Saving Willowbrook (9 page)

He moved across to the door, then turned. ‘Will you be all right on your own here, Ella?'

‘Of course I will.'

‘But you'll lock up carefully?'

‘Yes. I'm sure Brett's safe in his bed by now, though. And I'd hear a vehicle coming up the drive.'

‘What time is breakfast?'

‘Just come across whenever you're ready. Since you're the only guest, it doesn't matter to me when you eat. I'll be gone for about five minutes just after eight, taking Amy to the bus, otherwise I'll be busy here.'

‘Fine. I think I'll sleep well tonight. It's been a long day.'

She watched him walk along the path to the chalets then switched off the outside lights, except for the security light that guarded the approach from the lake and the other light at the front of the house. Miles had had those put in, ironically, because he said it was a dangerously isolated place. Then he'd left and she'd been glad of them, she admitted, though they did sometimes get triggered by animals.

When she went to bed, she lay awake for a while, reliving the evening, worrying about Brett Harding, about the loan, about her home . . . till eventually tiredness claimed her.

But she dreamed about Cameron O'Neal, dreamed of being held by him, kissed by him.

In the morning, remembering those dreams, she was angry with herself. How stupid could you get?
Act your age, Ella Turner
, she ordered.
Show a bit of sense. You're not a man-mad teenager
.

But she was so tired of being sensible. And she did miss having a man in her life, the companionship, the support, the fun – and the loving.

Brett Harding was charged with being in charge of a motor vehicle with excess alcohol and once the formalities were over, he rang his father to come and pick him up.

His father was furious and didn't spare him when he turned up. Brett knew better than to argue, so bowed his head and put up with the tirade in silence. This was all that bitch's fault, leading a man on.

‘Are you still conscious?'

He realized his father had asked a question and was waiting for a reply. ‘Sorry, what did you say?'

‘I asked what the hell you were doing, driving one of my vans in that condition. It's a total write-off now. What was wrong with your own car?'

‘Needs a new carburettor.'

‘I didn't see it at the garage.'

‘I forgot to book it in.'

‘You'd forget your head if it wasn't nailed on, you would. And if you weren't my only son, heaven help me, you'd be out on your ear. I'm still tempted to fire you anyway, and I would if it weren't for your mother. Where had you been tonight?'

‘I'd been out to Willowbrook, seeing Ella Turner.'

‘I didn't know you two were involved.'

‘Yeah. Sort of.'

‘She's got encumbrances, that one, and the child's disabled.'

Brett snickered. ‘It's not the child I'm interested in. And who's talking about marriage?'

‘You should be. It's more than time you settled down and by hell, after this, you'll cut down on the drinking or you really will be out on your ear. Your mother's worried about you and no wonder. You're looking bloated and unhealthy. At your age, I was lean as a whippet, working all the hours God sent to build up my business and . . .'

Brett closed his eyes and let the words flow over him. He'd heard it all before. Too many times. There were more things in life than working and once he inherited the family business he'd leave others to do the dirty work and enjoy a very different lifestyle from his father's.

He didn't want marriage from Ella Turner, or from anyone else. Definitely not. He wasn't putting on the manacles.

Then they arrived home and he had to face his mother, who was furious with him and worried about what friends would say about their drunkard of a son.

He kept quiet and escaped to his bedroom as quickly as he could, flinging off his clothes and getting into bed with a sigh of relief.

But it was a long time before he got to sleep. He kept replaying the scene with Ella in his mind. It was her fault he'd had a few too many drinks, just to give himself confidence.

He'd get his own back on the bitch, though. He'd fancied her from the age of fifteen, when she got curvy and he got randy. She'd laughed at him then, so bright and sure of herself.

She shouldn't have married that fellow from London. Brett had known it wouldn't last.

But if she was starting to give out again, she should turn to people she knew, not strangers.

Five

Ella had everything ready for Cameron's breakfast by seven o'clock, even before Amy left for school. At eight she drove her daughter to the main road and saw her on the bus. When she got home, she watched Porgy circle a couple of times then ease himself down in his favourite spot in the yard, a place which caught the sun all morning.

No sign of Cameron.

She fidgeted to and fro between kitchen and laundry. There was always something to do. She kept peering out of the window expecting to see him, then getting angry at herself for doing it.

At last, just before eight thirty, she heard footsteps on the gravel and saw him strolling towards the house.

He beamed at her. ‘I can't remember the last time I slept so well. I hope I've not inconvenienced you by such a late start, Ella?'

‘No, of course not. I was just getting on with the housework.'

He looked round. ‘You keep the place immaculate. Cleanliness shines everywhere I look.'

That particular compliment pleased her. Keeping the place clean was something that didn't cost much money but added to the general attractiveness of Willowbrook. She'd achieved a three-star rating from the AA last year in the guest house category. She was proud of that, hoped to get a higher rating next year . . . if she was still here next year . . . if Miles didn't ruin her.

‘What would you like to eat? Cereal? Bacon and eggs? Toast?' She handed him the menu.

‘All of that sounds wonderful. I'll happily pay extra for a bigger breakfast. I haven't been this hungry for ages. Must be the country air.'

‘Lots of people say that. And there's no extra charge.'

‘Can I stay and watch you cook?'

‘Wouldn't you rather sit in peace in the conservatory and sip some orange juice?'

‘Nope. I'd rather sit on a stool at the breakfast bar and talk to you.' He suited the action to the words.

‘Oh. Well. All right.' She poured him a juice and got on with her work. It didn't normally bother her to have people watching, but this morning she felt all fingers and thumbs. ‘So you, um, slept well?'

‘Like the proverbial log. When I woke, I went for a walk round the lake, simply couldn't resist it.'

