The Touch Ch. 39

Jack made himself a mug of strong tea, heaped sugar into it and then indicated that I should sit down and wait whilst he studied the plans. After a good ten minutes he called over his shoulder "Right son, come up here..."

I was a little apprehensive...Jack was probably the best nurseryman in the Southern Counties, what he didn't know about plants wasn't worth knowing and I respected his opinion more than anybody's, except perhaps Maggie and even she usually deferred to Jack on most things to do with growing plants.

"Do you see any problems?" I asked a bit nervously, "I have tried to follow the advice that you gave me..." Mostly I had chosen hardy shrubs, alpines and ground cover plants which would give all year round greenery with splashes of seasonal colour in the spring and summer seasons when the roof garden would be most used.

"An' so you should my lad..." he chuckled, "me bein' old and wise and you bein' just a young 'un." He pulled the old stub of pencil from behind his ear and tapped the plan. "There are couple of things here that could do with lookin' at ag'in... Yer might want to think about replacing these here lobelias and petunias in the autumn with some hardy annuals before the spring..."

"Er...yes, I wanted to provide some instant splashes of colour for Caroline's birthday party..." I explained, "We can replace them afterwards with Alyssum saxatilis and Lysimachus... I know that she is very fond of yellow as a colour."

"That's good... I like that..." Jack praised, "You might also think about putting in some creeping Phlox at the planter edges to give some patches of pink and mauve." He grinned and put his arm around my shoulders, "You've made a grand job of that, boy..."

"Thanks Jack.." I was thrilled... I had put a lot of hard work into getting the plant allocations right but Jack's opinion and approval meant a great deal to me...he had mentored me through my Cities and Guilds certificates and spent hundreds of hours teaching me most of what I had learned about cultivating plants since I had joined the team at 15. "If I give you the final list will you work out which plants we can grow ourselves and which we need to buy in... and from where?"

"Reckon I can do that... that's my job isn't it..." he grinned. I reckoned that he would already have most of it worked out in his mind and if I was to come back in an hour he would have the answers on the tip of his tongue. Jack loved to play the country yokel but as far as plants and gardening were concerned he had a mind like a steel trap and an unmatched store of knowledge at his fingertips. I now needed to work out a way that I could get Jack up to the 'big city' to have a look at the site himself... He hated going up to London but I really did want his experienced opinion.

We chatted through a few more suggestions and I made some notes on the plan before hurrying back to the admin block to change into clean grey linen trousers, a light mauve shirt and a cream cotton jacket. I always kept at least one change of reasonably formal clothes in my locker in case I needed to look respectable for an unexpected business meeting. Mostly I just wore the garden centre uniform at work the same as all the other staff.

As I made my way across to the car park I could see Becca sitting inside her orange VW Beetle. I got into the passenger seat and we leaned over to exchange a friendly kiss of greeting and then Becca pulled off of the car park and turned north. The restaurant we had chosen was only five minutes or so drive and so we hardly had a chance to really talk before arriving at our destination. As we approached I spotted the sign hanging over the car park, 'La Chaumiere' and recognised the building as the old 'Thatched Cottage' public house which had been vacant for several years, but had been recently renovated and turned into what was becoming a very popular restaurant serving a mixed French and English cuisine. We were greeted and seated by a very attractive French looking dark haired woman in her mid-twenties, smartly turned out in traditional French style with a black dress and long white apron. She had an attractive face and her hair was expensively cut into a fashionable pixie style, very continental.

"It's my brother's restaurant, see," she informed us, surprising us with her lilting Welsh accent, "We are from Colwyn... But Julius has worked in Michelin starred restaurants in London and Paris..." I made a mental note to give her one of my business cards before we left, her brother might be interested in visiting the farm shop and I had noticed that the gardens and patio area at the rear were in need of some attention but had the potential for a nice alfresco dining area if properly landscaped.

