by Suzanna Ross
Trust In Me
By
Suzanna Ross
Published by E-scape Press Ltd, England.
ISBN: 978-1-908629-07-4
Trust In Me. Copyright ©2012 Suzanna Ross.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved.
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Dedication
It's difficult to write a book - impossible, even, without support. So, I am very grateful to the following: Anouska and John, my lovely Minxes, everyone at W2W and, of course, lovely local coffee friend, Judy Jarvie. And not forgetting huge thanks to E-scape Press for all their hard work.
Chapter One
“Can I use the computer?”
At the sound of her sister’s voice, Rosie Farnham looked up from the spreadsheet she was working on and sighed. “Not now, Evie. I’m busy.”
Evie bounced further into the estate office, blonde hair flying. “I really need to get online.”
What was it with teenagers and technology these days? When Rosie herself had been fifteen, hardly anyone had used a home computer and they’d all managed to amuse themselves just fine. Her sister, on the other hand, couldn’t go five minutes without checking Facebook or sending an email. “Don’t you have homework?”
Evie smiled triumphantly and played her winning hand. “Yes, but I need the computer. I have a project I need to research.”
Normally, Rosie would have relented and stepped aside, finished her accounts later. Even if the ancient computer was intended for business use, Evie’s schoolwork always took priority. But this time was different. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to wait. I have to finish this – it’s important.”
Evie folded her slender frame into a chair beside the old desk. “I need my own computer, really. If I had a laptop I could work in my room without having to bother you.”
“That’s not possible at the moment.”
“Don’t tell me,” Evie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “We’ve no money.”
Rosie was aware her sister had heard that particular song so many times she must know the lyrics by heart, but Evie could have no concept of just how difficult their circumstances were. She had the intelligence to handle the truth, but there was enough going on in her young life with study and exams. The burden of the estate finances was the last thing Evie needed to fret about.
“I’ll see what I can do for your birthday,” Rosie promised, although goodness only knew where she would find the money. Perhaps she should speak to Harry. If he knew how crucial a computer of her own was to Evie’s studies, maybe he’d leave the estate funds alone this month.
Nah, that wasn’t going to work. If the situation hadn’t been so serious she’d have burst out laughing at her own ludicrous optimism. Harry would never consider something so selfless.
“How long will you be?” Leaning forward, a waterfall of blonde hair cascading forward over her face, Evie began to drum her fingers on the desk top. “Ten minutes? Twenty?”
“Look, Evie, I don’t know when I’ll be finished. And the longer you stay here and complain, the longer it will take me.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
Rosie was touched by the offer, but she really just needed a few minutes peace. “You can get out from under my feet for five minutes. Don’t you have anything to do at the sanctuary?”
“All done. Louise and a couple of others helped out today so we got finished quickly.”
“Well, why don’t you go and get some fresh air?”
“Okay, I can take a hint. I’ll take Jessie for a walk.”
“Thank you.” Rosie bit her lip as she watched her sister leave the office. Academically, Evie was very able and had her sights set on being a corporate lawyer. But, however bright she might be, and however helpful her teachers, she needed support from home. And she needed a computer of her own – one that wasn’t needed for estate business and didn’t keep crashing every five minutes.
Forcing her attention back to the spreadsheet, Rosie’s stomach began to churn as she studied the figures displayed on the ancient screen. There was no hiding from the fact she was in serious trouble. Despite operating a huge working overdraft, it was obvious the estate wouldn’t be able to meet its wages obligation this month.
She desperately moved the cursor down the row of figures, looking for something – anything – that might offer a glimmer of hope.
“How did it all get into such a mess, Dad?” The question was rhetorical. She knew exactly how this had happened and none of it was her fault. Besides, her father wouldn’t have been able to answer anyway – he’d been dead for five years.
It was no coincidence that five years was exactly the length of time Rosie had faced dire financial problems.
Since her father’s demise she’d struggled to keep things together, but it was proving an impossible task. The ‘b’ word hovered ominously in her thoughts – bankruptcy. She’d refused to consider it a viable option, not only because she didn’t want to admit defeat, but also because it would mean losing the estate, leaving herself and Evie homeless. But, if things carried on like this, she might not have much choice.
She glanced up helplessly at the large framed poster hanging above her desk in the estate office. Her dad was at the forefront of the picture, glaring angrily at the camera, the rest of the band looking equally cross behind him. All part of the image. At the time this had been taken the band had been doing rather well – they had been the angry rockers of their generation and attitude had been all.
She turned her attention back to the spreadsheet. Frantically, she scanned the figures again. Nothing had changed.
This was desperate. People depended on her. She needed a miracle by the end of the month. Even a tiny one would do.
She was praying for inspiration when a knock sounded at the door and a young farmhand popped his head into the untidy office. “Yes, George?” Distracted by money worries, she was brusque to the point of rudeness and George winced visibly. She immediately regretted her harsh tone and tried to soften the blow by offering an apologetic smile.
