by Lucy Gordon
“I don’t know why your mom had such a poor opinion of me,” he mused, spooning egg into Nicky’s mouth. “Do you know what she said to me?”
Nicky’s grunt had a negative inflection.
“She said, ‘The leopard doesn’t change his spots, does he?’ What do you think she meant by that? I mean, okay, she thought I’d put in my own bid for that site, but why had she assumed my spots were bad?” He spooned in some more egg. “You’ll find out about women,” he pronounced gloomily. “They always think the worst of a man. Remember, you heard it here first. How could she think I’d ever hurt this place?”
Sarah ought to have known without being told that the threat to Haven had made him as angry as anyone else in the village. That had been followed by a feeling uncannily like the one he’d had for Nicky that day in the shop. It was half tender protectiveness and half a determination to wage war against the enemy. And anyone who threatened Haven was an enemy.
By the time she returned he was beginning to feel normal again. “Sorry I passed out on you last night,” he said. “I actually had other plans.”
She laughed. “The state you were in!”
“Hell, don’t remind me. It was a good night, wasn’t it?”
“The best. They’re all your friends now.”
“But there was so much I wanted to say to you. You really had a rock-bottom opinion of me. Buy in. Stab you all in the back. What have I ever done to make you think that?”
“Justin, don’t hold it against me—”
“I’m not. Anyway, it was worth it to see your face when you realized the truth. I just want to know why you condemned me without a hearing.”
“You’re a tycoon, and you don’t get to be one without knowing how to spot a chance.”
“But I never told you I was a tycoon,” he pointed out.
Luckily for Sarah she’d had all night to work on an escape from this trap. “I saw your picture in the newspaper at the time of your accident,” she said, with perfect truth. “I’ve always known you were the boss of Hallwood Construction and Engineering. But I haven’t told anyone else. You obviously just wanted to be one of us, so I didn’t spoil it for you.”
“Thanks, I’d like to keep it quiet a while longer, although that won’t be for long if we’re fighting D and S.”
“But surely you’ve already beaten them?”
“Sarah, I didn’t want to spoil things last night, but the battle’s far from won.”
“But you heard Councillor Norton. If they can’t demolish the hall the scheme is ruined.”
He shook his head. “D and S aren’t going to give up so easily. They’ll try to have that order overturned, and if they fail they’ll think of something else. If I could have gotten it before the sale went through they might have decided it wasn’t worth proceeding, but they own the hall now, and the land about it. There’ll be another building scheme.”
She stared in dismay. “We haven’t really won at all, have we?”
“Not yet. We’ve blocked them, but there’s still a war to fight”
“And you’re the only one who can fight it. Justin, what are we going to do?”
“I’ve got a few ideas. If you’ll get me an aspirin and another cup of coffee I’ll be ready for the fray.”
“Perhaps there won’t be a fray,” she said, trying to comfort herself. “Perhaps they’ll just give up.”
But any such hope was dashed the instant they set foot outside. D and S had already sent in its agent to rope off the green. Large signs proclaimed, Private Property. Keep Off.
“We can’t even reach our own hall,” Sarah said, aghast.
“Not your hall anymore, lady,” observed a workman. “It all belongs to D and S. We’ll soon start digging the foundations for the development.”
“But you can’t!” Sarah cried. “There’s a preservation order on the hall.”
“Oh, that! That’ll be lifted in a day or two.”
“Over my dead body!” Justin muttered.
The village didn’t have long to wait for the next shot in the war. Leaflets were sent to every house, inviting the residents to a meeting in the hall to discuss “the present unsatisfactory state of affairs.” The meeting was set for a week ahead, and during that time D and S made a show of power. Diggers, dredgers, cement mixers, all the paraphernalia of foundation digging were moved on site in readiness. They said, more clearly than words, that the company intended to go ahead one way or another.
Justin spent most of that week using Brenda’s computer or the telephone. Everyone in Haven was watching, and the village seemed to be holding its collective breath, hoping their champion could slay Goliath for them.
Apart from Justin, the only other resident who felt capable of decided action was Crosspatch, who curled up each morning in a cement mixer and declined to move until nightfall. Miss Timmins, while terrified for her hero’s safety, refused to shut him indoors.
“Did the Duke of Wellington hide indoors before the battle of Waterloo?” she demanded. “Did Winston Churchill hide indoors? There are times to forget one’s personal safety. Crosspatch is making a stand. And so will we, when the time is ripe.” Her eyes on Justin left no doubt of her meaning, and there was a ripple of agreement from everyone.
“It scares me, how much they’re expecting of me,” he confided to Sarah.
“But you can do something for Haven, can’t you?” she asked.
“I’m going to try. Sarah, you won’t hate me if I fail, will you?” Never before in his life had he admitted the possibility of failure, but nothing had ever mattered as much as this.
“You won’t fail,” she said firmly.
On the night, the hall was packed. It had been set up in such a way as to show who held the power. The councillors sat on the platform with three representatives from D and S. When everyone was seated a large, middle-aged man stood up. He had an oily manner and a smile like a knife. He introduced himself as Dane Hendle, the managing director of D and S, and apologized for the “misunderstanding.”
