A Country Rivalry

by Sasha Morgan

  Dermot rolled his eyes and left her to get on with it. He had contacted the estate agents and the Templar was officially on the market, causing great concern amongst the locals. Dermot was a popular landlord and he was going to be a hard act to follow. Whilst he appreciated a huge change in lifestyle was imminent, he knew it was for the best. The timing was right. Dermot also knew his girl was in safe hands. Marcus had rung daily, always chatting to him as well as Finula. As clichéd as it sounded, he honestly felt he’d gained a son, not lost a daughter. His thoughts projected to grandchildren, giving him a warm, comforting glow.

  After finally boxing every single item up, ready to be packed into the back of her and Marcus’ cars, Finula decided to call Megan. As she’d thought, Megan was anxious to see her.

  ‘I’ll come to you,’ she told Finula. ‘I desperately need a change of scenery.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right walking to The Templar?’

  Megan let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Don’t you start. Tobias is bad enough. I can’t move without him hovering over me and when he’s not here Henry watches me like a hawk.’

  Finula laughed. ‘That’s because he cares!’

  ‘I know, I know, but seriously, Fin, I’m desperate to get out.’

  So, a very pregnant Megan slowly and carefully made her way to The Templar. She looked at the ‘For Sale’ sign and smiled to herself. Only just under a year ago she had first got a job here. It seemed much longer, probably because so much had happened since. She glanced down and patted her bump affectionately. Tobias wouldn’t be pleased when he returned from his estate meeting to find her out visiting Finula, but even so, she needed to see her best friend before she left for Shropshire. A lump formed in Megan’s throat. How would she manage without Finula’s happy-go-lucky presence? Then she recalled Tobias’ opinion that she’d be too busy with their baby to miss Finula. Still, life was going to be so different, for both of them.

  Finula had the decaf cappuccinos ready and waiting when she arrived.

  ‘Come on, we’ll sit in the cosy alcove. Don’t want you propping yourself up by the bar in your condition,’ she laughed.

  Megan gave her a warning look. ‘Don’t. I get enough of that at home.’

  Finula cocked her head on one side thoughtfully. ‘You think of Treweham Hall as home now?’ She remembered how Megan had been in awe of the place when she’d first met Tobias.

  ‘Yes, I do now. It’s funny how quickly you can adjust. I’ve even grown fond of Henry.’

  Finula threw her head back and hooted and Megan’s eyes filled with tears. This was precisely what she’d miss: Finula’s loud, hearty laugh. As if reading her mind, Finula suddenly went quiet.

  ‘All packed?’

  ‘Yep. Ready to go,’ Finula swallowed.

  ‘You’ll come back, won’t you, when the baby’s born?’

  ‘Of course!’ Finula looked almost offended by the question. ‘You’ll come and visit me in Shropshire, see my new home?’

  ‘Try and keep me away,’ grinned Megan. There was a pause, then she asked, ‘What are you going to do over there, job-wise, I mean?’

  Finula’s face lit up. ‘I’ve been thinking. I want to set up my own business.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Still cooking, or baking, but in my own time. I’ve thought about a catering company...’ She looked for Megan’s response.

  ‘Excellent idea!’ This encouraged Finula to continue.

  ‘Perhaps cakes to begin with—’

  ‘Finula’s Fancies,’ butted in Megan.

  ‘Not Finula’s Buns then?’ she batted back with a smirk, making them fall around in giggles.

  ‘Oh, Fin, I’m so going to miss this,’ Megan managed to say once they’d both calmed down.

  ‘I know. Me, too.’ They embraced.

  Dermot passed by the doorway and stopped for a second. Watching them brought a tear to his eye, then he shook himself and carried on lugging the beer barrel down into the cellar.

  The next day saw Marcus pull into The Templar car park, ready to collect Finula. All hands were on deck as Dermot, Finula, Marcus and a couple of bar staff carried down all the boxes. After only just managing to shut both the car boots, they were ready to go. Finula hugged her dad hard.

  ‘Drive carefully, do ya hear me?’

  ‘I will.’ Her chin started to quiver.

  ‘Now, none of that, Fin. I’ll be on your doorstep before you know it,’ reprimanded Dermot. He gave her one last squeeze, then parted from her with a forced smile; inside he was falling apart. He turned to Marcus. ‘You look after her.’

