by Liz Fielding
Last night was clearly as embarrassing in recollection to him as it was to her. He had only kissed her because she had practically thrown herself into his arms and she had no wish to be reminded of her own foolishness. But he was apparently unmoved by her protest.
‘Don’t argue; just get in.’
‘David would come—’
‘I’m sure he would.’ Holly felt her cheeks grow warm under his provoking gaze. ‘Or you could even take a cab, but since I insist on taking you home there’s no point in a prolonged discussion of the alternatives.’
He held the car door, his look suggesting that they had been standing on the kerb for quite long enough. She climbed into the back of the Rolls without another word, quite unable to explain that she didn’t want to sit by him, feel the warmth of his shoulder next to hers and know that he would be quite unmoved by the experience.
The car moved smoothly into the traffic, through the underpass and on to the motorway. He had been right about the weather. Already the sky was clearing and the sun was breaking through to light the distant, familiar view of Windsor Castle. She would soon be home, facing up to this new life. But without Joshua, she thought, there would be no great pleasure in it.
As they approached the junction where they should turn off to Maybridge, the chauffeur moved out into the fast lane and accelerated to clear a line of lorries.
Holly frowned. ‘We’ve missed my turning.’ She turned to Joshua. ‘This isn’t the way home.’
‘Isn’t it?’ His eyes asked a question of her and, under their unwavering grey power, she found herself confused and unable to offer a coherent answer. She stared down at her fingers busily pleating the cloth of her jeans.
‘Ashbrooke isn’t my home.’
‘It could be.’ For a moment his eyes offered her a glimpse of hope, yet she hesitated, unwilling to make a fool of herself again.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then the sooner you get this over with, Holly, the better,’ he advised impassively, and she knew she had been right. ‘Have you any idea what you will do with yourself now?’ he asked. ‘Have you made any plans?’
‘No,’ she said, making an effort to appear cheerful. ‘I suppose that’s why I stayed away so long. I’ve nothing to come home for.’
‘Not even David?’ She turned to him. Was that why he had held back last night?
‘Not even David,’ she said. Then, afraid that she had betrayed herself, she lifted her shoulders. ‘At least I won’t have to paint ‘bread-and-butter’ pictures now.’
‘I think you could safely say that.’
‘It’s a lot simpler that way. Absolute freedom requires a great deal more discipline. And I’m going to miss teaching.’
‘What about all the stuff you’ve been doing in Italy and France?’ he asked. The memory of the way his brows had shot up at the weight of her portfolio provoked a smile.
‘Some of it’s not bad. I’ll have to look at it in the cold light of day. To be honest I’d like to do something different. Something quite new. I always wanted to…’ She hesitated to expose herself to his ridicule.
‘Go on,’ he pressed, and she found herself telling him about a visit to the studio of a sculptor she had met in Florence and her interest in trying this, for her, very different form. He encouraged her to elaborate and the miles had flown by before she recalled that she was supposed to be annoyed with him for taking her to Ashbrooke.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked after a while. ‘Or can you wait until we get home?’
‘Let’s wait.’ The weather continued to clear as they drove westwards and by the time they approached Ashbrooke there were only a few clouds to break up the eggshell-blue of the sky and the sun was striking warm through the car window.
‘We’ll call at the house first,’ Joshua offered in explanation as they passed the hotel entrance. ‘It won’t take long.’
‘Fine,’ she said, her careless tone covering a rising feeling of something between panic and excitement, and she almost held her breath as they turned and swept along the coast road to Highfield.
When they arrived she climbed out of the car and looked around her. She had barely had time to register the scale of the grounds on the day of the funeral. The garden near the house was cultivated with the sort of careless charm that required far more effort than neat beds to achieve. But above them and along the low cliff the land had been left wild.
‘I can’t believe just how lovely it is here.’
‘Yes,’ Joshua agreed. ‘We’d better get on, Holly. I simply need some decisions about the disposal of the furniture,’ he interrupted her contemplation.
