Public Property

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘We’re going for pizza? Well, why didn’t you say? Lead on,’ she responded. She took a breath, replaced her smile and waved an arm at the door.

  They left the office and Jonathan led the way towards a sleek, grey Chrysler 300c SRT8 parked in the car park.

  ‘This is never your car,’ she exclaimed, snorting with laughter.

  ‘What’s so amusing? You don’t like it?’ he asked her. He opened the back door for her.

  ‘No, it’s fine. It’s very posh. I just never saw you as a business executive. And believe me, this car has “business executive” written all over it,’ Freya said. She ran her hand along the boot. This car was worth a fortune. It was either an extravagant purchase or Jonny was working for someone like Donald Trump.

  ‘What did you think I would end up being, Freya?’ he asked. He met her eyes with his.

  ‘I don’t know. When you left me I guess I hoped you would end up being a bin man or something,’ Freya admitted. That sounded bitter but at least she’d been honest.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I did a little better than that. So, are you going to get in?’ he asked, indicating the open door.

  ‘In the back? Are we really going to relive old times? Because looking in there I have to say it isn’t a patch on the Ford Cortina,’ Freya joked. That had come out dry and embarrassing but she didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know why he was here.

  ‘I have a driver,’ he said.

  ‘What?! You have a driver! Now you are kidding me,’ Freya exclaimed. She poked her head into the car. Looking up into the driver’s seat she saw the driver. Peaked cap, blue uniform, sat ready to set off.

  ‘I’m sorry but this is unreal. When we last saw each other you lived on a council estate, you weren’t doing so well at college and you rode around on a BMX,’ Freya reminded him.

  ‘As you said, things change. Now, are we going for lunch so I can tell you what else has changed or do you want to stand in the car park all day being photographed by those journalists over there?’ Jonathan asked. He jerked his thumb behind him. Two men with cameras were hovering around by the gateway to the building.

  ‘I’ll be wanting a stuffed crust and garlic bread to start,’ Freya told him. She also needed olives and pudding was a must, but that could wait until the restaurant. The stuffed crust was the deal breaker.

  ‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’

  The car drove them into the centre of Carlton and stopped outside La Luna, the most expensive Italian restaurant in the city. Freya and Nicholas had been there once and the food was excellent, but the prices were astronomical.

  ‘Money is obviously no object to you then,’ Freya said as they entered the restaurant.

  ‘No it isn’t. Does that bother you? Because I would have thought, having a rich boyfriend, you would have become reacquainted with wealth.’ One of the restaurant staff took his jacket from him.

  ‘Wealth and I have a rather complicated relationship as you know. It seems I have it whether I want it or not and it does act a little dejected when I try and give it all away.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten you cut up your mother’s store cards. I shall be keeping my American Express close to my chest,’ Jonathan assured her.

  ‘If it’s really that important to you, you can get it its own chair and napkin.’

  ‘Your usual table, Mr Sanders?’

  The manager of the restaurant greeted them in the lobby.

  ‘Please and could you arrange a bottle of your best cabernet sauvignon,’ Jonathan ordered.

  ‘Certainly, Sir. Good afternoon, Miss Johnson, how are you?’ the manager asked, turning to Freya.

  ‘I’m fine thanks, Frank. Can I have olives? You know, the Greek ones?’

  ‘Of course. Please, come this way.’ He led them into the dining room.

  ‘Your “usual” table?’ Freya remarked as she walked alongside Jonathan towards a table at the back of the room.

  ‘Yes, I come to Carlton every three or four months. I try to eat here as often as I can when I’m in town. They do fantastic pasta.’

  ‘You eat pasta! I have to tell you, Jonny I’m finding this transformation of yours a little difficult to take in. The smart clothes. The business man’s car. The change in diet. The goatee. Next you’ll be telling me you have a mansion in Beverley Hills,’ Freya said.

  ‘Just off of Santa Monica Boulevard actually.’

