The Perfectly Imperfect Woman by Milly Johnson (27)

Chapter 27

Marnie was just lifting the last box out of her car when Lionel Temple arrived at her side.

‘Here, let me take that from you. It looks heavy.’

It was the red box full of things which Gabrielle had decided were Marnie’s. She hadn’t a clue what was in it.

‘Thank you,’ said Marnie, nudging open the cottage door for him. ‘Put it anywhere for now.’

He carried it inside and placed it on the kitchen table. When he turned around, he had a wide, beaming smile on his face.

‘You came back,’ he said. ‘I knew you would.’

‘Yep,’ said Marnie. ‘I did.’

‘Tea or coffee, I’m not fussy. Plenty of milk and two sugars, please if you’re offering.’

‘I’m offering.’ Marnie put on the kettle and thought how lovely it was to be back in the cottage. It felt glad to see her again, crazy as it sounded. Warm and welcoming.

‘You look very smart,’ said Lionel, when Marnie brought two mugs of tea into the lounge. She hadn’t had a chance yet to change out of her black suit.

‘I’ve been to a funeral,’ said Marnie.

‘Not anyone close, I hope.’

‘My mother’s,’ replied Marnie, thinking that at this point a normal person would show some emotion: their voice would crack, their lip would tremble.

‘Oh, my dear girl, I’m so sorry,’ Lionel sighed heavily. ‘I presumed you’d taken some time out for yourself, not that you’d had to endure another death so soon after Lilian’s. Are you all right? Can I help you in any way?’

‘We didn’t get on,’ said Marnie, sitting in the large squashy armchair and dragging the small coffee table over so it could serve them both. ‘She always regretted adopting me. That’s not my imagination, by the way. She told me so plenty of times.’

Lionel shook his head as if stumped for words.

‘I know it’s a ridiculous thing to say, Lionel, but I was much closer to Lilian than I was to my mother. She unknotted years of shit for me.’ Then her hand shot to her mouth and she apologised for swearing.

‘Don’t,’ replied Lionel softly. ‘I’ve always believed men of God should exist in the real world of swearing, shouting, drinking and not in some lofty plain above it. If swearing offended me, I could never have had Lilian Dearman as one of my closest friends.’ He laughed, that deep, church-bell-like sound again, and it made Marnie smile.

‘I expect I’ve been the talk of the town in my absence,’ she said.

‘Of course you were. We even had a meeting about you.’ Lionel held his hand up then in an effort to allay her fears. ‘Or at least about the situation. Some people will not take too kindly to change. But you had quite a few champions around the table too.’

‘Oh?’ asked Marnie, genuinely surprised by the ‘quite a few’.

‘Emelie Tibbs. She got right under Titus’s skin. David, at the Wych Arms, myself of course. We’ve all had it too easy for too long.’ He took a long sip of tea. ‘And Herv, Lilian’s gardener. He was very vocal in your corner.’

‘Oh,’ said Marnie, trying not to look as chuffed as she felt hearing that he had stuck up for her. She hadn’t alienated him then by her abrupt behaviour after the will-reading. She was glad about that. The man must have the patience of a saint and the hide of an old rhino.

‘Herv Gunnarsen is a good man,’ said Lionel. ‘You and he are proof that new blood is what Wychwell needs. Titus is a purist. He doesn’t want anyone to live here who wasn’t born here or married someone from here and the result is that half the properties are empty. I’m so angry at myself that I didn’t see what was going on. Marnie, I think you will have quite a task on your hands and I came to tell you that if there is anything – anything – I can do to assist you, you only need ask.’ He drained his mug in a single gulp and stood. ‘Anyway, I shan’t keep you.’

‘Thank you, Lionel, that means a lot,’ said Marnie. ‘I don’t suppose you know who the new owner is?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine, Marnie.’

At the door she confessed to him. ‘I didn’t run off because of my mother’s death. I left because I didn’t want to do what had been asked of me. I even emailed Mr Wemyss and told him that I wouldn’t do it.’

‘But you came back?’ smiled Lionel.

‘I felt I had to. For Lilian.’

Lionel nodded sagely. ‘She had faith in you for the right reasons then, didn’t she?’

*

Marnie went to bed early because she needed to be up at the crack of dawn to make the cheesecakes for Mrs Abercrombie. As soon as the van had left with the cargo, she changed into something not covered in splashes of cream to meet with Mr Wemyss, who was operating from his Leeds office, and not the Richmond one, for the foreseeable future. She hoped that she didn’t bump into anyone from Café Caramba in the city centre. Chances are she wouldn’t, surely? If she did, she’d walk quickly on and not engage.

