Wild Oats (31 page)

The meeting got off to a flying start. Tiona was delighted to report that the number of houses they’d sold since May was equal to the amount they’d sold since Hamilton had taken ill, so things were really taking off again. Samples of updated artwork – a revamped brochure and proposed new layout of their property details – had come in from the PR company, and they all agreed the new image was fresh and exciting yet still put them across as traditional and upmarket. Luke, the new boy that Tiona had taken on as her assistant, was congratulated on his hard work and dedication, and it was agreed that he should be allowed to do viewings on his own and should start studying for his estate agency exams.

It was only when Tiona put in a plea for another new member of staff that Christopher smelled trouble
on the horizon. He’d already noticed that whenever Norma tried to contribute, Tiona cut her off in irritation. Often the point that Norma made was perfectly valid, but she wasn’t being allowed her twopenceworth. She had, after all, been at the office longer than any of them. She’d worked for Hamilton for as long as Christopher could remember, she was Ludlow born and bred and a stalwart of the local scene, so her opinion was important.

Tiona gave a brief profile of exactly what they needed.

‘We need someone who can update the computer – there’s no point in having one unless the information is totally up to the minute – as well as the website – ditto. And someone who can lay out the weekly photographs for the newspaper. That will leave Luke and me free for viewings and valuations. And leave Norma free to answer the phone and send out details, as well as providing your administrative support.’

Tiona flashed Christopher a brilliant smile that assured him he was far too important to be expected to type out his own letters, even though he was perfectly computer literate and capable of typing out a letter faster than he could dictate it. At the same time she had managed to diminish Norma’s role, making her sound like a glorified dogsbody. Of course, Norma wasn’t capable of carrying out the job Tiona was describing – at nearly sixty she didn’t have the technological skills and was unlikely to acquire
them – but there was no need to undermine the very good job she did do.

Christopher tackled Tiona about it in private later on, when Norma had nipped out for her vegetable puff from the bakery down the road. Tiona stood firm.

‘I know I get irritated by her, and I’m sorry, but I find it very frustrating that she tries to stand in the way of every innovation I try and bring in –’

‘I don’t think she’s trying to stand in the way as such –’ objected Christopher mildly.

‘Believe me, she is. When you’re not here, she undermines me at every opportunity. And if you ask me, it’s extremely dangerous. We need a spirit of cooperation here, not a struggle for supremacy. We’re all equally important. It’s not a competition. But Norma seems desperate to stamp her authority. She’s under the impression that she knows best. But how can she? She hasn’t done her estate agency exams. She’s just answered the phone here for two hundred years.’

‘Are you saying we should get rid of her?’

‘I’m saying we should make it clear what her place is. Which is answering the phone and sending out details. Not getting involved in making offers and chasing up solicitors. She’s nearly made two deals go down this week by passing on incorrect information at the wrong time.’

Christopher sighed. This was one part of the job he wasn’t overly good at, man management. He could
appreciate Tiona’s dilemma, but Norma was practically part of the furniture. And she was a fantastic source of local gossip – she knew when people were moving almost before they knew themselves. Anyway, he was pretty sure they couldn’t get rid of her for no reason, whatever Tiona said.

‘Luke’s doing brilliantly,’ Tiona persisted. ‘I can have him out valuing by the end of the month. We’re getting so busy, we’ll both be out of the office seventy per cent of the time. We need somebody else at that front desk; someone bright and young who can be trained up as well. Not a grumpy old Rottweiler.’

Through the bull’s-eye window, Christopher could see Norma coming back from her lunch break.

‘Look, why don’t we chat about this… over dinner?’

Tiona looked faintly startled.

‘I’ve been meaning to treat you to say thanks for everything you’ve done. Zoe’s buggered off to London for the weekend. I don’t want to sit with an omelette in front of
Midsomer Murders
. Why don’t we thrash these problems out after work? If you’re not doing anything, that is,’ he added hastily, realizing he’d been a bit presumptuous.

Tiona laughed. ‘It was going to be pizza in front of
Midsomer Murders
.’

Christopher paused for a moment, wondering if he was being rash, then told himself it was perfectly acceptable to reward a conscientious member of staff with dinner out.

