A Secret Garden Page 7

  ‘She has a way with fire,’ said Seamus. ‘It comes from being just a bit of a pyromaniac.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Philly. ‘So, what did you do next?’

  ‘I set up as a private chef. I got – still do, really – most of my work through friends, or friends of friends. But although the pay is better, I don’t get enough work.’ He sighed.

  ‘Hard to pay the rent?’ asked Seamus.

  ‘Oh – no.’ Lucien smiled. ‘The rent isn’t a problem. I don’t pay rent.’

  Seamus frowned, which gave Philly a stab of anxiety. He was quite capable of asking Lucien if he was ‘living off the earnings of a high-born lady’ or some such. She stepped in. ‘Oh? Do you always get live-in jobs? Or do your friends put you up after you’ve cooked for them?’

  He smiled. ‘If they did, I’d be homeless a lot of the time. No, I live in my van. I just have to find somewhere safe to park up. It’s perfect. I never have to drive home late. On the other hand, it’s sometimes hard to get a shower. If I’m working for friends I can ask for one though, so mostly I don’t smell.’

  ‘We didn’t think you did,’ said Philly. ‘At least – you do, but of some quite nice aftershave.’

  ‘Very expensive aftershave,’ he confirmed. ‘Floris. A friend of my mother gave it to me one Christmas before I left home. I didn’t use it then but something told me it would be a good thing to pack.’

  ‘So where are you living now? Still in the van?’ asked Seamus.

  ‘Yup.’

  Seamus plunged right in. ‘Well, we’ve plenty of room here. If you’d like a proper bed and more or less regular hot water, you could live with us. Couldn’t he, Philly?’

  Philly appreciated her grandfather’s kind heart, she really did, but she sometimes wished it wouldn’t get the better of him and allow him to make rash offers without consulting her.

  ‘I don’t suppose Lucien would like that,’ she said. ‘He’s obviously a free spirit. And our spare room is desperate. It needs completely redecorating,’ she added, in case Lucien didn’t understand exactly what ‘desperate’ meant in this instance.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Lucien. ‘I could help you redecorate if you let me stay. And when I’m not working or baking, I could do other jobs around the house.’ He paused. ‘In lieu of rent,’ he said, sounding embarrassed. ‘I can work hard, but I can’t afford rent. Just at the moment.’

  ‘We don’t need rent money,’ said Seamus. ‘But we could certainly do with a hand about the place. And never mind about redecorating, Philly has a polytunnel she needs to get up this afternoon. You could be just the man to help us.’

  Philly cleared her throat. She was the youngest present but someone needed to be sensible. ‘I think it could be great having you here, Lucien. But for all our sakes, I suggest we should have a trial period.’ She smiled, she hoped politely, and not in a rabbit-in-the-headlights way. ‘Just to make sure we all get on. Grand and I are a bit – well, we may not be the easiest to live with.’

  Lucien nodded. ‘Tell you what, you seem to have plenty of outdoor space. If I could just park my van here, and maybe use the facilities, I wouldn’t have to live in the house.’

  ‘We couldn’t leave you out in the cold…’ said Philly, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut and just let the men reorder all their lives.

  ‘It’s not cold, it’s spring. And I have a really great sleeping bag.’ He grinned again. ‘The advantage to having been born a posh boy is that when I’m living rough, I have high-quality camping gear.’

  Among the general laughter, Philly’s anxieties faded a little.

  ‘There’s more soup—’ she said.

  ‘Yes please,’ said Lucien. ‘People should eat more soup.’

  9

  Lorna was just about to set off to help erect Philly’s polytunnel when she saw Jack pull up outside her house. ‘Oh, hello. Were you coming to see me?’

  He half got out of his car. ‘Yes. I’ve got some pictures of my work. I’d like your advice on what would work best—’

  Lorna frowned slightly. Surely he, as the artist, would know what would work best in the garden? ‘Well, as you can see, I’m on my way out. Philly has asked me to give her a hand putting up a polytunnel. To raise plants in. You know she has a nursery?’

  He got fully out of his car. ‘Are you an expert on polytunnels?’

  Lorna laughed. She was pleased to see Jack even if his reason for coming seemed spurious. ‘Far from it! I’m only going to hold things and prop bits up when asked. They’ve got the foundations all done. I gather the more helpers the better for the rest.’