We ordered a bottle of the house red wine and sat studying the menus. I was glad that I had changed into some reasonably smart clothes as Becca looked really fantastic in a fashionably patterned royal blue, orange and white silk suit with a knee length skirt and short Chinese style jacket which buttoned to the throat and hugged her rounded mature figure. Her shoes were royal blue suede courts worn with dark blue silk stockings. The colours set off her auburn hair and pink lipstick perfectly.

"Wow! You look terrific..." I complimented her. She looked really tasty and it set off a tingling in my groin just looking at her.

"Thank you, Jamie dear," She beamed with pleasure at the compliment. She must have kicked off her shoes, as women do... I felt her toes affectionately rubbing the inside of my calf beneath the table, it was mildly erotic and I had to concentrate hard to stop myself getting an erection. This new, alive and emboldened woman was a far cry from the mousy Auntie Rebecca, my best mate's mother that I had known most of my life. She took a small pause and then came out with her news, "I have been for a job interview this morning..."

"Bloody hell Becca that is fantastic...where? What is the job?"

I knew that she had the small commissions that some of our landscaping work was generating but at best that was only ever going to be intermittent pocket money jobs and I had been prompting her to think about going back to work as an art teacher now that both her sons had announced they were leaving home in September, Josh heading off to university and Tim going into the Royal Marines. She was a clever, intelligent woman and a talented artist who deserved more to her life than just being an undervalued mother and housewife. "Are you going back to teaching?"

"No, not teaching," she explained, "I saw an advert for a general assistant's job at the St. David House Galley, in Salisbury, and applied for it... It is only four days a week, minding the shop and doing research and provenance background checks... but the job is working with fine art paintings and antiquities which is lovely." I had noticed the gallery which had opened in Fisherton Street but had never been in, Emma and Lucinda were more into fine art and sculpture than I was.

"Wow...clever you..." I enthused. I genuinely was really glad for her she deserved to have a life of her own after spending twenty years looking after a husband and two sons who were obsessed with fishing and ignored her most of the time. I guess that my outlook was coloured by coming from a very close-knit affectionate family and being something of a work-o-holic myself.

"I'm not sure how clever of me it was..." She added smiling, "It turned out that the new owner of the gallery is Ophelia Kent, I have known her for years, she and I were at university together reading history of art, she went on to working with fine art and I went into teaching and we lost touch... I think she was glad to find somebody 'art aware' she knew she could trust who could start straight away."

The Welsh waitress came back for our orders and introduced herself as Gussie Davis-Jones, "Ghastly name isn't it..." she joked, "Who names their daughter's Augusta these days... but my Dad was keen on Roman history...so both of us got lumbered with Roman names, see... " We both selected the pigeon, mushroom and red wine casserole from the menu, I watched her walk back to the kitchen with our order, she was quite cute with a rounded figure and nice legs hidden behind that long apron, that Welsh accent was huskily sexy and I had noticed that she was not wearing a wedding ring. The restaurant was starting to fill up with the lunchtime rush and another similarly dressed waitress had now joined her and was seating new customers. I noticed that most were smartly dressed business types.

"So what has prompted this search for a change of lifestyle..." I asked Becca.

"That is the second part of my news..." Becca paused to take a draft of her wine. "Leslie has been offered a two year posting to Canada, starting in September..."

Becca's husband, Leslie, was a rather small timid man, who was a senior manager for an international insurance company but his great love was fishing and he was a nationally renowned champion angler and encouraged both of his sons to pursue the sport, so it was not unusual for all three to be away from home fishing or attending meetings or exhibitions. In fairness, Mr. Hill had often included me in their outings as a boy, but angling never really gelled with me I was more into action sports, and it was one of the reasons that I saw less of Josh as we got older; he was as obsessed with fishing as I was with gardening.

"Wow!" I was surprised and had some trouble getting my head around the implications. "So what will happen then... what about your new job... "

"I am NOT going to Canada!" She stated emphatically. "I am just starting to get a life for myself, and it is here in England, my sons are both here even if they have grown up and left home, my friends are here..." She was firmly hugging my ankle with her lower legs beneath the table... I guess that I was counted as one of those friends. "I have no intention of spending two years sitting in a strange house in a strange country, no matter how beautiful, waiting for Leslie to come home from work and change to go out fishing...because that is what would happen..." Becca gave a little sniff but held onto her composure.

