Chapter 4: Singling Out

Graham was on his feet again, continuing to shout abuse. I was also standing, although I do not remember rising from my seat, a reaction I suppose to the threat posed by the fat man; Cherry was standing beside me, not quite touching me. Audrey and Belle were still seated, looking down the table where Maurice was also standing having some kind of fit. He was leaning forward supporting his upper body by his clenched fists crumpling the tablecloth; I could see the knuckles gleaming from the tension they were undergoing. His lips were slightly drawn back so you could see that his teeth were clenched; a muscle on his cheek was twitching. When I moved a little apart from Cherry, I could see Christine, still sitting, looking up at her husband.

The tableau remained frozen for what seemed like minutes but was probably no more than a few heartbeats. At first, Graham’s voice was the only sound in the room, but I slowly became aware that Maurice was muttering through his closed teeth: “They’ll regret this,” over and over again. It was Christine who reacted first, standing up and moving to her husband where she put her left arm around his waist; she stroked the tic on his cheek with her other hand, leaning forward to whisper into his ear.

Graham stopped ranting to watch as the tension drained from the other man. When she was satisfied that the crisis was past, Christine briefly glanced at Belle, and then told Graham it was time to leave:

“There’s nothing more we can do here for the moment,” she said, leading Maurice towards the door.

When Graham reached them, she took his arm, walking the rest of the short distance between the two men. When they got to the door, she pushed them through first, before turning back to the table.

“Come along, Angela. Your husband needs you.”

It was only when she spoke that I noticed Angie was still sitting in her place with a bewildered look on her face. She glanced at her mother, as if to ask her what to do, but then her gaze shifted to Cherry and her expression hardened. She slowly climbed to her feet and walked to the door where Christine was waiting with a hand outstretched and a welcoming smile on her face. The door was firmly closed behind them. I was not the only one to let out a sigh of relief as the tension was released by their departure.

“I suppose you expect us to apologise now,” Audrey asked me in a venomous tone.

Belle looked startled and Cherry sat back down in her chair as if her legs had suddenly lost the strength to hold her upright.

“What have we got to apolgise for?” Cherry demanded. “So, Graham told us a pack of lies but that’s not our fault, is it?”

“We took his word for what happened without even asking Bill for his side of the story,” Belle’s voice was quietly patient.

“We hardly know Bill,” Cherry persisted. “He could have told us anything.”

“Come off it, Cherry!” Audrey said, sounding resigned. “We may not know Bill, but we do know Graham, as a lecherous liar. Maybe we should have been a little less ready to judge.”

I was still standing while this exchange took place. Now I turned and took a step towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Cherry demanded, reaching up to grasp my hand, which I quickly moved out of range.

“I’m off to bed,” I sighed. “I need to talk to you in the morning, Belle.”

“Say it now, Bill, while we’re all here to listen.”

“Tomorrow morning Belle,” I repeated as I left, closing the door behind me. I was undressing when there was a knock on my door, but I ignored it, although I was sorely tempted to see which of them was standing outside. It was just ten o’clock when I lay down under the covers; I was not at all sleepy, but I was in no mood to read a book. My contract was with Belle, not with her daughters and stepdaughters, and especially not with their husbands.

When she asked me for help, she spoke only of the market garden. I accepted that it was my own fault that I had become involved with the broader aspects of the family problems. I reminded myself that I accepted the job because I was virtually destitute, without a house, without a job and with nothing but loose change in my pocket. I still have no money, but other than that, I am living more comfortably than I can remember. The lesson I have learned from the confrontation at the dinner table, is that I must secure an alternative to my present situation. Walking out tomorrow morning is not a sensible option but, on the other hand, keeping Belle’s dependents amused has not worked out at all well.

Thinking that hard exhausted my poor brain, so I fell asleep a good hour before my usual time. At four in the morning, when I awoke, things did not seem so simple. What kind of man would I be to leave Belle to face Graham and his allies without me? Audrey is capable but too immersed in her own problems to be a reliable help. Cherry is still weighed down by guilt over her affair with the driver Geoff, and reluctant to make a decision in case she does further harm to her mother. Angie seems to be little more than a cipher, taking up space without actually filling it.

