He laughs. “Now that I’m no longer Wolf-brother, I can tidy up a little.
Tidy up. yes. His hair is still long but it’s shiny now that he doesn’t need to keep it frizzy and is allowed to use conditioner. Today, in a soft grey hoodie, jeans, and a toolbelt, he looks less Hagrid and more hero. My Welsh hero.
“Are you going to let me see the new rooms?” I ask. “Or do I have to die of curiosity.
“I’ll take you as soon as you’ve finished serving your first customer.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You don’t seem very excited.”
“I’m a bit nervous.”
“You’re not the only one. I think Evan is, too.”
“Why?”
“Because the garden restoration really matters to him.”
“Who is the new Watson.”
“Wash your mouth out with soap.” Haneen says from behind us.
I whirl around to see if she has the new customer with her, but she’s alone.
“Never mention that man’s name, again.” She says. “Let’s hope times are a changing.”
Raff gives me a quick kiss. “See you in a bit. Don’t worry. You’ll be wonderful.” and he slips away to do one of the hundred little things before the Squad arrive.
I turn back to Haneen.
“If this woman is as good as Evan says, then you can look forward to beautiful view this summer.”
“Oh, it’s a woman.” I don’t know why I’d imagined a man. Probably because of Watson. Also, the gardener taking on the east garden is a man.
“Not any woman. It’s Evangeline Palmer. From the TV show, Garden Restoration or Garden Rescue, something like – oh there they are.”
I turn to follow her gazed. Evan and a woman are out on the terrace pointing at the north garden and talking.
“I’d better make myself scarce. I rely on you to watch and tell me what you think.” Haneen disappears.
When the applicant gardener and Evan come into the café – my first professional service – I put on my business face, just like Evan does, and smile to welcome them to my best table.
The applicant is…well not how I imagined a gardener. No dungarees or wellies. No chipped fingernails. She’s a surprisingly young woman in knee-high supple leather boots, narrow trousers and an elegant maroon blazer. She even wears a string of pearls, under her cream shirt collar. If I were casting a part for a TV presenter, I would have dressed her exactly the same.
“What can I get you to drink?” I ask trying to strike the right note between waitress and proprietor.
Evan looks up and gives me an encouraging smile. “This is Evangeline Palmer.” Then he turns to her, “Evangeline, this is Leonie Henderson, one of our profit participant partners.”
His introduction makes my heart swell. That’s really me. A partner. A profit participant.
“The Orange Tree is her project. She’s restored the old conservatory and as you see, it’s now a beautiful café.”
“Hello,” the woman says. “Nice to meet you.” A London accent.
She must be a better candidate because the last two applicants for the garden job, didn’t even make it as far as introductions to any of us.
“Coffee? Tea?” I ask. It’s all I have so let’s hope she doesn’t ask for something more complicated like milkshake. I also have sausages because they’re easy to grill. But I don’t imagine they’re ideal job interview offering.
“Oh, whatever is easiest.” She says quickly.
And it dawns on me she’s nervous. More than nervous, she’s anxious. Evan doesn’t seem to notice, but I used to be an actor and know how to interpret mannerisms. And this woman, despite the posh clothes and pearls, despite the glossy haircut, really wants this job and is scared of making the wrong impression.
