Page 8 of Wild About You

Take that!I thought, my finger hovering over the left click to send. Regards. We all know what regards means.Get stuffed.

I sat back without clicking. So far that day I had gibbered at my new boss, sprayed his antique furnishings with coffee, and was now on the brink of sending a snarky email to him. I should probably dial it back, I thought. I changed ‘Regards’ to ‘Best’. The rest of it looked fine.

I clicked send. At that moment, Callum appeared. He was holding the most enormous mug I had ever seen, with a picture of a fluffy baby penguin on the side. The hot chocolateinside was topped by a mass of cream speckled with mini marshmallows.

‘You are a legend!’ I said, welcoming it with open hands. I leaned close, well aware that Tally was at the photocopier, crashing around with an auction catalogue she had been peering at earlier. ‘Have you made Tally one too?’ I whispered. It was going to take the edge off my pleasure if she was glaring at me as I consumed it.

‘Oh no,’ he said gravely. ‘Moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips. Enjoy.’ He twinkled at me and disappeared back into the office.

Tally returned to her desk in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. ‘You’ve got cream on your face, Anna,’ she said, paperclipping her photocopies together.

I made a vague questioning noise before realising I had dipped my face too enthusiastically into the mug of plenty. ‘Thanks,’ I muttered, wiping it off and checking my reflection in my mobile screen.

‘Moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips,’ she said, narrowing her eyes.

I smiled, nodded, and downed another mouthful of hot chocolate, wondering how I could possibly thaw relations. ‘What are you working on?’ I said, in as friendly tone as I could manage.

Her eyes narrowed even further. ‘Nothing to do with you,’ she snapped. ‘Can’t you concentrate on your trees and plants and things?’

‘Right.’ I decided to call time on my efforts to bond forthe day. I popped my headphones on, and turned on a podcast about ghosts. The supernatural felt like it might do me less harm than the living, if the bad mood emanating from Tally was anything to go by.

I realised the supernatural podcast wasn’t such a good idea as I hurried home that night. Callum had dropped me at the end of my lane so I didn’t have to walk through the deer park, and it was only when I was on my own, making my way down the lane in the blustery dark, that I realised my heart rate was raised and I was a bit on-edge.

I crashed into the empty cottage, turned all the lights on, and noticed a mouse dropping on the floor. Well, at least I wasn’t alone. Then I saw the blue light blinking on the phone – an answerphone message.

It’s-not-Sean, it’s-not-Sean, I murmured to myself as I dialled into the voicemail, held my breath, and waited.

It wasn’t Sean. It was my mum, calling from Spain, where she and my stepdad live. She started as always by giving me the temperature. It was a perpetual wonder to her that they lived somewhere warm. She deserved it – my dad left when me and my sister were two and four, and with two girls and a part-time job, Mum struggled to keep the heating on some winters.

The important business of weather reporting done, she continued. ‘Anyway darling, just wanted to see how you are, we’re worried you might be off your head, leaving London to live in a castle? So call me back, but not tonight, we’reout with Les and Trisha, and not tomorrow, we’re out with Pat and Eric, maybe Friday, or I’ll call you? Anyway, love you, love y—’ End of voicemail.

Smiling, I saved the message, took my coat off and put the kettle on.

I’d spent the afternoon with my headphones on drawing my plan for Belheddonbrae. Before I’d focused on conservation and ecology, I’d trained in garden design, and painting was the best way of consolidating my ideas. Whatever I did, I knew the plan would have to look good to impress the earl. I opened my sketchbook and set up my watercolours, water pot and brushes. I’d created a neat plan of the garden and drawn detailed samples of some of the types of grass and flower I wanted to include; now I added colour to them. It was some of my best work: focused, detailed, colourful. Perhaps a bit OTT for a wildflower meadow plan, but who cared? The random earl couldn’t accuse me of not putting the effort in. Plus I was loving it.

I was letting the plan dry, and standing in my kitchen area wondering whether to have cheese for dinner, when a face suddenly appeared at one of the tiny cottage windows.

I did the only sensible thing: screamed and dropped my mug.

It was Fi.

‘Sorry love,’ she said, when I recovered my wits enough to open the front door. ‘Did you break it? You’re a bit keyed up, aren’t you?’

‘Podcast,’ I said. ‘Probably shouldn’t have binged onghosts and demons. The mug’s fine – it bounced on the rug.’ I waved it at her and went to fill the kettle.

‘I’ve just come to drop this off. And I’ve never seen a ghost or a demon round here, if that helps.’

She was offering me a casserole dish. When I lifted the lid a wave of aroma hit me – slowly simmered veg, dumplings bobbing in the rich brown sauce.

‘You have to let me make you a cup of tea now,’ I said. ‘To say thank you. I’ll get out the best biscuits?’

She grinned. ‘Oh, go on then, just one.’

I put the kettle on. ‘This meal looks amazing, but I’m going to have to call a halt to you cooking for me,’ I said. ‘You’ve got enough to do.’

‘It’s just… I’d noticed you’re not eating properly,’ she said quietly. ‘Snacking won’t see you through the day.’

‘Says the girl who lived off French fries when we were teenagers,’ I said. ‘I’m grateful, but you don’t have to look after me. Besides, I had one of Callum’s hot chocolates today, which provided a whole day’s worth of nutrition.’

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