  Four

  ‘You live in America?’ Freya questioned.

  She put the menu down and stared across at him. Ordering food could wait. She wanted to hear his story.

  ‘Some of the time. I travel,’ he answered. He poured some bottled water into Freya’s glass.

  ‘So, what’s your business? What do you do?’

  ‘Businesses. My main occupation – I’m a developer. I see things with potential and I try to bring that out,’ he stated.

  ‘Please tell me you aren’t one of those people who evicts, demolishes and builds office towers,’ Freya begged. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Well, perhaps someone who was paid to bang on about eating five-a-day.

  ‘I try not to do that too often. But sometimes it’s unavoidable.’

  ‘Oh my God, you are. Well now I know why you have bullet-proof glass on that car.’

  ‘I head up corporations, Freya. Corporations with shareholders that want returns for their investment. They’re my priority and, like I said, building office towers on residential areas really isn’t my bag. Hotels and inns are more my specialty. Have you heard of the Recuperation Inns?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes of course, they have billboards everywhere with a really cheesy slogan. Something like the ultimate sleep sensation begins at a Recuperation. If that’s your company I would shoot your ad man,’ she replied.

  ‘But you remembered it, so he’s done his job. That is one of my companies and it’s my aim to have a Recuperation Inn in every major city in the US by the time I retire. I’m hopeful for forty, so I’ve got just under ten years,’ he said. He smiled. It looked smug-arsed.

  ‘My, my, what happened? Did you enter The Apprentice or something? If I remember right, you were studying mechanics at college,’ Freya said.

  ‘I can still change a tyre but I also learnt how to run a multi-million pound organisation.’

  ‘Well good for you. I hope you and your hotels will be very happy together. I’ll have garlic bread, a pizza with everything on it and tell them not to hold back on those olives,’ Freya told him. She pushed the menu away.

  ‘Fine and how about some banoffee pie for dessert?’ he suggested.

  ‘Whatever.’

  She was cross. Why was she cross? Why didn’t she want him to be successful? Because he had left her and humiliated her and taken money from her father. But that was years ago and she had a great life now and a wonderful partner to share it with. Why did she want to think of Jonny back on that council estate amounting to nothing? When had she got so cruel?

  Frank returned with the wine and Jonathan gave their order.

  ‘You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?” Jonathan said after Frank left.

  ‘And why would I be angry with you, Jonny?’

  ‘Freya, I have to say it makes me feel seventeen again, you calling me that. No one calls me that anymore,’ he admitted. He laughed, then smiled, the brown eyes crinkling at the edges.

  ‘Well, what would you rather I call you? Money-grabbing weasel? Two-faced hypocrite?’

  Her temper rose in her gut, her face flamed. She stared him down.

  ‘I’m not either of those things,’ he insisted. He took a sip of his wine. He looked cool and collected, unfazed by her name-calling.

  ‘No? Well, what would you call someone who did what you did to me? If there’s another name for it then hit me with it.’

  ‘You don’t know the full story.’

  ‘Yes I do. Emma told me what happened. My father paid you off. He gave you money to stop seeing me and you took i
t,’ Freya stated through gritted teeth.

  It still stung. The memories burned.

  ‘That isn’t strictly true.’

  ‘No? Well, what did I leave out? One minute you were telling me you didn’t care who I really was, or who my father was. You said you wanted to marry me. The next minute you won’t answer my calls or see me. Then Emma is telling me you’re leaving the area,’ Freya continued.

  ‘It wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore. It was just complicated.’

  ‘You mean I was complicated. I was suddenly too complicated for you to deal with. So, it had nothing to do with thirty thousand pounds?’ Freya asked.

  How was he going to squirm out of that one?

  ‘No. It had nothing to do with thirty thousand pounds.’

  ‘Well, what was it then? Fifty? A hundred thousand? My father is a very rich man, perhaps it was more than that. A million? No, I don’t think he would part with that much just to stop me seeing someone he didn’t approve of,’ Freya carried on.

