Heart in the Right Home

by Lisa Hill

  There was a round of applause which slightly worried Johnnie. He exchanged a nervous glance with Tom who looked equally as concerned.

  James cleared his throat. ‘Thank you very much Hilary, you didn’t make it sound like I was going on trial at all.’

  The crowd burst into a ripple of titters.

  ‘He’s just setting them at ease,’ Tom whispered to Johnnie. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get him.’

  ‘I’ll get straight down to business.’ James loosened his tie a little and shrugged his jacket off, like he was Mark Zuckerberg beginning a TED talk. ‘I am not your enemy. My father bought the land we are here to talk about this evening, and I am aware he didn’t make the best impression in the village—’

  ‘He is to property what Max Moseley was to Formula One!’ came a heckle from the audience.

  There was an uproar of laughter. Even Tom was laughing now.

  This was not good.

  ‘—yes, well, as I say,’ James continued. ‘He’s not here, but I am. My family live in this village; my mum, my brother, my nephews and niece. Do you think I don’t have their best interests at heart? The land purchased is not green belt and it is not arable farming land either. It is, in fact, land left over from when Rosefields was built. The developer went bust and never continued building. Another developer bought it but didn’t feel there was any profit to be made, so it has been left dormant for twenty years—’

  ‘Did you know that?’ Tom whispered to Johnnie.

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Johnnie whispered back, through gritted teeth. How had no-one discovered that?

  ‘—so, you see, we are not the “bad guys”,’ James used mimicked quotation marks with his fingers, ‘here, we are simply continuing what has yet to be completed.’

  There was a gentle hush of conversation as the audience turned to each other to discuss this revelation.

  ‘The only real difference is that we wish to add two or three, four at a push, commercial units. To bring more facilities to the village—’

  ‘We already have facilities!’ Johnnie shouted, in spite of his resolve to keep calm this evening. For fuck’s sake! How many shops did a population of under one thousand people need?

  James peered out at where the voice had come from and his gaze settled on Johnnie. ‘You’re the owner of the stores, right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Johnnie sounded truculent, even to himself.

  James raised his hand to his forehead and looked out under the bright lights of the village hall, searching the sea of faces. Finally, his gaze returned to Johnnie and he shrugged. ‘I don’t see Duncan, the landlord of the Clunderton Arms here this evening. Anyway, as I was saying—’

  ‘Mate, he just owned you,’ Tom chuckled. ‘But he’s still a fucking arsehole. Like father, like son, I guess.’

  Johnnie folded his arms and silently seethed. Yes, why wasn’t Duncan here to support their cause? He had enough bloody staff to look after the pub.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  With the girls revising for their final exams tomorrow morning and after another almost-row with Johnnie because she wasn’t going to the VOCAB meeting with the town council, Louise had taken the new notebook, she’d picked up in Harrogate, and ensconced herself in the pub garden with a pen, to come up with some ideas for her new business venture. Of course, she could have done this from the kitchen table at home but, buoyed up by her conversation with Lottie and Jude at the weekend, she had found herself feeling depressed by the atmosphere at the stores, even when Johnnie wasn’t there. Her creativity wouldn’t flow. On the way back from the wholesalers earlier this week, she had popped into Harrogate to go to the stationers and stopped off at Betty’s for a coffee and a Yorkshire Fat Rascal. Usually, she would tell herself she didn’t have the time but this time she’d felt different, as if it was important to take time for herself. So, this was what she was doing now; having time away from the stores, time away for her. And if she happened to see Duncan and be able to fill him in on moving the plans for her new business forwards, all the better.

  ‘Ah, come to the pub to work, have we?’ Duncan said, turning from serving some diners.

  ‘Hello,’ Louise said coyly, still partially scared and excited about the way she felt when she saw him.

  ‘So, what are you up to?’ he asked, pulling out a wicker garden chair and sitting down opposite her. He had on his standard pale shirt – pink today – and faded denim jeans. For one second, he reminded her of a taller version of Ian McShane when he played Lovejoy. She’d always had a crush on Lovejoy when she was a teen; perhaps that was the attraction?

