Summer of Love (14 page)

Sian sipped her champagne and suddenly felt deflated. Shortly afterwards she decided there was no point in her staying any longer. Gus and Melissa were happily reminiscing about their blissful childhood and Fiona had disappeared to prepare supper, whether
à deux
(mother and son) or
à trois
(mother, son and Melissa) Sian didn’t know, or care. She knew she had no right to feel like this, but it seemed her jealousy couldn’t be rationalised away. Watching girlie telly with Jody seemed a much better option.

Chapter Nine

After Sian had gone home and Melissa had finally left too, Fiona went upstairs, leaving Angus slouched in front of the television. She checked her email; there was one from Robert. She opened it out of politeness but as it seemed to be about some item of furniture he was interested in and that should prove to be a real bargain, she didn’t feel obliged to answer. If she hadn’t already decided on their first date that she didn’t want to see him again, the dinner party had confirmed this. He was perfectly pleasant but Fiona didn’t need any more ‘just’ friends, not friends like him anyway, and if the spark wasn’t there you couldn’t manufacture it.

She found herself going to the dating website again. Luella had told her firmly (by email) that she was stark staring mad to stop doing it just because the first man didn’t turn out to be a winner. Luella was right, it was time to get back into the ring.

To her surprise and delight there was indication of interest from someone else. She clicked through to his profile and he seemed gorgeous. Certainly more dashing than Robert.

She left a message to indicate that she was interested and went downstairs. Really life was a lot more fun when you took a few risks. Maybe she’d wasted the first forty-odd years of her life being safe? Maybe now was the time to break out?

Fiona checked on the dating website the following day. There was a message from Mr Dashing:
Fiona, lovely woman, would you care to come with me to a garden centre? I need some advice and I’m sure you’re just the woman to give it to me. On Sunday? Yours, in expectation, Evan
.

Sunday, thought Fiona, that would be lovely. Something to look forward to. Helping other people spend money was always fun!

She typed an enthusiastic reply, and the arrangement was made.

Fiona was excited at the prospect of another date. It would be good for her to focus on her own life. Recently she’d found herself mentally putting Sian and her son together in her head, in spite of the exuberant Melissa, jumping up and licking everybody’s face like an enthusiastic puppy. And there was Richard, of course, although Fiona wasn’t sure how the land lay there. Sian didn’t talk about him the way one did about a boyfriend, but then every relationship was different and he certainly liked Sian, that much was obvious.

Possibly a bit rashly, Fiona didn’t alert Sian to her plans this time so she could text to make sure all was well. There were several reasons for this. For one thing she knew Sian’s mother was staying with her and they might well be off doing something, and for another she was meeting Evan in a garden centre. What could possibly go wrong in a garden centre? She had been expecting a slightly more glamorous venue, but she’d mentioned her interest in plants so it was a good choice, really. Maybe he was just being considerate.

She found the address. It was one of those huge, out-of-town places that sold an awful lot of things besides plants and garden furniture and made Fiona sigh nostalgically for an old-fashioned nursery that only sold plants, not Christmas decorations and ‘gifts’. However, a lot of them had very good cafés; a nice piece of cake might rescue a disappointing date. Evan was at a table by the coffee-shop entrance as arranged and he stood up when she approached. He had a silver, triangular beard – not a feature that appeared in his photograph.

‘Fiona, dear lady,’ said Evan, taking her hand and kissing it. She didn’t know if she was charmed or horrified. Was he delightfully old-fashioned or a creep? No doubt she’d find out soon enough.

‘Now, sit down and let’s have coffee. Or would you prefer tea? Hot chocolate?’

Fiona sat. A tiny bit of her was relieved – there was absolutely no need to have alerted anyone to her whereabouts – the rest of her was disappointed. She could tell she was going to be bored within seconds. It had been a waste of time coming. Why she’d ever thought Evan was a bit dashing was now a mystery. He couldn’t dash his way out of a wet paper bag. He made Robert look positively dynamic!