  ‘I intend to, Dermot.’ Marcus shook his hand. ‘We’ll ring once we’re back.’

  ‘You do that.’ And off they went.

  Dermot stood and waved until they disappeared completely, then went directly to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink.

  64

  Sebastian sat at the desk he had installed in the Folly. Since deciding this was going to be his headquarters from now on, he’d spent many hours in his secret hideaway, nestled amongst the estate woods. After giving Jamie’s suggestion of setting up his own outdoor theatre company some real consideration, his mind had run into overdrive. He seriously thought it was a contender, running his own events at Treweham Hall. Sebastian had confided in Tobias, who had seconded it, thereby making him even more determined to make a go of it.

  Today he had contacted several actor friends, eager to gauge their reactions to his proposal. Sebastian aimed to produce his first play in the summer, giving him five months if he wanted to stage the show in early June. He wanted his theatre company to perform plays that reflected class and sophistication to the more discerning audience, not cheap and cheerful farces played to tipsy crowds booing or cheering. His immediate thoughts gravitated to Shakespeare. After all, what could be more appropriate? But which one? Richard III was out; he’d had enough of King Dick to last him a lifetime. He also didn’t want to be solely associated with that role and was keen to take on another. It obviously couldn’t be a leading one, though, as he wouldn’t have the time to dedicate to it with overseeing the whole project. He narrowed his eyes as he pondered. Then it came to him. What could be better than A Midsummer Night’s Dream to play in summer, especially with these woods?

  Jamie, once again, had shown nothing but support. Sebastian liked the idea of the two of them perhaps working together. Jamie was ambitious, but not in a hard, ruthless way, more eager to gain experience and offer assistance wherever he could.

  He had contacted Sebastian regularly since working on set in London and was due to come back to Treweham Hall that evening. Sebastian found himself excited by the thought of seeing him again, and silently rejoiced that he was able to feel this way. Gone was the dark, depressing mood that had occupied his inner being for so long. He cast his mind back just a few months, when he thought he’d never get over the heartache Nick Fletcher had inflicted. It all seemed unbelievable now, when comparing the self-obsessed, callous Nick, to the compassionate, caring Jamie.

  Fortunately, enough of the friends and colleagues he’d contacted were happy to be involved and were available. Now he had to think about everything else: the costumes, props and scenery. He had to arrange the scripts and decide parts, get programmes, posters and flyers together, and decide on the dates for the production. He needed to get a website designed, a Facebook page set up, his social media all lined up, which then posed the question, what to call his theatre company? The list of things to consider and do was endless.

  Thankfully, his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sebastian frowned. Who could that be? He didn’t think anybody knew where he was. As he opened the door, his face lit up with joy.

  ‘Jamie!’

  ‘We finished early, so I thought I’d surprise you,’ Jamie grinned, thrilled with Sebastian’s reaction.

  Soon they were sitting opposite each other in the armchairs by the roaring log burner. Sebastian had poured them each a dri
nk and the two were relaxing and unwinding from a hectic week of work.

  Jamie slung back his whisky. ‘I still can’t believe what you told me about Marcus.’

  Sebastian nodded. ‘I know, Marcus Devlin, my half-brother. It beggars belief.’

  He’d told Jamie the night he had first learnt the news, anxious to confide in him. To say Jamie was stunned was an understatement. ‘But I need your discretion, Jamie. It’s not common knowledge. Well, not yet, anyway.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Then Jamie added, ‘Do you think it ever will be?’

  ‘Common knowledge? Don’t know. I suppose that depends on Marcus.’

  ‘But what if it leaks out? These things have a habit of doing so, especially where the Cavendish-Blakes are concerned.’

  Sebastian knew Jamie was referring to the tabloids, which had hounded his brother practically all his days and had exposed, exaggerated and, in many cases, lied about his lifestyle.

  Sebastian looked solemn. ‘It would kill my mother.’

  ‘Perhaps it would be better to announce it yourselves then, as a family, rather than leaving it to the gutter press to put their spin on it.’

  Sebastian paused to reflect on Jamie’s words. He had a point.

  ‘I’ve got an idea. Marcus could appear in the documentary.’

