Nadia Knows Best (4 page)

When Jay had done the credit card thing and Thomas Harrington had murmured in her ear, “It's no skin off my nose, but your sister's going to beat you to a pulp if she gets to hear about this,” Nadia allowed herself to be led away to a pavement café for a drink to celebrate.

To celebrate the fact that she was still whole and unpulped, probably.

Oh well, it was as good a reason as any.

“So tell me what you've been doing with yourself. Are we safe out here, by the way?” Clearly amused, Jay indicated the magazine rack standing outside the newsagents across the narrow street. “Your boyfriend's not likely to leap from the pages of
GQ
and lay one on me?”

Inwardly Nadia squirmed. Oh God, how she had boasted about her wonderful relationship, about the deep love and trust she and Laurie had had for each other.

“That was ages ago. We broke up. And if you say I told you so, I'll pour salt in your coffee. Or if you smirk,” she added as the corners of Jay's mouth—predictably—began to twitch. “Smirking's not allowed either. We just aren't together anymore and I'm absolutely fine about it. How about you?”

“I'm fine about it too.” Hastily he covered his coffee with his hand. “And I'm not smirking. It's just really nice to see you again.”

The next time Nadia looked at her watch, a whole hour, incredibly, had gone by. She had learned that Jay was now living here in Clifton, just around the corner in fact, in Canynge Road. Still in property development, he was buying up and renovating neglected houses in the area—well, employing a team of people to do the actual dirty work for him—then selling them on at a hopefully spectacular profit.

Although if he could afford to impulse-buy paintings like the one currently swathed in bubble-wrap and propped up against their table, he had to be doing something right.

“And how's your job going? Weren't you working in a nursery or—no, hang on”—Jay snapped his fingers—“a garden center, wasn't it?”

Faintly miffed that he'd had to struggle to recall her line of work, after she'd asked him if he was still in the property business, Nadia nodded and tried not to feel less memorable to him than he'd clearly been to her.

“Out at Almondsbury. Yes, I'm still there. It's great, I love it.”

This was a massive exaggeration. Her job was OK, verging on the tedious. The plants and flowers themselves were fine, but when customers came back complaining that the pot of fuchsias they'd bought three years earlier had just died—as if she'd personally doused them with cyanide—well, it was enough to make you wonder if some people should be allowed to buy plants in the first place. And as for the gnomes…

“You love it,” Jay echoed thoughtfully. He paused. “That's a shame.”

“Why? Why is it a shame?” Nadia sat up a bit straighter, attempting to gauge the meaning of that regretful shake of his head. “I don't love it that much.”

“OK. On a scale of one to ten. How much do you love your job?”

“Two,” Nadia promptly replied.

Jay let out a low whistle. “Two. You're right, you don't love it that much.”

“It's the gnomes. We sell gnomes.” Nadia pulled a face, willing him to understand. “Anyway, I didn't want to sound like one of those people who whine on about their boring job but can't be bothered to get off their fat backside and find something better.”

Even though, basically, this described her situation to a T.

“But you know a lot about gardening?” said Jay.

“I know everything.” Nadia experienced a flicker of hope. “I'm Charlie Dimmock in a bra.” How that woman ever managed to work without one was a mystery to her. “Why?”

“Ever designed one yourself?”

“A bra or a garden? Come on,” Nadia pleaded, “tell me. What's this all about?”

Jay shrugged. “Maybe nothing. I need a gardener, that's all.”

He needed a gardener? Hey, say no more.

“But that's great, I can fit that in, no problem. In my spare time,” Nadia explained eagerly. “I mean, how long would you want me for, a couple of hours a week?”

Jay shook his head. “Much more than that.”

Blimey, he must have a huge garden. Without thinking, Nadia said, “How big is it?”

Oops. As the actress said to the bishop.

Looking as if he were trying not to smile, Jay leaned back in his chair. “When I buy a wreck of a house and do it up, it generally has a wreck of a garden to go with it. I need someone to start from scratch, transform it into something superb. This isn't just a matter of mowing the lawn and digging out a few weeds. I'm talking clearance, relandscaping, planting, the lot.”

“I could do that!” Nadia sat up, her skin beginning to tingle. “I did landscaping at college. I'm a hard worker and I'm stronger than I look.”

Crikey, Jay had talked about fate earlier. This really
was
fate.

“I was using a firm from Winterbourne, but they weren't that reliable. Let me down a couple of times.”

“I wouldn't let you down.” She was dimly aware of not playing it cool, of sounding disgustingly eager. Oh, well… “I'd
never
let you down, I promise!”

