Chapter Thirty-eight

OLLIE

I'd never seen Archer so stern or heard his voice so deep and authoritative as when he spoke to June. In different circumstances, I'd have been turned on as hell. As it was, I'd been fighting a wave of sickness knowing that I'd flamed another dragon. I'd burned him badly enough to have to go to hospital.

That sickness receded when Archer pronounced judgement, which was so much more merciful than I'd expected, and it faded even further when June told him the family loved him. Of course they did. How could they not, when he took such care of each and every one of them? Yet it seemed to be news to him. I wanted to hug him when he went all gruff and embarrassed, but I had to respect his status in front of June.

I wasn't sure what was going to happen next because Archer was making no move to dismiss June. We sat in silence for a while before Archer spoke. "Has Chris found another job?"

June looked as surprised as I felt at the question. "No. He's got too much experience for entry-level jobs and hasn't had any luck with any others, and I haven't got any job history or experience. We're selling the house, which will buy us some time."

Archer looked long and hard at her. "It won't be what he's used to, but I can offer him a minimum wage job helping in the gardens while he's searching for a permanent job."

The tears June had so far held back spilled over and ran down her cheeks. "That's—that's so much more than I ever expected. Thank you, Archer."

He seemed uncomfortable at her gratitude and said brusquely, "I could do with the help, and he could do with a bit of cash."

"I need to get a job too, so maybe I could help? We have—we had a gardener, and I oversaw his work, so I know how to do things."

Bloody hell. I found myself staring at her beautifully manicured hands while thinking about the sheer tights and high heels she always wore. I couldn't imagine her laying horse manure round the rose bushes. She must be desperate.

Archer grimaced. "In principle, I'd say yes, but I'm not sure I could afford you both."

"Unless…" I realised I was interrupting and abruptly shut up.

Archer raised his eyebrows, encouraging me to continue.

"Unless you make the gardens pay for themselves," I said in a rush. "Maybe open them up a few weekends a year to the public. I know a lot of the garden has fallen fallow, but you have a moat, a folly, and a maze. People will love it. Decayed grandeur is more relatable and much more interesting than the real thing." I crashed to a halt as I realised what I'd said. "Shit. Sorry. That was tactless."

"No one would want to come here," Archer said with certainty.

"Never underestimate the nosiness or snobbishness of the British public. I almost got mobbed on the bus when they heard I was from the big house," I told him. "You could move the donkeys closer to the house, because everyone loves miniature donkeys, and use their field for car parking. You can charge extra if people want to climb the folly. I think the maze should be included in the entrance fee, though you'll have to issue maps, otherwise you'll spend all your time going in and rescuing people."

"Ollie." Archer had his hand up to halt me. "There's not enough here to interest anyone."

"Are you kidding me? You have everything except peacocks. Listen, if you charge a tenner a time and get a hundred cars, which is a very conservative estimate if you're opening a garden like this that no one's ever seen—that's a thousand quid for almost no effort. And you should definitely charge more than that."

"But there's going to be insurance and—" He was evidently groping for other objections. "Loos! What about loos? I'm not having strangers traipsing into the house."

"Hire some portaloos at first." I was on a roll and wasn't going to be distracted by frivolous questions. "If you open the first time under the banner of one of the big charities, they'll pay your insurance and give you advice in return for your takings. You'd find out if the interest is there with no outlay. And if enough people do want to come, you can put some of the money back into the gardens and slowly develop them. Loads of people would come back every year to find out how far you've got. That's what they did with those forgotten gardens in Cornwall as they restored them. You should do some discounted loyalty tickets to ensure it."

"This is my home. I don't want strangers here."

"Yeah, I get that. But a few, defined weekends a year? Keeping the gates closed the rest of the time? Isn't it worth it to get a bit more money coming in? You could sell bags of duck food for kids to feed the bloody things, and have nature trails around the lake, and Mia and I could sell ice creams out of cooler boxes, and Tim can sell organic plants and veggies from the kitchen garden. Oh! You should be in your forge and people would watch you working, and then they could buy some of your work. They'd love that, and you could charge them a fortune for something made by the owner of Talbot Court!"

Archer looked to June for support.

She was staring at me. "He's bloody brilliant."

Archer shook his head despairingly, but he smiled at me, warm and fond. "He is."

ARCHER

Ollie shrugged off our praise. "My mum dragged me round country houses with big gardens more times than I care to remember, so I know what people like. You should definitely get peacocks though."

"I have no idea where to get peacocks from, or how to look after them if I did."

"That's what the internet's for. What do you think? About the whole idea, not peacocks. Though I'd like to know that, too."

"I think—" I paused, torn between desire for privacy, and the thought that, if Ollie was right, it would relieve some of my financial pressure. His plan would restore the Court to its former glory, the way it should be. I thought Tim would love that.

"I'll need to consult with Tim and Mia. It's their home, too."

I had no idea why Ollie was suddenly hugging me, but I wasn't going to complain.

June left soon afterwards, promising that Chris would contact me.

"Looks like she really did sell her car," Ollie said as we watched her walk down the drive to catch the bus back to Winchester. "But handbags? How much can a handbag possibly be worth?"

"I'm scared to think about it," I told him. "When I started doing commissions, I was stunned by what rich people will pay for something if they want it badly enough. Though they're also the first to try and haggle you down, so…" I shrugged. "I don't know how their minds work."

"I can't believe you gave Chris a job after everything he did."

"Only provisionally. I want to be sure he's truly sorry and has given up on his head of family claim. You think I shouldn't have?" It was Ollie he'd threatened and hurt. I should have spoken to him first.