‘I’ll have to nip home and give the boys their supper. I’m sure Mum won’t mind babysitting. What about if I book us a table for eightish?’

‘Perfect.’ Tiona flashed him a smile.

Christopher walked back to his desk and sat down as Norma came in through the door, trying to ignore the fizz of excitement he felt in the bottom of his belly.

Zoe sat on the train, willing the wheels to turn faster and bring her closer to London. She’d bought
Elle
at the station and had devoured it carefully from cover to cover, making several notes in her Filofax for things she wanted to buy – a new light-deflecting foundation, some cork-heeled wedges and a bra that promised miracles. She couldn’t believe how ridiculously excited she was, and how she must have once taken everything so much for granted. She had an appointment to have her hair done at two, something she once did automatically every six weeks without a second thought. She’d found a picture of a supermodel with a fluffy, urchin cut shot through with streaks of paprika and cinnamon. She knew it would suit her. And that Christopher wouldn’t like it much. He was always trying to get her to grow her hair; he said it made her look more feminine. Frumpy, more like. She supposed he wanted her to look like Jamie, with her long, unkempt mop that always made her look as if she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards – and not in a designer way.

Eventually the fields became fewer and the houses began to build up. Just as some people yearned for grass and trees and blue sky, so Zoe yearned for bricks and concrete, and as they hurtled past industrial estates and warehouses and tower blocks she began to relax. Open space made her nervous. It was the city where she belonged. Why did nobody seem able to understand that humans suffered outside their natural habitat just as much as animals?

By the time she arrived at Paddington, the Friday afternoon rush had already begun. The roar of the crowds, the boom of the announcements, the distant hooting of trains, the chaos, the impatience, the rushing, the rudeness, the smell of Costa coffee all felt like paradise. She bought Natalie a huge bunch of overpriced flowers from a stall and nearly broke her neck rushing down the stairs to the Circle Line. She was going to be late for her hair appointment but she didn’t care. She was back where she belonged.

That evening, Christopher dutifully made Hugo and Sebastian macaroni cheese and practised a few wickets with them in the garden. Then he chucked them into the bath while he got changed. Once they were in their pyjamas and happily ensconced with his mother in front of the telly, he went out to the cab he had called earlier.

He got the taxi to drop him off at the top of Corve Street. The evening sun provided a rosy glow to the pinky-red brick of the Georgian facades that stood to
attention either side of the wide, sweeping street, crowned by the black-and-white beamed Feathers Hotel. The sound of live jazz and laughter spilled out from the courtyard of a nearby pub. The shop windows were stuffed with all kinds of fascinating treasures: antiques and bric-a-brac, unusual gifts, paintings – nothing at all that you actually needed, just things designed to bring pleasure. By the time Christopher reached Hibiscus, a discreet, square-fronted building painted a deep cream, he’d mentally bought a French wirework jardinière for the terrace, a painting of a square-bottomed Herefordshire cow and a stained-glass window that he thought might look nice over the front door at Lydbrook.

He was really looking forward to going to Hibiscus, which had a Michelin star and, more importantly, a laid-back, relaxed atmosphere. He’d read so many rave reviews, heard so many people heap praise upon the talents of the young French chef, Claude Bosi, but Zoe had never shown any inclination to go. And there wasn’t much point in pushing her if she wasn’t going to appreciate it. Tiona had been utterly delighted when he’d phoned her earlier to tell her where to meet, and had been amazed he’d been able to get a table. As had he. God was obviously smiling on him tonight.

He arrived five minutes early, just long enough to peruse the wine list and decide on what to start with. Not champagne. That was over the top and a bit presumptuous. Christopher felt champagne was
overused these days. People seemed to pop a bottle at the drop of a hat. It had lost its mystique and its sense of occasion. Instead he chose a good white burgundy. By the time the bottle had appeared at his table, so had Tiona.

She looked ravishingly pretty, in a lilac dress that at first glance seemed very demure and girlish, but on closer inspection was tantalizingly low-cut, and made of a soft, silky fabric that clung to her curves. They exchanged polite kisses on each cheek, and he ushered her into her seat and poured her a drink.