I reached across the table and laid my hand over hers comfortingly. "So how will you manage if Leslie takes this job...?" I suppose it was really none of my business, but I was very fond of Becca, we were very close, more than just friends with benefits.

"Oh, I shall be just fine..." She smiled, "Leslie WILL take the job, he hasn't officially said so yet but he is already sorting out which of his fishing rods he will take with him and has been hinting to the boys about fishing holidays in the Canadian mountains..."

"I hope Josh likes bears..." We both laughed. I had a distant uncle who lived in North West Canada who came to visit once and regaled us with tall tales of salmon the size of whales and encounters with bears that had broken into his kitchen looking for food. Our food arrived and we paused to start eating. The pigeon was excellent, it was wild wood pigeon with that distinctive, strong gamey flavour and the chestnut mushrooms, the spinach purée and new potatoes in their skins complimented the pigeon breasts perfectly. I am not normally that fond of French food, it is usually served only luke warm and the vegetables are always undercooked for my personal taste, but this meal was first class, tasty, hot and well-presented and not overpowered with garlic as was the case with many French dishes in English restaurants.

Becca seemed to be comfortable with her situation, I was still a bit concerned about this lovely, kind woman although she was probably a lot tougher than she appeared. "Actually, nothing much will change... " she added, pouring both of us another glass of wine. "Leslie will be OK in Canada, he will love it, his company is very generous and will rent him a house whilst he is in Canada, and he will continue to pay the allowances for the boys whilst they are at university and contribute towards the household bills for our house here in Salisbury for as long as I want him to... the house is mine by the way, it was my parent's house, I grew up there." I had not known that. "I have some money of my own and my new job will make up the difference."

"You will be lonely without Leslie and the boys to look after every day..." She had already confided her concerns to me when Josh and Tim announced that they were leaving home later in the year.

"They are hardly ever there now..." She responded a bit sadly, "Leslie hasn't actually asked me if I wanted to go with him to Canada, he just assumes that I wouldn't." That seemed to me to be par for the course for her self-minded husband. "We have been married for over twenty-years and I am still very fond of him, but as so often happens we have just drifted apart... I have been waiting for a long time for him to announce that he wanted to leave me, I don't think there is another woman...we have just both become tired of our lives together...and now with the boys leaving home...we have very little left in common..."

She paused for another sip at her wine glass. "I shall be just fine, I have my new job and my circle of friends and ... Maybe I will join something in the evenings, craft or cookery classes perhaps, I rather fancy doing Sugar-Craft, or learn a new language... and I do have a fantastic young lover who may call on me occasionally, if I am lucky." She reached over and squeezed my hand affectionately. "You will come and see me sometimes...won't you Jamie, dear?"

"You know I will..." I answered truthfully, "Anyway...with the boys gone you will need somebody to call in regularly to keep the garden tidy..." I felt a bit guilty that I was becoming adept at creating instant cover stories for spending time with the increasing number of women in my life.

"I will have coffee and lunch waiting for you..." she smiled. It was stopping for lunch after helping her in the garden that had brought us together.

"And somewhere comfortable to lay down after lunch, I hope..."

"Oh yes, I do so look forward to the laying down part..." she giggled libidinously. "I shall be relying on you to stop me becoming a sexually frustrated old hermit..." We both laughed but I reckoned that I could joyfully uphold my part of that commitment.

Gussie returned and collected our plates and Becca ordered the Crème brulee for pudding whilst I asked for more slices of the tasty rustic bread and selected a soft tangy goat's cheese from the cheese board, which I washed down with the last of the wine whilst Becca had a cup of espresso.