  She was aware her voice had almost hit banshee heights and a table to their left was now paying more attention to them than the food. She didn’t care. She wanted to get this out. She needed him to know how much he had hurt her and find out why.

  ‘Eric didn’t give me any money,’ Jonathan told her.

  She closed her lips, narrowed her eyes and waited for him to say something else. There had to be something else. He took another sip of his wine, his gaze not leaving hers.

  If her father hadn’t given him money to leave her, then why had he left her? And why had Emma told her that Jonathan had accepted money from her father to not see her again.

  ‘I don’t understand. So, you just left because he told you to? You gave up what we had together because my father asked you to?’ she stuttered.

  ‘I left because my father got a new job on the other side of London. It was a good job, it paid well and it was a step up for us,’ he explained.

  ‘I don’t believe you. You don’t break up with someone just because you’re moving a few miles away. The whole of London is connected by something called The Tube for God’s sake. We could have met up, we could have carried on.’

  She didn’t believe this. All this time she had thought everything had come down to money again and he was here telling her something different. What did she believe?

  ‘I didn’t want to carry on, like I said, it was too complicated.’ There was strength to his tone, finality.

  ‘Hang on a minute here. I’m old enough to be able to take the truth that maybe you didn’t want to date me anymore, although I find that a little difficult to believe, seeing as you’d got down on your knee and proposed to me, albeit with a ring from Argos. But why tell Emma my father paid you off?’

  ‘I don’t know. Because I was seventeen and immature and I knew you would believe it. I was scared, Freya. Meeting your parents and actually thinking properly about making a commitment and settling down, it freaked me out. I wasn’t really ready,’ he admitted. He let out an audible sigh.

  ‘So, rather than tell me that, you made up a story about my father paying you to leave and you had me believe that story for all this time? Wait a minute, this doesn’t add up. I’ve told my father on more than one occasion that I blamed him for making you leave and he’s never contradicted me. Why would he take the blame if he wasn’t involved?’

  Her brain was working overtime now. None of this made sense and she was struggling to fit the pieces together.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t comment on anything Eric might or might not have said. But I’m telling you now, he did not pay me to leave you. It was my decision, I made it on my own and I apologise if I upset you.’

  ‘Upset me? I wouldn’t say the house burning was entirely down to you leaving me, but it was a contributing factor. My God, all this time I’ve been thinking it was my evil father at work again and it was just a normal dumping scenario.’

  She’d been jilted, plain and simple. That thought had her reaching for her wineglass and pouring it into the mouth.

  ‘Like I said, it was complicated,’ Jonathan repeated.

  ‘Sure, whatever.’

  She felt sick.

  ‘Look, surely we can move on from this. I mean we were both young and immature and these things happen. And you’re engaged now. Tell me about Nicholas Kaden,’ he urged.

  ‘Nick’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s kind of a male version of me, without the temper and obviously slimmer. But he does have a soft spot for takeaways and I’m teaching him that leftovers really are nice on toast for breakfast.’

  ‘He’s developing your discerning palate then,’ Jonathan remarked, a smile on his lips.

  ‘He’s trying.’ She smiled as she thought about her fiancé. ‘He’s just really special and unlike some of the men I’ve dated, he’s realised the importance and unimportance of money.’

  ‘I can understand why that’d be vital to you.’

  ‘God, Jonny, I’m so mad at you right now. I don’t know whether I can sit here and be adult about this,’ she admitted, blowing out a breath.

  ‘I’d like it if you did. If only for the food. Besides, I do have a proposition for you. This is a business lunch,’ he told her.

  ‘Why do I get the feeling this is going to be something I’m likely to oppose?’

  ‘I’m not going to bulldoze Mayleaf if that’s what you’re thinking. Besides, the town elders are pretty scary characters. I wouldn’t like to cross those guys.’