At eleven, just before I fell asleep, I had decided to lay down the law to Belle, dictating the terms I would insist on if she wanted me to continue working for her. By six, when I went downstairs to breakfast, I had decided to wait and see what she had to say. It is her money, when all is said and done, and if she wants to spread it around to keep her extended family happy that is none of my concern. I will stay until I can find another place to work and live. I have survived before without a warm comfortable bed and three-square meals a day, although I will admit that they are a powerful argument for swallowing my pride and staying where I am.

The three women were sitting at the kitchen table when I entered the room at my usual time on the Monday morning; they stopped talking and turned towards me. Belle was dressed but the other two were in dressing gowns, making a special effort, I supposed, so they would not miss the entertainment. I already had my hand on the back of a chair, intending to sit down, when I realised that the smell of grilling bacon was missing.

I walked to my slippers, put them on and crossed the yard to replace them with my work boots. Cherry was outraged: “Where do you think you’re going.” There was more but all in the same intolerant voice. Audrey, by contrast, sounded utterly cool when she asked if I was leaving. What almost stopped me was Belle, looking up so I could see the tears coursing silently down her cheeks. I hardened my heart: she knew that I wanted to talk to her, but I will not do so in the presence of the bitches.

The seasons were advancing with no regard for human squabbles, and it was light enough now to work outside right from the start. I had intended to tell Belle that the full English breakfast she served was too much for me, so I convinced myself that I did not need to eat until lunchtime. If she did not serve lunch, I resolved to walk out on her. Apart from my slacks, there was nothing in my room that I wanted to take with me – even my underpants were supplied by Belle!

It was Angie who came to tell me that morning tea was waiting for me in the greenhouse. I considered not going but my body betrayed me: my tummy had been growling its disapproval of my morning fast. Belle often brought freshly baked biscuits, and I planned to pinch as many as I could. Angie looked apprehensive; I thought that she had been sent as punishment for deserting them the previous evening. The other three were waiting for me.

Cherry was standing, looking angry, with a protective arm around her mother; Angie moved to the other side of the old lady. Audrey was standing a little apart and I could not read the expression on her face. It was the sight of Belle that made me feel ashamed and angry in almost equal proportions. She had aged by ten years overnight and it was clear that she had spent most of the morning crying. She seemed to have shrunk. She was the first to speak:

“You must be starved, Bill. I brought you a bacon buttie.”

She held out a substantial sandwich, and I smiled when she also handed me the piece of kitchen roll since that meant that there was a squishy fried egg hidden between the slices of bread. I thanked her with my eyes because I was salivating too much to risk speech. Her eyes held an emotional appeal, and I resolved to talk to her as soon as the sandwich was utterly consumed to the last crumb. All would have been well if Cherry could have kept her mouth shut.

“That’s all this means to you, isn’t it? Comfortable lodgings and three meals a day with four women running after you. To be fair, you never said you liked us, but you didn’t try to stop us when you saw that we were beginning to like you.”

She had moved a pace from her mum to stand facing me; her arms were at her sides, but her fists were clenched. She was an amazon, and, for the first time, I noticed that she was attractive, although she was not beautiful. There was something about her as she stood there glaring at me that touched some deep, primitive instinct: I could imagine myself dragging her off by force to my cave. Fortunately for everyone, that emotion was quickly replaced by anger when she added:

“You have to talk to us sometime. You can’t keep running away from us. Before you leave this greenhouse, you’ll tell us what you’re going to do next.”

I licked off my finger the little dribble of yolk that had tried to escape down my chin.

“I have a contract with Belle which I will discuss with her in private. If you insist on staying, I will continue with my work until either I am sacked or your mother talks to me alone.” I spoke softly but I think they all realised that I was deadly serious.

