Second Thyme Around (23 page)
Ronnie hissed. ‘Honestly, you young women. No stamina. And what about the dating agency?’
She bit her lip. ‘Getting to know someone new is just so much effort.’ She was thinking of Roger.
‘Especially when Mr Wonderful is on your doorstep in the shape of Mr Michelin Star.’
‘What?’
‘So, take to an inch all over? An urchin cut would really suit you.’
‘Rorinie! What are you thinking about? If you take off more than an inch, I’ll sue you! And as for Mr Michelin Star being Mr Wonderful, I don’t think you know him very well!’
‘Calm down, love. I was only joking. Two inches should do it.’
She closed her eyes while he combed her hair. It felt very soothing. ‘That feels wonderful. Would you mind if I had a little nap while you worked?’
‘Go ahead. It’ll give me a free hand. But keep your head up.’
In spite of her fears, Perdita was pleased with her new hairstyle. It was a bit shorter, so it bounced round her face in a way which was at once youthful and sophisticated, but she could still tie it back so she could lean over her work without it getting in the way.
Roger had been very complimentary, but if she had been hoping for admiring comments from Lucas, she was disappointed.
‘The television people are going to start next week,’ he said when she delivered to Grantly House the following Monday. ‘Can you be ready?’
‘What do I have to do?’
‘I’ll give you a list of veg I’ll need, so you’ll need to supply that.’
‘Well, don’t go setting your heart on anything out of season, or that I haven’t got. I’m not a miracle-worker. There’s not much I could grow by next week, apart from a few cresses.’
He scowled at her. ‘I pretty much know what’s available and when, but I would like a chance to go and have a look.’
‘Oh, well. Come this afternoon then. You can have a tour.’
‘I like your hair,’ whispered Janey, as Perdita walked out of the door. ‘It suits you shorter.’
‘Thanks. Seen William lately? He’s not very good at keeping me informed about his love life.’
‘Well, I go to his mum’s for Sunday dinner quite often. And my mum thinks he’s wonderful.’
‘So he is. And—’
‘Janey! You’re not here to gossip with Perdita! Get on with your work!’
‘There’s no need to be so rude, Lucas. How are you going to cope with all those television people if you can’t even be civil to your own staff?’ muttered Perdita.
Lucas sighed. ‘God knows!’
The sight of Perdita’s poly-tunnels, filled with such delights as chrysanthemum greens, Chinese box thorn, edible burdock, purple-flowering pak choi, as well as more conventional crops, made Lucas glance at Perdita in admiration as he took notes, walking along tasting as he went.
‘Look,’ she said, picking a sprig of tiny flowers encircled by the leaf. ‘I think they look like little fairy ballet dancers.’
‘You don’t really talk to your plants, do you?’ It wasn’t entirely a question.
‘Well, I do, but not necessarily politely.’
He laughed, remembering his first visit to her poly-tunnels when she had cooed at them nauseatingly. ‘This lot is quite inspiring, I must say. I’ll make up a list.’ He sighed. ‘Although I dare say they’ll only let me use bog-standard ingredients you can buy at the supermarket.’
‘Then they won’t want me involved. You can buy your lollo rosso in town.’
‘Oh no, they definitely want you involved. The producer was on the phone again the other night. They’ve slightly changed their original idea.’
‘Oh? Do you want to tell me over a cup of tea?’ Perdita didn’t eat much these days, but she drank a lot of tea. ‘Come into the house, and I’ll make you one.’
‘You haven’t been in your house lately, have you, Perdita?’ he asked, as they walked back together.
‘No. I don’t have much time to be in it, what with one thing and another.’ Then she remembered that Lucas was
going to stay in it while his flat was de-loused. ‘Why? Do you know something I don’t, like, my kettle’s gone missing?’
going to stay in it while his flat was de-loused. ‘Why? Do you know something I don’t, like, my kettle’s gone missing?’
‘Oh, your kettle’s still there. I think. If it was a battered, antique copper one.’
Alerted by his tone, Perdita hurried along the walkway to her back door and opened it.
Perdita’s kitchen looked like something out of a magazine. Everything in it that she ever used had vanished. There was now a three-tiered wooden plate rack attached to the wall, next to a bar from which butcher’s hooks supported a selection of copper cooking implements. There were ladles, tiny frying pans, a conical colander, a nutmeg grater and a box grater, a cream-skimmer and a set of cream measures. A wire egg basket in the shape of a chicken hung next to upside-down bunches of dried flowers. The worktops were mostly obscured with similarly beautiful but useless ephemera. There were sets of jelly moulds, milk jugs, an old, enormous oil lamp, copper bowls with rounded bottoms, salt-glazed pots filled with wooden cooking utensils and a set of storage jars. Nothing in it, with the exception of the wooden spoons, looked as if it were any use at all.
