Chapter 14
‘One pound?’ Nonna and Mum exclaimed together.
Their indignation was so fierce that the two cyclists who’d pinched Stanley’s usual spot in the window paused from chewing their flapjacks.
Mum handed Arlo to Lia, who covered his face in kisses after their time apart. Mum’s hair had gone frizzy round her hairline and smelled of swimming pools; she looked tired but happy. Much like Arlo.
‘Is that all?’ Doreen scowled, her eyes taking in Clementine’s dishevelled appearance. Her short wiry hair was sticking up in all directions; I could see Doreen itching to smooth it down.
Clementine nodded wearily. ‘The bank has sold the garden centre, or rather passed its debts on to an investor of some sort. And all that changed hands was one pound.’
I felt sick; they’d just spent upwards of eighty pounds on refreshments.
‘Dicky heads,’ spluttered Nonna, passing Stanley a cup of tea. ‘That a good business.’
Clementine raised an eyebrow. ‘Hardly. As has now been proven.’
The business meeting had finished at three o’clock. The four suited strangers had swept out with curt nods of thanks after settling their substantial bill just as Mum had returned with Arlo from their swim. Gabe had dashed off to collect Noah from school, leaving Clementine alone at the table amongst the debris of abandoned crockery and a plate of lemon shortbread. Nonna sat down next to her with an espresso.
‘Daylight robbery,’ said Doreen, stacking the bankers’ plates together angrily and piling them on a tray. ‘And those are the sorts of people you want in here, Rosie?’
‘No, of course not.’ I picked up the copy of the receipt they’d left on the table; it was the largest bill we’d had since I’d been here. ‘But I’d rather they spent money with us instead of some city café.’
Nonna and Stanley had not long arrived after a day out together at the market in Chesterfield and Nonna had been carrying a bunch of tulips from Nina’s flower shop.
Stanley hovered near the cyclists for a few minutes, willing them to leave his table, but eventually he gave up and brought his tea over to the little circle of commiserators gathered at Clementine’s table.
‘I know it’s very traumatic,’ I said. ‘But at least you know where you stand now. You can stop worrying about what’s going to happen.’
‘True,’ Clementine acknowledged. ‘It can’t get any worse.’
‘If they’ve got money, why haven’t they paid a fair price for Fearnley’s?’ said Doreen over her shoulder as she stomped to the kitchen with the tray. ‘And so much for Gabe’s expert help. I’m sure I’d have done better than that myself. A pound.’
‘Gabe Green was brilliant,’ said Clementine, rallying slightly. ‘Such a lovely boy.’
‘Oh I’m so pleased.’ I breathed a sigh of relief. Even though I trusted Gabe to do his best, I’d been thinking along similar lines to Doreen. I looked up to find Mum watching me, a smile playing on her lips, and I felt my face heat up.
‘If it hadn’t been for Gabe, I’d have lost the house too,’ Clementine continued. ‘It was mortgaged up to the hilt. Gabe was adamant that I be allowed to stay in my home. At least I’ve still got a roof over my head and I own it outright. I bet he was a great solicitor. Firm but fair.’
‘But only a pound. For all that land. It does seem a little parsimonious of them,’ said Stanley, eyeing up the leftover shortbread. ‘Anyone mind if I …?’
Clementine nudged the plate towards him with a shaky hand. ‘Take it. I couldn’t swallow a thing.’
‘I made those,’ whispered Lia to Stanley. ‘What’s parsimonious?’
‘Miserly.’ He bit into a piece of shortbread. ‘Whereas these are utterly butterly.’
Lia smiled proudly and helped herself to half of one. ‘Quality control.’
Nonna tutted at the pair of them. ‘Stuffing faces is not helping Clementine.’
‘It’s too late for help.’ Clementine’s teeth began to chatter. ‘It’s over.’
‘Shock,’ Mum whispered in my ear.
‘I’ll make her some sweet tea,’ I said, glad of something to do. I darted behind the counter and rummaged around for something reviving amongst the boxes of herbal tea.
‘Not tea,’ said Nonna gravely, following me. She reached into the back of a cupboard and brought out a small bottle of limoncello. ‘Something stronger.’
‘But we’re not licensed—’
I shut up, recognizing the look on my grandmother’s face. It was the one she reserved for traffic wardens and people who leave dogs in cars without air and water.
‘This is emergency.’
She poured a generous measure into a glass and put it into her friend’s hand. ‘Sip slowly.’
