Hill, events and conference coordinator, Hill’s Nurseries.’

Colin nodded appreciatively. ‘Boss’s daughter?’

‘Or his wife, or maybe it’s even, incredibly, her business,’ Susie said coolly.

‘And the number?’ asked Austin.

Susie slid the pad over. ‘There are two there.’

‘Okay, well, I’ll try and sort it out. Now – in terms of content, how are we doing?’

‘Well,’ said Nina, glancing down at her list. ‘We’ve got some great paintings of Electric Mickey’s arse.’

The rest of the meeting was done and dusted inside half an hour. Susie’s first class rolled in at ten; she and Nina got down to working with the second-year child-care students, finishing off their project on printing. After lunch it was collage and calligraphy with some special-needs kids, and at three there was a life class with a group of mature students on the Arts Access course. In between times, students wandered in to pick things up, ask advice, work on their own projects or sit at the back, gossip and drink coffee. One thing about working in college was that life was never dull.

And the good thing for Susie about being so caught up in what she was doing was that it pushed Robert out to the margins of her mind.

Just as she was leaving for the day, Austin appeared. ‘Susie?’

She swung round.

‘I managed to speak to the nursery this afternoon and Saskia Hill suggested you pop in to discuss what you have in mind. She sounds very up for getting involved with the college. Lots of noises about wanting to develop partnerships with education and local industry – anyway, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could pop in on your way home, is there? She said she’d be there till around six thirty.’

‘Okay.’

‘Great.’ He grinned and then added, ‘So how are things?’

Susie pasted on a big cheery smile. ‘Things? Things are not bad. How about you?’

Austin’s expression softened. ‘I’ve known you a lot of years, Susie, and you’re a lousy liar. Neen said there was trouble at t’mill.’

‘How very kind of her. Is there anyone who doesn’t know about me and Robert splitting up?’ Susie said crossly, and then paused and waved the words away. ‘Sorry, that was horribly rude, Austin. Thanks for asking, but I’m okay and it’s nothing I can’t work my way through.’

‘Well, if you need anything –’ He left the sentence and the sentiment open.

‘A bigger studio?’ Susie picked up her bag and headed for the door. ‘A pay rise?’

He pulled a face.

‘World peace –’

‘Get out of here,’ he said. ‘Are you in tomorrow?’

‘Certainly am. We’ll be going through stuff for the exhibition and then mounting work tomorrow afternoon. I’ll give Ms Hill a quick ring on my mobile and try to catch her on the way home tonight.’

Austin grinned. ‘You’re a star.’

Hill’s Nurseries was on the edge of town on the coast road, ten minutes’ drive from the college and around thirty-five minutes from Susie’s cottage. Easing into the long, slow stream of people making their way home, Susie crept along the road to the bypass, radio on, windows open, enjoying the sunshine, Radio Four, and the promise of summer.

As a business Hill’s Nurseries had fared really well in terms of position. Tucked just off the main drag, once upon a time it had been surrounded by open farmland, but over the last ten years or so an executive housing estate had slowly sneaked up to surround it, and on the other side of the road, sheltered from the hoi polloi by mature trees and thick hedges, stood a hamlet of elegant detached family houses, bought by the affluent and the upwardly mobile since they’d been built at the turn of the twentieth century, an elegant suburb of the busy market town with its fisher fleet and port.

It was a perfect place for the business to be. The family nursery had blossomed and embraced the trend towards more stylish, flamboyant, sexier gardening. On the kerbside, beside the immaculate, weed-free gravelled driveway, signage announced it had been on local and national TV, won national recognition and acclaim for its plants and had an award-winning garden designer on the staff. Even at six on a weekday evening the beautifully coiffured car park was well over half-full with an assortment of Discoverys, SUVs and smart little town cars. Framed on three sides by neat glass houses and bays of plants fenced off by trellis and low, stylish fencing the whole place could have stepped fully fledged out of a Sunday Times colour supplement. Susie imagined it was heaving at the weekends with the Barbour army filling up on olive trees and pots of wild rocket and organic coriander.

She pulled in behind a big shiny black 4x4, locked up, and headed across towards the main shop, where the man behind the counter rang through to Saskia’s office. A few minutes later a tall blonde girl in her early twenties came over to meet her.

