Jake
Jake Knightley rounded the corner, took in the sight before him, rolled his eyes, and sticking his fingers into his mouth, produced an ear-splitting whistle.
Bingley the bichon stopped his investigation (chomping) of the lowest border of herbs Jake had been in the process of protecting from winter frosts, and cocked his head at his owner’s brother.
‘Damn right, you’d better be afraid,’ Jake told the dog, trying and failing to sound stern. ‘In about one hour from now it isn’t going to be rainbows you’re sh—’ he broke off as he saw his toddler nephew come tottering around the border. ‘Pooping,’ he said instead, with a stare of exasperation at the dog.
Eighteen month old Elton squealed, ‘Bad doggy, Bingey’ and catching sight of his favourite uncle grinned like he needed to let some of the sunshine inside of him free. Jake actually suspected each of his three brothers was Elton’s favourite uncle but he’d be lying if he didn’t get a kick out of seeing the adoration in the kid’s face. Smiling back indulgently, he bent and scooped his nephew into his arms. ‘Where’s Mummy, then?’
Elton flung an arm out, narrowly missing Jake’s chin, and pointed behind him.
‘Let’s go, Bingley,’ Jake commanded, and made sure the dog was at his heels.
With his nephew in his arms and the pup at his feet, he wandered through the kitchen garden of the Tudor mansion that had been in his family for generations and which he’d finally been allowed to take over from his parents last year. After studying horticulture and then spending several years working for a garden design firm in London, returning to run Knightley Hall and restore the gardens so they could be opened to the public felt like the realest thing he’d ever done and the place he was supposed to make his mark.
He’d been fortunate enough to work on lots of magnificent gardens, but restoring the ones in his ancestral home was what he’d wanted to do since he’d been a teenager.
Carrying Elton effortlessly, Jake crossed the main patio leading to the terraced gardens that ran the back of the house and walked around the side of the building so that he could get to the front drive.
His sister, Sarah, was busy bumping her car door shut with her hip while she tried to juggle a large cake box and her laptop.
‘Sorry, Jake,’ she mumbled around the set of car keys in her mouth. She opened her mouth so that the keys fell onto the top of the cake-box she was holding and groaned, ‘Little tykes both got away from me.’
Jake reached her side and grabbed the keys that were just about to slide off. ‘Tyke number two found a dinner of sorts within seconds of arriving. Expect the distinct smell of parsley when you’re cleaning up after him later.’
‘Oh Christ, really?’ A look of tired resignation came over her face and then suddenly she was smiling. ‘Perhaps we’ll stay with you for supper and Bingley can have the roam of the gardens.’
‘I don’t need compost that badly,’ Jake laughed, walking with her back towards the rear of the house. ‘And you can stay, but I won’t be around. I was just organising cloches and cold-frames before I pop over to The Clock House.’
‘But I brought food. Well, cake.’
Jake eyed the box suspiciously. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No way is cake going to make up for you hatching that evil, twisted plan with Mum, last week.’
‘Oh come on. How was I supposed to know the woman mum was talking about was Gloria Pavey.’
Jake shuddered. He was sure Gloria Pavey was perfectly nice. At least she would be once she got over the bitterness of her husband Bob leaving her for a male model called Bobby. ‘Thanks to the both of you, she’s been round twice, asking if I can pose in her charity calendar.’
‘That doesn’t sound so bad.’
‘Mowing the lawn.’
Sarah winced. ‘Going for themed, is she? Well, I suppose mowing is kind of connected to what you do.’
‘Naked.’
‘What the—’ she broke off as she looked at Elton. ‘I miss swearing so bad,’ she confessed. ‘So, Gloria’s putting together a Calendar Girls but with boys?’
‘I think that’s the gist. To be honest, I tried not to pay too much attention.’
‘Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong?’
‘I don’t think so. Lady Chatterley was mentioned. She even asked me to wear my hair down.’ He tugged self-consciously on his man-bun because he knew it was only a matter of time before his family started referring to him as Pirate Pete from TOWIE. He should have got his hair cut months ago. One more thing he hadn’t had time to do. As soon as Juliet opened up her hair salon, the better. ‘Both visits were awful. Just awful,’ he said. ‘No cake is going to make up for what the two of you have started.’
‘Are you sure? It’s lemon drizzle. Sheila Somersby made it.’
Jake paused because as well as running Whispers Wood B&B, Sheila baked really nice cakes. He deposited Elton on one of the kitchen chairs and, unable to resist, lifted the lid of the box. ‘Okay, this can stay. You can leave it with the one that Mum dropped around yesterday.’
‘We just care about you, Jakey.’
Jake snorted.
‘Ever since—’
Jake held up a hand. ‘Unless you bought ear-defenders for Elton, we’re not talking about “ever since”. And to show me you really care how about putting a halt to the endless parade of women. It’s ridiculous, completely unnecessary and did I mention … ridiculous?’
‘Okay, okay. No more women. Promise.’