She was getting into her car when she saw Herv’s truck pass the end of the lane. Then she heard the brakes screech. Then she saw him reverse at breakneck speed towards her.

‘Marnie, you’re here,’ he called through the window so enthusiastically that she was convinced he would then bounce out of the vehicle to hug her, but he didn’t. And she found herself a little disappointed about that.

‘Yes, I’m here. I’m just going into Leeds to meet Lilian’s solicitor.’

‘I knew you would come back.’

His grin lit up his eyes. His grin lit up his whole face. His grin lit up the whole village.

‘Lionel said that you’d stood up for me in the meeting you had. Thanks for that.’

Herv shrugged his very big shoulders. ‘It’s okay.’

How could he look that happy to see her? Could she really make anyone’s eyes shine like that? Especially as she had a real habit of being abrupt with him.

‘Well, I’d better get on.’

‘See you around, Marnie,’ said Herv. ‘If you need me for anything, please ask. I’m working up at the manor until someone tells me to stop. I think we are all carrying on as normal because we don’t know what else to do. Maybe there is no place for me in the new owner’s Wychwell.’

‘I’m sure there will be.’ said Marnie. ‘In fact, if they’ve put me in charge of managing the affairs of the village, I’ll make damned sure of it.’

‘Thank you.’ His grin became lopsided, flirty, and so damned sexy. ‘Ah, so, you do think something nice of me then.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You’re a good gardener.’ She made it sound as if her reasons were from a purely business perspective. But they weren’t.

Mr Wemyss was delighted to see Marnie. He had a dark green pinstripe suit on today and Marnie imagined that he had a pinstripe suit in every colour in his wardrobe. When they shook hands, his large one enveloped hers. He led her through into a huge wood-panelled room that looked very much like a solicitor’s-office version of the gentleman’s smoking room in the manor. He sat behind his desk in a gigantic leather chair and invited Marnie to take a seat at the other side. Then he buzzed on an intercom for a tray of tea to be brought through.

‘I’m sorry that I told you I didn’t want to have anything to do with the estate,’ Marnie said, as he fiddled around with papers on his desk.

‘Knee-jerk reaction. Totally understandable. Didn’t believe a word of it,’ Mr Wemyss replied.

The tea arrived. The lady who brought it served it up and after she left, Mr Wemyss got straight down to business.

‘The present owner and Lilian decided that you would be the best manager . . .’

‘Who is it?’ Marnie assumed she would be told now.

‘I’m not at liberty to disclose that,’ replied Mr Wemyss, much to her disappointment. ‘They have, however, made a list of recommendations for you to implement.’ Mr Wemyss handed over a large brown envelope. ‘There is also a set of the manor keys in there. Your salary will be paid from the monies remaining in the estate account, as will the staff directly employed by the estate, namely the housekeeper, gardener and assistants. The coffers are very depleted but there is enough left for approximately six months. By which time I do hope that monies will be coming into the accounts rather than leaving them. That is certainly the hope of the present owner.’

No pressure then, thought Marnie.

‘Re your salary,’ continued Mr Wemyss, ‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up of buying a Ferrari with it.’ And he looked at her pointedly over his half-moon glasses. ‘Having had a cursory look at the accounts which Mr Sutton has – under threat of legal action – turned over to us, I can only wish you well.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘The parts of the records which are legible – and I must say, there are few – make little sense. I’ll have them couriered to the manor tomorrow morning.’

‘I can save you some money and take them with me now,’ Marnie suggested.

‘Unless you’ve driven here in a flatbed lorry, having them couriered might be the wisest option,’ Mr Wemyss replied.

‘How is this going to work if I don’t know who the owner is? How am I supposed to contact them? And where do I start?’ asked Marnie.

‘Email me any plans that you have in mind and I will act as broker between yourself and the new owner. He – for sake of ease let’s say he rather than all that he or she nonsense – will directly communicate only with me. I shall forward his responses to you. The new owner has suggested you operate from the manor house. He thinks it will give you more leverage. Open the envelope. That should give you your starting point,’ Mr Wemyss urged.

Marnie did as he requested and scanned the first of the new owner’s instructions.

‘Bloody hell,’ was all she could think of to say.

The new owner was certainly going straight in armed and dangerous. Nice of him to hide in his shelter whilst sending her across a minefield in flip-flops.