George’s answering smile was hesitant. “Sorry to interrupt, Rosie. Ran into a man wandering about the place. He said he was here to see you, so I’ve brought him up to the house. He’s waiting in the sitting room.”
Rosie’s eyes narrowed speculatively. She wasn’t expecting anyone. “What man?”
“Said his name’s Theo Bradley. Looks official – he’s wearing a suit.” George frowned as he took in Rosie’s expression. “Should I have sent him away?”
This was all she needed. She sighed loudly and pushed back from the desk in her swivel chair. It didn’t sound good. Rosie didn’t get many visits – particularly not from men wearing suits. This man had to be from the bank. She shuddered. The bank had taken to ringing at all times of the day and night, looking to schedule repayment of the estate’s overdraft. If she’d had any spare, she would have put money on this man being here in person to demand settlement.
She toyed with the idea of telling George to send the man away. But she was astute enough to realise the situation was unavoidable and, if she refused to see him, he’d only come back another day. “No, that’s f
ine George, thank you. I’ll be in to see him in a minute.”
Things had been desperate before, perhaps not quite this desperate, but she’d always managed something. For Evie, their staff and tenants she would manage something again this time.
Rosie sat for a few moments and prepared herself. This was going to be unpleasant, no doubt about it – but it had to be done. Head up, shoulders back, she pulled herself up to her full five feet and three inches, tossed her wild red hair away from her face and headed for the door. She might not be in a position to give this debt collector any money, but she was certainly capable of giving him plenty of attitude.
In that way, at least, there was no doubt she was her father’s daughter.
***
Theo Bradley’s displeasure was clearly visible in his frown as he prowled the shabby reception room where he’d been told to wait. From the numerous potholes in the driveway, to the unkempt farmhand who’d shown him into the house, this whole situation gave him an enormous sense of foreboding.
This crumbling Grade One medieval pile of stones would need serious attention if there was any hope of transforming it into the luxurious getaway his exclusive clientele demanded.
He shook his head. The project was unthinkable – even before taking into account the spinster sisters who were currently in situ. Besides, it was barely a twenty minute drive from here to Chudley House Hotel – the flagship of the hotel arm of Theo’s empire. Despite Lysander’s foolish eagerness, Farnham Manor was less than useless as a site for a new hotel.
Theo knew he should never have come here today, but the temptation to see for himself the evidence of Lysander’s lack of judgment had been too much. Until recently, he would have been too engrossed in work to have even bothered with such a diversion – he would have sent an advisor instead. But something had been missing from his life in the past few months. Work was no longer an all-consuming obsession – he was ripe for a new challenge. Sadly, the manor wasn’t it.
Glancing at his watch he wondered how much longer Miss Farnham would be. Even allowing for an elderly lady’s prerogative, she’d already kept him waiting far longer than politeness allowed. He needed to get away – the sense of decay hovering about the Manor had begun to seriously affect him.
Walking over to the window, he reached out for the catch – the room was unbearably stuffy and musty and... He gave a start as the latch came away in his hand.
Shocking.
Theo frowned again as he took in the sorry state of the place. From the damp visible under the peeling wallpaper, to the rotting window frames, the place was a disaster. He hadn’t been informed of Harry Farnham’s plans for his sisters, but there was one certainty: They couldn’t stay here while their affairs were put in order because the place was no longer fit for human habitation. Theo would immediately suggest they be dispatched to one of the smaller properties on the estate, until their brother’s arrangements could be put into practice. Anywhere would be more comfortable for two elderly ladies than this draughty old house.
At last the door opened behind him and he turned, prepared to greet whichever of the elderly Miss Farnhams who had deigned to meet him. The words expired deep in his throat and were expelled as some sort of low croak. Far from the elderly spinster he’d been expecting, the tiny vision of feminine perfection who stood before him was so lovely she’d, quite literally, taken his breath away.
Vaguely aware he should perhaps say something, Theo struggled for coherent thought – and failed. He stared, beyond anything other than absorbing her utter beauty. This had to be the emotional equivalent of being hit between the eyes with a brick.
She walked towards him, slender legs clad in faded blue denim, sea-green eyes maintaining steady contact. “Mr Bradley,” the vision spoke in a voice dripping icicles and he noticed, as she walked closer, the sparkle of pure hostility in those sea-green eyes. “I’m Rosie Farnham. How can I help you?” She tossed back her wild, red curls and placed her hands on her hips in a militant expression of standing her ground. Her pale, heart-shaped face offered challenge, her full, Cupid’s bow lips pursed in obvious irritation. He guessed she wasn’t wildly happy to see him.
His interest was captured. He wondered briefly who she was – a great niece of the ladies he was here to see, perhaps. He flashed his most brilliant smile, the smile that normally charmed the most hardened of his adversaries. No response at all from Rosie Farnham – he must be losing his touch.
