“Are we?” he asked Lenny.
“Of course we are. Used to go to the same school back in Norwich. So what proposals do you have for me, for the gardens?”
Diverting attention to the garden plans seemed to get Philippa motivated and Lenny’s discomfort back under control. From her case, she pulled a two small booklet containing computer-aided plans of the gardens, front and back. Adrian flicked though one, impressed at the professionalism, the designs shown in three dimensions.
“These are your copies. I have to be honest with you,” said Pippa, “the design is not that different from the original layout, but I’ve added easy-to-maintain shrubs to the back garden, in case you’re not here that often. In my opinion, the most important thing is to make sure we don’t block that amazing view. I’ve included replacing the patio with new material—your choice, really—but maintaining the same design. And you’ll see in one I’ve added a small gazebo at the far end of the garden on the right. We often use a couple of reliable local gardeners who can come in for maintenance from time to time. To make sure the garden doesn’t end upon in the same state again.”
Once they had briefly gone over everything, Philippa left the plans with Lenny for him to mull over. He agreed to give her a call over the weekend, to get the ball rolling as soon as possible. As Adrian cleared their mugs away, Philippa stood and shook hands with Lenny.
“I’m glad you’re fixing the place up,” she said once they had finished. “A good friend of mine would tell you this place has amazing Feng Shui, a real sense of peace and harmony if you know anything about the Chinese practice. Were you told anything about the origins of the house?”
“No,” said Lenny. “But I had wondered.”
“Luke was doing some digging. I know he found out the house was originally commissioned in the 1880s. That’s about all I remember.”
“How did it end up in our family?”
Pippa laughed then. She had a nice, unaffected laugh.
“That’s what Luke spent ages trying to find out. We’re talking about the early eighties here, so you couldn’t search online like you can today. Luke loved a mystery. Maybe that’s why he warmed to the house so much.”
“I’m beginning to know how he felt,” said Lenny, and even Adrian understood. “There’s something incredibly peaceful about this place. Hey, Philippa. If you’re around over the weekend, why don’t you pop into the Manor Inn one evening and have a drink with us? Bring your husband, if you want.”
“Sounds like a nice idea. Let me check his schedule and I’ll drop you a line.”
Both Adrian and Lenny walked her to the front door before stopping in the hallway.
“Before you go, can I ask you something?” said Lenny. “About Luke?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Do you think—uh—do you know if Luke might have been different?”
Philippa smiled and gazed away, shaking her head very briefly before looking back at him.
“Are you asking me if Luke was gay? Because he told us in the strictest confidence. Didn’t want anything to get out to his family. But the simple answer is yes, he was.”
Lenny seemed happy with this answer, but Adrian had to know something else.
“And do you think that’s why he killed himself?”
“No. Absolutely not. Although I didn’t see him the two or three years before his death, he was adamant that studying at the RCA would be his liberation. He often mused about living in London and becoming the next Robert Mapplethorpe.”
“You see,” said Adrian. “That’s what I don’t understand. What you’re telling us is he had everything to live for.”
“I know. We struggled, too, afterwards. You really ought to speak to Freya, if you get a chance. She was here the whole time and probably knew him better than any of us. If anyone is going to have answers for you, it’s her.”
Chapter Eleven
Collaborate
Throughout the afternoon, Leonard did his best to match the strength and energy Adrian put into the work. But anyone could tell—had anyone been watching—that Adrian had years of experience on his side. At Adrian’s insistence, they both wore goggles, masks and thick gloves and used mainly manual tools—crowbars, hammers and knives—and sheer brute strength to tear out most of the kitchen cabinets before breaking them down to maximise the space in the dumpster. Leonard found the exertion both energising and therapeutic. Once they had finished in the kitchen, only the sink, the fridge and the gas stove remained standing. In the process of removing the cupboards, Adrian had managed to salvage a couple of broken saucepans, a rusted tin of powdered bleach, and a large red bucket full of damp sand.
“There you go,” he said to Leonard. “Shows how old this place is. These days we’d recommend appropriate fire extinguishers for kitchens. Sand must be what your family used in case of fires, although it looks as though it’s never been used.”
“Nice. I’d hate to clean up after using that lot. Shall I dump it in the skip?”
“No, leave it by the fireplace for now. We can get rid of the sand later, but that old bucket looks in good nick. Might come in handy.”
