The French Gardener (16 page)

“From the horse’s mother’s mouth,” Verity confirmed when Phillip asked how she’d heard. “As you can imagine, she’s beside herself. One doesn’t expect one’s own child to let one down in such a public way. For a South African! She’s run off to the other side of the world. Why she didn’t take her children with her, I can’t imagine. What sort of woman leaves her children? It’s unthinkable!”

“She must have been dreadfully unhappy,” said Ava, trying to find something nice to say.

“Nonsense, darling! You bite the bullet and get on with it. One can’t expect to be happy all the time. That’s the trouble with your generation, you didn’t live through the war. You expect to be happy, as if it’s a right. It’s not a right. It’s a bonus. The cherry on the cake. Daisy’s a mother and she owes it to those children to bring them up. They’re going to have to live with the knowledge that they were abandoned. Imagine what a terrible scar. Those poor darlings. My heart bleeds for them.
Bleeds
for them,” she repeated with emphasis. “Darling, this soup is frightfully good. What is it?”

“Parsnip and ginger. I’m so glad you like it,” said Ava, still reeling from the scandal.

“Perhaps if you’d remained friends with Daisy, she wouldn’t have got into this mess,” continued Verity. “You’d have been a good example to her. Such a pity!” Donald looked at Phillip and rolled his eyes.

The following day Ava showed her mother around the garden. Jean-Paul appeared for work even though it was Saturday. “I want to water those plants,” he explained. “And the children want to build a bonfire.”

“I’m Ava’s mother,” said Verity. It didn’t occur to her to shake his hand; after all, he was just the gardener. So when Jean-Paul took hers and raised it to his lips, murmuring “
Enchanté
,” Verity didn’t know whether to be shocked or flattered.

“They’re keeping you busy,” she said, trying not to look flustered.

“I am not an idle man. I like to be busy.”

“Well, there’s no shortage of things to do in this garden, is there?”

“Where are the children?” Ava asked.

“They are in the hollow tree. They are playing pirates.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in thick, glossy tufts.

“Have they got my Heinz?”

“Yes, they have,
madame
. I believe he’s a shark.”

“Then what are Bernie and Tarquin?” Ava asked with a smile.

“Sea monsters.”

“Where are you from?” Verity asked.

“Bordeaux,” he replied.

“They produce gardeners there, do they?”

“Indeed,” Jean-Paul replied.

She frowned at him, unsure where to place him on the human food chain. “What do your parents do?”

The corners of Jean-Paul’s mouth twitched with amusement. “They work in the iron and steel industry,” he replied. Ava looked on in bewilderment.

“Really?” Verity exclaimed, unimpressed.

“Yes, my mother irons and my father steals.” With that he sauntered off.

“Good gracious, he’s rude,” commented Verity, watching him go in amazement. “Did you hear what he said? His father steals! Don’t tell me he’s your gardener?”

“Mummy, he’s teasing! Remember I told you about Phillip’s French friend Henri de la Grandière? Jean-Paul is his son. He’s come to work for a year to gain experience.”

“I remember you said something about it. Still, he’s jolly rude. If he wasn’t so easy on the eye, I’d be offended.”

“I’ve asked Toddy for lunch tomorrow with some of her cousins. I thought I should introduce him to girls his own age.”

“That’s very good of you, darling. I’m sure that’s beyond the call of duty. Mind you, one never really knows how to treat someone in his position. He’s neither staff nor guest.”

“Friend,” interjected Ava.

“If you say so, though I like things to be clearly defined. Trouble brews when the lines are blurred. When people don’t know where they stand.”

“Mother, you’re very out of date.”

“Well, yes. I suppose I am. But I am right, you know.”

On Sunday Toddy arrived for lunch with Mr. Frisby, the twins, and the two pretty young cousins, Lizzie and Samantha. The boys ran off to the bonfire which they could see smoking over the wall of the vegetable garden. The girls hovered with Toddy, breathless with excitement. Ava welcomed them warmly, showing them into the drawing room where Verity was holding court on the sofa with Phillip and Donald. They were certainly pretty. Blondes, with blue eyes accentuated by
the heavy-handed use of blue eyeliner. Both were bosomy girls, though Lizzie was the slimmer of the two, in a pair of tight jeans with a pink sweater inscribed with the words “Light My Fire.” Her lips shimmered with pink gloss and her wrists jangled with dozens of bracelets. Samantha was rounder with rosy cheeks, permed hair and red nail varnish. She wore a blue shirt over a long fishtail skirt. They stood in a cloud of Anaïs Anaïs scent which made Ava want to sneeze. She watched them shake hands with her mother. They were polite, though a little too gushing, their faces sweet but fleshy with pale shiny skin and vacuous expressions like lovely cows. By the look on Donald’s face as he stood to introduce himself, he thought them ravishingly beautiful.