“It’s not for the likes of you to dictate to us!” Cherry was firmly mounted on her high horse. She was taking a deep breath to continue her assault when Belle spoke.

“Leave us girls. Bill’s quite right; this is between him and me. I brought him here.”

Audrey was the first to go, muttering “Under false pretences” as she walked out. Cherry would have stayed but Angie put an arm round her waist and half-dragged her to the door. It crossed my mind that Angie was enjoying her twin’s discomfiture. I smiled at Belle when the door had closed after them.

“I agreed to bring your market garden back to life and I’m happy to continue to do that until you tell me to go. I didn’t sign up to be the butt of family disputes.”

I would have gone on, but Belle held up her hand, with a hint of her normal command. Her eyes were still red and puffy from crying, but she had recovered much of her poise.

“Don’t take what Cherry said too seriously. Her arrogance covers a rather confused little girl. It’s not really you she’s mad at.” She reached forward to put her hand on my forearm, squeezing firmly. “When I asked you to come here all I had in mind was a sort of memorial to Claude; I didn’t care about profit or even about which plants you chose. Whether you like it or not, you’ve changed my perspective – and the perspective of the whole family.

“You can leave if you wish, although I dearly hope you will stay. I know you only signed up to clear the ground and plant vegetables but it’s not just the field you’ve ploughed in the week you’ve been with us. Whether you like it or not, you’ve turned over the feelings of the family just as you turned over the soil. They’re no longer lying fallow. I won’t blame you if you walk away and let us find our own salvation, but I must warn you that, if you stay, we will look to you to continue to bring us back to life as you will do to the garden.

“We’re a bunch of misfits – amongst us we display the Seven Deadly Sins. I’m desperate, Bill: just tell me what I must do to keep you.”

By this time, I was holding her in my arms; now I pushed her away far enough for her to see my face.

“You have my promise to bring the garden to life, but I need time to think about working with your family. Give me a day or two to think things through, but keep the bitches off my back until then, please.”

“They’re good girls at heart, Bill, but I’ll tell them to keep their opinions to themselves. Are you sure about staying?”

“Cherry put the case for staying clearly enough, even if she was a bit brutal – I do like the accommodation and I love the silk undies. I’ll take your word about the goodness of your girls, but I have no interest in checking that out for myself.”

We left the greenhouse with our arms around each other. Only Angie was there to meet us, a rather forlorn look on her face; Audrey was raking a bed close to where I had been working; and there was no sign of Cherry. Angie wanted to know what we had discussed but her mother told her that she had to start preparing lunch, striding towards the house with Angie trailing behind. Audrey looked up and smiled as I approached her, asking if everything was ‘sorted’. I smiled and nodded in return.

She worked steadily until about two when she had a call on her mobile phone. She excused herself with every appearance of regret that she had to leave to see the ponies that were to be offered for hire. We had chatted, mainly about her memories of the garden when she was a little girl. She would become animated as she described an incident but then she would become gloomy, presumably because she remembered the idyll coming to a sad end.

Belle and I were alone at dinner, taking the opportunity to discuss her hopes and plans for the future. She sees the house and its surroundings as a haven which she has no wish to disturb. She made it clear that she was implacably opposed to Graham’s plan to build more chalets, but she seems to fear that he would win. It was none of my business, but I asked anyway:

“Does he have a financial stake in the business?” She laughed.

“None of them have so much as a pot to piss in. When Cherry described you as being lucky to have a comfortable room and three meals a day, she could have been describing herself and the rest of the brood. The difference is that you actually do some work for me. The only thing the others can do with their hands is to hold out the begging bowl. Except that they’ve stopped begging and started demanding.

“I own everything: the house, the chalets, the garden. All mine, without any restraints on what I do with the cash.”

“Do any of them have a power of attorney or an agreement with you that allows them to make independent decisions?”

“My solicitor has limited power of attorney to pay council taxes, utilities and that sort of thing, but the family can’t touch a penny. I’d like to change that, but I don’t dare while Graham and Maurice are still around.”

