‘Have you got your lunches?’ The children nod miserably as they stand there waiting for me. ‘School won’t be so bad today,’ I promise them. ‘The first day is always the worst and you’ve cracked that. It will just get better from now on.’
They both look unconvinced by my optimism and my heart breaks for them. ‘We’d better get a move on.’
Barricading Hamish in the kitchen, I then tie the door handle to the one across the hall with a scarf, so that he can’t escape. I can only hope that he’s still like that when Kati arrives. As soon as I can afford to get a better place, I will find somewhere with a garden – and a six-foot perimeter fence with razor wire on top and maybe a guard tower. Anything else and Hamish will be out of it.
Tom and Jessica are hustled out of the door for another day of torture at their new school. They’ll be there way too early, but I want to make sure that they get there safely before I go off to work. It’s still dark and this road is too busy for them to walk along alone. The traffic is whipping by and it’s so loud that we can’t hold a conversation, so I just grip Jessica’s hand and tow her along at my pace.
Outside the school, I kiss them both goodbye. Tom lets me as there are currently no other pupils around to witness it. ‘Go straight indoors,’ I instruct. ‘Remember to wait for Kati at home time. She’ll be here to collect you and take you back to the flat. Okay?’
They both nod.
‘Got the key, Tom?’
My son produces it from his pocket to show it to me. I thought I’d better give him a spare just in case Kati doesn’t turn out to be quite as reliable as she seems and manages to lose hers.
‘Guard it with your life.’
He nods again.
‘I love you,’ I say. Grief, I’m tearing up. I hug them both to me. Tom is less impressed this time. ‘I hope you have a better day today. Wish Mummy luck too.’
My children mumble something at me that I think is supposed to spur me on to greatness. ‘Now scoot.’ I turn Jessica round and give her a playful slap on the bottom to set them on their way. Watching them walk into the school together, I brush the tears away with the sleeve of my coat. They look too tiny to be going into such an enormous building on their own.
Pushing down a wave of nausea brought on by nerves, I try not to think about that now, as if I don’t scoot myself then I’m going to be late on my first day. And I don’t want Gavin Morrison to think just because I’m now on my own with two kids to bring up that I can’t cut it.
Chapter Ninety-Six
From the depths of the packing boxes I’ve managed to root out some suitable work attire. I’ve chosen a silver-grey wool wrap cardigan and black trousers. The heels are back in business and I’m in full war paint for the first time in months.
I think I look like a contender, but I can’t believe how terrified I am. You’d think that I’d been out of the work environment for years rather than months – albeit quite a lot of months. The British Television Company offices seem suddenly to be filled with sparkly, bright young things who make me feel as old as time itself.
Gavin Morrison stands as I’m shown into his office. He holds out his hand and I shake it.
‘It’s good to be back,’ I say.
‘Good to have you back. Though you might find there’ve been a lot of changes while you’ve been away.’
‘I’m sure I’ll get straight into the swing of things.’ I take a seat while he paces the room. ‘My only concern is that I haven’t had a contract of employment yet, even though I’ve hassled the Human Resources lot.’
‘I know,’ Gavin says. ‘We’ll sort that out later. My assistant will take you down there.’
I don’t remind him that I know perfectly well where the HR department is.
‘I wanted to float a few things by you first.’ He stares out of the window into the courtyard in the middle of the building. I used to love sitting out there for ten minutes in my lunch break when I could, to escape the stifling central heating or the freezing air conditioning. ‘The brief has changed slightly since I offered you the job.’
This, I don’t like the sound of.
‘We’ve decided that the arts programmes need to be more commercial.’
Ah, the dreaded dumbing down that the BTC is so often being accused of.
‘We’ve brought in a new chap, Lawrence Holmes, to spearhead the new initiative.’
I smile to myself. I’d forgotten how much Gavin likes the jargon.
‘You’ll report directly to him.’
Oh. I thought Gavin would be my boss, as he used to be. I guess this is one of the first changes I’ll have to live with.
‘He’s just next door, I’ll buzz him to come through.’ Gavin goes to the phone on his desk. ‘Lawrence, Amy Ashurst is here. Can you spare a minute now?’
‘What’s his background?’ I don’t think that Lawrence Holmes is a BTC man.
‘He’s a hot shot. Been out making and selling commercial programmes in the States for the last few years. Lawrence is the brains behind Celebrity Wedding Day, Celebrity Change My Style! and Celebrity Three Little Words.’
Gavin is clearly impressed. I’m not. I think they’re three of the most banal programmes on television and, let’s face it, there’s a lot of banality to choose from.
While I’m still digesting this information, Lawrence Holmes strides into Gavin’s office. He’s sharp-suited and slick. A handsome bastard. I stand and he grips my hand like a vice, almost wrenching my arm from its socket as he shakes it. Then he sits on the edge of Gavin’s desk and fixes his eyes on me. Lawrence is young, edgy and ambitious and I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of him although he’s all smiles now. ‘Welcome on board.’
‘Thanks. I was just saying to Gavin it’s good to be back.’
‘It’s a different kind of BTC now, Amy,’ he says crisply. ‘Let’s just get that clear from day one. There’s no room for sloppiness.’
Hmm. Charmer. I can already tell the direction the arts programmes are going to take. We’ll be doing Celebrity Watch Paint Dry before you know it.
‘All the years I was exec producer of Sports Quiz, I was known for running a tight ship,’ I tell him. ‘I’m sure we’ll work well together.’
‘I hope so.’ Lawrence glances at his watch. Rolex. ‘I’m in meetings all day, but I’ll catch up with you at the restaurant tonight.’
Alarm bells ring. ‘Restaurant?’
‘I emailed you yesterday about it.’
