Page 100 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

‘Unreal,’ Chloe said, flopping onto the sofa and tossing her bag at the table. It hit the flower vase, releasing a cascade of water.

‘Jimmy. Oh my God, Sammy.’ She kicked off her shoes, took off her glasses blinking as the light caught her, revealing makeup smudged sufficiently to show the night had been long. The glasses joined the handbag. ‘He’s . . .’ she paused, searching for the word, but laughed instead. ‘Interesting.’ Chloe rubbed her eyes and groaned.

‘You look like you need water,’ Sammy said.

‘I need sleep,’ Chloe replied. ‘Followed by a drink. Hair of the dog. He said he might call later.’

Sammy reached for a glass anyway, filled it and passed it over. Chloe gulped the water down, then dropped the empty glass beside her on the sofa. The last drops spilled onto a cushion.

‘Magnus said something about him,’ Sammy said. ‘Last night.’

Chloe smirked. ‘Of course he did.’

‘He said Jimmy’s . . . not suitable.’

Chloe let out a low cackle ‘Oh, please. He’s a bit rough round the edges. He’s not for your Mr Eyebrows. That’s half the appeal.’

Sammy held her gaze. ‘That’s not what I mean.’

Chloe folded her arms. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Be careful,’ she said, gathering up her keys ‘You don’t know him.’

‘Neither do you,’ Chloe replied tartly. ‘And you’ve got gardener boy lined up already.’

‘Don’t bring him back here. Not to the estate.’

Chloe smiled. ‘Relax,’ she said. ‘we’ve survived worse than this, haven’t we?’

‘Don’t, Chloe.’

‘I’m not going to get you fired.’

‘I’m serious,’ Sammy said.

Chloe pulled off her shoes, massaged her feet then popped them on the table. ‘Fine.’ A neutral word, but there was an edge to the tone.

‘I’ve got to go,’ Sammy said dropping her keys into her bag. ‘We’ve got those special apple trees being delivered soon, Magnus wants to show me where they’re going to be planted. And last night, I asked Rose, the pub landlady, if I could drop in, take a lesson in silver service.’

‘Sounds thrilling. Go,’ Chloe replied. ‘I’ll be dead to the world for a few hours.’

On the threshold, Sammy looked back – at the mess, at Chloe already curled up on the sofa.

She stepped outside, the morning air felt wonderfully clean. Chloe was only here for a few days she reminded herself.

The grass was still damp enough to catch at the hem of Magnus’s trousers as he crossed the field. He could leave this all to Nate as Mr Hastings suggested, but they were fruiting trees not ornamental shrubs, Nate would think about productivity, Magnus was thinking about the view, about blossom drifting in the April sunshine beyond the morning room windows.

The sun had come up, throwing a pale arc across the slope. He reached the right spot – where the ground levelled out slightly. ‘Here,’ he said, indicating the stretch in front of him. ‘Apples along this line. Pears below. In the spring they will be able to see the blossom from the morning room.’

Beside him, he watched Sammy following the line with her eyes, trying to picture the view from inside the house. The field offered little yet – only grass – but Magnus could imagine it finished. Pink and beautiful, with the scent drifting down to perfume the morning room.

Nate took the list from Magnus’s hand, running his thumb down it as if checking a receipt. ‘These trees should all go in the orchard,’ he said.

Good man Nate but he needed reminding of the purpose of the garden – as a setting for the Hall. Magnus tracked Nate’s gaze out towards the hedge where the existing orchard lay, a darker band of green beyond the field. ‘There’s no reason they must sit directly beside the existing trees. It’s only a few hundred metres away,’ said Magnus.

‘There is if you want to make cider,’ Nate said. ‘And perry.’

‘I hardly think the distance complicates matters to that extent,’ said Magnus.