  ‘I took on board what you said and, after an ear bashing from Lottie, I’ve decided you’re both right; I do need to do something for myself.’

  ‘Aye, glad to hear it.’ He nodded and looked down at her notes. ‘Cakes, is it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled, following his gaze to her notebook.

  ‘Pretty handwriting you have. May I?’ He gestured to take a proper look at what she’d been writing.

  Louise flushed at his compliment. ‘Of course, it’s just scribbles really, ideas for who I might target, what sort of occasions for cakes, things like that.’

  He took his glasses out of his shirt pocket and balanced them on the end of his nose as he started reading.

  Louise took a sip of her red wine, aware of how all her nerve endings were alive, desperate for this man’s feedback on what he thought of her ideas.

  Eventually he nodded and looked at her over the end of his spectacles. ‘Very good.’ He closed the notebook. ‘But could I make one suggestion?’ He raised his eyebrow suggestively.

  Louise swallowed hard, looking at up him, feeling the blood thump loudly around her body.

  ‘Yes?’

  Duncan took a deep breath and appraised her, almost as if he was taking in every curve of her body. Eventually he spoke. ‘Louise, over the years I’ve known you, you’ve always seemed like an intelligent woman to me. That business you run, isn’t just Johnnie’s, it’s yours and Johnnie’s; you’re as much responsible for its success as he is. So, why not think bigger than just cakes? You run that tearooms pretty much singlehandedly; you could run a speciality cake emporium but combine it with your own coffee shop. Have one support the other, so to speak.’

  She looked at him wide-eyed. The cakes had seemed like a step out of her comfort zone; running her own coffee shop seemed monumental.

  But as Duncan had so delicately just pointed out; she already did.

  ‘If this new development goes ahead there’ll be some commercial units up for grabs. Could be perfect for you; an industrial kitchen to run the cakes out of, and you already know how to cater for the masses. Breakfasts, elevenses and lunches could be your bread and butter to keep the cash flowing.’

  Louise frowned. ‘I’m not sure how Johnnie would feel about that. I’d be going directly into business with the stores. Although, I guess we could relocate the tearooms.’

  A worried expression came across Duncan’s face. ‘Sorry, I’ve overstepped the mark. I thought this was a venture, just for you. A departure from the stores, so to speak.’

  ‘Departure?’ Louise looked up into those deep blue eyes glittering back at her. ‘You think I’m leaving Johnnie?’ Was that the impression she was giving off?

  Oh God, it was.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Duncan placed the notebook back on the table. ‘I’ve read our conversation all wrong, what with us talking about Shona, my ex, at the Kestrel, the other week. I’m terribly sorry, forgive me.’

  Louise looked down at the notebook, her eyes filling with tears as she blinked them furiously, trying to temper her emotions.

  She shook her head. ‘No, Duncan, I think perhaps you’re right. I think you’re more perceptive than me; I just can’t see what’s going on under my own nose.’

  ‘It’s a lot to come to terms with.’

  Louise took a large gulp of her wine. ‘I’d better go,’ she said, gathering up her stuff and shoving it
in her bookbag. ‘I’d better stick my head in at this VOCAB meeting, you know, avoid another argument later.’

  ‘Aye, I know. Louise—’ those bewitching eyes were on her again, glinting in the twilight.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘—I hope I haven’t offended you?’

  Louise swallowed hard. ‘On the contrary, Duncan, you’ve just confirmed what I’m too afraid to admit.’ She managed something resembling a smile. ‘I’ll see you,’ she said, turning and allowing the tears to flow freely down her face.

  ‘Aye, I do hope so,’ he called after her.

  She didn’t look back, instead wiping her tears away with the backs of her hand as she headed swiftly out through the pub and onto the high street. She crossed to the village hall car park, packed with cars, her mind racing about the fact everyone could see she was unhappy, except her.