“I take full responsibility for the lack of communication that led to you not being properly informed of the benefits this development will bring Haven. You put us in our place with that preservation order, and we bear no ill will. I’m sure when this evening is over you’ll wish to unite with us in putting the matter straight.”
He was armed with slides, charts and statistics, with which he put on a skilled performance. With most of his audience it fell on stony ground. But one voice was raised in praise.
“I’m sure we all feel the value of having such a busy man take time to explain what some of us might find difficult to understand.”
Heads turned. It was Cyril Coverdale. Dane Hendle answered him in the same vein. Everard Norton chimed in, followed by Imelda Drew. The other three councillors looked uncomfortable.
“I’m sure you all feel, as I do, that the sooner this regrettable situation is resolved the better,” Dane Hendle declaimed. “This hall really is not a building of intrinsic merit, and it will be comparatively easy for us to have the preservation order overturned. But I should like to feel that you’re with us in this. Your signatures on a petition requesting that the development go ahead will be the greatest help—”
People were looking at Justin expectantly, wondering when he was going to do something. But he sat still, never taking his eyes from the platform. Sharpsuited young men with vacant faces were handing out papers to be signed. The glances cast at Justin became angry. Had he raised their hopes only to dash them? Some people were reaching for their pens, as though they might as well give up if their leader had deserted them.
“Er,” excuse me, Mr. Chairman.” Justin’s voice sounded unusually diffident, but it was enough to rivet the attention of all the villagers. Dane Hendle turned a benign look on him.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“I’d like to know who, actually, is the owner?”
“The owner—as I thought I’d explained—is D and
S. Yes, sir, D and S owns all this land and—”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m asking who owns D and S.”
There was a brief silence. Hendle’s smile wavered by only a fraction. “Well, that seems hardly relevant. Now if there’s no other—”
“I think it’s very relevant,” Justin interrupted him. “Since you’re buying up these people’s lives they’re surely entitled to know these little details.”
“As you say—little details. Trivial details—”
“Then you won’t have any trouble telling me who owns D and S, will you?”
Hendle’s temper frayed slightly. “That’s a confidential matter—”
“But you’re a public company. It can’t be confidential.”
The apparent diffidence had fallen away from Justin’s voice. Everyone heard it, and the entire audience was silent, riveted.
“It’s true, isn’t it,” Justin continued, “that more than half of D and S stock is owned by Breconfield Constructions?”
Hendle’s mouth tightened. “Since you know that, there seems little point in—”
“And Breconfield is owned by Welby Properties. It is, in fact, the shareholders of Welby who stand to benefit from the destruction of Haven. I think the meeting might be interested in the names of some of the Welby shareholders.”
Cyril Coverdale jumped to his feet. “This is irrelevant,” he bawled. “I demand that this meeting be allowed to continue—”
But he was shouted down by the villagers. Someone grabbed him and forced him to sit. It was never clear exactly who’d done this, as there were so many who wanted the credit. Justin got up and faced the meeting. He was dressed in his usual jeans and sweater, but there was something different about him, an air of natural authority that made everyone listen.
“It won’t come as a surprise to anyone to know that Cyril is a prominent shareholder of Welby,” he said. “All this time he’s posed as a friend of Haven and a good citizen, chauffeuring Councillor Norton to and from meetings out of the kindness of his heart. But you voted the way he wanted you to, didn’t you, Everard?”
“That’s slander,” Councillor Norton spluttered. “Mr. Coverdale is a public-spirited man—”
“He’s a very rich one, rich enough to sell you some Welby shares at a knockdown price.”
Pandemonium. The audience was on its feet. Norton shouted “Slander, slander!” Hendle tried to regain command of the meeting, but in vain. Only when Justin held up his hand did the noise abate.
“We shouldn’t blame Everard,” he said. “He accepted those shares in innocence, not knowing that they made him a beneficiary of the sale he was promoting. Mrs. Drew, on the other hand, knew exactly what she was doing. Her shares were purchased three days before the council meeting at which the sale was approved.”
There was another uproar. Imelda screamed something. Everard was on his feet, shouting and waving. Nobody heard them through the hubbub from the floor. At last Imelda gathered her things and prepared to go. Hendle took her arm and seemed to be trying to persuade her to stay, but she threw him off and shouted something that sounded like, “You promised me nobody could—” The rest was lost. At last Imelda snatched her arm away and flounced off the platform.
Hendle raised his hands for calm. “Can we stick to the point?” he called, through a frayed smile. “This is not the time for such matters. Young man,” he said, addressing Justin, “I daresay you think you’re being very clever, interfering in matters that are far outside your understanding—”
“I understand that a lot of questions are going to be asked about how your firm conducted this matter, because I’m going to make it my business to ensure that they are asked.”
“Look, I don’t know who you think you are—”
“My name’s Justin Hallwood, and don’t tell me you’ve never heard that name before. My firm wiped the floor with yours three years ago. You used very similar methods then, I recall, and they didn’t do you any good that time, either.”
