A Hundred Pieces of Me (38 page)

Have you reminded Tony about the safety rails? Nxxxx

‘Is that Naomi?’ Nick asked, amused, as Gina fished the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. ‘What’s she actually doing on this holiday, apart from texting you?’

‘Texting me, mainly. Don’t worry, I’m used to dealing with very demanding clients.’ Gina frowned at the message. Jason must be having the worst birthday ever, she thought. ‘Hang on, let me just reassure her that everything’s OK.’

She texted back:

Would I skimp on the safety features for my favourite goddaughter? Everything very safe! xxx

‘There. Sorry. Right, where was I? Linenfold panelling.’ Gina ran her fingertips over the honey-coloured wood lining the walls of the dining room, skilfully carved to look like pleated material. ‘Lorcan found this under a load of plasterboard – they must have covered it over during the war when the house was used to put up refugees. It’s not in great shape now, but with a bit of love it could be stunning.’

‘It’s beautiful.’ Nick traced down a panel by the door. ‘Is it rare?’

‘Very, round here. I haven’t seen any as nice as this, anyway. It’s Gothic Revival, I think, older than this part of the house – it might have been bought in from another house that was being broken up to give this room a bit of status. You can tell that it was designed to be the place where the Warwicks did their serious socialising. Look at the panels, look at the view. Imagine the table they’d have had in here. You could seat eighteen people, easily.’

‘We should try to find some photographs of it in use,’ said Nick. ‘There must be some.’

‘You almost don’t need them,’ she said, stepping towards the windows. ‘It’s one of those rooms that tells you its own story.’

Like the drawing room on the other side of the house, the dining room finished in a generous bay, projecting out into the garden, with three long windows looking over the croquet lawn. It was designed to show off a sweeping panorama of the countryside around the house: the gentle undulation of the hills dotted with sheep, the skyline punctuated with a few church spires. The view was framed by the fine proportions of the windows, and a massive Gothic curtain-rail arrangement that looked as if it had been carved out of a series of ships’ masts. No curtains were hanging there now, but the big rings hinted at heavy velvet drapes held in place with rococo gold tie-backs.

There was something proud about the view, Gina thought, offered to the diners along with their meal. It was spring now, but she could imagine that scene changing with the seasons – thick white blankets of snow, gold and copper splashes of autumn, different every day.

‘That fireplace – did it come from somewhere else, do you think?’ Nick indicated the massive stone hearth, with the solid marble mantelpiece above.

‘Probably. But it’s a good fit in this room. It gives it a real heart, real warmth, not just literal warmth. This house used to belong to wine importers – dinners were always going to be a big part of their lives. Just imagine this place at a family Christmas, lit with candles in the wall sconces and on the table, all the silverware glittering, the local great and good in evening dress, butler hovering in the background . . .’

She paused. Nick hadn’t taken the bait. Since their first conversation about the croquet lawn outside, it had become something of a running joke: one of them starting to describe some real detail of the house while the other picked it up and turned it into the cheesy film version of English country life. But Nick was frowning at the fireplace.

‘Are you planning to keep it as a dining room?’ Gina prompted him. ‘You could have some really wonderful dinners in here, lovely boozy weekend dinners that go on till the wee small hours . . .’ She trailed off. She’d been about to make some comment about being sure Amanda and Nick had the sort of friends who’d appreciate it, but something in his face stopped her.

‘I don’t know.’ Nick ran a hand through his hair. ‘Did Amanda email you about the rental idea?’

‘What? No . . . Hang on, let me check.’ Gina pulled her phone out of her pocket; there were five new emails, two of which were from Amanda, both headed ‘Magistrate’s House/Alternative Plans’. ‘Oh, wait. I think she has.’ She looked up. ‘
Rental idea
?’