“Where is he?” Toddy hissed, taking Mr. Frisby off her shoulder to cradle him and scratch his tummy.

“He’s out with the children,” Ava replied.

“Let’s take the girls outside,” Toddy suggested. “Much less awkward than meeting in here.”

“Good idea,” said Ava. “Come on Lizzie, Samantha. Let’s go and see the bonfire.”

“Do you have to go?” Donald was beginning to enjoy himself. He was about to follow when his wife grabbed him by the belt.

“No, darling. You’re an old man. They’re here to meet Jean-Paul. Sit down and act your age.”

“I thought it would be jolly to watch the grandchildren.”

“No, you didn’t.” She smiled as he sat beside her and crossed his arms. “You read her sweater and took her at her word. I think it’s for the Frenchman’s benefit and, by the look of him, he’ll have no trouble lighting her fire.”

Ava watched the two girls flirt and giggle with Jean-Paul. He stood, leaning on a pitchfork, his shirt roughly tucked into jeans that emphasized his slim hips and long legs. He had rolled up his sleeves, baring brown forearms and hands already rough from laboring in the garden. He gazed at them arrogantly, his mouth curling in amusement, clearly enjoying their attention. Ava stood with Toddy, pretending to be watching the children, but she could see him in her peripheral vision. Lizzie and Samantha leaned towards him, their body language leaving no doubt that they found him attractive. Ava was fascinated by this flirtatious dance and was reminded of her first meeting with Phillip. It felt like a long time ago. In the company of these two young creatures she felt old and dowdy—a partridge beside birds of paradise.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” said Toddy, letting Mr. Frisby jump off her shoulder to run about the vegetable patches.

“I doubt it, Toddy,” Ava replied drily.

“Lizzie and Samantha make me feel uncomfortably grown up.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she agreed with a sigh.

“I never thought I’d be this old. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them. Courtship, marriage, children. They can
still pick their man. They still have choices. It makes me sad to think I’ll never flirt like that again, or make love for the first time.”

“We have new things to look forward to,” said Ava, not quite certain what those things were.

“Like extramarital affairs and divorce.”

“Don’t be so cynical, Toddy.”

“I’m not married to Mr. Wonderful. Sometimes I’d rather like to have another round. People shouldn’t stay married for so long. In the old days we died at thirty. Now we live so long, it’s like two lifetimes. I think one should be able to call it quits halfway through and enjoy another marriage when it starts to grow humdrum. Do you know what I mean?”

“Sort of.” Ava laughed affectionately.

“I won’t leave him, you know that. Just enjoy thinking about it sometimes. You know, if I was honest, I wouldn’t mind an affair. If I could guarantee it would remain a secret. That no one would ever know or get hurt.”

“Anyone in mind?”

“No. That’s the other hurdle, of course. There’s no one in Hartington. But I do miss the buzz of those first, intoxicating encounters. My marriage is a bit too comfortable, like a trusty old slipper I can’t be bothered to wear anymore. The desire’s gone. Do you and Phillip roll about a lot?”

“Toddy, you can’t ask me that!” Ava was embarrassed.

“Come on. Is it the same for all of us? Are we all in the same boat?”

Ava crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, Toddy. Phillip and I have a very healthy marriage.”

“Oh.” Toddy sounded disappointed. “No affair for you, then?”

“No.”

“Well, there’s always a silver lining. At least we won’t be fighting over the same man!”

“That is true,” Ava agreed. “I’m pleased to say that I’m happy with the one I’ve got.”

Ava went inside to check on Mrs. Marley, the cook. A scrawny little woman with gray hair tied into a neat bun and a kindly smile that she bestowed on everyone indiscriminately, she was at the sink straining the summer peas and broad beans that Ava had picked and frozen. “Can I send Phillip in to carry?” Ava asked. Mrs. Marley smiled at her through the cloud of steam.

“That would be good, Mrs. L., if you wouldn’t mind. These beans are a treat. I had one or two to taste.”

“Would you like to take a bag home for your dinner?”

“Oh, Mrs. L., would you mind?” She went pink with delight.

“Not at all. I’ve got so many.”

“Stanley will be so pleased. He loves his food.”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, Mrs. Marley.”

“That’s the way to keep them, too,” she added with a grin. “Sadly, that’s not the way with children, is it? Feed them up and watch them go. My Nigel’s nearly fifteen now. He’ll go without his tea to have fish ’n’ chips with his girl. Never thought he’d prefer a girl to meat ’n’ two veg at home.”

“He’s a long way off leaving, Mrs. Marley. Your Susie’s only little.”