She smiled. Few of her guests could resist strolling near the water or sitting on one of the benches she'd put in. But she'd have to do something about the weeds on the path soon. She moved across to her whiteboard and wrote it down. ‘Just reminding myself to find time to weed the path round the lake.'

He looked at her in shock. ‘You surely don't do the gardening as well as everything else?'

She continued preparing the rashers of local bacon. ‘I get someone in to mow the lawns, but I do the rest. My cousin Rose helps me sometimes if I'm extra busy.'

‘Where do you find the energy?'

‘I'm pretty efficient and I prioritize. I don't do some things, like weeding, as often as I'd like.' Her eyes strayed to the window and she smiled then turned back to prepare the eggs and bacon. ‘I like to keep things looking nice. Now, I've set out the fruit and cereals. By the time you've finished those, the rest will be ready.' She led the way out into the conservatory. ‘I thought you'd like to sit by the window.'

‘Lovely. It's nice being the only guest.' His smile gave his statement another meaning.

‘In summer we're usually full at weekends and often during the week, too, in the school holidays. Even Amy helps then. She loves that.'

She was talking about herself again, she realized, should watch what she revealed. She picked up the empty tray. ‘I'll just cook your bacon and eggs. Won't be long.'

He put out one hand to bar her way. ‘When you've done that, how about joining me for a coffee, Ella? Surely you're ready to take a short break?'

And once again she couldn't resist spending time with him, so she made herself a cup and took it into the conservatory.

There was the same feeling as the evening before, a companionable mood. No need to fill the silence with empty chatter. Spring sunshine poured through the windows, birds sang and a breeze wafted in the smell of earth and growing things.

‘It isn't often I take a break during the day. It feels quite decadent.'

‘You're a hard worker.'

‘Two compliments in one morning,' she teased. ‘Be careful or my head will swell.'

His eyes held hers for a moment, serious and very direct. ‘I don't think so.' Then he turned his attention back to his plate, clearing every morsel. ‘That was wonderful. I'm ready now to conquer the world.'

When she began to clear away, he immediately jumped up to help.

‘I told you last night – guests shouldn't be doing that.'

‘No trouble. Look, are you busy this morning, Ella?'

‘Um – well—'

‘Would you have time to show me round your property, tell me about its history? I walked round the outside of the barn this morning and was fascinated. You can see signs of old openings, half of an arch that must have been a window. Was it always a barn?'

‘No. That barn's been many things in its lifetime.'

‘But it's been repaired recently, and done well, too.'

She nodded. ‘That's why I'm so short of money. The insurance wouldn't cover the right sort of stonework, let alone the woodwork in the roof, because the house isn't listed.'

Now that he'd seen more of the place, he was surprised that it wasn't listed, but he didn't comment. There must be some reason, surely? Or perhaps she just hadn't wanted the authorities to interfere. ‘Would you show me round?'

She looked across into his smiling eyes and was lost. ‘Oh – all right.'

Could a man smile like that and mean you harm? Surely not?

Rose got up as soon as it was light and began clearing up the mess. To her surprise, Oliver joined her soon afterwards by the simple expedient of walking in through the gap in the wall.

‘What woke you so early? I didn't think you exposed your eyeballs to light before eight o'clock.' She continued to work, piling up the broken wood and the bigger pieces of glass outside, her hands protected by some heavy duty gardening gloves.

He touched the back of one. ‘Got any more of those? I don't want to cut my hands.'

‘There's no need. I can manage.'

‘Either you provide me with some or I'll go back and get Dad's.'

‘Why? Surely it's best that we stay away from one another?'

He ignored her question, though his scowl deepened. ‘Do you have some other protective gloves or not?'

For answer, she went to the big drawer at the bottom of the storage wardrobe and pulled out an unused pair. She used them when she was making half-relief pieces from scraps of metal. She'd been playing with this in her spare time, because she believed in challenging and extending her skills. And it didn't cost much. She could pick up all sorts of bits and pieces of metal that people threw away.

‘You always were a pack rat,' he said, staring down into the box where she stored her smaller pieces.

She didn't bother to answer, just shut the drawer and went back to her work.

They continued to clear up the mess and when that was done, she fetched her outdoor broom.

‘Find me something to put the smaller rubble in.' He took the brush out of her hands and started sweeping. ‘Dad says you can have the flat over the surgery for the next few weeks while this place is being repaired.'

‘Surely you'll want the flat.'

‘I may do later. For the present I can stay with Mum and Dad.'

That stopped her in her tracks. The last thing she wanted, the very last, was to live close to where he'd be working every day. ‘I can manage here. I'm used to roughing it.'

‘Very noble. But Dad wants you out of here while we check that the structure of the building hasn't been weakened. We don't want to put you in danger. He nearly came to get you out last night.'

‘Oh.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘I'll think about the flat. I may find somewhere else to live.'

‘Isn't that taking your antagonism towards me a bit far? Cutting off your nose to spite your face?'

He was right really, but she hated to admit it. ‘What's the flat like now? I know your locums sometimes live there.'

‘It's in good order. My parents renovated it a while ago.' He looked round with a grimace. ‘The rooms are much bigger than those in this place. Dad said I was to show you round it.'

‘Why you?'

‘Because he's busy. Do you have to challenge everything I say?'

‘It's safer.'

He finished sweeping the floor in silence, pulled off the gloves and threw them down, muttering something under his breath. Then he gave her a strange look. ‘I'll meet you at the flat in half an hour.' He didn't give her time to reply, but strode off down the street.

She watched him go. He'd stormed off like that after their final quarrel. And the next thing she knew, he'd left Chawton without a word.