  Or was she just too afraid to face up to it?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Quickly nipping into the village hall toilets to check her mascara hadn’t run, Louise quietly slipped through the double doors into the main hall. She needn’t have bothered being quiet; the place was raucous with angry voices, mainly Johnnie’s and Tom’s.

  ‘If this development is such a threat to your livelihood, why isn’t your wife here to support you?’ James Hardwicke coolly called to Johnnie.

  ‘I, well, I—’

  ‘I’m here!’ Louise called, waving her hand above her head. She watched Johnnie turn to see her, his face swiftly changing from panic to one of relief.

  ‘See! It is important, to both of us!’

  Louise felt a terrible pang of guilt. She shuffled her way around the edge of the chairs towards Johnnie and Tom.

  ‘I notice your wife isn’t here, Drew?’ Tom called.

  Drew held his hands up defensively. ‘Hey, Lottie and I are like Switzerland; totally neutral.’

  ‘Good to hear, business partner.’

  Louise noted the shitty tone in Tom’s voice.

  ‘Could we get back to the task in hand, instead of talking about whether everyone’s wives are being supportive, please?’ sniped Hilary. ‘Now, Mr Greening is here to answer your objections—’

  ‘Concerns.’ James interjected.

  Hilary rolled her eyes.

  ‘Concerns. So, may I have a show of hands and I will ask you one at a time to prevent us descending into a slanging match again.’

  Adrian Morris was the first to put his hand up.

  ‘Yes, Mr Morris,’ Hilary called.

  ‘Why, when I was buying my house in Rosefields, was I never told that there was more land set out to develop?’

  Standing up, Martin Greening cleared his voice. ‘Did you buy your house from the developer, Mr Morris?’

  Louise watched the planning officer run a finger around the collar of his shirt. It was another hot evening and the setting sunlight was blazing in through the windows of the hall, adding unwanted heat to the already stuffy air. Poor man, Louise thought, he looked like a pen-pusher really in his pale-blue, short-sleeved shirt and beige chinos. He was probably in his mid-thirties, not yet made it to a senior planning officer. No doubt sent to face the music by the higher echelons of the council and told not to say anything which would land them in deep waters.

  ‘We bought our house about five years after it was built,’ Adrian Morris said in his broad, Welsh accent. ‘No-one told us there was land yet to be developed.’

  ‘Well, it would have been up to your solicitor to look into that—’

  ‘Mate,’ Tom’s thick, Yorkshire accent called out, ‘with the greatest of respect, I have one of the highest paid briefs in the country and even they didn’t uncover the fact that some of the land still had planning permission on it!’

  ‘Could I just correct you there, Mr, er…’

  Martin Greening clearly wasn’t au fait with A-list celebrity actors.

  ‘Thorpe,’ Tom said, ‘Tom Thorpe.’

  Poor man, thought Louise. Plus, she was rather surprised at Tom’s aggressiveness; it wasn’t like him to brag about who he actually was, in fact he generally stuck with anonymity.

  ‘Oh yes!’ Martin Greening said, animatedly. ‘The owner of Clunderton Hall.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, two things—’ Mr Greening looked like he was getting into the swing of things now; he was beginning to walk up and down the stage like Steve Jobs introducing the latest iPhone, one hand in his pocket. ‘Firstly, the developer went bust, the land lay dormant and planning permission lapsed, so this is by no means a done deal—’

  Louise watched James’ face take on a stern expression as the crowd burst into hushed tones, evidently relieved to hear there was still hope the planned development wouldn’t go ahead.

  ‘—and secondly, Mr Hardwicke has been working with us to try and retain a certain amount of privacy for Clunderton Hall. The Hardwickes—’

  Louise ears pricked at this. Drew had already declared himself out. Did this mean Edward Hardwicke was working behind in the background on this project?

  ‘—have agreed to not develop any land, including garden space, more than twenty metres away from the border of Clunderton Hall. They have agreed to plant orchard land which they will gift to Clunderton Hall on the premise that you will maintain this land after all units on the development are sold.’