Hendle stared. He might be forgiven for not recognizing Justin at first, but now he looked more closely, he knew his adversary, and he paled. “We own that land!” he snapped.
“But you can’t do anything with it, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way. You won’t get permission to demolish the hall. You borrowed money for this project, and every day you can’t start work you’re paying a fortune in interest. I’ll fight you all the way, and I’ll delay you until your interest charges go through the roof. Be wise, Hendle. Sell while the going’s good.”
Caught off guard, Hendle blurted the truth. “Who’s going to want to buy land that can’t be built on?”
“You never know, some white knight may come galloping to the rescue. Of course you’ll have to sell at a loss, but that might save you from charges of fraud and corruption.”
The villagers cheered him. Hendle pointed a finger at Justin and mouthed, “You haven’t heard the last of this.” Then he and his sharp-suited young men gathered their things and fled.
Justin stayed where he was. He was exhilarated by the approval of his new friends, but his eyes were fixed on the front row, where Sarah sat, leading the cheers. And on her lap Nicky clapped his hands and crowed. As the roars washed over him, he knew a moment of complete happiness. This was his world, where he belonged. He felt he’d come home.
Inevitably the meeting adjourned to the Haystack. Justin stayed a while, knowing it would give offense if he wasn’t there to hear the plaudits and let them relive his victory. But as soon as he could he slipped away.
Sarah had gone on ahead, and he arrived just as she finished putting Nicky to bed. They were in each other’s arms the next instant. Sarah kissed him eagerly, trying to let him know not only of her love but also her admiration and thankfulness that he’d made himself a part of Haven. And in his returning kiss she could feel his need for reassurance.
“My hero,” she said, laughing through her kisses.
“That’s all I want to be. Love me, Sarah.”
He lifted her and carried her to his room. He didn’t put on the light but laid her on the bed, raining kisses on her while he undressed her and she did the same for him.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, for she’d gone beyond undressing him and was letting her fin gers drift along his spine in a way she knew he found exciting. She’d never dared to try his favorite caresses before, lest she betray too much knowledge, but to night she was exhilarated to the point of recklessness.
“What does it feel like I’m doing?” she teased.
“Driving me crazy. Hey, you never did that before!”
“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t you dare. Just keep right on.” The last word was lost in a gasp of satisfaction as she found the exact place on his spine where he was most vulnerable.
“Witch!” he growled. “Where did you learn all this?”
“I can read your mind,” she said, laughing.
“My mind has nothing to do with what’s happening now. Come here. Damned if you’re going to have all the fun!”
His hands were roving intimately over her body, exploring curves and valleys in a way that quickly drove her excitement to fever pitch. She came back at him, kissing him in ways she knew he loved. She’d meant to say so much tonight, how proud she was of him, how much she loved everything that he was. But there was nothing words could say that couldn’t be explained better like this. There was no doubt her endeavors were a triumphant success. His urgency was plain, and he wasted no time rolling her onto her back and entering her while her hands continued to work their magic on him.
He was like a man inspired, and Sarah responded with a frenzy of desire. It was lust for its own sake, for they were that sure of each other now, and could enjoy the gaiety of the bed as well as its tenderness. He drove into her powerfully, and at once her legs curled about his hips, telling him that she wanted more and yet more. He obliged, using the steely strength of his hips
and thighs, taking pleasure in her moans of mindless pleasure and the grip of her fingers on his shoulders that revealed her extremity. They came together, battle honors even, and lay drained and gasping in each other’s arms.
“You sure know how to get the best out of a man,” he said, sitting up at last.
Sarah watched him, half hoping, half fearing that the old familiar caresses would have awakened a memory, if not in his mind, then in his body. But his eyes held nothing but admiration.
“What a woman!” he said, grinning.
But as he looked at her, lying there in her glorious nakedness, his smile faded, and he lay down beside her again.
“You know it was all for you, don’t you?” he said.
“And for them.”
“Yes, for them,” he conceded. “For George, and Colly, and Nick, and Miss Timmins, and even for Crosspatch. But mostly for you. And for Nicky. I want him to have all this so he can grow up knowing the things I didn’t. And I wanted you to be proud of me.”
This time his kiss was tender, and the arms that drew her close were gentler than they’d ever been.
“My Sarah,” he whispered against her mouth. “Don’t ever leave me, Sarah. You mustn’t ever go away.” He drew back, frowning. “Why did I say that? Why did I suddenly think about you leaving?”
“You’re more likely to leave than I am.”
“Only for a short while. I have to go to London to sort some things out with D and S, but I’ll be back in a few days. You’ll be here when I get back, won’t you?”
“Of course I will.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Quite sure,” she said, and waited breathlessly for what might be coming next. A little corner of the curtain hiding Justin’s lost years seemed to have lifted. He was so close….
“I don’t know what got into me,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve gone a little crazy tonight.” He settled into her arms. “Could you bear to make love with a crazy man?”
“Any time, anywhere,” she said fervently.
This time it was different. The laughter had faded, leaving only love behind. The merry battle was over for this night. Now there was only the sweetness of the peace, and the total joy of belonging to the man she loved. And for the first time Sarah dared to hope that joy might last forever.