‘Anyway,’ Juliet said, ‘I wanted to tell you I talked over that other thing with Oscar and he agrees that Jake would be the perfect choice.’
‘Jake?’ Daniel queried.
‘Jake Knightley,’ Kate explained. ‘I thought I’d ask him to take a look at the courtyard. Come up with some plans for re-landscaping the space come spring.’
Daniel frowned. ‘Will he have time now he’s taken over the running of Knightley Hall?’
‘I think he’s looking for all the work he can get,’ Juliet said. ‘Knightley Hall is kind of expensive to run.’
‘Okay, I’ll try and set up a meeting. Let me write it down, or I’ll forget. As you’re here and Daniel’s here, shall we start the meeting now?’
‘Works for me,’ Juliet said. ‘Have notebook, will meet. So, are we employing Harry Stiles or what?’
‘Nope.’
‘Melody’s going to be so disappointed.’
‘Trust me, she really isn’t,’ Kate said.
‘Hey, why don’t we show Juliet what we put up in reception, before we start the meeting?’
Kate jumped off the table excitedly. ‘Oh. Yes. Perfect. Juliet, come with us,’ and grabbing her hand before she could sit down, she steered her down the two flights of stairs until all three of them were standing at the reception desk in the main foyer of The Clock House.
‘What do you think?’ she asked, pointing to the newly placed vintage photo frames that she and Daniel had put up behind the reception desk the night before. ‘I thought it would be nice to have them up,’ Kate explained, looking at the three postcards Juliet had sent her at the beginning of the year, explaining that The Clock House was going up for sale. ‘You know – a permanent reminder.’
Juliet nodded. ‘So when we’re super-successful and absolutely rolling in it we can look at these and think: Jennifer Lopez, ‘Jenny From The Block’.
‘What? No, so we can—’
‘Oh, I get it,’ Juliet interrupted fist-bumping her heart and then pointing her hand up to the sky and launching into Take That’s ‘Never Forget’.
‘Oh my God. Stop that. I just meant I wanted a lovely reminder of how this space came to be. Of where we started. Of all the hopes you had. All the hopes I had. Of how you tapped into that and started this whole thing.’
A soft smile formed on Juliet’s lips as she stopped teasing. ‘I didn’t really start this whole thing you know.’
Kate nodded. ‘I know. Bea did.’
‘Yes, Bea did. But it’s perfect and I love it. And having them framed for everyone to see, it’s like we’re paying the sentiment forward.’
Kate turned to stare at the postcards, a huge smile forming on her lips. ‘Hey, what would you say if I told you I’d just thought of the perfect way to pay the postcards forward and find someone to run Cocktails & Chai?’
Jake
Jake Knightley rounded the corner, took in the sight before him, rolled his eyes, and sticking his fingers into his mouth, produced an ear-splitting whistle.
Bingley the bichon stopped his investigation (chomping) of the lowest border of herbs Jake had been in the process of protecting from winter frosts, and cocked his head at his owner’s brother.
‘Damn right, you’d better be afraid,’ Jake told the dog, trying and failing to sound stern. ‘In about one hour from now it isn’t going to be rainbows you’re sh—’ he broke off as he saw his toddler nephew come tottering around the border. ‘Pooping,’ he said instead, with a stare of exasperation at the dog.
Eighteen month old Elton squealed, ‘Bad doggy, Bingey’ and catching sight of his favourite uncle grinned like he needed to let some of the sunshine inside of him free. Jake actually suspected each of his three brothers was Elton’s favourite uncle but he’d be lying if he didn’t get a kick out of seeing the adoration in the kid’s face. Smiling back indulgently, he bent and scooped his nephew into his arms. ‘Where’s Mummy, then?’
Elton flung an arm out, narrowly missing Jake’s chin, and pointed behind him.
‘Let’s go, Bingley,’ Jake commanded, and made sure the dog was at his heels.
With his nephew in his arms and the pup at his feet, he wandered through the kitchen garden of the Tudor mansion that had been in his family for generations and which he’d finally been allowed to take over from his parents last year. After studying horticulture and then spending several years working for a garden design firm in London, returning to run Knightley Hall and restore the gardens so they could be opened to the public felt like the realest thing he’d ever done and the place he was supposed to make his mark.
He’d been fortunate enough to work on lots of magnificent gardens, but restoring the ones in his ancestral home was what he’d wanted to do since he’d been a teenager.
Carrying Elton effortlessly, Jake crossed the main patio leading to the terraced gardens that ran the back of the house and walked around the side of the building so that he could get to the front drive.
His sister, Sarah, was busy bumping her car door shut with her hip while she tried to juggle a large cake box and her laptop.
‘Sorry, Jake,’ she mumbled around the set of car keys in her mouth. She opened her mouth so that the keys fell onto the top of the cake-box she was holding and groaned, ‘Little tykes both got away from me.’
Jake reached her side and grabbed the keys that were just about to slide off. ‘Tyke number two found a dinner of sorts within seconds of arriving. Expect the distinct smell of parsley when you’re cleaning up after him later.’
‘Oh Christ, really?’ A look of tired resignation came over her face and then suddenly she was smiling. ‘Perhaps we’ll stay with you for supper and Bingley can have the roam of the gardens.’
‘I don’t need compost that badly,’ Jake laughed, walking with her back towards the rear of the house. ‘And you can stay, but I won’t be around. I was just organising cloches and cold-frames before I pop over to The Clock House.’
‘But I brought food. Well, cake.’
Jake eyed the box suspiciously. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No way is cake going to make up for you hatching that evil, twisted plan with Mum, last week.’
‘Oh come on. How was I supposed to know the woman mum was talking about was Gloria Pavey.’
Jake shuddered. He was sure Gloria Pavey was perfectly nice. At least she would be once she got over the bitterness of her husband Bob leaving her for a male model called Bobby. ‘Thanks to the both of you, she’s been round twice, asking if I can pose in her charity calendar.’
‘That doesn’t sound so bad.’
‘Mowing the lawn.’
Sarah winced. ‘Going for themed, is she? Well, I suppose mowing is kind of connected to what you do.’
‘Naked.’
‘What the—’ she broke off as she looked at Elton. ‘I miss swearing so bad,’ she confessed. ‘So, Gloria’s