  ‘I’ll come too, then,’ he said. ‘I can provide a certain amount of heft. Which you can’t.’

  His eyes skated down her body as he said this, making Lorna feel slightly awkward. Also a bit flattered. Why would he be looking at her like that? ‘Well, follow me then.’

  ‘Can’t we travel together? I could drive you?’

  Lorna scanned her brain for reasons why she should refuse and couldn’t come up with any. ‘Oh, OK. I suppose that would make fewer cars to find room for at the other end. Lucien, who cooked for us the other night, has his van there.’

  ‘He’s got roped in too, then?’

  Lorna shrugged. ‘I gathered from Philly that he roped himself in. Or maybe Seamus asked him. Have you met Philly’s grandfather? No, of course, why would you? But he’s a real character.’ She took her bag from her car and then locked it.

  She settled herself into Jack’s car which bore all the signs of a working man.

  ‘Sorry it’s such a mess,’ he said as she did up her seat belt.

  ‘It’s fine. My own car isn’t tidy. I can keep my house looking nice, because I live there and I don’t want to be surrounded by mess. But cleaning out the car just seems a job too far.’

  ‘That’s exactly how I look at it.’ Jack sounded pleased, as if not liking to clean out one’s car was an important bond.

  ‘I suppose we’re both working people who use our cars to carry things that aren’t always very clean,’ said Lorna. Then she settled back. ‘If you go along the Beckworth Road towards Wychester, I’ll tell you when to turn.’

  ‘Ah ha!’ said Seamus when he saw Lorna and Jack approaching. ‘The army of helpers has arrived!’

  ‘Hardly an army,’ said Lorna. ‘But Jack happened by just as I was leaving so I brought him along.’ She introduced them.

  When he had crushed Jack’s hand in his, Seamus said, ‘Great to have someone else who’s strong. Young Lucien is struggling.’

  ‘Maybe a stepladder would help?’ suggested Jack.

  ‘It would indeed, if only I could find the blessed thing. And to be honest, I’m not even sure I brought it over from Ireland.’

  After a couple of minutes’ thought, Jack said, ‘Well, if it would help, I’ll pop home and get mine.’

  ‘That would be a real kindness, and there’ll be a cake in it for you. In fact, I’ll put the oven on now when I go inside to fetch the laptop.’

  ‘The laptop?’ said Lorna.

  Seamus nodded. ‘According to Lucien, anything you need to know, including how to put up a polytunnel, will be on YouTube.’

  Putting up the polytunnel took a lot longer than YouTube led everyone to expect. It was nearly eight o’clock and dark when Seamus called a halt.

  ‘We’ll finish it in the morning – my stomach thinks my throat is cut.’

  ‘That means he’s hungry,’ explained Philly. Several voices were raised in agreement.

  ‘Let’s go inside into the warm,’ said Seamus. ‘Maybe it’s time for a wee drop of something.’

  ‘Maybe it’s time for supper,’ said Philly.

  ‘Hell, yes,’ said Lucien. ‘I don’t mind cooking.’

  The group moved off towards the house.

  ‘There’s not a lot to cook,’ said Philly, sounding a bit anxious at the thought of having to feed five people at very short notice.

  ‘There’s bound to be som
ething,’ said Lucien. ‘I bet I can find the makings of a half-decent meal if you give me a chance.’

  Jack cleared his throat. ‘Why don’t Lorna and I go out and get fish and chips for everyone? Then if Lucien can’t produce a meal out of thin air and Philly’s store cupboard, we can still eat?’

  The agreement was deafening and it took a little while to find out what everyone wanted but eventually, Lorna was sitting in the front of Jack’s car with a list.

  ‘Well, that was fun if exhausting,’ said Lorna. ‘Who knew polytunnels were such hard work? Though personally I can’t put up a tent on my own. At least, not a real tent.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jack started the engine. ‘A real tent?’

  ‘I mean a two-way tent. One that you can take down as well as put up. Didn’t work for me and my pop-up tent. Putting it up was easy but I broke it when I tried to take it down.’

  ‘Do you like camping?’ He sounded curious.