"After hearing about the treasure, I think it was the right thing to do, though super generous of you in the circumstances. But then, that's part of why the family's so fond of you."

I didn't know where Ollie had got that idea about the family being fond of me. He saw everything through rose-tinted glasses.

"It's not a particularly generous thing to do. I'd have done it for any member of the family who was having problems finding work, and he's either family or he isn't." I glanced sideways at him. "We still don't know if he'll take it. Might be beneath his dignity to dig flower beds."

"I can't imagine June spreading horse shit," Ollie said. "Hey, does donkey shit have the same properties as horse shit? Because that would be a cheaper way to fertilise your roses. We could just scoop it out of the field."

I looked at his face, alight with enthusiasm and ideas, and something slotted into place. "You know, if we go ahead with this garden scheme, we're going to need a Director of Operations. I can't think of anyone better than you."

Ollie flushed bright red. "I don't know what I'm doing. I just talk a lot."

"You've come up with about twenty solid ideas plus some lateral thinking in the last thirty minutes. Let's leave it for now because we don't know what the others will say, and we don't know if people will want to come, but if they do—oh, shit. I shouldn't sleep with my employee, should I?"

"I don't think it counts if we're sleeping together before I get the job. That just makes it favouritism."

It was supposed to be a joke, yet once again, he was putting himself down. "If I ask you to do this, Ollie, and I don't even know if it's something you want to do, it's not because we're together. It's because you'd be damn good at it."

"Oh," he said, and his eyes shone like stars.

"Come on. Let's call Tim and get his input."

Tim was in a lecture—so why was he replying to my text?—but said he'd be up for a call in another twenty minutes. That gave us time to make some tea and talk a little more about things we could do.

It also gave me time to realise the enormous assumption I'd made when I'd offered Ollie a job. Somehow, I'd blotted out the fact that he wasn't here forever. He'd be going home in another few weeks, back to his real family and all his mates and his best friend.

I didn't have enough to offer him, compared to that, for him to live here. But I knew he loved me, and I thought we could make it work. Tunbridge Wells was only a couple of hours' drive away. I could visit him, and he could come and stay here frequently enough to oversee his ideas about the gardens coming to fruition.

It wouldn't be perfect, but it was so much more than I ever thought I'd have.

OLLIE

Tim was in favour of the idea, though once we finished speaking to him, I realised there was a hole in my plan.

" Mia won't be able to join in, will she? Mixing with humans, I mean."

"She turns eighteen in three weeks' time, so you know what? I think it's going to work out fine." Archer had gone from flat-out resistance to almost embracing the idea. If it took some of the weight off his shoulders, it had to be a good thing.

Thinking of his burden as head of the family reminded me of something strange that June had said.

"Did Chris really plan to get the family to pay him tithes?" I asked as I peeled potatoes for lunch.

Archer glanced up from where he was tenderising the steak. I could take him out of his forge, but I couldn't stop him from hitting things with a hammer.

"They wouldn't stand for that, would they?" I continued. "I've never heard of such a criminal thing, using the head of family status to demand money."

That piece of steak was going to be tender. Or vaporised, given the force with which Archer was suddenly hitting it.

"My father," he said, then put the mallet down and looked straight at me, giving me all of his attention. "The idea of tithes originated with him, and he had the charm to get away with it. Half the family probably wanted to give him their money. The other half, well, I guess they didn't dare refuse."

I stared open-mouthed at him. So many things made sense. "That's why you pour all of yourself into being the best head of family there's ever been, because you think you have to make up for what he did."

He shut down, his face becoming stern and immobile, the way it always used to be. "I just do the job. Are those potatoes done?"

"Archer." I put my hand to his arm. "You don't have any space for you in your life, and I'm worried about what that's doing to you."

He looked away from me.

"After all, I don't want to live here if I never get to see you, or you're always exhausted." I could play dirty.

He swung round. "You'd stay?" Something was dawning in his eyes, a level of happiness I didn't think I'd seen in him before.

"Try and get rid of me," I told him, and he dragged me into his arms and kissed me. He kept kissing me, until we had to move things upstairs, missing lunch entirely.

Afterwards, Archer was loose and relaxed. I propped myself up on his chest and looked into his face. "I meant it about the fact you give to everyone else but not to yourself," I told him.

"There's a pot somewhere complaining about a kettle," he replied, which I didn't understand. He was silent for a few moments before he nodded, as if he'd made a decision. "Okay. You're not wrong. I'll scale back my visits. Not the surgeries, though. They're important."

"Of course," I said, surprised and thrilled that he'd agreed to so much. "And if the garden thing takes off, maybe you won't have to work quite so hard in the forge either."

"Maybe."

He moved, forcing me to remove myself from my comfortable resting place on his broad chest, and propped himself up on one elbow to look steadily at me. "So if we're making resolutions, are you finally going to accept that you are, to quote someone who isn't even a fan of yours, bloody brilliant?"

I couldn't hold his gaze. He put his fingers beneath my chin and tilted my face up so that I had to look at him. "Because you are. And you know I don't do flattery."

A bubble of joy rose inside me, filling me. It didn't matter that he was wrong. What mattered was that he believed it.

For reasons I didn't understand, my joy threatened to turn to tears, and he drew me close. "We're going to have that on your business cards—Bloody Brilliant Ollie Shaw."

All danger of tears disappeared as I laughed, and he kissed me. "I love you," I told him, meaning it with all my heart. My honourable, bossy, wonderful dragon. I didn't know how I could ever have lived without him.

I'd never have to again.