It was lunchtime when Marnie left the building and office workers everywhere were pouring out into the city centre to shop and eat. Marnie could have walked back to her car the way she came – the long route past all the shops – or the short one past Café Caramba. Her feet were aching in her heels and she was tired from getting up at an unearthly hour to make the cheesecake order. She just wanted to get back home as quickly as possible. Plus she was strangely curious to know what it would feel like to be outside her old HQ again, to see the building but know it wasn’t part of her life any more. She wouldn’t bump into Laurence as he never strolled around the city, and was as likely to crash into Vicky or Elena either way, so she might as well choose the short route. She’d ignore them totally if their paths collided. She hadn’t quite worked out what she would do if she bumped into Justin though.

She still hadn’t replied to his text, but she hadn’t deleted it either. She knew she shouldn’t have opened it up as many times as she had done to try to second-guess what he wanted from her. She wouldn’t respond, but still, she wondered.

She didn’t see Vicky or Elena. She recognised someone who worked in accounts but not well enough to say hello to, even in passing. Then she heard her name being called from across the street and froze. When she turned to the source, it was to find Roisean bounding towards her, grinning like a maniac.

‘Marnie!’ She threw herself at her old boss. ‘It’s so good to see you. Are you coming back?’

‘No, I’m afraid not,’ smiled Marnie, touched by Roisean’s affection.

‘Have you time for a quick coffee?’ asked Roisean. ‘Please. I’ve missed you.’

How could she refuse.

‘I’m due back in ten minutes, but sod them,’ said Roisean. ‘I’ve got loads to tell you. Let me see if I can squash it all in in the time it takes us to drink a flat white.’

There was a small café along from the Dirty Dog: the Aloha. It had the tackiest décor in the world: plastic palm trees everywhere and a massive mural of a beach on the back wall. It wasn’t a place likely to be frequented by any of Marnie’s trendy nemeses.

‘It’s a bit shit but the coffee’s good. And cheap,’ said Roisean, queueing up at the counter. She insisted on paying. She’d explain why in a moment, she said and winked, sending Marnie off to grab a table.

‘You look thinner,’ said Roisean, when she brought the drinks over. She lifted the lid off a plastic pineapple on the table and spooned out some sugar into her coffee. ‘I hope that’s not from any stress.’

Marnie didn’t want to bring the mood down by saying that she’d been to two funerals in the same week. ‘I’ve cut out bread and potatoes,’ she fibbed.

‘I’d sooner die,’ Roisean declared. ‘Where are you living? I sort of tricked HR into giving me your address and I swung past but the house was empty. I emailed you too but I’m presuming you haven’t logged onto the Caramba mainframe.’

‘No. To be honest, I thought there would only be horrible emails.’

‘Well maybe you should have,’ Roisean scolded her gently. ‘Everyone was really worried about you. I think quite a few people emailed you with nice messages.’

Marnie doubted that and gave a little huff of disbelief.

‘I mean it. Obviously not Vicky and Elena, as you can imagine. But Arthur and Bette. Even Dennis the security bloke came up to see if we’d heard anything from you.’

‘That was sweet of him,’ said Marnie.

‘I’m not going to wait for you to ask me what happened after you’d gone, you must be dying to know,’ said Roisean.

‘I am and I’m not,’ replied Marnie. ‘The whole thing gave me nightmares.’ She looked Roisean square in the face then because she wanted her to hear this and believe her. ‘Justin told me he and his wife were divorcing. I would never have gone into a relationship with him if I’d known he was lying about that. In fact, I’m not even sure anything he told me was the truth.’

‘I knew that,’ said Roisean. ‘I think your reaction when his wife came storming in made that obvious. Either that or you should have left the job to go into acting. I felt gutted for you. Really sad. You looked heartbroken.’

Roisean believed her. Without any doubt. Boy it felt good that someone did.

Marnie had to ask. ‘Is he . . . Justin still working there?’

Roisean huffed. ‘Not only is he still working there but he’s become bosom buddies with Laurence. He’s so far up his backside, you can only see his feet these days.’

Marnie chuckled.

‘He brazened it out, like Shagger Sharon did. He didn’t come back into the office that afternoon, but the next day he turned up acting perfectly normally, as if nothing had happened.’

Marnie wasn’t surprised. Justin had clearly been a master at compartmentalising.

Roisean went on with glee sparkling in her voice: ‘Elena was given the job of acting head of department but, not to put too fine a point on things, she made a total balls of it. She has no people skills at all, as you know, and got everyone’s backs up, she hadn’t a clue what she was doing. Arthur had a blazing row with her one day. He called her quite a few choice names – we all sat there gobsmacked. We didn’t know he had it in him.’

‘Arthur?’ Quiet, calm Arthur?

‘Yep. She sent Laurence some wrong figures and then blamed Arthur for it. He didn’t take it lying down, I can tell you. And he was obviously storing a lot of things that he thought he’d get out at the same time. Including what an absolute bitch she was to you and that maybe she realised now what a good boss you were. He gave her a right mouthful. And then he walked out.’

