Chapter Four
No salary. I knew this already. “Yes, it was made very clear in the application pack you sent me. I will be employed in the same way sales reps are. They earn their salary from commissions on the sales they make. And I will be earning mine from the revenue the garden generates.”
“Not quite. You won’t be an employee but a profit participant. We already have several other such partnerships. In addition to Leonie’s Orange Tree Café, there’s Llewellyn Davies who cleaned up and restored three of the reception rooms to set up the Digital Business Hub. Anyone needing office space, meeting or conferencing facilities can rent space from him. It’s his enterprise; the Hub has been trading for eight months and is already turning a profit. The others, you will meet in time. If and when you join the community.”
“You keep calling it a community.”
“Because it is. We all help one another. For example, Llewellyn offers us free use of the Hub. You can use a desk and computer.”
Our footsteps have brought us to a large door where Evan stops and digs into his pocket for a set of keys. But my attentionis caught by the stained-glass semi-circular panel above the door.
At first glance, it looks like blue water surrounded by a rainbow of pink. But looking more closely, I realise the pool is in fact a pre-Raphaelite woman in a flowing blue gown sleeping among rose bushes. The roses are five different shades of pink: from pale anemone to orchid pink, raspberry, fuchsia and finally deep magenta. The design is so delicate, the colours so intense, it looks like a painting, a piece of art.
I can’t stop looking at it as Evan ushers me in. “This will be your apartment, if you join us.”
Why does he keep saying ‘if’? Didn’t he already say I got the job?
Then my attention is stolen by what he calls ‘an apartment’. My first impression is light. Radiant light pours through the large windows into what must have once been three separate rooms now knocked together to make a suite. A bedroom, a modern bathroom, a small-but-perfect kitchen and a generous sitting room with French windows that open onto a balcony overlooking the gardens. It’s spotlessly clean and white.
Mine? All of it?
“It’s not furnished, I’m afraid,” Evan says, stepping out onto the balcony. “And you’ll get the morning sun. Be warned: if you’re not an early riser, you’ll need curtains.”
“Are you joking? Who wants to sleep when there’s all this?” I wave at the distant green hills and the endless sky above. “How much is the rent?”
“No rent. These are the terms of your partnership. Restore North Park and establish an enterprise that generates income.For the first year you keep all the revenue because you’ll have considerable start-up costs. Also, for the first year, we provide free internet, electricity, heating, water and so on.”
“That’s very generous.”
He shakes his head. “There are conditions. Because of a bad experience with the previous garden restorer who, as you can see”—Evan points to the very-dead garden below us—“he didn’t do anything. So we’ve added a probation clause to the partnership agreement. You will need to generate enough income in your first year to prove you can make this a viable business. If you don’t, then the contract will be terminated. In your second, third, fourth and fifth year, you keep 80% of the profits, and we get the 20%. After five years this will change to a 40/60% deal.”
This is why I’m so excited about this job (partnership, whatever he wants to call it). I call it a chance to finally let my imagination fly and create my own perfect garden business.
“Do you have any questions?”
Yes. Two.
“You say this will be my enterprise. For how long?”
“Provided it’s successful, you can keep it as long you want. For life, if you like.”
“What if my business idea needs to change over time; can I do that or am I stuck with the plan I gave you?”
“I, as the landowner, have to agree. For example, I’m never going to let you dig it all up to turn it into a golf course. But as long as it’s a business in keeping with the spirit of Kendric Park and the local landscape then yes, you have a free hand.”
He swivels on his heels and goes back inside. I follow him, more slowly.
“Miss Palmer?”
Oh, we’re back to formal names.
“You are taking a considerable risk. The best business ventures can still fail, which means you might sink your savings into this and lose it all.” He pauses to let the words register. “I think you are exactly the kind of person we want here, but I’d like you to take time to consider this from all angles.”
He reaches to a nearby mantlepiece and picks up a thick envelope. “This is a draft contract. Read it and discuss it with your solicitor. If you decide to accept, then let me know and the job is yours.”
He walks out and leaves me standing in the middle of the sitting room.
I look around. The walls have been freshly painted a subtle pale primrose; the mouldings and skirting boards, window frames and doors are in a soft white. It allows the two bronze cameos set into the plaster to stand out. The floor is polished wood with stencilled borders. I’m no historian but this is clearly an Edwardian design. So that’s what he meant about my name fitting in. I cross my fingers hoping he’s right. This place is beautiful.