‘Is it that urgent?’ she asked, thinking how good it would be simply to walk for a while on the soft, new grass.
‘If you sign the contract in the morning, we can wrap everything up the same day. Since you’re so anxious to leave.’
Not that anxious. Now she was here, Holly was in no hurry to go home to deal with David and broken guttering and a pile of other tedious things.
‘Everything?’ she asked. ‘Can we do everything in one day?’ It hardly matched the long-drawn-out problems that her friends had encountered when buying and selling property.
‘I told you,’ he said. ‘We’ve just been waiting for you to turn up and sign the contract.’
‘And if I hadn’t returned with you today?’ she asked.
He apparently hadn’t considered such a possibility, but he humoured her. ‘The company that wants to buy would have waited a few more days, I suppose. They’re very keen.’
‘A company wants to buy Highfield?’ She frowned. ‘As a home for one of their staff?’ she asked.
‘You won’t get a better offer,’ he said. ‘They’ve been after Mary to sell to them for a couple of years.’
‘But she wouldn’t? Why?’ He didn’t answer, but she persisted. ‘What exactly are planning to do with it?’
There was something measuring about the cool grey eyes. ‘Why do you want to know, Holly? You’ve made it quite clear that you won’t want to stay here.’
‘So I should take the money and run? Is that what you’re saying? You’d better give it to me straight, Joshua, or I won’t be signing anything. Who are they?’
He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Ashbrooke Leisure. They’re a local development company,’ he replied, making no effort to either to sweeten the planned development or suggest that it was particularly undesirable. ‘It’s the usual sort of thing. They plan to extend the house and turn it into a club, put a leisure complex and indoor pool over there.’
‘And,’ she persisted, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling her.
‘And there’ll be a caravan site along here and up there,’ he admitted, gesturing towards the clifftop and the hill above.
‘Caravans?’ she said, shocked. ‘How many?’
‘Two hundred,’ he said. ‘So I believe.’
She looked around her and saw the unspoilt countryside and wondered what a couple of hundred caravans would do to it. ‘What about planning permission?’ she demanded. ‘I can believe the local council would pass such a plan.’
‘It was passed last month.’
‘But—’
‘You don’t have to own land to apply for planning permission to build on it, or change its use.’
‘And they got it? Just like that?’
He was getting a little impatient. ‘There were a few objections,’ he admitted. ‘It went to appeal.’
‘I’ll bet. No wonder they’re so anxious to get on with the purchase,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘They’ve gone to a lot of trouble.’
His mouth hardened. ‘And expense. If you’re thinking of trying to push up the price I would urge you to reconsider.’
‘I don’t believe you’ve mentioned the price.’ He did and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips. No wonder he hadn’t softened the blow. She could hardly blame him for thinking she could be bought for what was undoubtedly a great de
al of money. But was it enough for such a site? Her brows furrowed in thought. ‘Did they offer Mary that much?’
‘She wouldn’t even talk to them, but this was her home. She’d always lived here. I don’t believe that any amount of money would have made her move.’
The implication being that Holly would sell because she didn’t care?
She shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked westwards along the coast. What would two hundred caravans do to the view? she wondered unhappily. Nothing, if you kept your eyes firmly out to sea. She spotted a campsite in the distance. Someone had already made themselves at home.
‘Who are they?’ she asked.
He turned to look. ‘That’s a special campsite for children and young people, part of the holiday programme organised by the Graham Foundation. Mary’s charity.’
‘The one you helped her to found?’
‘I gave her financial advice, that’s all.’
‘And what will happen to that campsite when I sign your piece of paper?’
He threw her a sharp glance. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked.
She didn’t bother to dignify this with a reply, simply waited, hands on hips, for him to answer her question. He shrugged carelessly. ‘I imagine it would have to go. It’s right by the access point to the beach.’ He turned away quickly. ‘Shall we go inside? I’d like to get on with the furniture.’