We talked until midnight, and I finished the evening knowing more about her finances than anyone other than her accountant. It was clear that the struggle to control her inheritance was wearing her down. She admitted that she had considered taking a few million for herself, then disappearing, splitting the rest of the money four ways and letting the family do what they liked.

“I was so pleased when Audrey and Christine agreed to join us and even more pleased when Audrey formed genuine friendships with the twins. If it wasn’t for Graham and Maurice, we could live as one big happy family. On good days, I have more joy now than at any time in my life. I was considering making it a closed-order convent until you came along, Bill”

“Not a religious convent surely! From what Audrey and Cherry have hinted the confessions would be X-rated.”

“And it would curl your hair if I confessed honestly,” she laughed.

As we parted at the top of the first flight of stairs, I told her that I still could not commit myself to helping solve the family problems. She said that she understood.

“There’s no particular rush is there? You have complete control of the cash so the worst they can do is nag you.”

“Unless they have me declared incompetent to handle my own affairs!”

I laughed at that, and it was only as I was climbing to my own room that I noticed that Belle did not.

Audrey had breakfast with us on the Tuesday, and we worked together amicably until after lunch when Angie appeared on her own to harvest the vegetables for the market next day. When it became clear that Cherry was not coming, Audrey and I helped Angie, who welcomed us with a friendly smile. She is so much prettier when she smiles.

“My sister sulks, Bill. She behaved badly to you, but it is impossible for miss high-and-mighty to be at fault, so she is waiting for you to make the first move.”

I laughed and made some crack about her waiting a long time for an apology from me.

“The thing is, she really likes you and is ashamed of herself for the way she acted. Mum gave her a right tongue-lashing you know.”

“Be honest, Angie,” Audrey chortled. “Your sister has as big a crush on Bill as the rest of the women in this family – well maybe not Chris.”

Angie blushed.

I did not see Cherry until the Thursday afternoon when she turned up alone to collect the vegetables. Audrey sent me to help, remarking that I had to man-up sometime and it might as well be now. Cherry straightened up when I was within a metre or so, her face showing her determination.

“Have you spoken to John yet?”

“Not for some years. He moved away, but perhaps you didn’t know that.”

Anger was trying to oust determination from her expression, but she simply waved her hand over the vegetable plot and ground out “This John,” between her teeth.

I turned and walked away with her shouting after me to face her like a man. Audrey had a bemused look, asking me as I passed where the hell I thought I was going.

“I’m going to ask Belle why she broke her promise to keep you lot off my back.”

By the time I had taken off my work boots outside the kitchen door, the two women were right behind me. Ignoring them, I spoke to Belle who was still clearing up after lunch.

“Who is John and why should I have spoken to him?”

“I’m so sorry, Bill, it slipped my mind. John Armour is a neighbouring farmer who sends some men over in March to prepare and plant the ground for Cherry’s market stall. I’ll get on to him right away and tell him we won’t need him this year.”

“Don’t be too hasty. If your bitch daughter is going on with the stall it would take a lot of the pressure off me if you let John do his thing. It’s not ideal but...”

Audrey had come round and was now sitting at the table. She asked what would be ideal for me. I decided to put a few cards on the table.

“The greenhouse needs someone full time. Cherry has the skill and would be ideal for the job if she had the temperament. Let’s face it, any idiot can run a market stall. If she is truly repentant, as you say she is, then working in the greenhouse is a better way to make reparation.”

Audrey was still standing behind me and now she interjected that selling vegetables in the market was not as easy as it looked. I did not bother to turn my head when I replied that even Graham could do the job.

“Are you trying to find my husband gainful employment?” Angie asked from behind me. I had not known that she had joined the discussion. I turned to apologise, to find her grinning at me.

“I’ve been married to him for six years and I’ve not been able to do it, but I’m happy for you to try your luck!”

“Why did you ever marry him,” I blurted out. Angie laughed.

“I only did it because I thought my darling sister wanted him. It kind of backfired on me, wouldn’t you say?”

