‘I’m a landscape architect. I design gardens, not buildings. Did she not tell you that part?’
Did he really have to keep butting in or speaking so slowly? ‘Er, I think so.’ Even to Ella the reply sounded feeble, and she decided to come clean. ‘Actually, I’m not sure, she might have done. It’s been a funny week.’
‘Right.’ Max was holding two cups and he nodded towards the sofas. ‘Over there okay?’
‘Of course.’ Ella wasn’t expecting that, assuming he would have wanted to keep the interview on a more formal basis and his desk between them.
She chose a sofa and sat bolt upright, hands on her knees. She had never been less prepared for an interview in her life and when Max passed a cup across, her hand rattled the porcelain on its saucer, almost sloshing the coffee onto her lap. She knew she wasn’t presenting herself as the cool, efficient and capable person she normally was, her face now apparently competing with her tights for the brightest shade of pink.
‘So what kind of gardens do you design?’ Even her voice sounded different: high, nervous; she cleared her throat as silently as possible.
Max put on a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and picked up the iPad. Ella blinked hurriedly when his gaze settled on hers, unprepared for how well the dark frames suited him, highlighting those cornflower-blue eyes and his casual, gold-blond hair. Her cup rattled again, and she gulped a mouthful of coffee, grateful for the hit of caffeine she knew would follow.
‘We can talk about that later. I think I’m supposed to be interviewing you.’ There was a trace of amusement in his voice.
‘Right, yes, sorry.’ She finished the rest of the coffee in a rush, sensing him watching as she put the cup and saucer safely on the table.
‘So.’
She waited.
‘I know almost nothing about you, Ms Grant, as my mother apparently declined to ask for your CV when you applied for the job she invented.’ He drew in a breath and slowly let it out again.
‘Could we drop the Ms Grant, please?’ Ella was beginning to feel sharper and more like herself after the espresso. ‘My name’s Ella and I was hoping you’d let me call you Max. Mr Bentley seems so formal if I’m going to be working with your family. And you, of course.’ She hoped that didn’t sound as intimate to him as it felt to her, and a few seconds dragged by.
‘Working together remains to be seen. But Max is fine. Whenever someone says Mr Bentley, I’m usually looking around for my dad.’ Max attempted a smile, gave up and swallowed his coffee in one gulp. ‘Could you give me a few career details, and perhaps anything else you think is relevant?’
‘Like what? I don’t mean to be difficult; I just want to be clear on what you wish to know.’ She forced away a moment of alarm. Career details were fine, personal ones not so much.
‘Right.’ Max put his cup down to swipe at the iPad. ‘Your education? Where did you go to university and what did you read?’
Ella began to relax; she could talk about her career all day if need be. ‘I have ten GCSEs and four A levels, and I spent the summer before university working at an eco-retreat in Tuscany. I studied for my professional chef’s degree at University College in Birmingham and waitressed in Pizza Hut to help with the fees. I have a master’s in culinary arts management and did a six-month placement at a two-Michelin-starred restaurant in Malmö, where I was subsequently offered a job and stayed for a year.’ The tension in her fingers was easing as she started to enjoy dispelling his assumptions about her being a nanny.
‘I then went to work for Michelle Worthing at her Decoris restaurant in London and for the past three years I was a senior sous chef with a company based in Brighton who create high-end events and parties. The company was recently bought out and I accepted redundancy when it was offered.’
But it was too much. Ella had barely drawn breath. She knew she hadn’t needed to give him a precis of her entire career, a list of achievements unnecessary for the job at Halesmere, which they both now knew she was well overqualified for. She saw his surprise and the doubts quickly following.
‘Voluntary redundancy?’
‘Yes.’
‘So what exactly are you doing here, Ella?’ Max put the iPad down and took off his glasses to rest a clear and determined gaze on hers.
‘I saw the post online through a local shop and applied.’ She hoped her smile was reassuring. ‘I was very pleased to be offered the opportunity while I plan for the next stage of my career.’
‘That’s not everything, though, is it?’ He was toying with a pencil, and she felt caught, trapped in his demand for the truth, as her fingers trembled in her lap.
‘Whatever role my mother thinks she has dreamed up, if I allow you to stay then you will be working alongside me and my family. More specifically, around my children, and that concerns me. You’re clearly very highly qualified, experienced and driven. What makes a person abandon that level of achievement to play around managing a holiday business that isn’t even fully up and running yet?’
Ella had never been required to give an answer to a question like this in her life. She’d pursued the only career open to her, hadn’t allowed anything to hold her back, not least her parents’ concerns about her choices and why she’d made them. Now it seemed Max was forcing her to confront the reality of what she’d done in leaving her career, and whether or not he was going to allow her the opportunity at Halesmere she needed to go through with it.
‘I wanted a change.’ Her voice was low, and she had to force herself to keep her gaze steady on his. ‘I took the chance when it was offered.’
‘Because?’
‘Because I just did, that’s all.’ She heard herself becoming defensive. ‘Haven’t you ever wanted to do something different, pursue a different dream?’
He ignored that. ‘It’s clear to both of us, I’m sure, that you won’t stay here. Halesmere won’t be enough for someone with your experience. So, what’s the new dream?’