Jake wasn’t going to be stupid enough to believe her. He knew his family meant well but ever since he’d taken over this place and ever since – well, last Christmas – discovering they didn’t think he could run Knightley Hall without a good woman by his side was too much. Hadn’t he been working his arse off all year to show everyone he could manage the place on his own?
‘Have you got time to show me which part of the gardens you’ve been working on?’ Sarah asked, with a grin that said, ‘See, I can change a subject with the best of them.’
‘Why?’
‘I thought I’d bring a photographer friend down to take some shots.’
Jake stared at his sister, his eyes narrowing. ‘Is your photographer friend female?’
‘Yes.’
‘Single?’
‘Yes.’
‘For God’s sake, Sarah.’
‘No, it’s not like that. She works for Rural Rooms magazine and I was thinking if we got some shots of the gardens through all the seasons then you could use them for publicity.’
‘Wouldn’t she need shots of the house, too?’ Because he really didn’t have the time, not to mention the money, for a large feature article which was only going to expose how rundown the place had become since he spent every penny he made on restoring the gardens to their former glory.
‘The fam can tart up a couple of the main rooms for you, but I’ve stressed it’s the gardens that you’re going to be opening up to the public, not the house.’
‘As long as the focus isn’t on the inside. When can she come?’
‘Soon, hopefully. I’ll show you some of her work in a minute. Oh, and I have something else to show you.’ She held up her laptop and grinned determinedly. ‘If you don’t love it, tell me you do anyway, because it took a gazillion number of hours and it’s probably the best thing I’ve done in ages.’
‘Hey, you always do good work.’ Jake knew his sister struggled to feel like she was back at the cutting edge of her work since she’d had Elton and he’d seen on more than one occasion glimpses of how shocking she found motherhood. She was a brilliant mum but both she and her husband were way more used to their tech than a little person who didn’t behave like one of their designs, even though, technically, he was. ‘I wish I could pay you for doing the brochures for this place when we’re ready.’
‘Please. Are you planning on charging all of us whenever we come to you for advice?’
‘Maybe if any of you actually took it …’ It still befuddled him that any of the Knightley brood, of which there were another three brothers and a sister, came to him at all, for advice. Particularly as he wasn’t the eldest.
He guessed he was the one best able to cope with no longer having the family’s money to fall back on though – probably because the estate had never been about money for him. Out of all of them he was the one who carried this place in his bones, his heart, his soul. And maybe having those roots so deeply embedded represented a familiarity – a stability – that the actual Hall couldn’t because even when he’d been in London and his siblings dotted all over, they’d been drawn to him whenever their lives got chaotic.
Sarah sipped her tea. ‘Has Seth been around since the split?’
Seth was their youngest brother and had been married to Joanne for two years, yet they seemed to be happier apart than together. ‘I think he knows that if he does, I’m just going to send him straight back to her.’
‘I don’t know, Jake. It sounds sort of final, this time.’
‘As opposed to the other times? If it’s all so bad, why did he bother marrying her in the first place?’ An uncharitable anger kicked against his insides wanting to get out.
‘Maybe if he stayed with you for a while,’ Sarah suggested.
‘No. Way. I’ve got enough to do without babysitting a grown man with zero interest in what I’m trying to do here.’
‘But maybe a little hard work would make him see sense.’
‘No.’
‘Is that a, “No”, no or a—’
Jake simply stared at his sister.
‘Okay so that’s a real and actual no.’
Elton chose that moment to chase Bingley around the table with a marker in his hands. As Jake reached out to grab the marker, Sarah took her son in her arms and settled him on her lap. ‘So, what’s all this, then?’ she asked, indicating the plans that had been spread out on the large kitchen table.
‘I found them in the library last night.’
Jake watched her turn her head to look at the plans and found himself holding his breath for her reaction.
‘It’s the rose garden you’ve been working on, right?’
Jake nodded. ‘Notice anything unusual?’
Sarah leant forward to stare at the plans, making sure she captured Elton’s sticky hands in her own so that they couldn’t reach the age-spotted foolscap drawings. ‘This looks bigger somehow.’
‘I know. I don’t know why this area was never finished, but finally I’ve found the missing part of the puzzle.’
‘All this time there’s been a missing part of the garden?’
‘Mmmn. Every time I’ve worked in that area I’ve kept feeling as if the perspective was off. And I was right. Look,’ Jake said, pulling out a kitchen chair and shoving his mug down on the end of the plan to stop it rolling back up. ‘This looks like the same wall that divides the kitchen garden from the rose garden, but it isn’t. There’s another small private garden that extends down from a doorway that’s been bricked up.’
‘You mean, like a …’ her nose scrunched up. ‘Secret garden?’
‘Exactly. A secret garden.’ Jake grinned, trying and failing to keep the excitement from showing in his voice. ‘Yesterday I broke through that part of the wall. Next step is to dig out some of the foundations and see what I unearth.’ At least he would, as soon as he had the time. ‘Actually, can you tell me what you think of this?’ Getting up from the table he walked over to the dresser, pulled out a drawer and took out some sketches. ‘I drew them up last night. It’s how I think it should look when finished.’