Too much information, I thought. Three days before, I had told Belle that I needed time to decide if I wanted to become more involved with her family, and yet here I was opening the door to revelations that were drawing me still further into their affairs. Not for the first time in my life, I resolved to stick to choosing the best plants for a particular location and soil. I’m good at that but the technique clearly does not translate to human situations.

Needing an exit line, I asked if I could go and talk to John Armour about choosing a fertiliser that would not leave problems if we decided to become organic growers in the future. Belle called him at once, throwing her car keys to me when she finished the call. John had heard rumours about me and was keen to see for himself what all the gossip was about.

He was most welcoming, introducing me to his pretty wife who was at the oven, her arms covered in flour up to the elbows. They looked to be contemporaries of Audrey, and I wondered if they knew her.

“Ralph and I are big buddies from way back and he told me all about you.”

“I might as well leave now,” I laughed, turning towards the door.

“We’re friends because opposites attract. I’m a simple farmer looking for a fair return for my efforts. Ralph always seems to have some scheme to cut a few corners. He might have tried it on me, but Helen has his measure.” He gave his wife a hug as he passed her to sit beside me at the table.

When I began to talk about the arrangement to prepare and plant the vegetable patch, he interrupted me with a smile: “Change of plan while you were driving over, Bill. Cherry has accepted an offer to take command of Claude’s greenhouse. They don’t have the number for your mobile, apparently.”

I told him that the only mobile I had ever possessed was a business one supplied by Brown’s. That led him to enquire about my life history, which he swapped for his own. He and Helen have three children, all long fledged and far from the nest. I gladly accepted their invitation to stay for supper, which was as delicious as anything Belle had served me. They talked about Claude and about many of the older inhabitants of the district.

John and Audrey were in the same class at school although, he acknowledged with a laugh, they did not move in the same social circles. Helen and John were still unhappy that Claude had sold so much land for development since it changed the character of the village. They understood why, however, and had clearly liked the old man.

There was only one rather odd thing about the evening. Helen got out a family album, propping it across our laps as we sat so close that our thighs were pressing against each other. I would have thought nothing of that, but, as I left, she accompanied me to the van while John said his farewells in the lounge. Helen insisted that I come back to visit soon, leaning down to kiss me through the open window. She may simply have misjudged in the darkness, but the kiss landed not on my cheek but on my lips.

Helen is a good-looking woman, about fifty years of age, I guess. She and John appeared to be very happy with each other, but, looking back, I think I would have shown some signs of unease if my wife had spent more than half an hour snuggled up to another man. John seemed to encourage rather than deter her and it was he who suggested that she show me out when I left. I went to bed resolved to make some discreet enquiries on the relationship between the farmer and his charming wife.

Cherry had already driven off with her load of vegetables when I came down for breakfast on the Friday morning. Belle joined Audrey and me at the table after she had placed the cholesterol-laden plate before me. I cannot seem to stop her serving a full English breakfast and I am utterly incapable of stopping myself scoffing it once it is lying there at the mercy of my knife and fork. We spent most of the meal talking about Cherry’s decision to take on the management of the greenhouse, which led to other matters affecting the garden. It was only as I was on my feet ready to leave that Belle commented on my visit to John.

“How was Helen? She lost an old and very dear friend recently and I heard that she took it hard. I think he was her uncle. She was devoted to him – spent more time with him than with John, we used to say. I know she took it very badly when he died about six months ago.”

Later, as we were working on the final beds, Audrey gave a typically courser interpretation of Helen’s friendship.

“Her ‘uncle’ was boffing her. Not that I blame her. John was in the same class as Ralph and me; he was a bit effeminate, and I remember how surprised I was to hear that not only had he married but had a couple of rug-rats. He and that arsehole Ralph are big buddies now, going off on fishing weekends.”