‘Life’s a bugger and then you die. Cheers,’ said Clementine.
She knocked it back in one, gasping as the alcohol hit the back of her throat. She brought the glass down on the table with a thump and eyed the bottle. Nonna sighed and gave her a top-up.
‘Last one. You in shock.’
‘Course I’m in bloody shock. When Clarrie died I thought I’d sell up and retire to the coast. Now I’m going to have to get a job. Me! Even I wouldn’t employ me. And I’ll have to … Oh, too many things to contemplate. It’s the end, the end.’
She slumped forward and rested her head on the table.
Stanley pulled up the chair recently vacated by the woman who thought that us country bumpkins wouldn’t know what an Americano was – not that I was still annoyed about that – and took Clementine’s hand.
‘I know you’re grieving for Clarence,’ he said, ‘but it’s not the end, believe me.’
‘Mine and Clarrie’s entire life’s work is gone,’ Clementine said, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘All gone. Lock, stock and barrel. Well, I say stock, that chappie never even bothered to walk round everywhere. That’s what makes me so sad. He’s probably from a firm of property investors. The place will be bulldozed. All our nursery beds, our polytunnels, gone.’
Nonna’s dark eyes blinked rapidly behind her glasses. ‘So they not know what they buying?’
Clementine shrugged. ‘I dare say they’re more interested in the land than in all my lovely plants and shrubs. There are trays and trays of unsold seedlings and more covering every surface at home. I suppose technically I should take them back to the garden centre. They’re not mine any more.’
The doorbell dinged and a couple of mums came in with their children; school had finished and the café would be busy for the next hour.
‘I’ll go and serve,’ said Doreen.
‘Thanks.’ I took the chair next to Lia at Clementine’s table and made faces at Arlo. ‘When does the garden centre change hands?’ I asked.
‘Midnight officially. The investors will be there tomorrow doing some sort of stock inventory. But I suppose once we finish trading today … Oh God.’ Clementine covered her face with her hands. ‘I need to tell Tyson he’s redundant. I ought to get back.’
‘Wait a minute. I have idea.’ Nonna frowned. I could almost see the cogs whirring in her brain. ‘If they don’t know what stock is there, they not know if anything is missing, do they?’
Clementine smiled, although it didn’t reach her eyes.
‘I don’t have any lemon trees, Maria, if that’s what you’re thinking. In the forty years we’ve been in business the only ones we’ve ever sold have been to you.’
Nonna waved a hand. ‘I not think of that. I think of you. How many seedlings you have?’
‘Hard to say. Five thousand? More?’ Clementine shrugged. ‘There are some in the big polytunnels, the new greenhouse, the old greenhouse, the ones outside hardening off …’
‘Take them,’ Nonna hissed, hunching over the table. ‘They never know. And they better with you than left to die at garden centre. What if they not come quickly enough to water, what then? They all die and worth nothing. So. You take them.’
‘But then I’d have tomatoes, courgettes and green beans coming out of my ears. What am I going to do with them?’ Clementine grumbled.
‘Oh!’ Lia’s eyes lit up. ‘Ratatouille?’
Clementine gave her a withering look.
‘I’ll get my coat,’ Lia murmured and kissed me goodbye. ‘Home time.’
I sucked my cheeks in to hide my smile. Stanley chuckled too until Nonna flicked him with her cloth. ‘Eh. This not funny.’
‘Sorry,’ he said contritely. ‘But listen, when I was a postman …’
Nonna rolled her eyes. ‘Not the story about when big spider run up your trousers and you have to strip off in graveyard?’
‘Maria, that was private,’ he said, flushing. ‘No. I was going to say that I noticed that most houses in the village have greenhouses. Perhaps we could get the seedlings fostered, ask people to look after them until …?’
‘Exactly.’ Clementine shrugged. ‘Until what?’
‘Until we organize a village event,’ I said suddenly, trying to shake off the image of an elderly trouserless postman. ‘So that you can sell them and at least get something for your efforts. Not enough to retire to the coast, but at least maybe a holiday at the seaside.’
‘A holiday,’ Clementine said wearily. ‘What’s one of those?’
‘A village event,’ said Mum with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Barnaby’s good at those. Remember the Queen’s Jubilee, the Millennium New Year’s Eve party? And I’ll help.’
Nonna slapped the table. ‘It settled then. We go tonight. In the dark.’
Stanley’s eyes gleamed. ‘An undercover mission.’
