a thatch of static grey hair, the woman struck a formidable pose. And with her ruddy complexion as she clasped a clipboard to her ample bosom, she looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Thelwell cartoon.
‘I’m here to see Myles,’ Jude smiled keenly as she batted a persistent bumblebee from her face.
‘What’s your name?’ the woman demanded, consulting her clipboard.
‘Jude Darling.’
A short silence ensued.
‘Are you sure?’ The Thelwell woman stared for a second, before frowning.
‘Err, yes. Quite sure.’ Jude sighed inwardly, wondering if Dad had a point after all. But back in LA nobody had ever batted an eyelid over her unusual surname, so she had kind of forgotten about it, to be honest. ‘So adorable. Quaint. And like totally British,’ is what they had said over there.
‘Well then, that’s a nice name. Very jolly.’ And the woman actually smiled, which momentarily threw Jude, given her sudden switch in temperament.
‘Oh, thank you.’
But the thaw was short-lived when the woman snapped, ‘Sorry, you’re not down here, I haven’t had any notification of your visit,’ and tapped the clipboard. ‘I can’t let you anywhere near the house if you haven’t been booked in. I’ll have to ask you to leave.’ The woman gestured with her hand for Jude to go back the way she had come, in through the Hobbit door.
‘But, Myles …’ Jude’s voice came out way too high, so she paused, swallowed, and then continued calmly, ‘Mr King just called me and asked me to come to see him. I’m a bit late. I was going to get my dad to give me a lift down here, but he couldn’t and then I missed the bus and … well, I’m here now.’
‘Hmm, sure he did,’ the woman smiled dismissively, reverting back to her frosty setting. ‘Come on now, my dear, you really do need to leave.’
‘It’s true!’ Jude folded her arms, irritated that she seemed to have wasted her time on quite frankly the rudest man she had ever spoken to. And no guesses as to who this woman was – his mother, no doubt, must be, given that she was just as rude. It was clearly a family trait.
‘My dear, if I had a penny for every time a girl like you had tried that one on just to get inside and up close to Mr King, then I certainly wouldn’t be standing here, dodging the cowpats, talking to you. Certainly not. I would be sipping a Dubonnet and gin cocktail on the deck of a yacht moored somewhere on the banks of an Italian hideaway. Good day to you!’ And the woman went to walk away. How bizarre. Jude stared after her, slack-jawed and furious. Then, after swiftly reuniting her chin with the rest of her face, she hoisted Lulu firmly under her arm and dashed after the woman, determined to salvage something from the trip. She had paid out for the bus fare, not to mention her time spent away from the shop, which could quite possibly have consequences for her fledgling business – like losing paying customers if she wasn’t there to actually serve them. Well, maybe … if she was really lucky, but that wasn’t the point. She had come here in good faith, and was damn well going to see Myles King, even if meant fighting this tedious woman right here in the garden.
‘Wait,’ Jude said, and the woman turned. ‘Please, check again. He really did call. I’m Jude Darling from Darling Antiques and Interiors in the village. My shop is in the High Street … Tindledale High Street.’ Jude tried to get a look at the clipboard, but it was no use, the woman was having none of it and immediately pulled a walkie-talkie from the pocket of her padded waistcoat. ‘Yes, please do call him, I’m sure Myles will be able to clear up this misunderstanding.’
Jude pressed her spare hand around Lulu’s little chest, inwardly cursing herself for forgetting to bring her shades or indeed slather herself in SPF cream as she always did back in LA. But she had forgotten how changeable the British weather could be and the sun was dazzling out here in the open grounds of the estate. Her fair, freckly complexion was already starting to warm up. And Lulu was panting over-dramatically, as if she was about to keel over from dehydration. Plus Jude could feel a dampness on the arm she had underneath Lulu’s bottom, which felt suspiciously like she had relieved herself. Oh no. That was all Jude needed. To turn up to her first potential commission with an incontinent dog in tow.
‘Security?’ the woman bellowed into the walkie-talkie and Jude’s heart sank. Not only had Myles King wasted her time, but she was now also about to be arrested, or whatever it was security personnel did to intruders on private estates.
‘OK. I’ll go,’ Jude conceded, plonking Lulu on the ground, and holding up the palms of her hands before trudging towards the Hobbit door. Then she stopped and turned, ‘But you can tell Myles King to expect an invoice for my time … which he has wasted!’ She nodded, pleased with herself for remaining professional, but then ruined it all by adding, ‘and the bus fare. Both ways!’ She cringed as she pointed a sweaty index finger at the woman, before quickly shoving it inside the pocket of her jeans to mask the ominous whiff of dog wee that was now permeating the air between them.
Jude had just stepped back out through the Hobbit door, when she bumped right into Sam.
‘Hey, Jude!’ Jude could immediately see, despite his face lighting up when he saw her, that he was tired, with dark circles under his eyes. He looked gaunt, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Which he did, of course, with his marriage in tatters. Chrissie said they had talked but it hadn’t gone that well. He’d accused her of seeing someone and that things had been tense. Jude wondered if she should say something to him about it. But what? She wasn’t sure if she should – not here, when he was coming to work – Chrissie had said he told her a few weeks ago that his next contract was back in Tindledale on the estate, but she had also told Jude that she would need to see it to believe it. And it was his personal business, after all. And what if it opened the floodgates? But they had known each other a long time and were friends. Maybe she could help; perhaps she could do something to try to repair their marriage. Mediate somehow. Anything to bring her dearest and oldest friends back together again.
‘Sam!’ Jude gave him an enormous hug, being careful to keep the damp patch on her arm from touching him, just in case. ‘It’s so good to see you. And I’m really pleased that you’re back. How are you?’ she asked, figuring positivity was best, and she certainly didn’t want Sam thinking she blamed him or was taking Chrissie’s side. No, she was here for both of them, Holly too. And would do whatever she could to see a once-happy family put back together again.
‘Not too bad, been better. But, it’s good to be back … to sort things out, with a bit of luck.’ He didn’t elaborate, but Jude knew exactly what he meant. Sam never had been one for long, emotional conversations, and now certainly wasn’t an appropriate moment to discuss things further in any case.
‘I know, Sam,’ Jude said softly, placing her hand on his arm. ‘But you’re home now.’
‘You’re right. And thanks, Jude. It’s great to have you here too. It’ll make a massive difference to Chrissie, and to Holly. You’re just what they need right now.’
‘Anytime.’ Jude looked at the grass, and then back up at Sam. ‘And you. We’re friends as well, remember.’
She loved Sam. With Chrissie being like the sister she never had, she had always seen Sam in a similar way, a bit like a brother. And so she cared about him too. Plus, she knew how good he was for Chrissie – they had been so happy together for a long time, before their marriage came apart at the seams. If she could help them stitch it back together again, then she would do it. Whatever it took.
‘Thanks.’ He nodded. They had known each other since primary school, and her dad, Tony, had been friends with Sam’s dad, Rob, before he died. Tony was still close to Rob’s mum, Dolly, and had always looked out for Sam, her grandson, sometimes stepping in for Rob when Dolly had thought a dad’s influence had been required over the years. Jude remembered when Sam had got roaring drunk in the Duck & Puddle pub on his eighteenth birthday, and had ended up nearly drowning in the village pond after larking about in a makeshift boat made out of an old dustbin.