‘So, dear lady, tell me about your garden? My own little bit of heaven isn’t what you might call large, but nor is it small.’ He laughed, a high, contrived sound that made Fiona wince. His ‘dear lady’ was now beginning to grate too. He went on to describe every bed, every border, every water feature (there were several, involving angels, doves and windmills). He had beds edged with cockle shells (scallops shells really, obtained from a fishmonger, my dear), wind chimes and a sweetly pretty ‘arrangement’ (pronounced the French way) of woodland creatures so lifelike, even the local squirrels were confused. Apparently it was the remote-control fairies that did it.

Initially the description had a gory fascination – she had a secret passion for kitsch – but eventually she decided life was too short and she should make her polite farewells and go home to her own garden. Dealing with the convolvulus was a whole lot more fun than listening to Evan’s description of removing duck weed from his pond, tiny plant by tiny plant.

Suddenly she was aware that he was looking questioningly at her. He had obviously said something she should have listened to. There was no way she could bluff her way out of it; she’d have to confess.

‘Sorry, I was just a little distracted. Can you say that again?’

‘I suggested,’ said Evan, hurt, ‘that we move on to a little nursery I know well where they have some rather special plants not generally available.’

Fiona opened her mouth to make her excuses. Although to her the thought of a special nursery was like a half-price sale at a designer outlet to many people, the thought of more precious hours of her life being spent with him was too much. But before the right words came to her he put his hand on hers.

‘Dear lady, don’t refuse me. I hate going to these places on my own. They make me feel quite vulnerable. Then I promise we’ll have drinkies. I know a nice little place.’

Cursing her kind heart, Fiona weakened. ‘OK.’ She got to her feet, anxious to end the torture and get on to the good stuff. ‘Where is it?’

‘Well, I think it would be better if you just came with me in my car. I can drop you back here later. There isn’t much parking there, you see. It’s up a bit of a track. Much easier if we go in the one vehicle.’

Fiona hesitated. She wasn’t worrying about breaking the rules of internet dating, they hardly applied to this courteous but boring person, but she didn’t like being dependent on other people for lifts. She wanted to be able to leave when she wanted to. ‘I’d rather take my car if you don’t mind.’ She was about to offer to take Evan but thought better of it. She’d lose her independence just as much if she gave him a lift as she would if she travelled with him.

‘I think you’ll find it would be better if you came with me. It’s a little hard to find and if you lost me, we might never catch up with each other again.’ Evan smiled and Fiona wondered what the downside of never seeing him again would be. She couldn’t think of one.

‘Please, dear lady,’ he went on. ‘Otherwise I’ll think you don’t trust me to keep you safe.’

Fiona sighed and gave in. ‘Oh well, all right then, but I mustn’t be late back. I’ve got my son living with me now and he’s hopeless in the kitchen.’ The fact he did find it easier to cook in the open air didn’t mean he’d starve if she wasn’t there, but she wanted her excuses built in.

‘I understand. I myself am a competent cook, though, truth be known, not every member of the sterner sex can say the same.’

‘Shall we go?’ said Fiona. She was losing the will to live.

She got into the front seat of a Volvo and, having held open the door, adjusted her seatbelt and then shut her firmly in, Evan got in next to her.

‘So does the nursery specialise in anything in particular?’ she asked. ‘I have limey soil, I’m afraid, so no rhododendrons for me.’

‘Epimedium, Erythronium and ferns,’ said Evan.

Although she was a fairly experienced gardener, the only one of these that Fiona recognised was ferns. ‘Oh, I love ferns,’ she said, hoping her ignorance of the other two would go unnoticed. She realised if she’d had any chemistry with Evan she’d have just asked what they were. But if she did ask, he’d tell her. At length. She hoped she’d recognise the plants when she actually saw them.

