Finally – too late – he understood Claire’s point of view. She’d frequently complained about the stress of leaving work early to get home for Lauren on the couple of days a week she’d worked (thank God they’d employed Lauren while Claire was still alive. It had ensured at least some stability for Sam). Joel hadn’t understood. Like so much else. Too late. He’d always been too late.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
‘Can we review the situation in a month, Joel?’ Dan said, calling Joel back in. ‘Any chance you can get those figures I need by tomorrow?’
Joel surreptitiously looked at his text message. Lauren. Of course. Where r u? The message glowed at him, bristling with resentment. It was amazing how guilty Lauren could make him feel. But then he often felt racked with guilt these days.
‘Sure thing,’ said Joel, looking forward to another late night date with his laptop.
‘Brilliant,’ said Dan. ‘On my desk, first thing?’
Joel had never been late yet delivering figures, but Dan always made him feel as if somehow he were likely to be.
‘First thing,’ he promised, and tried not to leg it out of the meeting room and to his office.
He rang Lauren as soon as he was back at his desk, rooting around for the information he needed to take home with him that night.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ll be with you as quick as I can.’
Thank God he’d got a job not too far outside Chiverton. Switching jobs when they moved to Heartsease had felt risky at the time, but turned out to be a godsend. There was no way he could manage a job that involved a big commute now.
Ten minutes later he came flying up Lauren’s path, his heart pounding, sweating like a pig, and feeling like he might be about to have a coronary any minute. Lauren already had the door open, Sam in her arms, bag ready, disapproval rippling from her every pore. He couldn’t blame her. If life was tough for him, he knew it was equally hard for her. Lauren had told him snippets, and Claire had told him more, about Troy, the feckless father who’d left her in the labour ward, and on several occasions she’d confided in him how tough she found it being a single parent.
‘I’m so sorry, Lauren,’ said Joel. ‘I was stuck in the meeting from hell.’
‘It’s not me you’ll have to answer to, it’s my mum,’ said Lauren, her voice tight with evident frustration. ‘I’ve just had to put up with twenty minutes of nagging about why I let you get away with it. Mum did offer to stay with Sam, but I don’t like to leave him with anyone else.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ said Joel, again, feeling terrible. It was unusual for Lauren to actually say what she thought. ‘I promise I’ll do better next time.’
‘You always say that,’ said Lauren, but her tone was softening.
He took Sam from her. ‘Thanks, Lauren,’ he said. ‘Look. I don’t say it very often, and I should.’
‘Should say what?’ He could still feel some hostility.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Since – since Claire died, I don’t know what we’d have done without you, Sam and I. You’re always there for us, and I take you for granted.’
There was a silence and Joel felt more awkward than ever.
‘And I am sorry,’ he added.
‘Oh stop,’ he detected a wobble in Lauren’s voice. ‘You know I’d do anything for the pair of you. It’s the least I can do for – for Claire.’
She turned away from him for a moment, and he thought maybe she’d wiped a tear away from her eye, but she looked back and added casually, ‘Oh, by the way I had coffee with your guerrilla gardener. Her name’s Kezzie and she thinks you should get back on with restoring your garden.’
‘I gathered,’ said Joel.
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ said Lauren. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I told her I thought you should.’
Kezzie stood outside Joel’s house wondering whether she’d made a mistake. She felt absurdly nervous. Having rashly declared to Lauren that she was going to take on Joel’s garden for him, she’d decided she should go round and just tell him that’s what she was going to do. Logically she knew all that could happen was that Joel would say no. But somehow it mattered to her more than she thought possible that she restore the garden. Not only had the magic of the place infected her, but if she could do this, and do it well, she might be halfway to her dream of getting a show garden ready for Chelsea, just as she and Richard had always planned. And she did want to fulfil that dream. If only to show Richard what he was missing.
‘Come on, Kezzie, are you a woman or mouse?’ she said out loud, then pushed open the creaking gate, and walked up the cracked path. Now she was up close to the house, she could see there were evident signs of occupation – a pair of boots by the front door, a child’s plastic scooter hidden in the privet bush that jammed its way up against the bay windows, a light faintly shining through the stained-glass window. But it had a sad, lonely air, as if it were a house that had been left to its own devices for a very long time. Even the wisteria bush which clung to the front of the house looked lost and untended.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked hard on the door. There was no reply, so she knocked again. Still no reply. Oh well, perhaps she should come back another day. She was about to leave when suddenly the door was opened and Joel was standing there. Taller than she remembered, with dark, floppy hair, and kind blue eyes. Her heart gave a little flip. He was more attractive than she’d realized on their previous encounter.
‘Right, here’s the thing,’ she said, ‘I want to restore your garden for you.’
‘Sorry?’ His voice wrapped itself round her like dark velvet. She hadn’t noticed how warm and deep it was.
‘It’s me, Kezzie. I did tell you my name was Kezzie, didn’t I? I’ve decided I want to restore your garden. May I come in?’
‘Er. OK,’ said Joel, looking and sounding bemused. ‘If you just give me a minute. I’ve just put my son to bed, and I’d better just check he’s settled down. Go on straight through to the kitchen.’
‘No problem.’
Not that she was interested in Joel, but he was the only halfway decent male she’d met in the bruising months since Richard had ditched her. It had occurred to her she needed a nice uncomplicated fling to get Richard out of her system, but attractive as Joel seemed, she had a feeling he’d be very, very complicated.
She walked through the hall noticing the unfinished floors, and unpainted walls. It all felt so terribly sad. She was surprised when she turned left into the kitchen, that it was shiny and new, with the latest modern gadgets, and a dazzling array of equipment. It was a kitchen to die for, and yet somehow it seemed to lack soul. She sat down on a bar stool, which she found tucked under the breakfast bar, and sat at the kitchen window looking into the dark. What was she doing here? She didn’t know this man from Adam. If Joel had wanted to do something about his garden he’d have done something about it by now. She was just interfering in something that she had no business interfering with. Kezzie sat there, irresolute, her heart churning, her palms sweating.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Joel, interrupting her thoughts as he came silently into the room. ‘So what is it you want exactly?’
Kezzie took a deep breath. He hadn’t told her to get lost, maybe this could work. It was worth a try at least. ‘I know we didn’t exactly get off to a good start, and you probably think I’m interfering, but I really would be interested in doing up your garden. I want to exhibit at Chelsea at some point and I think restoring your knot garden would be a fabulous project to work on. And Lauren said you always wanted to restore it …’ her voice trailed away. ‘Look, I’ll