Nick sighed. ‘It’s not set in stone – it’s just an idea she’s come up with about converting a smaller unit for private use, and doing up the rest to rent out as a holiday let, or one of those houses you hire for team-building conferences where you take it in turns to collapse backwards on your colleagues and put your back out. Or whatever they do. I haven’t had colleagues since I worked in a camera shop during college.’

‘So you’re not going to live here now? Did I miss the memo about this?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s just something we were talking about last night. Amanda made the point that it’s a big house, and we’re not going to be here all the time. It makes sense, I guess. To think about it, at least.’

Gina bit back her first reaction, which was disappointment. More for the house than Amanda. Rental renovations never had the same heart as private residential plans. They were duller, safer. Made to suit lots of people a little bit rather than the culmination of one person’s vision.

Nick was still staring at the panelling. She tried to work out what the studied blandness on his face was hiding. He had expressive eyes and a mouth that gave away his mood, good, bad or unimpressed, but his expression now was flat.

It was a big conversation for them to have had ‘just last night’ – and a fairly radical new idea. What about their plans to start a family? Did Amanda want to have her baby in America, near her daughter? In London? Or was it some kind of lawyer’s business move to do with the planning permission?

Stop thinking you know these people, she told herself. You don’t.

Gina cleared her throat, and tried to sound interested but not over-involved. It struck her, too late, that maybe Nick already thought she
was
over-involved, that what she thought was their running joke about the house’s past might actually come across as her imposing her own renovation fantasies on
his
house.

‘Well, it’s a sensible thing to consider. You could convert one of the outhouses to be a self-contained flat, but it would put a different slant on my advice for the main house. We’d have to look at the critical path again, and there might be planning implications. Makes no difference to me,’ she added. ‘I’m happy to help you do whatever you want.’

Nick looked awkward. ‘You can bill us for the extra work,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t expect you to revisit it for nothing.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Gina. ‘I’m just . . .’ He
did
seem awkward, she wasn’t imagining it. ‘Sorry, I just got the impression that you wanted to live here. In the whole house.’

He didn’t answer straight away. He tapped his fingers on the wood, playing it, rather than feeling for rot like Lorcan. ‘I know it’s a big house but the longer I’m here, the smaller it feels, if you know what I mean. Amanda hasn’t really spent enough time in it to get a feel for . . . for what a personality it has. I think if she’d had some of the conversations we’ve had about the history of the place she’d start to see it less as a property investment and more as a home.’ He paused. ‘A family home.’

‘Well, houses
are
just houses,’ said Gina. ‘You’re the ones who make it into a home.’

Nick said nothing, and she didn’t know what else to say, so they stared out at the garden, through the long panes of old glass. They were warped here and there, twisting the long hedges into curves.

‘I was thinking,’ said Gina, to break the silence more than anything, ‘about that kitchen extension – you know, the one Keith said would be damaging to the fabric of the building? If you wanted an outdoor space for entertaining, why don’t you put in an application to restore the summer house?’

Nick grasped the change of subject eagerly. ‘I wasn’t aware we had a summer house.’

‘That big shed at the end of the main garden. If you were building it from scratch you’d need formal permission, but since it’s already there, you could easily do it up. You’re just repairing an existing structure for original usage. Croquet sets,’ she added. ‘And Pimm’s.’

She was relieved to see a smile warm his face. ‘And boaters. And white flannels. Who would do that, then? Lorcan?’

‘No, I’d recommend the same guy I’m going to get to restore these panels. Tony’s a specialist joiner, but he builds the most amazing summer houses as a side line. In fact,’ an idea had jumped into her head, ‘are you around this weekend?’

‘Maybe. Why?’

‘This might be on an entertainment par with pulling plaster off the wall, but do you want to come to a joint birthday party and shed opening on Saturday?’

‘Naomi’s famous shed? Isn’t that a family party? I don’t want to intrude.’

Gina didn’t say that Naomi had already ‘suggested’ she bring Nick as a plus one. Three times. ‘You wouldn’t be intruding. It’s just a few drinks, bit of birthday cake. Tony’s going to be there for the grand unveiling so you can see what he’s made for them and have a chat – he’s basically built them a scaled-down version of what you’ve got here.’