The pair of them were relishing the drama. I, on the other hand, was desperately trying to think up what sort of event I could run from the café involving five thousand delicate seedlings …
Just then Noah ran in, closely followed by Gabe who placed an order at the counter with Doreen. Noah waved a book in the air and made a beeline for me.
‘Rosie, I can read!’ he said, forcing his way on to my lap and making himself comfortable.
‘You’re a genius,’ I said calmly, even though my heart was looping the loop at his gesture.
He held up his book and flicked through the pages, which had one word on each. I kissed his cheek; his jumper smelled of school but as I leaned closer I caught the smell of shampoo and grass and biscuits.
‘Hello again.’ Gabe grinned at Noah sitting on my knee. ‘Sorry for the intrusion. Looks like you’re all up to something.’
‘We are,’ said Nonna, grabbing an unsuspecting Gabe by the shoulders and kissing his cheeks. ‘We planning a burglary. Are you in?’
‘Bloody hell!’
Noah regarded his father severely. ‘Daddy! That’s fifty pence in the swear box.’
‘That’s steep,’ said Clementine with a whistle. ‘You can buy half a garden centre with that.’
At seven thirty a crack team of seedling thieves in a convoy of vehicles crept up the long lane leading to Fearnley’s Garden Centre, next door to Clementine’s house. I was with Dad in his Volvo with the back seats folded down. Lia had reluctantly stayed at home to put Arlo to bed but Ed had brought a van home from work and had given Nonna and Stanley a lift. Doreen and Juliet had roped their husbands, Alan and Dean, in to the mission and the other businesses around the village green had turned up to help too: Adrian from the pub was there in his posh Range Rover, and Ken from the Mini Mart, Biddy and Nina all had vans. Lucas only had a tiny Smart car so he’d stayed at the café with Mum. She was phoning round the village to find foster parents for the seedlings and Lucas was going to keep in touch with Clementine to direct vans to the right houses.
Only Gabe hadn’t made it.
‘I’d love to lend a hand, but Noah fell asleep at the dinner table,’ he’d explained on the phone, sounding disappointed. ‘School is tiring him out and I don’t know the people in the boats next door well enough to ask them to babysit him yet. I’m missing out on all the fun.’
I pictured him alone having an early night, with a book, in that bed …
‘I could come round later, if you like?’ I found myself saying. ‘Tell you all about it.’
‘Really?’ I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Great. Oh and be careful. If anyone asks, you’re collecting pre-ordered stock. OK?’
We drove in, past the public car park and along the driveway marked ‘Deliveries’ and parked in front of the longest polytunnel. There was a bit of a breeze and the sky was dark and cloudy but spirits were high.
Nonna had borrowed a black hoody from Ed and Stanley had put the hood up on his cagoule and pulled the drawstrings in tight. The pair of them looked like jolly Grim Reapers.
‘I so excited, I already need to pee,’ Nonna said in a low voice, scuttling off to the customer toilets.
Clementine and Tyson were waiting for us, side by side in front of the garden centre entrance in matching padded gilets, jeans and work boots. They made quite a pair: Clementine so tall, thin and pale, Tyson, chubby and pink.
‘I doubt that the buyers would send anyone round tonight,’ said Clementine, making us all squint as she shone a torch in our faces. ‘But I’ve turned the outside lights off just in case. Have you all got your torches?’
We all flashed our lights on and off.
‘We can take a few trays off you to sell in our shops,’ Ken offered. Biddy and Nina nodded their agreement.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ I said swiftly. ‘We could make a big day of it. Like a village fête but led by us, the businesses.’
Everyone murmured their interest and Clementine cleared her throat.
‘It’s cold and dark and quite possibly muddy,’ she said in a wavering voice. ‘And yet you’ve all turned out to help a silly old woman who has made a total mess of things. I can’t thank you enough.’
We all began to dispute her claims and Tyson threw his arms round his boss and pressed his face into her bosom. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said in a squeaky voice. ‘You did your best.’
She patted his head awkwardly. ‘I did. I just wish my best was better.’
‘Well, I can’t think of a more fruitful way to spend an evening,’ said Stanley, taking Nonna’s arm and looping it through his.
‘Talking of fruit,’ Clementine wiped her eyes on her sleeve, ‘if you and Maria would like to start on the strawberries, while I head for the sweet peas …’
She divvied up the jobs and we all set off. Tyson showed Dad and me to a row of handcarts and we took one each.
‘Follow me to the marigolds,’ he said, steely-eyed. ‘Let’s do this.’