“My Susie.” She smiled tenderly at the thought of her. “She’s a little ’un. At least I’ve got little Susie.”

“Time flies, though, doesn’t it?” Ava hesitated a moment. “I want to freeze them so they never grow up. I’d like to freeze myself. I don’t want to grow up either.”

Mrs. Marley laughed and handed her a pair of oven gloves. “Trouble is, Mrs. L., you never feel grown-up inside. It’s a shock to look at myself in the mirror every morning, it really is. I used to have jet-black hair. It was my crowning glory. Now I’m as gray as a pigeon!”

As Ava was leaving the kitchen, a dish of crisp roast potatoes in her hands, she was met by Jean-Paul. “Can I help?” he asked.

“Thank you,” she replied. “But it’s in hand. You go and entertain those girls.” She grinned at him mischievously.

“You don’t think I’m interested, do you?”

“Why ever not? They’re pretty enough.”

“They are too young and inexperienced for my taste. I like a woman who has lived. Those girls are nice, but they are as unripe as a pair of green apples on a tree.”

“Really, Jean-Paul,” she protested, feeling her cheeks turn hot.

“I prefer the apple to have fallen off the tree.”

“Those bruised and browning fruit ravaged by bees?” She walked past him down the corridor towards the dining room. But the way he had looked at her remained in the crimson hue of her cheeks.

“Yes. Those are the best. They taste sweeter. The green ones are a little sour.”

Ava walked into the dining room with a bounce in her step and a wide smile on her face. She had felt old and dowdy next to Lizzie and Samantha, but now she felt attractive, something she hadn’t considered in a long time. Her looks had never been high on her list of priorities. Of course, Jean-Paul was teasing. She was married and there was no chemistry between them anyway. But a little flattery never did any harm.

Jean-Paul was placed between Lizzie and Samantha. Toddy kept an eye from the other end of the table where she sat between Phillip and Donald. The three young people were laughing and joking together. Toddy was pleased. She was fond of her cousins and particularly fond of Ava. She relished the idea of returning a few favors by taking Jean-Paul off her hands. If Lizzie and Samantha introduced him to their
crowd, Ava would be grateful. After all, what was she going to do with him when they weren’t gardening? The poor man had to have young people his own age to socialize with. She knew how Ava hated to feel caged in by anyone but Phillip.

Ava looked at her children. Having larked about during the main course, they were silent as they tucked into Mrs. Marley’s blackberry and apple crumble with custard. Poppy was struggling to serve herself another dollop of custard. Ava sensed she was being watched and turned to find Jean-Paul gazing at her wistfully. She frowned. He snapped out of his trance and nodded towards Poppy. Ava pulled a face to indicate that there was nothing to do but leave her to it. She felt a moment’s confusion. His gaze had been full of tenderness.

Jean-Paul went to Poppy’s aid before the jug tipped its contents over the table. Ava turned to talk to her father, making a conscious effort not to look at Jean-Paul. His flirting was charming, but she wasn’t going to swoon like those gushing girls, both silent now that he had left them. Besides, flirtation wasn’t appropriate at the lunch table in front of her husband, nor was it appropriate given that Jean-Paul was her employee.

After lunch Verity announced that it was time to leave. “The A303 will be a nightmare on a Sunday afternoon if we don’t hit it early.” Donald was just settling into the sofa beside Samantha, where he had longed to be since she had arrived, when Verity sent him to find Heinz. “The last I heard he was playing pirates at the hollow tree,” she told him.

“No, darling, I gave him his lunch in the back of the car, then let him have a wander. Why don’t you go and call him? He answers to you.”

“If he’s at the other end of the garden he won’t hear me.” She shook her head at his futile attempts to chat up a girl young enough to be his daughter. “Really, old men are so sad!” she hissed to Ava as she strode into the hall. “Have you seen Heinz?”

“I’ll help you look,” Ava volunteered. Jean-Paul remained in the drawing room talking to Lizzie on the club fender. Samantha tried to concentrate on Donald’s questions, but her eyes kept drifting over to her sister.

“Poor Daddy,” said Ava. “Samantha’s longing to talk to Jean-Paul, but she’s stuck.”

“Serves her right, silly girl,” Verity sniffed. “Shouldn’t have that silly slogan on her shirt.”

“That’s Lizzie, Mummy.”

“They both look the same to me. Too much eye makeup and not enough up top and I don’t mean hair.” She touched her beehive affectionately. “Fortunately, that dreadful lip gloss has been licked off during lunch. Young girls wear too much blue eyeliner these days. It’s dreadful. That crumble was delicious, by the way. Was that one of yours?”

“No, Mrs. Marley made it.”

