mean grub around for sponsors and support – not really his style, is it?’
‘I heard that. Taking my name in vain again, are we?’ Austin said. ‘Coffee smells good. Who do you want me to ring and where the heck is everybody else?’ he asked, glancing around as he settled down at the table with the two of them.
Susie shrugged. Nina shrugged. He opened his briefcase and slid a piece of paper Nina’s way. ‘There we are. One of my minions managed to persuade Pettifers to sponsor the wine, and Browns have said they’ll cover the cost of the catering again.’
The two women nodded appreciatively as the double doors swung open, and Colin, the ceramics studio technician, ambled in, pulling off his beanie hat. He was followed by a small plump woman from textiles called Eleanor, who always spent a lot of her time at meetings saying, ‘I’m not sure I should be here, after all I’m only part time, and to be honest I feel I’m out of my depth. I mean, I don’t really know how relevant my input is.’
‘I thought we’d got all the sponsorship sorted out?’ said Colin, sliding onto a stool alongside Nina.
Nina consulted her notebook. ‘Basically we have now, thanks to Austin, although this year apparently we are supposed to refer to it as contributory partnership, not raffle snafflers or soft touches. So that’s catering, wine.’ She ticked things off on her list. ‘We’ve got some great fabric for banners, printing costs are all covered – just the sourcing of the busy lizzies to go now.’
‘Which is down to me,’ said Susie, holding her hand up. ‘I’m really hoping we can get the place brightened up a little more dramatically than last year. Robert –’ saying his name made her feel as if she was crunching across glass shards in bare feet ‘– suggested that we try a company he’s had dealings with to supply tubs and hanging baskets and stuff for the area around the main entrance. Hill’s Nurseries? The college already have links with them in terms of work placement. Apparently they’ve just started doing a lot of corporate work and he thought they might be keen to get involved with something like this. I’ve got a name –’ Susie pulled a notebook out of her bag. ‘Usual stuff, from their point of view we’d give them publicity for their new venture, lots of people would see it, mention it in the press, etc., etc. And I thought we could maybe beef up their bit in the catalogue as they’ve also provided twice as many placements in their business this year as last.’
Austin nodded. ‘Good plan. Front foyer and that grey bit outside, with the sliding glass doors and the prevailing sense of doom, always reminds me of an abattoir. Who’s your contact there? I’ll give them a ring if you like, no point in having a fancy title if you don’t get to flaunt it once in a while.’
‘Do you mind?’
Austin shook his head. ‘Not at all.’
Susie flicked through the pages of her notebook till she got to one with a slim, winding, detailed doodle of a rambling rose that made its way up the side of the page, winding its way through a shopping list and a dental appointment till it got to, ‘Saskia Hill, events and conference coordinator, Hill’s Nurseries.’
Colin nodded appreciatively. ‘Boss’s daughter?’
‘Or his wife, or maybe it’s even, incredibly, her business,’ Susie said coolly.
‘And the number?’ asked Austin.
Susie slid the pad over. ‘There are two there.’
‘Okay, well, I’ll try and sort it out. Now – in terms of content, how are we doing?’
‘Well,’ said Nina, glancing down at her list. ‘We’ve got some great paintings of Electric Mickey’s arse.’
The rest of the meeting was done and dusted inside half an hour. Susie’s first class rolled in at ten; she and Nina got down to working with the second-year child-care students, finishing off their project on printing. After lunch it was collage and calligraphy with some special-needs kids, and at three there was a life class with a group of mature students on the Arts Access course. In between times, students wandered in to pick things up, ask advice, work on their own projects or sit at the back, gossip and drink coffee. One thing about working in college was that life was never dull.
And the good thing for Susie about being so caught up in what she was doing was that it pushed Robert out to the margins of her mind.
Just as she was leaving for the day, Austin appeared. ‘Susie?’
She swung round.
‘I managed to speak to the nursery this afternoon and Saskia Hill suggested you pop in to discuss what you have in mind. She sounds very up for getting involved with the college. Lots of noises about wanting to develop partnerships with education and local industry – anyway, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could pop in on your way home, is there? She said she’d be there till around six thirty.’
‘Okay.’
‘Great.’ He grinned and then added, ‘So how are things?’
Susie pasted on a big cheery smile. ‘Things? Things are not bad. How about you?’
Austin’s expression softened. ‘I’ve known you a lot of years, Susie, and you’re a lousy liar. Neen said there was trouble at t’mill.’
‘How very kind of her. Is there anyone who doesn’t know about me and Robert splitting up?’ Susie said crossly, and then paused and waved the words away. ‘Sorry, that was horribly rude, Austin. Thanks for asking, but I’m okay and it’s nothing I can’t work my way through.’
‘Well, if you need anything –’ He left the sentence and the sentiment open.
‘A bigger studio?’ Susie picked up her bag and headed for the door. ‘A pay rise?’
He pulled a face.
‘World peace –’
‘Get out of here,’ he said. ‘Are you in tomorrow?’
‘Certainly am. We’ll be going through stuff for the exhibition and then mounting work tomorrow afternoon. I’ll give Ms Hill a quick ring on my mobile and try to catch her on the way home tonight.’
Austin grinned. ‘You’re a star.’
Hill’s Nurseries was on the edge of town on the coast road, ten minutes’ drive from the college and around thirty-five minutes from Susie’s cottage. Easing into the long, slow stream of people making their way home, Susie crept along the road to the bypass, radio on, windows open, enjoying the sunshine, Radio Four, and the promise of summer.
As a business Hill’s Nurseries had fared really well in terms of position. Tucked just off the main drag, once upon a time it had been surrounded by open farmland, but over the last ten years or so an executive housing estate had slowly sneaked up to surround it, and on the other side of the road, sheltered from the hoi polloi by mature trees and thick hedges, stood a hamlet of elegant detached family houses, bought by the affluent and the upwardly mobile since they’d been built at the turn of the twentieth century, an elegant suburb of the busy market town with its fisher fleet and port.
It was a perfect place for the business to be. The family nursery had blossomed and embraced the trend towards more stylish, flamboyant, sexier gardening.