  There was stunned silence in the village hall. Louise looked around at the sea of faces all looking at each other perplexed.

  ‘I would add,’ James interjected, ‘that this is at considerable cost to our business, but we want to see the development go ahead, so we are prepared to make compromises.’

  ‘Which means they got the land dirt cheap,’ Johnnie muttered.

  ‘Also,’ James continued, ‘we will be looking at selling all the commercial units to one landlord, which means that if you were interested in purchasing them, you could retain control over what businesses were operating in the village.’ James raised a suggestive eyebrow at Tom.

  Louise watched Tom rub the stubble over his chin, clearly contemplating whether this was a good deal or if he was being bought off.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’ Tom questioned Drew.

  ‘I told you mate, I’m not getting involved.’ Drew held his hands up.

  ‘Which is total bollocks, or he wouldn’t be here,’ Johnnie muttered, again.

  Louise watched Tom’s narrowed eyes fix on James Hardwicke. Silence stifled the hall.

  ‘I’d have to get my solicitor to look over the finer details. I’m not having the wool pulled over my eyes again.’

  James grinned. ‘Not an outright ‘no’ then?’

  The village hall erupted with voices again, talking animatedly instead of angrily for the first time.

  ‘What about the increase in population?’ Amanda Lewis, Head Teacher at Clunderton Primary, called out. ‘The school is at full capacity already; we can’t cope with more families moving in. Plus, there will be more traffic through the village and the high street is busy enough as it is.’

  ‘Mr Greening, would you like to answer that?’ Hilary asked.

  ‘If the development is approved, before we get to that point, we would look carefully at how many dwellings we are prepared to approve.’

  ‘And if I could interject,’ said James, standing up again, ‘we are looking to build three and four-bedroom properties; family homes. Not lots of young couples and single people with lots more cars.’

  ‘Those families will want their children to go to the school!’ Phillipa Morris shouted.

  ‘My understanding,’ James said, calmly, ‘is that there are many children coming to the primary school from outside of the village. Doesn’t it make sense to have more families walking to the school instead of driving?’

  ‘I suppose you have a point,’ Phillipa said, begrudgingly.

  ‘What about our livelihoods!’ Johnnie suddenly erupted. ‘The village has a population of less than one thousand living here; it can’t support t
wo shops!’

  Louise looked at the floor, feeling like every villager was looking at her and Johnnie. It was so embarrassing. They didn’t own the village, did they? They’d have to compete like every other business, be the best, make sure their current customer base stayed loyal. Her mind turned to what Duncan had suggested. A departure, away from the stores; set up on her own. Could she do that in the same village? Could she do it all? The girls needed her. Johnnie needed her…

  ‘Oh, I’m not listening to anymore of this propaganda!’

  So engrossed in her thoughts about breaking free, she hadn’t been paying attention to the ensuing row between James and Johnnie.

  ‘Come on Louise, we’re going,’ Johnnie barged past her, grabbing her arm and dragging him with her.

  ‘Johnnie,’ she hissed, ‘you can’t just leave, you organised this!’

  ‘I’m not giving this lot anymore of my time; we’re through.’

  The audience was silent. Louise turned to see a sea of faces all looking like they were glued to the end of an episode of Eastenders, waiting for when the duh-duh-duh-duh-du-du-duh would happen.

  She swallowed hard and looked at Johnnie.

  ‘No.’ she said, quietly.

  ‘What?’ he said, loudly.

  ‘I will see this meeting through, thank you.’

  The hall was so quiet, anyone could hear a pin drop.

  ‘Pah!’ Johnnie said, letting go of her arm. ‘Fine,’ he said, looking hurt. ‘You didn’t even want to come in the first place,’ he hissed, as he turned and stormed off down the side of the hall.

  Her face flushed. She knew everyone was looking at her. She slowly turned to see Tom’s sympathetic expression. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him.