It was quite a way to the nursery and the route was complicated. She could see the point of travelling in one car, although the more miles they covered, the more she wished she’d taken her own car and just got lost. She began to feel out of control, too far away from her car for comfort. She counted up in her head how quickly she could reasonably ask to leave. The further it was the longer it would take them to get back.

‘Is there anything particular you’re looking for?’ she asked.

‘Not really,’ said Evan. ‘I find it’s better to just see what’s there, although in my carefully crafted little plot, only the daintiest specimens are welcome.’

‘Maybe we shouldn’t go all that way if we’re not going to buy anything.’ Fiona had never managed to visit anywhere that sold plants without buying anything. ‘My garden is full too.’

‘I expect you’re fortunate to have a much bigger garden than I have, but I find it a little oasis of green.’

‘Oh.’ Fiona had assumed because she lived in the country that Evan did too. ‘Is where you live built up, then?’

‘I’m surrounded by fields,’ said Evan. ‘But I like order. Nature is all very well but it needs to be controlled. What about yourself?’

Fiona wondered why he hadn’t just said ‘you’. ‘I like a bit of wildness, personally.’

There was a pause. ‘I picked that up in your emails,’ said Evan.

Fiona began to feel a little uncomfortable, although she couldn’t tell why. All she was really in danger from was a very long and boring afternoon. He was a man obsessed with his garden who tried internet dating. It didn’t mean he was odd, just dull.

At last the car turned into a narrow lane that had a weather-beaten sign saying ‘Squirrels Nursery’ and Fiona instantly felt happier. Her overactive imagination had somehow created a sinister scenario and however hard she tried to stop herself she kept thinking this weird – or possibly just old-fashioned – man was taking her somewhere bad. But it was a nursery. They’d look at plants, they’d probably buy some, and then she’d make her excuses and he’d take her back to her car and she could go home – and never have to see him again. All would be well.

She got out of the car and stretched, looking around her. For a commercial premises it was quite run down. There were a few glasshouses visible behind a wall and a sign saying ‘Sales’ by a dilapidated hut, but Fiona refused to be disheartened. There’d probably be some really lovely plants here, the owners were obviously far more concerned with them than superficial things like signs and buildings. ‘Oh, I can’t wait to see what’s here,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘You’ve been here before, which way do we go?’

‘I think we should have a cup of tea first,’ said Evan.

‘But we’ve just had hot chocolate! Let’s see what there is and then have tea.’

Fiona’s objection was received with a look of hurt and rejection and her falsely inflated spirits sank. ‘Oh, OK, whatever you think is best,’ she said on a barely suppressed sigh.

Evan led the way into the house. There didn’t seem to be anyone about although he called ‘Shop!’ in a way that made the place seem even more empty.

‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘the tea shop’s through here. They do lovely scones.’

‘Really? It doesn’t look as if anyone’s been here for years! Don’t you mean rock cakes?’

It wasn’t a good joke by anyone’s standards and it didn’t even amuse Fiona. She was getting desperate. ‘I really don’t think there’s anyone here to give us tea.’ She was trying to sound firm and in control. ‘Why don’t we just look at the plants? It’s why we came, after all.’

A slightly sinister gleam appeared in Evan’s eye. ‘I like a spirited woman but I think you really must do as you’re told.’

Although appearing to be obedient went against every cell in Fiona’s body she calculated that the date would end more quickly if she didn’t argue and just went along with things. And she certainly didn’t want to excite Evan by being ‘spirited’.

Fiona found herself being taken by the arm and almost manhandled into a room containing half a dozen sets of tables and chairs. A thin curtain covered the window and there were flies on the sill. She resolved not to eat anything even if the scones were fresh out of the oven. Nothing here could possibly be remotely hygienic.

‘I’ll go and find Mrs Tibbs,’ said Evan. ‘You stay here, like a good girl.’

I’m now officially freaked out, thought Fiona. This is not a boring but harmless afternoon with a boring but harmless man, it’s sinister. The moment Evan was out of the way she would try and leave.