‘Oh no . . .’

‘He actually turned into Spiderman at one point, he said – and I kid you not – with great power comes great responsibility. You could have heard a pin drop.’

‘But he’s so close to retiring.’ Marnie was very concerned.

‘Ah, don’t worry yourself. There’d have been a coup if he’d really gone. HR persuaded him to stay because Bette went down to tell them he was being bullied and she’d stand up in court and testify to it if it came to it. And so would I, for that matter. Even Vicky ditched Elena and transferred to Communications.’

‘Really?’ Marnie hadn’t expected any of this fallout. She’d imagined that she wouldn’t be missed at all and the department would function better than ever.

‘Yup. Then after Laurence made Elena cry in a meeting, she handed in her notice. She took her holiday entitlement and left straightaway. They talked Linda into coming back early to run the department and she starts on Monday. And guess who is the deputy?’ She didn’t give Marnie a single second to answer. ‘Me. I’ve got a lovely pay rise and Linda rang me and told me on the quiet that she’s not planning on staying long because she’s pregnant again, so she’s going to make sure that I’m ready to take over when she leaves. I can’t believe it.’

‘I can,’ said Marnie. ‘You were always far too competent to have a junior role.’

‘I’ve only got this chance because they were desperate to keep some consistency.’

‘It doesn’t matter how you got it, the fact is you have and now you show them what you can do.’ Marnie was delighted for her.

‘What about you then, Marnie?’

Oh, where to start, laughed Marnie to herself. Keep it simple.

‘I’m living in a small village in the Dales and I’m managing an estate.’

‘Oh wow. That sounds grand.’ Roisean looked genuinely impressed.

‘It’s certainly a challenge.’ That was one way of putting it.

‘I gather you and Justin are finished?’ Roisean asked, giving her watch a quick glance.

‘I never saw him again after that day. He just ran off and hid like the rat he was. Not even a text from him.’ She didn’t mention the recent one that she’d ignored.

‘Bastard,’ said Roisean and sounded exactly like Lilian for that split second, which made Marnie smile.

‘I tell you, Marnie, no man has given me a bigger thrill than when HR asked me if I would consider taking on that deputy’s job.’

‘One will, one day. But make sure that he’s worth your affections. Don’t sell yourself short.’

‘I have an inbuilt detector for that sort of stuff,’ said Roisean. ‘I always thought Justin Fox was a slimy git. Can I have your mobile number?’

Roisean would end up as CEO of Café Caramba one day, Marnie was sure of it.

When Marnie got back to Little Raspberries, she found a printed A4 sheet on the doormat. An invitation to join the locals at an informal home-made wine tasting battle that night at seven. David Parselow had hand-written a note on the bottom.

She was tempted. Not because of the wine but because she wanted to meet any awkwardness head on. She didn’t want people to be wary of her and worried that she was going to turn into some power-crazed bitch. She even made it as far as across the road at ten past seven, then turned back. However kind the invite, she knew that tongues would start wagging when she walked in and she couldn’t smile and be merry amongst them knowing what she was going to have to tell them in the next few days. She needed to be focused and detached because she was wielding a lot of power. And as Arthur so brilliantly put it, with great power comes great responsibility. She had to get it right, both for Lilian and Wychwell. Plus, she needed a clear head – and David and Lionel’s wines were not conducive to having one of those.

The envelope that Mr Wemyss had given her contained details of her wage for causing carnage, which was actually more like pocket money. A pittance. It wouldn’t buy her weekly requirement of butter for the cheesecake bases. Whoever the new owner was, he was taking the Michael and relying on her undertaking her duties primarily through a sense of loyalty to Lilian’s memory rather than for the cash.

As she lay in bed that night, she replayed the conversation she’d had with Roisean. She’d been really touched that not everyone automatically presumed she’d been a heartless home-wrecker. And Arthur’s opinion meant more to her than Laurence’s if she was honest. She made up her mind to send a hamper of biscuits and chocolates to arrive on Monday to christen the new regime in the department, and to say thanks for their loyalty. She also made a mental note to look through the red box of things that she’d brought from her mother’s garage. If she hadn’t been so shattered she would have sated her curiosity and got up and done it there and then, but she was degrees away from sleep and her head was beautifully nestled on her pillows. She wasn’t going anywhere now; it could wait.

She heard some drunken revellers coming out of the Wych Arms as her eyes shuttered down and she hoped that they’d still be as merry this time next week. Some definitely wouldn’t feel like singing.