It had to be said that Saskia Hill didn’t look like your average horticulturalist; she certainly didn’t look as if she’d be much use humping bags of compost around or slapping down a patio. She was immaculately made up, wore tailored black trousers with high-heeled black boots, a matching collarless edge-to-edge jacket and a jade-green shirt, all of which owed far more to a designer label than any trade catalogue. As she walked, Saskia flashed perfect dentition – although the smile appeared to be more of a professional tool than revealing any genuine warmth – before holding out a slim, cool hand in greeting. ‘You must be Susie, how nice to meet you, why don’t you come through to my office.’

‘Thanks for seeing me at such short notice.’

The girl waved the words away. ‘Not at all. I’ve got another appointment this evening. No rest for the wicked.’

She exuded a cool confidence that Susie found disconcerting; it had to be business school and the effects of lots of cold hard cash.

Saskia directed Susie into a small office overlooking a paved area set with shrubs and a little pool, the perfect example of how to style a small town garden. ‘Now, how can we help you?’ she said as she slipped behind her desk and indicated a seat.

‘It must be wonderful working with plants,’ Susie said, looking out at the display. ‘The terrace out there is very nice.’

Saskia smiled again, although Susie noticed it still didn’t quite make it to her eyes. ‘Thank you. We regularly remodel all the exhibition gardens on a rota basis. Some people prefer to buy a complete look – we can provide the whole thing as a kit. Plans, plants, hard landscaping. It’s the kind of service busy people appreciate; it was one of my ideas to improve turnover, bring the family firm up-to-date – take the guesswork out of gardening.’

It wasn’t quite the answer Susie had expected so she turned the conversation back to the exhibition. ‘I’m not sure exactly what Austin told you, but what we’re hoping for is a display in the main entrance of the college for our end-of-year art exhibition – something eye-catching.’

Saskia made a noise; it could almost have been a laugh. ‘Something to cover the concrete?’

‘You know Fenborough?’

Saskia coloured very slightly; the first time she had shown any genuine reaction. ‘I did my first business qualifications there. So, concrete covering is a main requirement?’

Susie nodded. ‘That would be wonderful.’

‘Well, you may be in luck. We’ve got a range of planting that we hire out to dress shops, events, various shows –’

‘We haven’t got a budget for this,’ Susie said uncomfortably.

‘Austin did explain that, and it’s fine.’

Susie smiled. ‘In that case it sounds perfect.’

‘We obviously have promotional material that we’d like on display – and …’

The next half hour was spent working out a site visit, and what Saskia might be prepared to offer, and what Susie had to offer in return. By six thirty Susie was on her way back to the car. She slipped in behind the wheel feeling like it was a job well done. Austin and Nina would be delighted, and for the first time in days she felt happy.

When Susie arrived back at the cottage, Milo was basking in the sunshine on the terrace, on his back, paws in the air, looking for all the world as if he was topping up his tan. He opened one eye to acknowledge her arrival and did a wag or two just to let her know that despite appearances he really was pleased to see her, and that he was absolutely on the ball, no one would get by unnoticed on his watch.

As she headed down the path, Susie noticed a peculiar smell in the air. The smell of cooking. She pushed open the back door to find Matt, with a tea towel tucked into the waistband of his jeans, busy doing something extraordinary with a paella pan and a whole mess of seafood.

The table was set, and Jack was opening a bottle of wine. There was a salad and fresh bread and what looked suspiciously like dessert spoons on a clean tablecloth. Susie looked at the two of them. ‘So what did you break?’ she asked, dropping her bag onto the chair.

‘Mum,’ said Jack. ‘As if –’

‘Did you set fire to something?’

‘Hi,’ said Matt, looking up from the cooker. ‘How’s your day been? Jack was just telling me about Deliaing. I was thinking more Rick Stein.’ He swept his hand across the top of the pan with all the finesse of a magician’s assistant. ‘Here we have classic paella – really simple, local ingredients – great served up with a classic green salad and lots of warm, new, crisp bread to sop up all those delectable juices, garnished with lemon wedges and just a sprinkling of chopped parsley.’

‘Fantastic,’ said Susie, unable to keep the merest hint of suspicion out of her voice.

‘You hungry?’

She nodded.

‘Good, should be ready in about five minutes.’

Susie slipped off her jacket and accepted the glass of wine Jack handed her.

‘So?’ she asked.

‘What?’ said Jack.

‘Did you spill varnish on the landing carpet? Break a window?’

‘None of the above. We’re waiting for the floor and until that’s ready –’

‘Nada, niente,’ concluded Matt. ‘We’ve just got to sit it out. So, you want to come join us watch paint dry?’

Who could possibly resist an offer like that?