Pink Wellies and Flat Caps (5 page)

I take a bite of my scone and feel like I have died and gone to heaven. How can anything taste so good? I decide to enjoy this first and then ask about the pay and the corgis and all the rest. She waits patiently as I sip my tea which, by the way, is outstanding indeed.

‘The thing is, I return to Sydney in just under forty-eight hours, so if we could sign the contract today
...’

‘But don’t you have other people to consider?’

She huffs and waves a hand before leaning across to take a sandwich. I have to admit this is doing wonders for my confidence but it all seems a little too unreal to be true. I bet the pay is shocking. That’s it, the farmhouse will be like a mansion and my room so huge that they will feel that is payment enough.

‘The salary wasn’t mentioned in the advertisement. I was wondering
…’

‘How much were you earning with the RSPCA?’

Well I know some of our patients are like animals but that is taking things a bit far.

‘The NHS,’ I correct.

She sighs.

‘NSPCC, NHS, they all do good works do
n’t they? So what were you on? A thousand a week?’

A thousand a week, is this woman insane?

‘Well, it was more like two thousand a month but I’ve recently had to take a pay cut …’

She stares wide
-eyed at me.

‘We’ll pay you a salary of eight hundred pounds a month, with accommodation and food included. Is that enough?’

She looks at me earnestly. I sense another waiter at my side and lean back so he can refill my teapot. Eight hundred a month with no rent, bills or food? Blimey, I’d be quids in.

‘What about the
corgis?’ I ask, returning her earnest look. There is something very suspicious about all this. She squints at me.

‘The
corgis?’

‘Do I have to look after them?’

She looks thoughtful and spoons a little cream onto her scone.

‘Do you like corgis? We can certainly get some if that’s what you want.’

That’s it. I will kill Georgie and Cas. What bastards. I’ve a good mind to order another tea and tell them to take it to the homeless on the streets. There’s a joke and there’s a joke.

‘So, how much did they pay you? God, they’ve got more money than sense those two. Where did they hire you from? You’re bloody good, I’ll give you that. What are you, some out of work actress that Casper hired on the cheap? I don’t believe those two. Honestly, like I seriously haven’t got enough on my plate with Charlie and everything else. I should have known.’

Her eyes widen.

‘I’m sorry Alice, I’m not quite sure I know what we are talking about now.’

‘Georgie and Cas, did they put you up to this? It’s okay, I know it’s not your fault and that you’re just doing your job … I should have known that email was a fake. I mean, nobody would have a ridiculously stupid name like
Lady Fairfax-Mason
would they?’

She smiles. Chester is suddenly standing by our table and she hands him a key card.

‘Be a sweetheart and fetch my passport from my room would you please? Miss Lane is under some misapprehension that I am not who I say I am.’

Oh shit. Chester takes the card, his expression impassive. Without another word she finishes her tea and gestures for me to do the same. The pianist has stopped and the uncomfortable silence between us is unbearable. Chester returns with the said passport and hands it to me.

‘It would be rather an elaborate joke if we also had a forged passport don’t you think?’

I feel my face growing hot and wish the floor would open up and swallow me. I can almost hear Karen’s voice saying
Honestly, I’m not being funny but what are you like Alice?
I close my eyes in exasperation.

‘Like I said, I would very much like to sign the contract today. I really don’t have much time, and as far as I’m concerned you are perfect for the job. If you want corgis, we can get corgis, although there are plenty of animals on the farm if it is animals you like. If you’re happy with the salary, wh
ich is superior to what the NSPCC are paying you, why don’t we sign now?’

If it’s animals I like? I’m not David sodding Attenborough. She’ll be parachuting in pink elephants if I give the nod. She removes a neat folder from her bag and places it in front of my tea cup.

‘The NHS,’ I correct quietly. ‘But I have no idea what I’ll be doing or even where the farm is. When do you need me to start?’

‘I’ll send you directions to the farm in my confirmation email. You’ll be the farm manager in effect. When would you like to start? I imagine it will be similar to whatever you manage now for the N
… Well anyway, much better paid and with more perks and far less sick people …’

When would I like to start? Blimey, she’ll be giving me the farm next.

‘But I thought your son ran the farm?’

She beckons for the bill and avoids my eyes.

‘Obviously, but he needs help with all the staff and the accounts. There is so much to do when one is a landowner,’ she says hurriedly, rummaging in her Mischa Barton handbag.

‘How many people will I be managing?’ I break in before she has time to conjure up a pen to go with her nice neat folder.

She fiddles with the diamond encrusted bangle that adorns her wrist and shrugs.

‘I think about three.’

I raise my eyebrows.

‘Although on reflection it could be four maybe even five,’ she says quickly, looking at me earnestly
and trying to gauge my reaction.

‘I imagine that is more than enough for you to cope with anyway. How many do you think you should manage?’

How many do I think? This is ridiculous. Why don’t I just email her the job description I fancy, along with some outrageous salary and see if she agrees to it? I so wish Georgie or Cas was here so I could ask their advice. My mobile bleeps and with much flourish Lady Fairfax-Mason produces a Mont Blanc pen and points it at me like an offensive weapon. I pull my mobile from my bag in a bid to play for time. It is a text from Charlie and I’ve had three missed calls. I couldn’t have heard them because of the piano music. I excuse myself to the ladies. I wonder if the loo assistant after opening the door for me and handing me towels is also going to offer to wipe my arse as well. Don’t get me wrong, I love luxury as much as the next person, but I’m beginning to feel over cosseted at the moment. With my bum comfortably perched on the most luxurious loo seat of all time I click into Charlie’s text.