‘You imagine?’ Holly echoed, suddenly very angry. ‘Don’t you know? Don’t you care? I’m an outsider, but you live in Ashbrooke. It’s your home.’
Or was he getting ready to take the money and run as well? He’d said something about selling the Hall. She shivered as a cold hand feathered her spine. Just how deeply involved in this deal was Mr Joshua Kent? Could it be that it was the reason he had befriended Mary in the first place? Why he’d come and fetch her from France? Had taken so much trouble to disarm her? At least he hadn’t been able to bring himself to actually seduce her. She felt a hot flush of shame as she realised how easy it would have been.
‘Well?’ she demanded, ignoring the sick feeling that threatened.
His face was impassive. ‘It would have to go.’
‘Show me,’ she demanded.
‘Aren’t you tired?’ he objected.
‘Tired?’ she repeated dully. Too tired after the flight and the long drive down here to be able to think clearly?
She was beginning to wonder if he had been going to produce the contract the moment they returned to the hotel, ready to be signed while she still had her head full of Dresden shepherds and Sheraton whatnots.
‘No, I’m not tired. In fact I’m beginning to feel the need for some good, fresh air.’ She lowered her lashes. ‘But you get on with listing the furniture if you like.’ Suggesting, not too subtly, that a walk might be a bit much for him.
She didn’t wait for his reaction, but set off across the garden and along a clearly marked footpath towards the campsite.
She had gone barely twenty yards before he was alongside her. She glared at him.
‘I thought I might just manage it,’ he said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. ‘If you took my arm…’
‘It’s a public footpath,’ she threw back at him, avoiding his hand at her elbow, a little stab of anger spilling over into her voice.
She walked swiftly along the path, making it clear enough that she had no further interest in conversation. It took most of fifteen silent minutes before they reached the campsite and she was the breathless one.
‘This way.’
The path dipped sharply and he took her arm as she slithered down the slippery grass to the lower level where the camp was set up. Here the cliff dipped almost to the beach and it was easy enough to scramble down on to the sand, but wide steps had been constructed and a shallow ramp down to a wooden deck for anything on wheels. She walked down the steps, running her hands down the smooth rail, appreciating the thought that had gone into the design.
‘Did the Foundation pay for this work?’ she asked, turning to him.
‘Of course.’
‘It must have cost a great deal of money. Will your developers reimburse it, or am I expected to repay it out of the proceeds of the sale?’
‘I expect we can work something out,’ he said. Her all too obvious anger seemed to amuse him and that made it ten times worse.
‘Then it had better be before the contracts are signed, don’t you think?’
‘You’re learning very quickly, Holly.’
‘Am I?’ she asked, with apparent surprise. ‘It just seems like common sense to me. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourself.’
He took a deep breath and bit back whatever retort had leapt to his tongue. ‘Do you want to see anything else?’ he asked politely. ‘There is a shower and toilet-block tucked away in those trees.’
‘Oh, I want to see everything, Joshua,’ she assured him forcefully. And it was true; she did. Every inch of Mary’s home. Every blade of grass. Every tree.
Joshua led the way to where a group of youngsters were playing games under the watchful supervision of their leaders.
One of them came hurrying over, smiling broadly, and then stopped quite suddenly. ‘Good lord,’ she said as she caught sight of Holly. ‘You gave me quite a turn. I thought you were Mary’s ghost.’
‘Holly is her cousin. She owns the land now,’ Joshua said quickly.
‘Laura Marsden,’ said the woman, introducing herself, adding, ‘You’re very alike, for cousins.’ Holly firmly ignored Joshua’s eye as Laura expressed her condolences.
‘Holly Carpenter,’ she replied, completely the introduction. ‘Joshua has been telling me about the Foundation. What exactly do you do?’