  Jamie sat up, impressed with the suggestion. ‘That,’ he pointed to Sebastian, ‘is a brilliant idea. The three brothers together, showing a united front. It would be fantastic viewing!’

  ‘Hmm,’ Sebastian nodded. ‘But let me run it past Tobias first.’

  65

  Megan looked out of the drawing-room window. Despite it being February, the grounds still looked lush with evergreens neatly manicured. In the distance she could just make out the white railings of the racing track. Tobias was at the training yard that morning, where he’d gone to meet Dylan. She was pleased for both of them that the yard was such a success. Judging by Tobias’ more relaxed mood, it was obvious the money it generated was contributing well to the Treweham Hall estate.

  Megan was looking forward to the Hall being reopened to the public in spring. For her, it made the place come alive. Tobias and Beatrice, she knew, thought it was intrusive and an inconvenience, perhaps because they had always had the Hall to themselves as a home, whereas she’d never known any different. Megan pictured her little cottage that had once been her gran’s. She missed the cosy bolt hole at times, but had grown to like living in Treweham Hall, with its vast history and character, plus its quirky inhabitants. Her cottage, and her granddad’s next door, were both rented out as holiday cottages now.

  Her thoughts turned to Finula. They’d spoken a few times since her move and Megan couldn’t wait to go and visit. She let out a bored sigh… Suddenly a sharp pain shot through her lower back, making her cry out loud. Clutching the back of the armchair, she doubled over in agony as another stab ran through her. She felt damp, and looking down she saw a small pool of pink water at her feet. Her waters had broken! Panic stricken, she looked out of the window. Tobias wasn’t here and she was about to go into premature labour! The baby wasn’t due until next month.

  ‘Ahh!’ Another searing pain hit her hard. She couldn’t walk to the phone, nor even reach the pull for the bell to summon Henry. Megan cried out in torture and gripped the chair again.

  *

  Meanwhile, Tobias was in the training yard office where Dylan was showing him their feature in Hi-Ya magazine. Tobias threw his head back and laughed, when Dylan told him how badly behaved Phoenix had been.

  ‘He literally dumped, right at the journalist’s feet.’

  ‘Good for him. Most journalists deserve it,’ chuckled Tobias. Then he sobered for a second, remembering Sebastian’s proposal for the three brothers to be interviewed together for the documentary until Dylan broke into his thoughts.

  ‘So, not long to go now, eh? Just another month, then you’ll become a daddy.’

  ‘We won’t know what’s hit us.’

  *

  Back at the Hall, Megan knew what was hitting her, sheer agony. She had managed to ease herself now onto the floor, as wave after wave of pain engulfed her. Fear and panic started to set in. She tried to remain calm and started to pant as instructed in her antenatal class. Then, through blurred vision, she saw two black polished shoes.

  ‘Madam!’

  Looking up, she gasped, ‘Henry… the baby’s coming.’

  A stricken Henry rang the bell, then crouched down next to her.

  ‘Don’t worry, help is on its way.’ He reached for a cushion and placed it under her head. Then he held her hand. Megan squeezed his hard and let out another piercing cry. Moments later another member of staff entered the room and stopped short when she saw Megan on the floor and Henry bent down next to her.

  ‘Quick! Ring for an ambulance!’ he ordered.

  ‘Tobias!’ Megan screamed. ‘I need Tobias!’

  Tobias was sipping on a coffee, reminiscing about the scrapes him, Dylan and Seamus had got into back in the day, when his mobile rang.

  ‘Just a minute, Dylan.’ He reached inside his Barbour jacket.

  ‘Sir, you must come quick,’ urged Henry. ‘Madam’s in labour!’

  Tobias’ eyes widened. Not bothering to reply, he jumped up.

  ‘What is it?’ Dylan asked, startled.

  ‘It’s Megan. She’s having the baby,’ he called over his shoulder as he ran at full pelt to his car.

  Tobias’ chest thumped hard, especially when seeing the ambulance pull up behind his car on the driveway. The great door was flung open by a distressed Beatrice.

  ‘Quickly, she’s in your drawing room.’

  The ambulance staff and Tobias tore down the corridor and up the stairs to the south wing. Entering the room, Tobias dashed over to Megan and knelt down. Henry stood up out of the way and left the room.