For a few moments they had fun people-watching: a table of eight celebrating a milestone birthday, people from out of town who were spending the weekend on a gastronomic tour of Ludlow, locals who made a habit of frequenting the outstanding restaurants on their doorstep. Christopher felt slightly relieved that there was no one in there he knew. Not that he had a guilty conscience, for he had a perfectly above-board reason for being there, and had Zoe bothered to phone him from London he would have told her where he was going and why. But people did have a tendency to jump to conclusions.

They lingered over the menu, agonizing over what to choose, and finally settled on the
menu gastronomique
– seven surprise courses carefully chosen and executed by the chef, demonstrating his repertoire and exploring a vista of ingredients. It took the responsibility of making a decision out of their hands and, thought Christopher, would prolong the evening
pleasantly – you could hardly gallop through seven different dishes.

As they worked their way down the first bottle of wine, Christopher found he was unburdening himself to Tiona about Zoe, and how unhappy she seemed. She was so sympathetic and concerned, and it was nice to share the problem with someone. He hadn’t until now. He’d hinted to Jamie, but she had her own problems. By the time the first course arrived, he’d almost talked himself into some sort of separation.

‘It’s obvious she’s desperate to go back to London,’ he explained. ‘But how can I go back, with the business? And I don’t want the boys going back.’

It was true. Hugo and Sebastian had thoroughly blossomed in their six months in Shropshire. They were bonny, active boys, not pale, insipid Londoners permanently plugged into their Play Stations. They loved the country life; they adored Twelvetrees and all its outdoor activities – archery, golf, even crosscountry running. It would be a crime to force them back into the filth and dirt and grime of the city.

‘I suppose we’d have to have some hideous split life. Zoe could go back to London – she’d have to get a job, though. We couldn’t afford it otherwise. And we’d have to take it in turns – me going to London one weekend, her coming up here the next. Or something.’ Christopher frowned. It sounded incredibly complicated. ‘And who would the boys live with? I’d keep
them here with me if I could, but I can’t if I’m working. Not with the hours I do.’

‘Why don’t the boys board at Twelvetrees? They do weekly boarding. Tons of people do it. And the kids have a whale of a time. Half of them don’t want to come home at the weekends, apparently.’

‘How on earth do you know that?’ Christopher was curious.

‘It’s part of my job to know everything, isn’t it? It’s the first thing people ask about when they’re thinking of relocating – what are the schools like? I’m telling you, Twelvetrees has clinched more sales round here than the fact that the restaurants are to die for.’

Christopher looked down at his tiny white cup of melon cappuccino. Perhaps Tiona had a point. Then he stopped himself. He was being ridiculous. He and Zoe weren’t going to split up, for heaven’s sake.

He looked over at Tiona, who was sipping her soup reverently.

‘This is divine. I can’t tell you what a treat this is. I’ve been dying to come here ever since it opened, but for some reason they haven’t been queueing up to take me.’

‘It’s a pleasure,’ said Christopher, and it was. He sloshed another few inches of wine into their glasses.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘What about Norma?’

Tiona wrinkled her nose. ‘Let’s not spoil a lovely evening by talking about Norma.’

She put her elbow on the table, cupping her chin in her hand and looking into his eyes. He was transfixed by a string of river pearls dangling between her breasts.

‘OK then,’ he said carefully. ‘Tell me… where you see yourself in a year’s time.’

Tiona tilted her head to one side, considering the question, a dreamy little smile on her lips. Then she leaned forwards.

‘Opening another branch of Drace’s,’ she said. ‘In Shrewsbury. Or Hereford. Or preferably both.’

Christopher was knocked sideways by her dedication. As the pan-fried foie gras arrived, he marvelled at what a treasure she was, and how lucky he was to have her on his side. And her loyalty wasn’t her only attribute. Christopher had always been a chest man. Zoe’s were like a couple of fried eggs…

Later, he walked Tiona home through the streets. There were still plenty of people around. Even though the night was warm, Tiona seemed chilly in her dress and he lent her his jumper. She looked adorable, vulnerable – the sleeves hanging over her fingertips.