Are you just being bloody difficult Ali? It’s hard for me too you know. Jake has phoned you three times. I made it clear that the inventory had to be done today. We’ll lose our bloody deposit. Obviously you can afford to. Can you phone Jake so he knows when to come? We’ve already wasted his time. God Ali, you’re hard work sometimes.

Shit. The inventory. How could I forget? What does he mean
I’m hard work
? How long has he thought that? I must not cry. Christ, not in shitting Claridge’s of all places. That’s about right. My one and only chance to enjoy afternoon tea at Claridge’s and I spend it sobbing in the loo over a man. Well sod that for a game of soldiers. With trembling hands I text back.

I’m busy trying to get a job. Why don’t you get your arse over there? You’re the one who wants to terminate our tenancy. Talking of deposits, I do believe you paid that, so obviously I can afford to lose what I never had. Maybe that includes you too. Can’t stop, having afternoon tea at Claridge’s, you know how it is, then again maybe you don’t.

I hit the send button without re-reading it. Honestly, don’t men have fantastic timing? Lady Fairfax-Mason looks hopefully at me as I return to the table.

‘Where do I sign?’ I ask.

Her face lights up and her eyes twinkle.

‘That’s wonderful.’

‘Let’s hope I’m making the right decision,’ I mumble as I scribble my name on the dotted line.

‘Oh you are my dear, you are.’

‘Whatever you do don’t go getting lost.’

‘How can she get lost? She’s got the
satnav.’

‘Huh,’ scoffs Cas
. ‘If I remember, we had the so-called satnav when we went to Sebastian’s wedding, and we ended up not only at the wrong church, but the wrong side of town, and all because Georgie cocked up the postcode. I also recall having a terrible attack of psoriasis at the time. God, I was in agony and the stress. It’s not set to that mad bitch Serena is it? Because she’s mental she is. She tells you to turn left when there is no sodding left to turn into. I swear these things are designed to reduce the number of cars on the road by killing off the motorists.’

‘For Christ’s sake Casper, don’t you know how to take a breath? If you suffer from anything it is most certainly diarrhoea, and that is of the verbal kind,’ snaps Georgie.

He grabs my suitcase.

‘I hope this farmer is related to bloody Superman. He’ll need to be to lift this out of the boot on his own. Give us a hand Georgie love.’

Between the three of us we manage to lift the big suitcase into the boot along with several carrier bags and two smaller bags. Okay, maybe I did go a bit over the top with the suitcase. I had spent over half an hour arguing with Georgie that I did indeed need an iron. Well, you just don’t know do you?

‘Surely you won’t need all these coat-hangers though,’ she had persisted, ‘and how many sodding towels are you taking, and why the hell are you taking all this soap? They will have towels you know. People live there. You’re not going to Outer Mongolia to live with the primitives. But I agree taking a Nigella Lawson cookbook is sensible.’

Finally, I’m all packed and ready to set off in my old little Beetle. I had said my goodbyes to everyone at the surgery at the little bon voyage party they had laid on for me. Charlie had responded to my goodbye text by phoning Georgie to ask what was going on.

‘All very weird,’ she had commented. ‘He didn’t seem at all happy about it. Made lots of tutting noises about you working with caged up animals.’

‘It’s a farm, not a bloody zoo,’ says Casper mockingly.

‘You know how involved he is in the FFFAA,’ I say counting the
‘F’s on my fingers.

‘Oh that little thing that does Fuck Fuck Fuck All, if you ask me,’ he laughs.

‘Casper!’ admonishes Georgie.

‘Didn’t he sound at all worried about me?’ I ask miserably.

She shakes her head.

‘I think he was more annoyed at you working on a farm.’

I can’t say I am exactly thrilled about it myself. I can’t believe I will never see my little flat again or that I will not be going to Pronuptia for my final bridal dress fitting. I’m still having difficulty coming to terms with the fact that I am no longer an engaged woman but a single one, yet again.

‘Do I look okay? I’m not overdressed am I? I wanted to get the right balance, you know what I mean, first impressions are important aren’t they? I didn’t put on my jeans because I don’t want the staff to think I’m a pushover, but at the same time I don’t want to look hoity
-toity and put them off me before we even start. I thought a Marks and Spencer skirt with a nice conservative two-piece outfit would be just right. What do you think?’ I ask nervously.

‘Great, babe, but I’m not sure about the pearls, love. They scream
I’m royalty
. Do you know what I mean?’ remarks Cas while flapping wildly at a wasp.

‘It’s your aftershave,’ says Georgie.

‘They’re the only things that do bloody chase me,’ he cries while running into the road.

‘That’s because your aftershave kills everyone off before they can reach you,’ laughs Georg
ie, leaning over to kiss me.

I stare at Georgie’s hair enviously and sneak another look at mine in the side mirror. Oh God, it looks frightful. What was I thinking of letting a trainee near my hair? I had decided before venturing down to Cornwall the least I could do was get my highlights done. God knows what kind of hair stylists they have down there.

‘It’s Cornwall Ali, not
China. Don’t you think you’re panicking a bit?’ Georgie had tried to reassure me.

‘I know but I’ve always gone to Toni and Guy, and I know Jason. I feel happier. Besides
, I want to look good on my first day.’

What was I thinking of letting a trainee within an inch of my roots?

‘Alice darling, so lovely to see you again, how are you?’ Jason had greeted me warmly and, with a flick of the wrist engulfed me in a black cape.

‘Would you be a darling and let Ryan do your highlights? Half price.’

I must have looked sceptical.

‘He’ll do a grand job. They have to learn don’t they?’
he whispered.

Blimey, anyone would think he was losing his virginity to me. I smiled at the spotty teenager who handed me a cup of coffee which looked more like dishwater. My intended
I’d prefer you do them actually Jason, and pay the exorbitant fee you charge if that’s okay,
came out as,