The French Gardener(17)

“Oh no you don’t, Mr. Claybourne, I can manage it. God didn’t make me big and strong to let others do my work for me.” Miranda was slightly put out at hearing her husband David referred to as mister. Mrs. Underwood balanced the tray on the corner of the sideboard and unloaded the vegetables. Gus had never seen so many. “These potatoes are from my own garden, they taste like potatoes should.” There were beans, peas and carrots, sprinkled with parsley and butter. She began to carve. The meat was tender and rose pink in the middle. David’s mouth watered.

The first bite confirmed what Miranda already knew. Mrs. Underwood would be a fine addition to the family. “I don’t think I’ve tasted better,” said David, as the lamb melted on his tongue.

“It’s organic Dorset lamb,” said Mrs. Underwood proudly. “There’s a farmers’ market in Hartington every Saturday morning.”

“Really?” said Miranda.

“I’m surprised you don’t know about it.” She placed the gravy on the table.

“I don’t go into town much.”

“You will. Once you’ve settled in you’ll get to know it and its people. The best way to become part of the community is to go to church. The Lightlys always sat in the front pew. There wasn’t a person in town who didn’t like them.” Miranda cringed at the idea of playing lady of the manor, but it added another piece to David’s picture-perfect country life.

“I think it’s a terrific idea. It’s about time we got to know the locals.”

“Do you?” said Miranda, screwing up her nose. She envisaged those ghastly coffee mornings with stay-at-home mums and meetings in the church hall to discuss the flower rota. “Darling, we never went to church in London.”

“More reason why we should start now. Gus and Storm should have a religious education. It’ll do them good to become part of the fabric of the place. Help them settle in.” Miranda read between the lines and looked at Gus, busily tucking into his vegetables. Gus usually hated vegetables.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Mrs. Underwood, making towards the door. “There’s steam pudding for dessert. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“You’re hired,” David called after her.

“I know,” she replied with a chuckle. “It’s good to be back.”

“Mrs. Underwood?” said Miranda.

The older woman stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”

“What’s your first name?”

She straightened. “Mrs. Underwood,” she replied curtly. “Everyone calls me Mrs. Underwood.”

“Oh,” Miranda replied, feeling foolish.

“Let me know when you’re ready for pudding,” she repeated with a smile. “Syrup sponge was Mr. Lightly’s favorite.”



After lunch David’s satisfied gaze rested on his wife. There was nothing like a belly full of good food to make him feel horny. He ran his hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “How would you children like to watch a video for a while?” Miranda frowned. Hadn’t he forbidden Gus to watch television? “Mummy and I would like a siesta.” Her frown melted into a smile. Gus jumped down from his chair.

“Make sure you watch something that Storm will enjoy,” Miranda shouted as they bolted for the playroom. David took his wife’s hand.

“How about it, Mrs. Claybourne?”

“How about it indeed,” she replied, squeezing his hand. She felt the warm sensation of their reconnection.

“Well done, darling. You’ve found a cook and a gardener. There’s a fire blazing in the hall and the children are happy. Now you can make me happy.” He stood up and led her out of the room.

“I don’t think Mr. Underwood is a proper gardener,” she murmured as they walked into the hall.

“He’ll do for the time being. He can light fires and burn leaves. Besides, it’s autumn. There’s not a lot one can do in autumn.”

“Everyone keeps telling me this used to be the most beautiful garden in England. I’m beginning to feel we’re committing a terrible sin not looking after it.”

“It’s only a garden, darling.” He led her upstairs and into the master bedroom. “Now let’s get down to the important business before I have to catch that train to London.”



Gus and Storm sat in front of the television watching Nanny McPhee. They had already seen it before, loads of times, but it was the only DVD that they both enjoyed. Storm noticed Gus had been rather quiet over lunch, as if he was keeping a delicious secret. He fidgeted on the sofa, his gaze drawn outside by an invisible magnet. After a while he announced that he was bored of the movie and was going outside. “Can I come, too?” Storm asked, not because she wanted to play with him, but because he reeked of something mysterious.