  ‘I do, actually, in very particular circumstances.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘I have to feel very safe, confident no one is going to attack me in the night.’ She laughed. ‘But I love feeling very close to nature and waking up early and seeing the dew on the grass.’ She sighed in reminiscence. ‘It reminds me of the time, years ago, when I slept rough for charity.’

  ‘Lorna?’ Now he was shocked.

  ‘Oh, it’s all right. As I explained it to my son and his friend who happened to be there when I was getting ready, it was to raise awareness about homelessness. I said that we were all going to be given a cardboard box which we’d sleep in, like a homeless person, but that people would stay up all night and watch over us so it was completely safe.’ She laughed at the memory. ‘The friend said, “So not all like a homeless person, then.”’ She paused. ‘He was right. It wasn’t a cold night, I had a good sleeping bag and I felt completely safe. I loved it.’

  ‘I’ll take you camping one day, where you feel safe and can see the dew on the grass and all that. I know just the spot.’

  ‘Jack! Why would you want to do that?’ Why would any man want to take a random older woman camping? she asked herself. It didn’t make sense.

  He shrugged and turned on to the road that led to the fish-and-chip shop. ‘I think it would be fun.’ He glanced at her quickly. ‘I was planning to take you out to dinner after the polytunnel but it felt mean abandoning the others.’

  Lorna laughed loudly. ‘Even before the polytunnel I wasn’t dressed for going out. Now I’m hardly clean enough to go into a fish-and-chip shop!’ Only when her amusement was spent did she query why he would have wanted to take her out to dinner. He’d only just taken her out for lunch. Annoyingly she couldn’t ask. But she wondered about it in her head while out loud she wondered why there was such a huge queue for fish and chips. Apparently they’d only just opened.

  They were still in the queue when Lorna’s phone went. It was Philly. ‘Hi!’ She sounded a bit stressed. ‘Lucien wants to make tartar sauce. Is there any chance you could pop into the supermarket and get some capers?’

  ‘Or I could get some ready-made from the chip shop? I’m still in the queue. Or buy it from the supermarket if you have a preferred brand.’

  ‘No. It has to be capers themselves. And if you can get them in oil rather than brine, that would be brilliant.’ She paused and Lorna could hear her walking out of the room. ‘It’s Lucien. He’s a chef. They’re not like ordinary people, I’ve just found out.’

  Lorna laughed. ‘Ooh, must be tough having one in your house.’

  ‘In my kitchen and all my cupboards!’ said Philly.

  ‘I’ll ask Jack to go for the capers. I can’t lose my place in the queue now.’

  ‘I might try and have a snack without Lucien knowing,’ said Philly. ‘I’m starving!’

  Although he’d gone along with the plan, Lucien was not entirely happy with the fish-and-chips idea.

  ‘The chips are always soggy,’ he said. ‘I hate that.’

  ‘I don’t mind chip-shop chips,’ said Philly. ‘Especially between slices of white bread and butter. Plenty of butter. No vinegar.’ The thought of those things, when she was so hungry, made it hurt just behind her ears.

  ‘Interesting,’ said Lucien. ‘Have you tried with balsamic?’

  Philly laughed. A few hours ago, if anyone had told her she’d have felt relaxed enough to laugh at the posh-boy chef with floppy hair she’d have put money on that never happening. But after several hours struggling with aluminium tubing and plastic she’d lost a lot of her inhibitions. ‘No. And I’m going to grab a quick shower now, unless you want one?’

  Lucien shook his head. ‘I’m going to sort out the kitchen.’

  ‘But we’re having fish and chips!’

  ‘Food is always important, Philly,’ he said solemnly. But then laughed.

  Philly ran up the stairs feeling happy. It was scary having him in the house but it was also fun.

  She was slightly less thrilled when she came down again, feeling wonderfully clean, and found that he’d taken their kitchen apart. He had also found their guilty secret, a deep fat fryer, bought by Seamus at a car boot sale and seldom used.

  ‘This kitchen is a mess!’ declared Lucien.

  ‘It was OK before you attacked it!’ said Philly, offended.

  ‘I don’t mean it was untidy – although it was – I mean it was incredibly badly organised!’

  Philly opened her mouth, puffed up with indignation, ready to give him a blast. But he hadn’t finished.

  ‘But don’t worry, I’ll sort it. You go and have a drink. Your grandfather is looking for cooking oil and beer.’

