The French Gardener(8)

“Just coming,” Cate replied. The atmosphere had suddenly cooled, as it did according to Cate’s moods. It had been careless of them to ignore her.

Miranda, sensing the shift, glanced at her watch. “Goodness, I must get going. It’s been very nice to meet you all.”

“Likewise,” said Henrietta truthfully. “We’ll find you your gardener, don’t worry.”

“Going already?” Troy gasped. “We’ve only just met. I’ve had all of ten minutes in your company. Don’t you like my cologne?”

“I like it,” said Miranda, shaking her head in amusement. “It suits you.”

“You mean it’s sweet.”

“Yes, but nice sweet.”

“The relief is overwhelming.” He shot her a devilish smile. “Do bring Mr. Claybourne in for a trim sometime. I’d love to meet him.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I might not get him back.” She stood up and shrugged on her coat. The girls watched her enviously. It was black and fitted, with wide fur-lined lapels and shoulders sharp enough to graze the air she walked through. “Thank you for my coffee and cake,” she said to Cate. “I really haven’t tasted better. Not even in London.” Cate perked up. “May I stick this on your board?” She took a typed piece of paper out of her bag.

“I’ll make sure they all read it,” said Cate, but she needn’t have bothered; the note was so big there was no way anyone could miss it.



“Well,” gushed Troy when Miranda disappeared into the street. “She’s quite a looker. ‘Thank you for my coffee and cake,’” he said, imitating her accent. “I love it!”

“She was rather cool to start with but she warmed up. I don’t think she knows what to make of you, Troy,” Henrietta teased.

“She’s perfectly nice but I think she’s a little stuck-up, don’t you? A typical Londoner, they always think they’re better than the rest of us,” said Cate silkily, bringing over Troy’s coffee and cake. “She’s one of those women used to lots of servants running around after her. She’s clearly lost without a housekeeper and a cook and a gardener and God knows what else. She bowled in here without any pleasantries as if this were the post office. It’s taken her, what? Two months to come and introduce herself. Too grand for Hartington. Probably thinks we’re all very provincial. She’s pretty though,” she added with a little sniff. “In a rather ordinary way.”

“I think you’re being harsh,” said Troy. Everyone knew that Cate rarely had anything nice to say about anyone. “She wasn’t too grand for your coffee.”

“That showed her, didn’t it? She won’t find a better coffee in London.”

“I should get back to the shop. I’ve left Clare there all on her own,” said Henrietta, referring to her sister.

“I shouldn’t worry, it’s not as if you’re busy,” said Cate. “Would you like a cake to take back with you?”

“A cake?” repeated Henrietta, confused. Hadn’t Cate berated her for eating too much not five minutes ago?

“For Clare, silly,” said Cate, popping one into a bag. Henrietta took the bag and left, feeling thoroughly humiliated.



Miranda returned home to find Gus sitting in front of the fire watching Lord of the Rings. He was eating a packet of chips and drinking a can of Coca-Cola. “Don’t you have any homework to do?” she asked.

Gus shrugged. “I left my bag at school.”

Miranda sighed. “Well, you’d better bring it back on Monday or you’ll be in trouble again. Your father’s coming home tonight. He’s not happy about what you did today.”

“I didn’t mean it,” said Gus, stuffing his mouth with a handful of chips. “I didn’t start it.”

“I don’t want to listen. I’ve got to work. Your sister will be home soon so you’ll have to turn that off. She’s frightened of those ghastly creatures.”

“Orcs,” Gus corrected.

“Whatever. Make sure you turn it off.”

“But Mum…”

“Off!”

Miranda returned to her desk. She could still taste that delicious cake and her head buzzed from the coffee. The people she had just met would pepper her column rather nicely. Troy was marvelously fruity and Henrietta voluptuous and sweet and totally dominated by Cate who was toxic, in spite of her magical recipes. They’d make a nice little trio. The trick was to build characters that featured monthly, then she could write the book, sell the film rights and watch the world turn into a giant oyster. Her fingers began to tap swiftly over the keyboard.