‘You gave me quite a start, I can tell you.’ He laughed light-heartedly, which made Jake relax. Both their moods seemed to have improved since they’d first met.
‘Yes, I suppose it was a shock to find some stranger wandering around the garden.’
‘Oh, I recognised you straight off,’ said Marty.
Jake thought back to the red-headed lad he’d occasionally seen with his father, helping him on his gardening round.
‘I’m glad I caught you before you left,’ said Marty, ‘the reason I wanted to speak to you—’
Jake held up his hand. ‘I’ve spoken to Gayle.’
Marty looked at him quizzically, ‘Gayle?’
‘From Lark Lodge,’ Jake added unnecessarily.
‘Yes, I know where she’s from.’ Marty held up his phone. Jake wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Marty added,Duh!He didn’t, but he did add, ‘What’s this about?’
Was it his imagination, or had Marty’s tone changed? ‘She mentioned,’ Jake tried to sound casual so that it didn’t appear that they had been talking about him behind his back, ‘that I had neglected to thank your father for all his hard work over the years, so I want to wish him a very happy retirement.’
‘Okay,’ Marty said slowly. ‘Do you want me to pass that on to my dad?’
Jake smiled. ‘Yes, of course.’ He had one other request. ‘Can you tell me, was your father paid a bonus?’
‘A bonus? I don’t think he got anything when he retired.’
Jake’s face dropped. The Rosses were known for their generosity. Marty’s father should have received some recognition, hopefully in the form of a generous bonus, when he’d retired. William always saw to those sorts of things personally. Jake had an idea that Mr Henshaw’s retirement had probably been around the same time as the family tragedy. Now he understood why William had neglected to give Marty’s father a nice send-off, and instead he had received nothing.
Jake was going to rectify the situation. ‘I want to give your dad that bonus. It’s overdue.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, absolutely. Call it a retirement present. And for you too, a nice little bonus for all the hard work. I’m not sure how much you’re being paid, but I wanted to check you’re being reimbursed fully forallthe work you’ve been doing since you took over fromyour dad.’ He paused. ‘And from now on, of course.’
Marty regarded Jake thoughtfully. ‘I already get paid.’
Jake was aware of that.
‘Do you think I’d do all this work for nothing?’
‘Well, no, of course not.’ Jake said slowly, although despite what Gayle had said, it had crossed his mind. Perhaps Marty had been just too polite, or embarrassed, to raise the topic when he’d agreed to take over from his father – maybe Marty had continued the business, but someone had neglected to put him on the payroll.
Jake was still confused. ‘I don’t understand.’ And he didn’t have time for riddles. ‘Do you get paid – or not?’
‘I do, just not by you.’
Jake stared at him. ‘Well, of course you don’t get paid by me personally.’ The Ross Corporation always took care of things.
Marty shook his head. ‘That’s not what I meant. The company hasn’t been paying me either. You see, when my father first retired, the job was being transferred into my name. He had informed the company, written to the corporation, explaining I would be taking over. He would have written to Mr William Ross here at The Lake House. This was the only address he knew, but he couldn’t imagine someone would be back here any time soon …’ Marty trailed off. ‘Sorry.’
Jake breathed a sigh. ‘Don’t be. I think it’s me who should be apologising.’ The Ross Corporation was gargantuan; Jake could just imagine that letter bouncing around the company, from one department to another, nobody taking any responsibility for the payment to a gardener working on the Rosses’ holiday home far away in Scotland.
Jake got out his cheque book to write two cheques. He always carried a cheque book around with him. Marcus used to find it peculiar, and rather funny. But today was one of those days when it was useful.
Marty said, ‘What are you doing?’
Jake was busy writing out that generous bonus to Marty’s father. It was a nice round number. He wouldn’t need to fill in the cheque stub to remember.
Jake ripped out the cheque with a flurry. One down, one to go. ‘Now, how many months to do I owe you since they stopped paying your father?’