  ‘Tobias, it’s coming,’ panted Megan, pouring with sweat. She clutched his hand. Tobias smoothed away the hair on her forehead.

  ‘You’re in safe hands, Megan,’ he soothed, while the paramedic popped a white sheet under her body and rolled up her dress. After quickly removing her knickers, one of the medics examined her.

  ‘Not long to go, Megan,’ she said gently. ‘You’re fully dilated.’

  Tobias gulped. Hell, his baby was about to be born in his own drawing room. This wasn’t exactly what he’d envisaged. He jumped as Megan screeched and dug her nails into his palm.

  ‘You’re doing great, Megan,’ he encouraged, petrified inside.

  ‘I want to push!’ Megan shouted.

  The paramedics glanced at each other. One of them took another look.

  ‘I can see the head,’ she confirmed. ‘OK, Megan, let’s have a big push on your next contraction.’

  ‘Ah!’

  ‘That’s it, good girl, and again.’

  ‘Ahh!’

  Tobias closed his eyes and prayed hard.

  ‘It’s coming. Keep going, Megan.’

  One mammoth thrust brought the tiny bundle out.

  ‘Well done, Megan, it’s a boy!’ the medic exclaimed, taking the squawking baby. They swiftly cut the umbilical cord and wrapped him in a blanket from the emergency bag.

  ‘Let me see,’ gasped Megan, straining her neck. Carefully the baby was placed in his mother’s arms. Tobias stroked the top of his head, all wet with dark hair. ‘He looks like you,’ she whispered to him, and Tobias kissed her cheek.

  ‘Well done, my love,’ he croaked, his eyes welling up with emotion.

  The medic carried on attending to Megan whilst Tobias took hold of his son.

  ‘Is he all right?’ He spoke urgently under his breath to the other paramedic. ‘He’s a month early.’

  The nurse smiled. ‘We’ll need to get mother and baby to the hospital for a good check-up, but he sounds fine to me.’

  Tobias looked down at his crying son, so tiny, so fragile, he wanted to wrap him in cotton wool. Megan had been an absolute star. Outside the drawing-
room door he could hear anxious low voices. He walked towards the sound, holding the baby. Beatrice and Henry were waiting desperately on tenterhooks.

  ‘Meet your grandson, Mother.’

  ‘Oh, darling!’ Beatrice rushed to his side. ‘He’s the image of you, Tobias.’

  Henry waited patiently to be invited.

  ‘Look, Henry.’ Tobias beckoned him over. Henry gazed at the heir to Treweham Hall and smiled tenderly. ‘Thank you, Henry,’ Tobias said, ‘for being there to alert me.’

  ‘Not at all, sir. It was my pleasure.’

  The ambulance took Megan and baby to the hospital, while Tobias followed in his car. After spending all day there, and having been examined by the doctors and midwife, the new mother and her son were able to come home in the early evening. Although born a month early, the baby still weighed well and hadn’t shown any signs to cause alarm, to the huge relief of both his parents.

  Later that night, Megan was tucked up in the four-poster bed cradling her newborn, and Tobias was sitting next to her with his arm round them.

  ‘What shall we call him?’ he asked her, unable to take his eyes of his son.

  ‘Edward, after my granddad.’

  ‘Edward Richard, after my father, too?’

  ‘Yes. Edward Richard Henry.’

  ‘Henry?’ laughed Tobias.

  ‘Yes, if it wasn’t for Henry, God knows what could have happened.’ Megan shivered with the horrific memory of being immobile on the floor in agony, unable to call for help.

  ‘Edward Richard Henry it is, then.’

  That night all the staff and family celebrated by wetting the baby’s head. Champagne flowed, music played and Tobias said a few words of gratitude to Henry, who blushed pink with pride. Upstairs in the south wing, Megan spoke to her elated parents, then rang Finula with the good news. After a light supper of chicken soup, she fell into a deep slumber, while little Edward slept in his Moses basket beside her, oblivious to the commotion his early arrival had caused.

  66

  The next few days were a whirlwind of visitors. Megan’s parents came to see their new grandson, her brother to see his new nephew and Kate, Megan’s friend from the Midlands, also paid an impromptu visit. Finula and Marcus were due to come the following week.