“She’s a gem, isn’t she? Always cheerful. I do love cheerful people. Delicious roast potatoes. Very crisp. What’s her secret?”

“Oil infused with herbs from the garden.”

“Ah, that explains it. You wouldn’t make up a little doggie bag for me, would you? I’d love to take some home, for your father’s lunch tomorrow. You know how he loves potatoes, especially yours.”

“Why don’t I make you a basket, put some carrots and broad beans in, too?”

“Darling, you’re wonderful. To think you’re mine. I wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t look so like me.” She cast her daughter a sidelong glance. “Before you grimace, let me just say that I have jolly good bones and have aged well. You know where you’re going, looking at me, and it isn’t a bad place. Can’t think why your father has to drool over those young things. It’s quite unbecoming and very foolish. They only laugh at him.”

“It makes him feel young,” Ava replied kindly. “Actually, they don’t mind. I think they’re flattered—an intelligent,
gentle man like Daddy taking time to ask them about themselves. They should be grateful. It’s not like they’ve got an awful lot to say, have they?”

Ava and Verity walked around the garden calling for Heinz but the little dog remained elusive. Donald heard them shouting for him and relaxed. It would be a while before they found the damn animal. It hadn’t been his idea to buy a sausage dog small enough to get lost down any rabbit or badger hole. He would have bought a big dog like Bernie. At least one didn’t have to watch where one put one’s feet all the time!

After ten minutes Ava appeared in the doorway, red-faced and out of breath. “We need help,” she exclaimed. The room fell silent. “We’ve lost Heinz. He’s nowhere to be found.”

“Good God!” Donald huffed, pushing himself up. “Sorry, Samantha. You’re now going to have to race over the grass in those pretty shoes of yours.”

“I don’t mind,” she replied. “I’d like to see what Jean-Paul has done in the garden!” Samantha giggled. “I know nothing about flowers. Maybe he can show us around.”

“With any luck he’ll be stuck down a hole and that’ll be that!” Donald continued under his breath. “Never liked the damned thing.” He turned to Jean-Paul. “Come on. You must know every corner of the place by now.”

Jean-Paul shrugged. “I’m getting there. It’s a big estate. Let’s get the children to help. If we make it into a game they’ll enjoy it.”

“And with any luck they’re small enough to check out all the rabbit holes,” added Phillip, conjuring up such a funny image in his mind that he chuckled.

“Good idea,” said Ava, hurrying through the hall to shout across the field to the hollow tree. At their mother’s summons the children tumbled out like bees from a hive, flying across the grass, yelling for Heinz.

Verity was getting frantic. Heinz was her baby. “If he’s dead, I’ll never forgive myself,” she wailed, wringing her hands. By now her beehive was coming apart, sticking out around her head like a furry dandelion clock. Her face suddenly looked gaunt, framed by such a large spray of hair.

“If he’s lost I’ll open a bottle of Dom Perignon,” muttered Donald to Phillip. It was beginning to get dark.

Toddy turned her thoughts to Mr. Frisby. She hadn’t seen him since before lunch. Not that she worried. He always came back. Mr. Frisby knew which side his bread was buttered. She went around to the front of the house to check in the boot of the Land Rover. There, snuggled up among old blankets and Toddy’s riding boots, were Heinz and Mr. Frisby, both exhausted from their morning’s activity in the hollow tree. “Oh Lord,” she sighed, guilty that her pet had abducted Verity’s. “How am I going to break this to Verity?” She needn’t have worried, Verity was so relieved her darling Heinz was alive and well that she thanked Toddy profusely, pressing a bewildered Heinz to her bosom.

Donald was disappointed they had to leave so soon, though Samantha had turned her attention on Jean-Paul and there was no distracting her from the Frenchman’s charm. She said good-bye to Donald, then hurried off to Jean-Paul’s cottage with Lizzie, telling Toddy that Jean-Paul would drive them home later in Ava’s car.

After tea Toddy gathered her children and said her own good-byes. The twins were sparkly-eyed and covered in mud from having played outside all afternoon. Once in the back of the Land Rover they grew quiet, not bothering to stifle their yawns.

Ava bathed hers and put them to bed, reading them a shorter story than usual because it was late and they were all tired. Poppy insisted on a long hug, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck and nuzzling her sleepily. Ava closed
her eyes and savored the warm body pressed against hers, aware that every day her daughter grew a little bigger and a little closer to rejecting her embraces.

That night she lay in bed with Phillip, enjoying their usual postmortem of the day. “Toddy asked me if we still ‘rolled about a bit,’” said Ava. Her husband looked suitably horrified.

“What did you say?”

“That it’s something I never discuss.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“But I did say that we have a very healthy marriage.”