The problem about being a landscape gardener is that you spend so much time alone communing with nature. Mostly the nature of plants, of course, but human nature often intrudes. That afternoon, I left Audrey in the kitchen garden while I began harrowing the field beyond the wall. Suppose, I pondered, John is inclined to homosexuality but found it difficult to admit it to his contemporaries. He might take a wife as a smokescreen. As the decent man I judged him to be, John might have encouraged Helen to take a lover so that she did not suffer as a result of his sexual preference. I shied away from concluding that her friendliness to me the previous evening could have been a result of her seeking a new lover.

I smiled at the irony of her picking me, a man already beset by one estranged wife and four rampant female employers. I liked Helen, but the thought of yet another woman in my life made me want to visit Mars or another solar system. It was not until I was cleaning the harrow that I wondered where Ralph fitted in. He projects an image of dominant masculinity, but his best friend is gay. Not that it was any of my business, but I just had to put the question to Audrey when we were dining together.

“Were Ralph and John friendly when they were boys?”

“We used to laugh about them,” she giggled. “They were such a contrast. I think Ralph was so securely heterosexual that he didn’t even notice that John seemed to be playing for the other team.”

Cherry arrived back just then, and we spent the rest of the evening agreeing a planting programme for the greenhouse. She seemed pleased when I invited them to help plan the outdoor planting the following evening. Belle said very little, but she had a smug smile in her face, that brought a comment from Audrey. Belle simply smiled more broadly.

Angie was not with us, an observation that got me thinking when I left the women chatting and went to my room. She has been with us as usual during the day this week, but I have not seen her in the house. Previously she had joined us about every other night after dinner, remaining chatting until after I had gone to bed. I had only seen her with the other girls at morning tea-break, where there was a certain coolness. I attributed that to the events of Sunday after dinner when she had sided with the enemy. She had clearly been reluctant to make a choice but, nevertheless, she had followed Christine when she was ordered to do so.

I have found that secrets are more bother than they are worth. Sooner or later, the secret comes out and causes unhappiness all round. The person who wanted the secret kept is angry at the person who leaked it; worse still, if you fail to share the secret, your friends think you did not trust them. My plans for the restoration of the market garden are open, with absolutely nothing secret about them. The girls all do have secrets.

I must admit that I would not trust Angie with a secret if I had one. I believe that she is on our side, but she has proved herself too weak to resist her husband, not to mention Christine and Maurice. The thing that most bothers me is her remark that she married Graham because she thought Cherry wanted him. Viewed in that light, there were enough indications that Angie was envious, particularly of her twin. I could understand the wariness of the girls while I could equally clearly see the dangers of pushing Angie away. Thinking about her brought to mind the threats uttered by her husband and his friends at the family dinner; Belle had assured me that she had control over the finances, so I dismissed all three of them as irrelevant.

It was still none of my business. Belle wanted my full involvement in the affairs of the family but what I wanted was to be left alone to plant the gardens and bring home a bountiful harvest. I recognised the problem: I had deferred to others all my adult life except when it came to designing gardens. I did not care enough about anything else to bother with the politics of the situation. Of course, I should have had old Charlie commit his promises to paper and I should have had a contract from the new owners after he died. I had tried to make up to Hazel for her disappointment in finding that I was not who she supposed.

The truth is that I want to live with people whose word is their bond. I am not daunted by the magnitude of the task of managing Belle’s whole estate, but I am deeply depressed that I can only do so if I am offered an iron-clad contract. I am here now in response to a casual request with very few strings. Hazel always told me I was unambitious, and she came to despise me for my lack of drive. Audrey believes that if I was a proper man I would be trying to seduce her, or rule her, or whatever it is she thinks she wants.

My true ambition is to develop plants that will thrive in alien environments by crossbreeding. I have wanted to do it since I was in school; even when I tell people they dismiss it. They dismiss my desire as childishly inappropriate to a grown man living in the real world. It is as if I told them I wanted to spend my life doing jigsaw puzzles; therapeutic for someone recovering from flu, perhaps, but risible as a proposal for earning a living. If I wore a floppy bow tie over a smock and daubed canvas, people would see me as an artist; I want to make the world a little more beautiful by breeding plants that grow where the species did not flourish before.