She took one scathing look at his proffered hand. “Let’s not waste time on pleasantries, Mr Bradley – I’m sure we’re both far too busy. What do you want?”
“As you wish.” He had no problem with getting straight to the point although oddly getting out of here no longer featured on his list of priorities. “I understand I’m expected. I’m here to view the property.”
“To view the property?” A crease appeared between her eyebrows and she looked uncomprehendingly up at him. “I don’t understand. You’re not from the bank?”
“No, not from the bank,” he confirmed. “I’m from Bradley International Investments.”
She relaxed visibly, although it was obvious the name meant very little to her. “I don’t care who you are or where you’re from, you can’t march in here and demand to look around. Farnham Manor isn’t open to the public.”
He glanced again at the shabby surroundings. “I wouldn’t imagine for a minute it is.” She fixed him with those sea-green eyes. As a man well accustomed to dealing with a hostile boardroom, he was surprised to find himself unnerved. He cleared his throat. “I wonder if I might speak to one of Harry Farnham’s sisters.”
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him with barely concealed hostility. “I am one of Harry’s sisters.”
Shock surged through Theo. His idiot of a brother had led him to believe both Harry Farnham’s sisters were greatly advanced in years. Rosie couldn’t be much more than mid twenties.
But at least this should make his task a bit easier. He would still extend the offer of the use of one of the smaller properties on the estate, but at least he was longer faced with the prospect of trying to persuade two elderly ladies to move from a home they’d occupied for the best part of a century.
Chapter Two
Rosie should have guessed Harry would have something to do with this. Harry Farnham: Doted on firstborn offspring – and selfish and self-serving older brother, on whose goodwill she and Evie relied for a roof over their heads. Harry had been behind most of the ills that had befallen the estate in recent years.
The very mention of her brother made Rosie boil with rage. She briefly revisited the fantasy where her visitor was from the bank – the scenario was infinitely preferable to the prospect of his having some connection to the eldest of the Farnham siblings. “Mr Bradley, if you could get to the point,” she snapped, her voice shrill even to her own ears.
She had the beginnings of a headache throbbing merrily at the back of her eyes and Theo Bradley made her feel decidedly uneasy. Men in suits were always to be distrusted in her experience and this particular specimen’s mention of her brother made her think he’d be no exception.
Besides, she found his large frame very disconcerting and his fallen angel good looks annoyed her. Completely unreasonable, she shouldn’t blame him for being tall and handsome, she acknowledged grudgingly. But, she could definitely blame him for being so confident of his own charm. There he went again, smiling at her as though she should be grateful for the attention. It made her want to grind her teeth.
“Your brother obviously didn’t pass on the message I’d be calling by this afternoon.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “I might be slow, but I’m not following any of this. What’s this nonsense about wanting to look around? And what have you got to do with Harry?”
“Harry’s sold Farnham Manor and the estate to my company,” Theo imparted crisply, his golden eyes narrowing as Rosie staggered back towards a chair.
As shock statements went, this one
had to number among the most shattering. Rosie opened her mouth to reply but only managed to squeak incoherently. Unable to keep looking at him, she focused on a large empty glass vase sitting on a low table next to the chair. When she had time she must cut some fresh flowers from the wilderness they called a garden, she mused absurdly.
She knew she needed to say something, but it was hard to breathe, let alone speak. She must have looked awful because Theo stepped towards her, sat back on his heels and took her hands in his. “You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. No, she hadn’t known. It had been many months, since she’d seen Harry. And his phone calls always concentrated on his need for Rosie to send him more money. Nothing had been mentioned about selling the estate. Nothing at all. She would have remembered if they’d spoken about something like that.
Rosie wanted to snatch her hands away, but she found Theo Bradley’s touch comforting, his strength reassuring. Through the coldness of her fingers, she relished his warmth.
Her lips parted. “I…I…” her feeble attempt at a reply made her feel worse. Under normal circumstances, Rosie always had a ready supply of opinions, but this news had completely thrown her. Of all the possibilities she’d imagined through the countless moments of crisis over the past five years, this one had never featured. She averted her gaze from the pity obvious in Theo’s far-too-close-for-comfort face and shook her head again.
“I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” His warm breath fanned her face as he spoke and she gave an involuntary shiver. He truly did sound sorry, but Rosie’s mood didn’t make her responsive to sympathy or remorse.
She took a shuddering breath – if they had to leave the manor it would break Evie’s heart. Whatever she did, she couldn’t allow that to happen. “It’s just not fair,” she managed at last.
“Life often isn’t.”
She gave him the dirtiest look from her dirty looks repertoire. “That’s not helpful.” She wanted to be sick. She’d worked every hour she could to keep the estate going – and she’d given up the chance of a life of her own in the process. And Harry, who’d never had a worry in his life, always got the best of everything, with minimal effort on his part.