entered the cool walled garden, a welcome element of calm descended on her again, as she knew it would. As Helen had once said, it was like a private park in here. No dog poo or footballs flying around. Just a lush lawn among the thick boughs of centuries-old exotic trees. Unless there was some rare disease communicated by a mulberry white or a honey locust tree that she didn’t know about, the odds of something bad happening were instantly slashed. The numbers rarely followed her in here.
Kate settled on the grass between fallen pine cones, under the thick, gnarled branches of the 200-year-old pinus nigra that had been J.R.R. Tolkien’s favourite, and pulled out her proposal. Her bottom lip held firmly between her teeth, she made herself concentrate on the various cost breakdowns and lists of planning submissions they’d require because the Islington house was in a conservation area. It was difficult to do without her laptop and the internet, but she managed, enjoying the change of pace of working outside with a pen.
After she’d done that, she pulled out a list of teenage applicants for work placements through the charitable foundation she and David had set up in his name after his death. Only David, Hugo’s former partner, knew how much doing this had helped her, being able to carry out Hugo’s dream, to give financial assistance and support to young adults who shared his passion for historical architecture, yet might not have the means to study or find work.
The first girl caught her eye immediately. Aged sixteen, close to the end of a difficult childhood in and out of foster care, she had been nominated by an eagle-eyed art teacher who’d spotted the girl sitting quietly on a day trip to the Tate Modern, doing beautifully detailed drawings of St Paul’s Cathedral across the Millennium Bridge while her schoolfriends ate their packed lunches and messed around by the river. Kate smiled. Hugo would have loved this girl. Her words were unconfident on the application, despite the teacher’s obvious help, but her interest in historic architecture shone through clearly, with some of her exquisitely detailed drawings included.
Kate marked her application for David to consider. Perhaps a summer work placement at the Islington property would be a good start.
She smiled mischievously, thinking of Richard and how much he hated her helping what he termed ‘bloody no-hopers’ with Hugo’s money. And how much Hugo would have loved her for it. Their own little rebellion against Richard’s conservative, money-obsessed ways.
A pang of hunger made Kate look up at ten to four. Her eyes settled on the bone of her ankle, which stuck out like a round white knob. She shifted weight, and placed one ankle over the other till she couldn’t see it any more.
It was only a second, but the break allowed the Scottish man’s book to infiltrate her mind again. It slipped in as if it had been by the door all afternoon, waiting for the opportunity.
She checked her watch again.
Jack had cricket practice until five, then had said something as she left him this morning, white-faced and quiet, about going to Gabe’s after school. She hadn’t even bothered to argue. How could she?
She put down her proposal and laid back on the lawn. A plane breezed across the summer sky.
The chapter on airline safety moved into her thoughts. David had offered her and Jack his house in Mallorca this summer. It had been the third year he’d offered, and the third year she’d turned him down. But, with that book, she could find out the safety records of the airlines who flew there. Make a calculated decision about the risk of flying.
Would it really matter if she bought the book? Just to help her do that? Three weeks away in Mallorca, without Richard and Helen’s constant interference, might just be what she and Jack needed to find their way back to each other.
Kate’s mind flicked through the other chapter headings she had spotted.
Hang on.
She
Kate settled on the grass between fallen pine cones, under the thick, gnarled branches of the 200-year-old pinus nigra that had been J.R.R. Tolkien’s favourite, and pulled out her proposal. Her bottom lip held firmly between her teeth, she made herself concentrate on the various cost breakdowns and lists of planning submissions they’d require because the Islington house was in a conservation area. It was difficult to do without her laptop and the internet, but she managed, enjoying the change of pace of working outside with a pen.
After she’d done that, she pulled out a list of teenage applicants for work placements through the charitable foundation she and David had set up in his name after his death. Only David, Hugo’s former partner, knew how much doing this had helped her, being able to carry out Hugo’s dream, to give financial assistance and support to young adults who shared his passion for historical architecture, yet might not have the means to study or find work.
The first girl caught her eye immediately. Aged sixteen, close to the end of a difficult childhood in and out of foster care, she had been nominated by an eagle-eyed art teacher who’d spotted the girl sitting quietly on a day trip to the Tate Modern, doing beautifully detailed drawings of St Paul’s Cathedral across the Millennium Bridge while her schoolfriends ate their packed lunches and messed around by the river. Kate smiled. Hugo would have loved this girl. Her words were unconfident on the application, despite the teacher’s obvious help, but her interest in historic architecture shone through clearly, with some of her exquisitely detailed drawings included.
Kate marked her application for David to consider. Perhaps a summer work placement at the Islington property would be a good start.
She smiled mischievously, thinking of Richard and how much he hated her helping what he termed ‘bloody no-hopers’ with Hugo’s money. And how much Hugo would have loved her for it. Their own little rebellion against Richard’s conservative, money-obsessed ways.
A pang of hunger made Kate look up at ten to four. Her eyes settled on the bone of her ankle, which stuck out like a round white knob. She shifted weight, and placed one ankle over the other till she couldn’t see it any more.
It was only a second, but the break allowed the Scottish man’s book to infiltrate her mind again. It slipped in as if it had been by the door all afternoon, waiting for the opportunity.
She checked her watch again.
Jack had cricket practice until five, then had said something as she left him this morning, white-faced and quiet, about going to Gabe’s after school. She hadn’t even bothered to argue. How could she?
She put down her proposal and laid back on the lawn. A plane breezed across the summer sky.
The chapter on airline safety moved into her thoughts. David had offered her and Jack his house in Mallorca this summer. It had been the third year he’d offered, and the third year she’d turned him down. But, with that book, she could find out the safety records of the airlines who flew there. Make a calculated decision about the risk of flying.
Would it really matter if she bought the book? Just to help her do that? Three weeks away in Mallorca, without Richard and Helen’s constant interference, might just be what she and Jack needed to find their way back to each other.
Kate’s mind flicked through the other chapter headings she had spotted.
Hang on.
She
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