Sarah stared at the watercolour sketches. ‘Oh, I love these. You’ve made it into a sort of garden chapel.’
‘Actually, that’s not a bad description.’
‘It’s stunning. A private oasis beyond the rose garden.’
‘So you can see how it should look in bloom?’
Sarah nodded. ‘It’s a shame you can’t finish it straight away. With The Clock House opening up in a few weeks, Crispin’s going to start bringing up your plans at the village meetings.’
‘If Crispin wants me to open earlier, then he can raise the tens of thousands of pounds needed to finish this project off.’ Jake wasn’t rushing anything. If it was worth doing, it was worth doing well.
‘Maybe if you did Gloria’s charity calendar – joking,’ Sarah added, as soon as she saw his trademark scowl hit his face. ‘You know if you’re going for the chapel look, you could hold weddings here.’ She pointed to his sketches and the plans. ‘Set up a marquee on the back terrace, or have a picnic down by the lake, but the ceremony should be here under this main connecting arbour. Can you imagine the scent? So romantic.’
Jake winced.
Yes, okay, the thought had trickled in, along with the puzzle of why his great-great grandfather, George, had added a plan for this area but never had it made.
George Knightley had started his career in theatre construction so it wasn’t that surprising to Jake he’d shown a true gift for design. What was surprising was why something that would have worked so well on the estate had been bricked up?
George’s designs had been fascinating Jake since he’d stumbled across them while poking about in one of the potting sheds, looking for a bottle of beer or a cigarette when he was fourteen.
After overhearing yet another conversation about money between his parents, he’d been in need of a distraction. They’d all found ways to deal with the stress and reality growing up on an estate the size of Knightley Hall but he’d been the only one to put that energy back into the land and that had been down to Sid, the head gardener at the time, taking him under his wing. Showing him a different way of dealing with pressure and showing him George’s designs so that his passion for restoring the gardens had sparked.
Years later and Jake knew his plans to get the place to pay for itself were going to work. He just needed to be done with winter and for spring, summer and autumn to last about twice as long as it usually did.
‘Sorry. Shouldn’t have mentioned the “R” word,’ Sarah said, getting up to plonk her mug into the cheap-as-chips stainless steel sink before turning around to walk back over to the table and switch on her laptop. ‘So, about what I brought to show you … the thing is, I kind of wanted you to see it first so that when you receive your invite, you’re not too shocked.’
‘Invite?’
‘Mmmn. It’s for the opening of The Clock House.’ She brought up the gif she’d been designing and said, ‘Okay, press “Play” and tell me what you think.’
Intrigued, Jake reached forward and set the gif in motion. As the envelope opened up on screen, he grinned. ‘Now this is what I call an invitation to a grand party.’
‘You like it?’
‘I do. More to the point, I think Kate, Daniel and Juliet are going to love it.’
‘I thought it was good. I mean, you know what I mean.’
Jake’s gaze snagged on the date of the party as it flashed up on screen.
Sarah bit her lip. ‘And now I’m guessing you’ve realised the date of the opening was going to be your—’
‘It’s fine,’ Jake said, cutting her off.
‘Is it?’
‘Is this really why you came here, to tell me about the date?’
Sarah looked at him with what looked suspiciously like sympathy. He tried a warning scowl and the sympathy in her eyes only deepened. Damn siblings. They saw you running around in a pair of dungarees made from curtains when you were younger and there was just no way they could ever be scared of you again. Gentling his voice anyway, he ran a hand absent-mindedly over his hair. ‘I don’t have dibs on dates, Sarah.’
‘Well, no but—’
‘Like I said, it’s fine. But I won’t be able to babysit Elton for you that night.’
‘Of course you won’t. You’ll be at the party.’
‘Actually I won’t.’
‘Jake, you can’t mope around here on your own.’
‘I won’t be.’
‘Okay. That’s good. Wait – are you saying you’re going to be moping around somewhere else?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve rented a cottage in Cornwall over Christmas. You lot are always on at me to take a holiday, so I am.’ And if that happened to mean he was also going to be far away from pitying glances and memories of last Christmas, how very handy.
‘What are you talking about?’ Sarah demanded. ‘You disappeared on Christmas Day last year and all we got was a text saying you weren’t coming back until the day after Boxing Day – and we totally understood after what happened,’ she rushed out, ‘but you know Mum’s hoping we’ll all be together to do the family Christmas celebration, thing.’
Jake bit back a grimace. If he had his way no one would ever find out where he’d ended up on Christmas Day.
‘You really won’t be in Whispers Wood this Christmas?’ Sarah asked.
‘Correctomundo.’
‘And you don’t think everyone will worry when they hear about this?’
‘It’s just a holiday, Sarah.’
‘Bull. You’re running. In fact I’m changing your name to Running Bull.’
He could tell the moment she realised he wasn’t going to change his mind. That she could call up the family and get them all to call him Running Bull but that nothing could get him to change his mind from vacating Whispers Wood over Christmas.