Jay hesitated, evidently reluctant to hand her the job on the spot. “I put an ad in the local paper last week. I've had quite a few responses.”

“Maybe,” Nadia said promptly, “but none of them have slept with you and I have. That has to count for something.”

Damn, damn, she
knew
she should have had sex with him.

From the look of amusement in Jay's brown eyes she could tell he was thinking the same thing.

Nadia held her breath and silently cursed her faithfulness. If she didn't get this job it would all be Laurie's fault. Him and his lousy promises that they'd be together forever. God, she wished she could hate him as ferociously as he deserved.

“Please,” said Nadia. “I'm a great gardener.”

Jay thought for a moment. “Do you have one you could show me?”

His third cup of coffee, half drunk, had grown cold in front of him. He clearly didn't have any pressing appointments for the afternoon, and it wouldn't take long anyway. Feeling quite masterful, Nadia gathered up her plastic carrier, rose to her feet, and said, “Let's go.”

Well, this was fate after all. May as well make the most of it.

***

It would have been nice if the house could have been empty, but Nadia's home seldom was. Doing her best to sound businesslike, rather than like a girl bringing her boyfriend back for the first time and shyly introducing him to her family, she led Jay into the kitchen and announced, “Gran, this is Jay Tiernan, he needs a gardener so I've brought him here to show him what I can do. Jay, this is Miriam Kinsella, my grandmother. And Edward Welch, our neighbor.”

Miriam and Edward were watching horse racing on TV while finishing a late lunch of garlic bread, Milano salami, and a bottle of Barolo. Betting on the horses was Miriam's latest passion and her language when she failed to win was spectacular. Since Miriam insisted on betting only on horses ridden by jockeys whose colors matched whatever she happened to be wearing that day, her language was frequently spectacular.

Today she was wearing an emerald-green shirt and white trousers. Swiveling round on her chair, Miriam waggled her fingers at Jay.

“Won't shake hands, mine are all messy and garlicky. Well, I can see why Nadia would want to work for you. Will you have a glass of red, Jay? Edward, why don't you open another bottle? Come along, pull up a chair and join us. Darling,
well
done
,” she stage-whispered to Nadia. “And those
eyes
. Just what you need to cheer you up, wherever did you find him?”

Nadia briefly closed her own eyes and wished the good fairy could have granted her a nice normal apple-cheeked gray-bunned, apron-wearing grandmother. It was a good job she loved Miriam. Otherwise she would have been forced to lock her in the attic years ago.

Jay was grinning broadly.

“And if you think that's embarrassing,” Nadia told him, “imagine what it was like for me at fourteen.”

“Two more glasses,” Miriam instructed Edward, whom she tended to treat like a butler.

“No, don't bother,” Nadia shook her head, “we're not staying. Just five minutes in the garden, then Jay has to leave. Your horse just fell,” she added, as the racing commentator went into overdrive and a rolled-up ball of jockey in emerald-green narrowly avoided being trampled by the rest of the field.

“Honestly,” Miriam exclaimed in disgust—and with remarkable restraint. “I hope he breaks both his legs.”

Nadia hastily led Jay through to the garden. “Sorry about my grandmother. She does have her good points, I just can't think of any right now.”

“Doesn't bother me.” Crossing the terrace, Jay stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed the grounds stretching before him.

The backdrop was provided by a curving amphitheater of mature trees—beeches, ash, and cedar. In the foreground, free-form beds of ostrich feather fern, oriental poppies, and delphiniums bordered the emerald lawn. From the lily pond on the left, a winding stream snaked down to a larger pond in the bottom right-hand corner of the garden. Fuchsia bushes sported pink and violet flowers like twinkle lights. Everything was planted to look as though it hadn't been deliberately planted at all—the gardening equivalent of a supermodel sporting just-got-out-of-bed hair that had actually taken five stylists three hours to achieve. Nadia, covertly watching Jay, crossed her fingers behind her back. She had slogged her guts out to create this garden and as far as she was concerned it was perfect.

But would Jay think so?

Finally he spoke. “You did all this?”

“Absolutely. Flat lawn before, I can show you the photos to prove it. I did this three years ago,” Nadia told him with pride. “Every last inch of it myself, down to carrying these flagstones.” She stamped her heel against the pale honey Cotswold stone covering the terrace. It had almost killed her, but no need for Jay to know that. Let him think she was Superwoman and be suitably impressed.

“I'm impressed,” said Jay.

Phew. Nadia exhaled.

“I knew you would be. Otherwise I wouldn't have brought you out here. So, do I get the job?”

“I still have other people to see. The appointments are all set up.”