‘Oh my God!’ she breathed. ‘It’s gone all
Country Living.’
Country Living.’
‘I know you hate it. I couldn’t stop them. They are set on having it look all antiquified, and when they heard you weren’t living in the house, a set designer came down and went mad.’
Perdita looked about her. ‘Well, it does look pretty, I must admit. But can you work in among all this clutter?’
He laughed. ‘You don’t usually have a problem with clutter.’
‘No, but I’m me. You’re – you.’
‘I shall do my best. I did try and get them to tone down the wastefulness a bit, but as I had messed them around rather a lot already—’
‘Had you? How did you do that?’
‘Oh – well, I had to postpone the show once. If they hadn’t been so keen they’d have given up the idea.’
‘I didn’t know you’d had to postpone it. Why was that?’
‘Nothing to do with you. Now, while you’re getting used to your new-improved kitchen, I’ll hunt out your kettle and make a cup of tea. Don’t go in the sitting room.’
She needed no other invitation. It was as transformed as the kitchen. It was as if the pages of a magazine had settled over her old house like a mantle. Looking carefully, she spotted a few of her own possessions, hidden under kilims and throws and log baskets, but her papers, her clutter, and all signs of her personality had been waxed, polished and dusted out of sight. The floor looked spectacular with a sheen to shame the most over-the-top advertisement.
She went back into the kitchen. ‘Where’s all my stuff? You didn’t let them throw it away?’
‘Of course not. It’s all neatly packed into that container at the end of the drive. I don’t suppose you saw it, coming from the back.’
A little groan escaped her. ‘And what about upstairs? Did they trash that too, or did you?’
He seemed offended. ‘Go and see.’
Upstairs was as she’d left it. She clattered back downstairs, almost disappointed. ‘They haven’t done anything. I was expecting a lit-bateau draped with antique French linen and lace, at the very least.’
‘I wouldn’t let them go upstairs. I said I had to live here and couldn’t have it messed with.’
‘Oh. Are you living here? I didn’t notice any of your stuff around.’
‘Some of us manage not to go through life scattering litter as we pass, although it must seem strange to you.’
‘It’s a really good thing we didn’t stay married, Lucas. We’d have made each other so miserable.’
‘I’m glad I no longer have the monopoly on causing
misery. Now, come and have your tea and I’ll tell you what’s going on. By the way, whatever else happens, and it probably will, I think we both agree that we mustn’t let them find out we were once married. They’d have a field day.’
misery. Now, come and have your tea and I’ll tell you what’s going on. By the way, whatever else happens, and it probably will, I think we both agree that we mustn’t let them find out we were once married. They’d have a field day.’
‘As much as I hate to agree with you, ever, I think I have to this time.’
They perched on some wobbly but rustic stools and he opened a battered antique tin which, according to the advertising on the outside, had once contained shortbread. Now it was full of florentines.
‘Have one. I’m trying them out as a base for fruit and ice cream, but they may be too dominant.’
‘If this is dominant, I like it,’ said Perdita, biting into a wafer of flaked almonds, glace cherries, and other dried fruits coated on one side with chocolate.
‘Hmm. I’m not sure the nuts aren’t too overpowering. I might be better with just the brandy snap base. Now,’ he went on briskly. ‘Don’t distract me. Filming starts this Friday. It’s only a half-hour programme at the moment, but it’ll take three days to shoot, at the least. Will you be able to manage that, with Kitty?’
‘Oh, yes. All her sitters are primed to be on call whenever they’re needed. And Kitty is really looking forward to hearing all about the television.’
‘They want this show to be more real, with a few failures on view. And they want interaction between us.’
‘But I thought I just had to totter on with a few decorative vegetables in a trug and give them to the star chef.’ She paused. ‘I hope you get it, by the way.’
He made a face. ‘We won’t know until the end of January next year. But no, they want me to talk to you about the veg, say what it’s used for and what it tastes like.’
‘Hell! I know what it tastes like, but I don’t know what to do with the bloody stuff! I just grow it!’
‘That’s what I told them, but they wouldn’t believe that
a gardener didn’t know or care what happened to her produce after she’d sold it.’
a gardener didn’t know or care what happened to her produce after she’d sold it.’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t care, I just don’t know! Did you manage to convince them?’