I settled the bill, sent our compliments to the chef and handed Gussie my business card with an invitation for them both to call in for a chat. I had not really had much of a chance to talk to Becca about the commissions that she was doing for me, the landscape watercolour of Caroline's garden and the painting of Craven Manor, my present to Georgia, and so we sat in the car for ten minutes discussing that work and some other plans that I had for the future. We needed to arrange for her to come with me up to London to see the roof garden job as Caroline had asked for another set of watercolours for that project as well and I had a number of enquiries on my desk for jobs that could spin off one of her delightful watercolours.

Becca had parked her car in what now appeared to be the staff parking spaces at the side of the building, all other customer's cars were parked at the front and so we were isolated and almost unseen from the restaurant and the car park.

"That was a lovely lunch, Jamie, thank you," She said and cupped my chin with her hand drawing my face to hers and our lips touched in a soft, gentle kiss, not a kiss of raging passion but one that went on for minutes, warm and comforting. We were both breathless when we parted. "God Jamie, I do so love our time together..." She sighed. Our lips came together again this time our mouths wrestling into a deep passionate kiss, our tongues twirling and darting, a kiss that went on and on until we were forced to break apart by the need to breathe. My mouth tasted of her strawberry flavoured lipstick and I was getting a serious hard-on and needed to stop, NOW, if I was to go back to work for the afternoon.

The front seats of a VW Beetle are not the most comfortable place to embrace and we struggled to sit upright, I for one had a pain in my side where the knob on the gear lever had poked into my ribs.

"I guess that I had better take you back to work and then get home to make Leslie and the boys something for their dinner tonight... They will be really tetchy if it's not on the table when they get in." Becca said a little sadly and reversed back to the road and turned left into the city.

It was Becca that first spotted Vera. We were driving down the Stratford Road back towards Salisbury when she suddenly slowed the car... "Look, over there!" she exclaimed pointing across the road and came to a stop and then reversed back a hundred yards, "Look," She repeated.

At first I couldn't make out what or who she had spotted, we were opposite a short row of three cottages, none of which were particularly remarkable, and there was nobody in sight that I could make out... Then the penny dropped. In the centre driveway with a large red and white FOR SALE notice propped against the front bumper was a Volkswagen Transport van... no... not just a van it was a Holdsworth high top model camper van, the type that you can stand upright inside.

Becca was already getting out of the car, "Come on, let's go and look... you have been talking about buying yourself a motor for ages... this could be just what you want..." I joined her and we walked across the road and into the cottage driveway. There did not appear to be anybody about and so we just strolled around the vehicle and had a good look. The Caravanette was in excellent condition, immaculate and was a genuine Holdsworth T25 conversion with the larger wheels and was a D registration vehicle, only just three years old. We peered through the windows and the interior appeared to be as pristine as the outer off-white paintwork but I could not see the mileage on the clock.

"Can I help you...I'm Mrs. Waterford; if you would like to see inside...I have the keys here" I turned and faced a well-dressed pleasant looking woman of about sixty who had emerged from the cottage unheard by either of us.

"Oh, yes... I would like that very much," I answered and stood aside so that she could unlock and open the sliding side door. I climbed into the van and released the catches so that I could raise the extension pop-up roof, it glided up with a soft whoosh, a good sign that the mechanism had been well taken care of. The inside of the van was perfect, the beige upholstery was clean and appeared to be without wear and the table and cooking unit were polished and shining. There was a small oven unit and a fridge. Becca joined me and we enthusiastically popped open the lockers and cupboards, discovering the water pump and gas bottle for the cooker and the neat little concealed flushable Thetford porta-potty chemical toilet. The seating units folded down into a decent sized double bed and there was a child's hammock bed with could be fitted if required. I moved the driving seats which swivelled to provide extra seating in the van and took a look at the clock, there was only 13,000 miles registered, not much at all for a three year old camper van, roughly one touring holiday a year.

"It's absolutely beautiful..." Becca enthused.

We got out and walked round the van again. I was not pretentious enough to take more than a peek at the 1.6l diesel engine...not my area of expertise...but it looked clean and well cared for. "Do you have the service history...? I asked.