  ‘Oh. I’d better help him.’ She really hoped there was cooking oil. She didn’t want to have to ring Lorna again.

  She found her grandfather in one of the outhouses. It was a place where they stored extra groceries and alcohol. They called it ‘the caboosh’. Philly wasn’t sure why, but her grandfather was full of odd expressions and she just accepted it.

  ‘I’ve found oil and beer and a bottle of whisky left over from last Christmas. Forgot it was there!’ He seemed delighted.

  ‘Grand, Lucien has trashed our kitchen!’

  ‘Oh God, has he? When I left him he was just tearing into the cupboards. What has he done now?’

  Some of Philly’s indignation faded. ‘He’s – well – tearing into the cupboards. He says the kitchen is untidy and disorganised. Who is he to come here and say that?’

  ‘He’s a boy who’s spent all day helping you get your polytunnel up and was willing to cook supper for us. And who doesn’t think chips from the chip shop are crisp enough.’ He paused. ‘Let him be, child dear. There’s no harm in him.’

  Carrying a bottle of oil so big it needed both hands, Philly walked back to the house with her grandfather. She was very glad that Grand liked Lucien. It made it OK for her to like him, although the attack on her kitchen, even if it wasn’t only hers, still stung a bit.

  She put the bottle of oil down on the now perfectly clear work surface. Quite how Lucien had sorted everything out and put it back in the cupboards she could only guess, but he’d managed it.

  ‘There won’t be time to heat the oil,’ she grumbled, watching him take the bottle and tip a huge amount of it into the deep fat fryer.

  ‘Well, we’ll have to wait. How’s the fire going in the sitting room? Your grandfather was having trouble lighting it earlier.’

  Although it was ridiculous, Lucien rather reminded her of her grandfather. He seemed to have her best interests at heart (although obviously not in a romantic way) and distracted her in the same way her grandfather did, by giving her a job. But she went to the sitting room willingly enough. If there wasn’t a blaze of flame and a good lot of crackling, she felt she’d failed. Seamus didn’t have her way with logs.

  ‘I am so sorry we were so long!’ said Lorna, putting plastic bags on the table. ‘The queue was enormous. Apparently they’d only just opened and the
oil wasn’t hot but it means they’re really lovely and crispy.’ She looked around. ‘Why, what have I said?’ Lucien took the bags and rummaged through them. ‘They may be crispy by some people’s standards, but—’

  Philly, who’d been persuaded to have ‘a drop of the crater ’, by which her grandfather meant whisky, and was feeling better, interrupted: ‘But they’ll be crisper than ever after Lucien’s had his wicked way with them. He’s made some crostini to keep us going while we wait for the fish and chips.’ She offered the plate of tiny circles of toast with chopped-up tomatoes and basil on them. ‘He made some pesto, too. Only with some sunflower seeds and wild garlic we’ve got growing in the wood, where it’s really sheltered. It’s actually delicious.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ said Jack, who, unlike Lorna who’d accepted a large whisky with gratitude, was drinking ginger beer. ‘I’ve never seen anyone turn a fish-and-chip supper into a three-course meal before.’

  ‘You’ve never met me before,’ said Lucien, proudly tipping the first batch of chips into the boiling oil.

  ‘Actually I was at the dinner you did for Burthen House,’ said Jack.

  Lucien groaned. ‘Oh God. Bloody nightmare! Still, thanks to Philly here, it was sort of OK in the end.’

  Philly took another tiny sip of whisky to conceal both her embarrassment and her pleasure.

  ‘So what did Philly do to save the day?’ asked Jack.

  ‘She got the old range going,’ said Lucien. ‘The oven had broken down. She’s got a way with fire.’

  ‘Anyone has a way with fire if the wood is dry,’ said Philly. ‘And that wood must have been in the wood shed for at least five years.’

  ‘Well, it’s not her only skill,’ said Lorna. ‘So I think we should toast her new polytunnel.’

  Before anyone could, Philly broke in. ‘And I propose a toast to you all, who got it up for me. I promise to give you all plants when it’s productive. Are those chips ready yet?’

  ‘Any minute now,’ said Lucien.

  ‘Actually,’ said Lorna a few minutes later, with her mouth full, ‘these chips are really amazing.’