‘They’ll give you a script, which I will help write. They said, “Never mind, she could have fewer brain cells than her pak choi and we’d still want her for her looks.”’
Perdita found herself blushing. Whether it was because of the slur on her intelligence, or the reference to her appearance, she didn’t know.
‘Don’t take it out on me,’ added Lucas. ‘I didn’t say it.’
‘Just as well. How soon will you know what you want?’
‘Go and play in the garden for ten minutes, and I’ll give you a list now.’
Perdita took another couple of florentines and her mug of tea, and went out into her shed. When she came back for more, he was ready. She read through it.
‘I’m afraid you can’t have purslane until the end of next month, claytonia’s fine—’
‘I know. I saw it in flower just now.’
‘As long as you appreciate the flowers, they are so divinely pretty. Ditto sorrel,
mâche
and mizuna. You can have sprouted lentils if I start now, and you can have celery leaf, but not a lot, so you’ll have to be careful. You won’t be able to mess it up and start again.’
mâche
and mizuna. You can have sprouted lentils if I start now, and you can have celery leaf, but not a lot, so you’ll have to be careful. You won’t be able to mess it up and start again.’
He looked affronted, and she patted his knee placatingly. ‘I mean,’ she went on, ‘they won’t be able to get endless shots. I do have other customers, after all.’
‘I’m sure they’d all understand if you make the show the priority. They’ll be getting mentions, I expect, as businesses that use you. Certainly in any publicity the press gives us.’ He saw her frown. ‘I’ll deal with the local paper, don’t worry – and any nationals that show interest.’
‘Thanks. Normally it would be fine – I like talking about my veg – but just now, with Kitty, I can’t cope with anything extra.’
‘Perdita, if you want to change your mind about this show—’ He sounded disconcertingly sympathetic.
‘Oh, no. I want to do it. And Kitty would never speak to me again if I backed out. Ronnie wouldn’t forgive me either. I’m already in his bad books. He desperately wanted me to have a makeover before the show and I said I couldn’t face it.’ She smiled brightly. She didn’t mention Roger, because she didn’t want to bring up Lucas’s opinions as to his motives. That way she could avoid thinking about them. ‘Good to think it’s so soon. It means I won’t have time to be tortured.’
‘What would a makeover involve, do you think?’
‘I don’t know, being submerged in mud possibly, having one’s body hairs ripped out, one by one, by a girl in an overall covered in badges. Could I have another biscuit?’
He handed her the tin. ‘Just as well I didn’t want to use these. Do you eat proper meals, ever?’
‘Of course. Whatever the carer puts in front of me.’
‘What about lunch?’
‘I have a sandwich, or something.’
‘Liar.’
‘What?’
‘If you came in here to make yourself sandwiches, you’d have known about the kitchen.’
Caught out, she said, ‘I make sandwiches at Kitty’s, and take them with me.’
‘Nonsense. I know you, you just fly out of the house with nothing more than a cup of tea inside you. You probably don’t even have toast.’
‘I do sometimes.’ When she stole half a ready-buttered and marmaladed piece from the carer’s plate. ‘Anyway, what are my eating habits to do with you?’
‘I don’t want you fainting on set, or anything. The lights will be quite powerful, you know.’
‘Well, I promise to eat more when we start.’
‘Do it now! You can’t do what you’re doing, living two
lives, and not have proper nourishment! From now on you’ll have a proper breakfast every time you make a delivery to Grantly House. It won’t take long,’ he added, ‘so don’t go saying you haven’t time.’
lives, and not have proper nourishment! From now on you’ll have a proper breakfast every time you make a delivery to Grantly House. It won’t take long,’ he added, ‘so don’t go saying you haven’t time.’
‘Well, that would be very kind. But I won’t be making any deliveries between now and the show. I’m going to be working flat out making sure everything’s perfect.’
‘Then I’ll send William back with breakfast on a plate! But after the show, if you don’t turn up, I’ll come and find you and feed you myself!’
Other books
The Rogue Element (Scott Priest Book 1) by John Hardy Bell
4 Vamp Versus Vamp by Christin Lovell
Opal Plumstead by Jacqueline Wilson
The Edge Of The Cemetery by Margaret Millmore
The Wedding Countdown by Ruth Saberton
Deadlight by Graham Hurley
The Elder Ice: A Harry Stubbs Adventure by Hambling, David
Softail Curves II by D. H. Cameron
The Witch Hunter's Tale by Sam Thomas
Present Darkness by Malla Nunn