Nick looked out into the garden. The roof of the Edwardian summer house was just visible at the edge of the terraced lawn; it had a little peak like a proper cricket pavilion, and crenellated roof details. ‘But that thing’s huge.’

Gina felt her phone beep with another text message from Center Parcs.

Too late for underfloor heating? Nxxxx

‘After all the requests Naomi made,’ she said, ‘I’m not sure hers is a lot smaller.’

Gina couldn’t have dreamed of better weather for the shed unveiling on Saturday morning. Keeping Willow and Jason out of the garden and away from the surprise had been harder than the military operation that had taken place the previous day, when Gina and the joiners had set up the whole thing, complete with working power lines for Jason’s beer fridge.

Naomi led a protesting Jason towards the back of the garden, while Gina carried Willow on her hip. Willow was more excited about her ‘surprise’ and kept tugging at the pink satin mask Naomi had put round her eyes.

‘To be honest, this is not the birthday treat I was expecting when you brought out a blindfold, Naomi,’ said Jason, from beneath his black silk scarf. ‘It’s not a hot tub, is it? Because as soon as the football guys hear about it . . .’

‘Better than a hot tub,’ said Naomi, confidently. ‘Although now you mention the football team, I might look into it. Gina?’

‘I’ll get the planning application forms,’ said Gina. ‘No, actually, forget I said that. It would start out as a hot tub and end up a swimming pool, knowing you.’

‘Cake?’ asked Willow. ‘Cake in the kitchen!’

‘Ssh,’ whispered Gina. ‘You weren’t meant to see that. Cake soon.’

They were standing right in front of the shed now. Naomi looked at her, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye, and Gina smiled back. It was good to be able to give something back to Naomi, to feel part of their family.

‘OK, are we ready?’ Naomi said. ‘On the count of three. One . . . two . . . three . . .’

As Naomi pulled off Jason’s scarf, Gina eased Willow’s mask off her head, and laughed as the little girl’s blue eyes went cartoon-round at the pink-shuttered Wendy house that had appeared by magic under the apple tree in her back garden.

‘Do you like it?’ She leaned her cheek against Willow’s soft coppery hair. ‘Do you want to go inside?’

‘Blimey,’ said Jason. ‘It’s nice, Nay, but it’s a bit pink for me.’

‘No, no – it’s in two parts. You need to come round the back. Hold on, Willow, Mummy just wants to show Daddy his surprise too.’ Naomi beckoned Jason round to the other side and, from the cry of blokeish delight, Gina guessed that the more manly shed-styling of the Jason half had done the trick.

Willow reached out and Gina put her down so she could run to the front door. She grabbed hold of the knocker and turned to grin impishly at Gina. ‘Mind fingers!’ she said triumphantly.

‘Yes, mind your fingers. Shall we go in?’ Gina opened the door and let her see inside – it was big enough to fit one toddler and one-and-a-bit adults, but from Willow’s point of view it was enormous.

‘Kitchen!’ squealed Willow, pointing. ‘My kitchen! Pink cups!’

‘What’s going on in here?’ Naomi squeezed in at the same time as a serving hatch by the oven opened, to reveal Jason’s face on the other side. ‘Surprise! It’s Daddy!’

As Jason supervised Willow making pretend tea for everyone from his serving hatch, Naomi nudged Gina, and whispered, ‘This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. It’s even better than I hoped it would be.’

‘You like it?’

‘I
adore
it. Even Jason’s got all emotional. He reckons Willow will be talking about this when she’s fifty. It’s the sort of Wendy house you remember your whole life.’

‘Well, I’m thrilled that you like it. I’m honoured you invited me to the grand opening.’

‘You’re the guest of honour. You were the first person Willow wanted to ask when I told her we were having a party.’