  ‘Then what are you going to do? Build a Recuperation Inn on top of Exposure?’ she asked.

  ‘Let’s eat, then I’ll show you.’

  Five

  ‘You enjoyed the food?’ Jonathan asked. They were in back in the Chrysler heading off in an easterly direction.

  ‘Yes, it was good. I enjoyed it all the more because you were paying,’ she admitted.

  She would pay later because she could barely move with the amount she’d stuffed in. If the car went any quicker she was likely to lose it all over the leather upholstery.

  ‘You must be a breath of fresh air to the world of celebrity, Freya. Tell me, do you still raid the discounted items at the grocery stores?’

  ‘Sometimes, but more often than not I buy double what I need and drop into a soup kitchen on the way home. And I don’t do that for the publicity, I do that because I can. And I have to tell you, it gives me more satisfaction to see an old man with holes in his clothes and nothing on his feet eating a good meal in a warm place, than it does to eat an expensive Italian meal.’

  ‘I heard you talk on Atlantic FM about the homeless. I found it very moving,’ Jonathan admitted.

  ‘The homeless are a project of mine at the moment. I’m in the process of setting up a centre to provide accommodation and food. It sort of started out as a vision for a hostel and then it turned into something bigger than that. I want somewhere that provides counselling and advice, skills to get people jobs and support for when they can leave the centre and get a place of their own.’

  She felt more passionately about the homeless shelter project than she did about anything else in her life. There was something about giving people with nothing help to start over again that struck a chord with her.

  ‘It sounds like it’s something close to your heart.’

  ‘Nick took me to where he used to live when he was struggling to raise his brother. The number of homeless people there is well above the national average and these people are of all ages and backgrounds and some are children. I was appalled and I said we had to do something about it. So, to start with I bought out the stock in two clothes stores and we handed it all out. Then we decided, to make a real difference, it would take more than just a handout. That’s when I decided to set up the Every Day project,’ she explained.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What? What d’you mean you know?’

  The Every Day project was new, very new. Only their closest advisors knew of their plans. No
thing had even been drafted for the release to the press yet.

  ‘I know about your charity, the Every Day project. I made a bid for the same piece of land your first centre is going to be built on,’ he told her.

  ‘That was all done anonymously and no one knew what that was for. How?’

  ‘I know a lot of people.’

  ‘So, what happened? You couldn’t outbid me? That I don’t believe.’

  She was angry again. What was it with this man? Why was he back poking his nose into her life? What did he want? There had to be something.

  ‘Oh, I could have outbid you but I took the time and trouble to investigate that fake name you used. I wanted to find out who I was really up against. When I found out I decided you were too formidable a force.’ He smiled.

  ‘Conscience get the better of you?’

  ‘Something like that. I admire your selflessness, Freya. I really do.’ There was sincerity in his expression.

  ‘Don’t admire me. There isn’t anything special about what I’m doing. I’m just making the most of what I have by spreading it around a bit,’ she told him.

  ‘Do you not think you could have done that if you’d stayed with your family? Taken your trust fund at eighteen and given it to Save the Whale or something?’

  ‘My father would never have given me anything unless I changed how I felt about his world. I couldn’t do that, not even for pretence. I’m a black and white person, Jonny, you know that. There are no grey areas with me.’ She pulled her head up to meet his eyes and jutted her chin out. She hoped it spelt out her determination.

  ‘I guess not. Well, here we are,’ he announced as the car came to a halt at the edge of a minor road.

  He got out and walked around to open her door.

  ‘Here we are? We’re in Gatebrook, near Covenant Bridge. There’s nothing here but the river, the bridge and the old church. No one lives here,’ Freya said. She stepped out of the car, the biting wind chilling her to the bone. She wished she’d brought a jacket.

  ‘No one lives here at the moment. But they could do, in a year or so,’ he said. He walked off the road and onto the grassland.