“Cancel them,” said Nadia. “You don't need them anymore. You've got me.”

As she said it, a half-remembered snippet of conversation floated into her mind. Janey, one of the other girls at the garden center, confiding over coffee that she'd applied for a gardening job advertised in last week's
Evening
Post
.

“I shouldn't.” Jay glanced at her, then broke into a grin. “But what the hell. OK.”

Yesss! A fast-moving, quick-thinking, executive-decision-maker, unconcerned with breaking the rules and letting other people down. In other words, absolutely not the kind of person to
ever
get romantically involved with.

In fact, the kind who'd cause you nothing but grief. The sensible part of Nadia's brain carefully noted this fact down in her beige leather-bound notebook. The hopeless part gave a happy shiver of anticipation and wondered what her new boss looked like naked.

Because she was almost sure he fancied her. You could generally tell.

“Excellent,” Nadia said happily.

Jay smiled. “I'm pleased you're pleased. Now, I've drunk several cups of coffee.” He gestured toward the house. “Could you point me in the direction of the bathroom?”

Point him in the direction? Blimey, what did he have in his trousers, a fireman's hose?

But in deference to the fact that he was her new boss, Nadia didn't say this aloud.

Having shown Jay through to the downstairs cloakroom, Nadia returned to the sunny garden and sat down on the wooden bench to mentally compose her letter of resignation.

Dear Mr. Blatt,

It gives me great pleasure to inform you that I have been offered a much nicer job than the awful, boring one I've been stuck with for the last two years and I shall also be working for a much nicer—

“So?” A female voice behind her made Nadia jump. “What have you done with him?”

Damn, Clare had said she'd be out this afternoon.

“Done with who?”

“I've just been told”—Clare's tone was arch—“that you have a man out here with you. In fact, I was told that you had a rather spectacular man out here with you. Naturally, I had to come and see this vision for myself. So where is he? Buried in the compost heap? Tied to a tree? Manacled to the lawn mower and locked in the shed? Nad, how many times have I told you, this isn't the way to stop a man running out on you, they have to
want
to stay.”

Nadia knew who she'd like to manacle to the lawn mower.

“He's gone to the loo, and as soon as he comes back we're leaving.” She mentally resolved to have Jay out of the house in three seconds flat. “Anyway, I thought you were out this afternoon. You said you were meeting Josie for lunch and the two of you were going to hit the shops afterwards.”

“We were, until her boss overheard her on the phone talking about it.” Clare, who had never worked office hours in her life, shook her head in disgust. “He said any more three-hour lunch breaks and she'd be getting her pink slip. All she's allowed is fifty minutes. I mean, it's a disgrace, what can anyone do in fifty minutes?”

Nadia, keen to be gone, jumped to her feet and said, “I'd better find—”

“Oh, here he is!” Having leapt up with even more alacrity than Nadia, Clare exclaimed, “We thought you'd escaped! Hi, I've just been hearing all about you.”

No you haven't, thought Nadia but it was too late. Clare was already introducing herself, mentally giving Jay Tiernan the once-over and wittering on about handcuffs and lawn mowers. She'd never been what you'd call shy.

Sometimes you do something silly on the spur of the moment then spend the next six months or six years regretting it and praying you won't get found out. Like persuading a virtual stranger in an art gallery not to buy one of your sister's paintings. Because in all honesty, what were the chances of her ever getting to hear about it?

Sadly, in Nadia's case it took about six seconds.

“I've just seen the painting in your sitting room,” Jay announced. “Why didn't you tell me you already had one by the same artist?”

Oh fuck.

Right on cue, the words of an old song wafted into Nadia's mind.
Who's sorry now?

Puzzled, Clare said, “In our sitting room?”

“I wasn't snooping, I promise. The door was open and I spotted it on the wall.” Jay smiled at her while Nadia sent frantic telepathic messages instructing him to Stop Right There. “I bumped into Nadia in Clifton this afternoon and dragged her into the Harrington Gallery. Couldn't decide between two paintings. She told me which one to buy.”

Clearly, those telepathic signals hadn't worked. Stumbling over her words, Nadia said hastily, “Oh no, that's not true, I didn't
tell
you—”

“And?” Clare interrupted. Her eyes were glittering, her face dangerously pale. “Which painting did she say you should buy? The one by the artist whose work is hanging in our living room?” Horrible elongated pause. “Or the other one?”

As if she hadn't figured it out already.

“The other one.” Now it was Jay's turn to hesitate. “Er, sorry, have I put my foot in it? Is the artist a friend of yours?”