‘We bring a group of special needs children from London every year. They wouldn’t have a holiday without Mary’s Foundation.’ They stood for a moment and watched the children taking part in an obstacle race which involved large quantities of water and a great deal of laughter.
‘Holly,’ Joshua intervened. ‘Time’s getting on.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘There’s plenty of time, Joshua. As much time as I need.’ Her eyes challenged him to deny it.
Then she turned to say goodbye to the camp leader, who said, ‘Why don’t you come along to the campfire supper tomorrow evening? We’d love to have you.’
‘I’d love to come,’ Holly said immediately. ‘And if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.’
‘You’re staying up at Highfield?’
There was the smallest pause, with Holly very conscious of Joshua’s eyes burning into her back. ‘Yes, Laura. I’m staying at Highfield.’
CHAPTER SIX
JOSHUA was silent on the walk back, his face expressionless, but Holly told herself she didn’t care how angry he was. She wasn’t about to be rushed into selling her house to a group of developers who only cared about their profits.
Back at the house he unlocked the door and let her in. Holly was in the living-room before she realised he hadn’t followed her. She walked back into the hall. He was standing in the entrance, tossing her keys in his hand.
‘Aren’t you coming in?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were determined to sort out the furniture.’ She couldn’t resist this opportunity to provoke him a little.
‘I’m afraid I’ve run out of time today. I’ll come back for you in a couple of hours.’
‘Back for me? Damn you, Joshua Kent. Will you stop trying to run my life? There’s no need for you to come back for me.’ She glared at him. ‘I’m staying here.’
‘Then you have a slight problem. There’s no food in the house and it’s quite a way to the town.’
‘A walk won’t kill me.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But you won’t make it before the shops shut.’
‘Oh.’ He took pity on her. ‘There’s a car in the garage. If you’d like me to I’ll arrange some insurance, then you’ll be able to do exactly what you like. But if you want to eat tonight I
suggest you come up to the Hall.’ He didn’t wait for her answer, his sudden grin absolutely infuriating, but he returned to the car before she could tell him so. He returned a few moments later with her bag and portfolio.
‘Thank you,’ she offered a little stiffly.
‘You’re sure you’ll be all right here on your own?’ he asked.
She lifted her chin. ‘Why on earth shouldn’t I be?’
If she hadn’t been starving she would have told him what to do with his dinner. But she was only too aware that it had been a long time since lunch on the plane and she hadn’t eaten much of that.
He nodded, apparently satisfied. ‘Then I’ll see you later.’
Despite Holly’s bold assertion that she would be fine, it still felt rather odd to be quite alone in a strange house where everything had been left just as if the occupant were about to return — the beds made, towels in the bathrooms, new soap waiting to be used. Mary’s clothes still hanging in the wardrobe.
She wandered about, not quite knowing what to do, jumping at every unexpected sound made by an old house settling after a warm day.
Her assertion that she would be staying at Highfield had been made on the spur of the moment. She had expected Joshua to try and talk her out of spending any time there, but he hadn’t. Maybe he thought that being alone all night in a strange house would sufficiently unnerve her that she would meet him on the doorstep in the morning, bag packed, begging to be taken to Ashbrooke Hall. He would be disappointed. Sleeping on her own in an otherwise empty house was something she was used to.
She decided to sleep in the main guest bedroom. It seemed appropriate, she felt like a guest, after all — a welcome guest, but not quite at home. It was a lovely room, the wallpaper covered with tiny pink rosebuds that were echoed in the print of the bedcover and matched exactly by plain pink velvet curtains. It had its own bathroom and a small dressing-room with a walk-in wardrobe. It took no time at all to hang up the few clothes she had with her and, that done, she ran a bath and wallowed in the sheer luxury of it.
Despite her assertion that a couple of hours would be plenty of time, she was barely ready when she heard the ring of the bell. She had decided to wear another of her purchases from Gordes. Cool turquoise this time, princess line, a white cuff skimming across her breasts and broad white straps.