Gina could translate Naomi’s requests about Willow and Jason’s super-shed but one thing she couldn’t control was the weather.
As a sunny March tipped into a cooler April, the weather turned greyish and the work on the Magistrate’s House was concentrated on the insulation and roof line, parts of the building where Gina had no real input. On the positive side, it meant she had more time to spent chivvying Tony’s final details on the playhouse. The installation of Willow and Jason’s finished shed was arranged with as much complication and secrecy as a moon landing. And only slightly less expense.
First, Naomi had to take Willow and Jason away for a three-day pre-birthday break at Center Parcs to give Tony the joiner time to get it dug in and set up. It wasn’t a quick job – the electrics for Jason’s beer fridge and reclining chair had to be run in from the main house, and Tony had finishing work to do on the roof, which had proper red tiles and a weather vane in the shape of Peppa Pig.
By Thursday morning, Naomi was supposed to be in the middle of an intensive programme of face-painting and general ballpark fun, but she seemed to be sneaking off every half-hour to send Gina texts. Gina was at the Magistrate’s House, walking Nick through the renovation process for the linenfold panelling in the dining room when her phone beeped for the fifth time since breakfast.
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.’
‘Don’t.’ She nudged her back. ‘You’ll make me cry.’
‘I mean it.’ Naomi’s voice had a telltale sniff in it. ‘I always knew you’d be a wonderful part of her life. It’s a big relief to me to think that when she goes through her I-hate-you-Mum phase as a horrible teenager she’ll have you to storm off to. Someone who loves her.’
Gina leaned her head against Naomi’s; she knew her friend’s eyes were brimming with tears, because her own were. They watched Willow pour pretend tea, her attention trained on the cups with an intensity that was pure Naomi.
‘I’m so glad you’re still here, Gee,’ whispered Naomi.
‘Me too,’ she whispered back.
The other guests – Jason’s and Naomi’s parents, friends from toddler group, the neighbours – arrived at three, and after admiring the new addition to the garden, they quickly retreated into the warmth of Naomi’s conservatory. Willow couldn’t be persuaded to stop serving imaginary tea in the playhouse, but she was operating a very strict door policy, which meant that Gina wasn’t allowed to leave, and only select guests were admitted.
Tony the joiner arrived in his Sunday best, and was honoured with an imaginary cake; he was outside deep in DIY conversation with Jason’s dad, when Gina heard a tap on the front door of the playhouse.
She opened it, assuming it would be Naomi with some real tea, but it was Nick. He was wearing his navy peacoat and jeans,
and his hair was more neatly styled than usual; Gina noticed the effort he’d made, and was pleased.
‘Hello,’ he said, peering inside. ‘I hear this is where the best tea is being served.’
‘It is,’ she said. ‘But you might not get any. It all depends on the hostess. Willow?’ She turned to Willow. ‘Can this nice man have some tea?’
Willow scrutinised Nick’s face with a look that was more Jason than Naomi, then smiled sunnily and thrust a teacup at him.
‘Take it,’ Gina advised him. ‘You’re the first man she’s agreed to serve all afternoon. And that includes her granddads.’
‘I’m honoured,’ he said, and reached out to take it with a charming smile.
As Nick sipped his pretend tea with due solemnity, Gina saw Naomi’s red-and-white-checked dress pass the window, and then her flushed face was squashed in next to Nick’s.
‘I’ve come to release you,’ she announced. ‘There’s a real cup of tea for you in the house. Hello, Nick,’ she added, turning to him. ‘Good to see you! Actually, Gina, before you move, let me take a photo of you and Willow.’
‘No, it’s . . .’ Gina suddenly felt awkward, as Naomi got her camera out, but at the word ‘photo’ Willow had wrapped her arms around Gina’s neck and was doing her big photo smile. Gina pulled a quick what-can-you-do face at Nick, and mugged along for the camera.
‘Cheese! Aw! That’s so cute!’
Nick tapped Naomi’s arm. ‘Want me to take a photograph of all three of you? Then you can be in it too.’
Gina started to tell him not to, but Naomi was thrilled. ‘Would I like a proper photographer to do a quick portrait? Hmm, let me think. Er, of course! Hold on, let me get my husband. Jason? Jay! Come over here.’
‘You don’t have to do this,’ Gina murmured, but Nick shushed her.
‘It’s no bother. You look so funny sitting at the little table, with that checked tablecloth. Like Alice after the Drink Me bottle.’