“Yes, Nadia, do tell us.” Clare's tone was icy. “
Is
the artist a friend of yours?”

“I… I just—”

“You complete cow!” roared Clare. “How
could
you?” Turning to face Jay, she bellowed, “
I'm
the artist, I painted those pictures and this is the kind of support I get from my own sister! I mean, what did I ever do to deserve this?”

What had she ever done? Ha, only about a million things.

“OK, OK, maybe I should have told Jay I knew you. But then he'd have felt he had to buy your painting. He asked me which one I preferred,” Nadia said hurriedly, “and I told him the truth.”

“You bitch! And which one
did
you prefer?” Professional rivalry meant Clare was compelled to spit out the question.

“Big mountains. Little telephone box.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, that piece of crap!”

“I'll take it back to the gallery,” Jay offered. “Swap it for yours.”

“See?” demanded Nadia. “Now you've made him feel guilty. He likes the other one best but he's prepared to take it back because you're acting like a big baby. Aren't you embarrassed?”

“Only at having a sister like you.” Clare's eyes blazed as she spun back round to face Jay. “She's jealous, that's all it is. Because I can paint and she can't. Nadia spends her days selling plastic gnomes and humping sacks of gravel into the trunks of people's cars. She can't even keep a boyfriend, they all run off and leave her, and who can blame them? That's another reason she's jealous of me. If I were you I'd get out quick, and thank your lucky stars you found out what she's like before it's too late.”

And with that she stalked off into the house.

“Well,” said Jay finally. “That was… interesting.”

“Sorry.” Nadia gritted her teeth. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Had we better be making a move?”

“Yes.”

Keen to avoid any further contact with her family, Nadia led him round the side of the house to where her car was parked on the drive.

As she fumbled with the keys, the sitting-room window was flung open and Harpo screeched, “Nadia's got a fat arse!”

Jay looked startled. “Good grief. Is that your sister?”

“My grandmother's parrot.” As soon as the words were out, Nadia wished she'd just said yes.

And then Clare's voice came bellowing through the same window: “She's desperate to get married and have babies, you know!”

OK, enough.

“Excuse me.” Nadia abruptly wheeled round. “Won't be a moment.”

Aware of Jay's eyes on her back, she crunched up the gravel path and stormed through the front door, slamming it hard behind her.

“Ow!” shrieked Clare, clutching the side of her face. She lunged forward but Nadia was too quick for her. Like the SAS, she was in and out in less than five seconds.

“Sorry about that.” Jumping into the driver's seat, Nadia started the engine.

Jay replied with amusement, “I don't think you are.”

Thankfully he didn't appear too shocked.

“Well. She deserved it. Sometimes only a really good slap will do.” Nadia paused. “We're sisters. It's allowed. Laurie used to call them our Oasis moments.”

“Got it.” Jay grinned. “You're Noel, she's Liam. She winds you up, you retaliate. But you love each other really.”

“I suppose. Anyway, it wasn't true,” said Nadia. “About me being desperate to get married and have babies. Not that it's relevant,” she added hastily, “but it still isn't true.”

This would have been an appropriate moment for Jay to have told her that she didn't have a fat arse either—because she
didn't
—but all he did was nod.

Her heart sinking, Nadia drove him back to his car in silence.

As he lifted the bubble-wrapped painting off the backseat, she said, “I expect you've changed your mind now about giving me the job. Had second thoughts about taking on a mad sister-slapper.”

“One thing,” said Jay. “Why did you persuade me to buy this painting?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I liked it better.” Nadia paused. “And also Clare was having a dig at me this morning about my ex-boyfriend. She knew she was getting on my nerves and she was really enjoying it. But I really do prefer that painting.”

He nodded. “OK.”

“OK what?”

“Better hand in your notice at the garden center.”

Nadia exhaled with relief, a huge smile spreading unstoppably across her face. “You're sure?”

“Hey, I have a brother, I know what it's like. We used to fight all the time.”

Heroically, she suppressed a wild urge to fling her arms round him. “Used to? You don't still fight?”

Jay shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Here, give me a ring in the next day or two.” He passed her a business card from his wallet.

Clutching it like a winning lottery ticket to her chest, Nadia said fervently, “You won't regret this. I promise not to slap any of your clients.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Jay. “And it might be an idea to check the seal on that bottle of hair remover. Make sure it hasn't mysteriously got squeezed into your shampoo.”

Nadia knew she was going to enjoy working for him. Still beaming like an idiot, she headed for her car.

“One other thing,” Jay called out.

She turned back. “What?”

He'd been watching her walk down the street. “The parrot was wrong.”