‘At home?’ I haven’t even got the computer out of its box yet, let alone checked my email. Things like that were William’s department. I don’t have a clue where to start. ‘I didn’t receive it.’
Lawrence frowns and then tuts. ‘We’ve got a party of clients over for a couple of days from the USA. We’re taking them to La Strada tonight.’
Wow. I’d love to go to La Strada. It’s about as far removed from Poppy’s Tea Room as you can get. Then suddenly without warning, I get a pang of longing for the low-key delights of Scarsby.
‘You need to be there,’ Lawrence continues as I rally my scattered thoughts. ‘I’m hoping some free-flowing champagne will help to cement Anglo-American relationships and lead to some great deals.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say. ‘But it’s probably too short notice for me now.’
Lawrence Holmes’s frown deepens.
‘I have two children,’ I remind him. ‘I’d need to organise a babysitter. We’ve only just arrived back from Yorkshire. I can see if my au pair can stay on this evening, but it’s her first day and I can’t promise anything. I don’t know anyone else I can call on to help me without a bit more warning.’ I could try Serena too, but I don’t have high hopes. My sister normally needs several days’ notice to sort out her diary.
My new boss purses his lips, clearly unhappy at this unexpected development. ‘This is a regular feature of our work,’ he points out. ‘I thought you’d be aware of that. Next week we have two of these things, maybe three. Is i
t going to be a problem?’
I can see my first black mark being mentally scored against me.
‘No.’ I shake my head while thinking, Yes, it bloody is! I used to do this sort of thing all the time when Will and I worked here, and we sorted out the details between us – even if co-ordinating our diaries was sometimes like a military operation. But this is my first day, for heaven’s sake. Can’t a girl get a break?
‘I’ll leave this with you, Amy,’ Lawrence says. Then he strides away. ‘I hope that you’ll be there.’
‘Wow,’ I say to Gavin when he leaves the room. ‘He’s a force to be reckoned with.’
‘Think you can work with him, Amy?’
Looks like I don’t have much choice in the matter and I’d guess from Gavin’s behaviour that he’s found himself in the same boat. ‘He’ll be eating out of my hand in no time.’
‘I hope so. Lawrence is the future of the BTC.’
Then God help us all, I think.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
‘How’s Delila?’
‘Champion, Vit.’ Alan nodded.
‘And the lamb?’
Alan nodded again. The newborn was currently enjoying being bottle-fed by Alan and was looking sturdy and strong. He sucked hungrily at the plastic teat. There was nothing much wrong with Stuart Little now. Clearly the night in Amy’s Aga did him the power of good. Another happy ending.
‘Everything all right with the rest of the animals?’
Alan shrugged. ‘Can’t find homes for them.’
‘No.’ Guy blew out a worried breath. He’d tried himself, phoning round everyone he could think of who might be up for an orphaned animal, but no one wanted to take on Pork Chop or even the goats or the sheep. At the eleventh hour, someone would probably step forward and rehome the chickens – fingers crossed – but what would happen to the rest of them? Perhaps he’d have another word with the Gerner-Bernards when they arrived. Seeing the new lamb might soften their cold, townie hearts. Guy glanced at his watch. He’d taken an hour or so off from his rounds to see them today so, hopefully, they should be here before too long. He’d promised Amy that he’d let them into the house while they took some measurements for curtains or carpets or some such, then they were due to go into their solicitors and sign the contracts later in the day.
Five minutes later and a smart Mercedes pulled into the drive. The Gerner-Bernards got out, all smiles. Guy hated them instantly. The husband sported a black ‘Teddy Boy’ jacket with bright red lining and those rectangular spectacles like art critics wore on The South Bank Show. The wife was in a flowing purple velvet number that brushed the floor, and had hair that was an alarming shade of pink. He couldn’t see them fitting into the village at all. But then, hadn’t he thought that when he’d first clapped eyes on Amy and Will? Still, it was clear a few minutes after talking to Will Ashurst that his primary concern had been to assimilate into village life and embrace the country ways – odd though they might well be on occasions. Somehow, he just wasn’t getting the same vibe from the Gerner-Bernards and the poor couple hadn’t even opened their mouths yet.
He held out his hand and they shook it. ‘Guy Burton,’ he said. ‘I’m a friend of Mrs Ashurst. I said I’d let you in.’
‘Where’s the estate agent?’ Mrs Gerner-Bernard wanted to know.
Hello, nice to meet you too, he thought. Clearly the woman wasn’t keen to talk to the local yokels. Guy gritted his teeth. ‘He should be coming, but he’s not the most reliable sort,’ he admitted. ‘Most people round here operate on Scarsby time, which can run an hour or more later than Greenwich Mean Time. That’s why Amy wanted me to be here so you wouldn’t have a wasted journey.’
‘Hmm,’ she snorted, and with that Guy opened the kitchen door and let them inside.
Mrs Gerner-Bernard wrinkled her nose as she stood in the centre of the room and surveyed her soon-to-be new home. ‘It looks even worse now that it’s empty,’ she trilled.
‘How can people live like this?’ Mr Gerner-Bernard wanted to know. ‘It’s barbaric. Positively Dickensian.’
Guy wanted to kill them already. And these horrors were going to be his new neighbours?
‘The builders will soon have it right,’ Mrs Gerner-Bernard assured him.
‘Are they starting on the underpinning first?’ Guy queried.
They both spun round and stared at him as if they’d forgotten he was there at all.
‘Underpinning?’ they said together.
‘Your survey picked up the mine-shaft? Surely?’
To Guy’s delight, they looked at each other blankly. ‘Mine-shaft?’
‘This area’s riddled with them,’ he informed the trendy couple. ‘You might be lucky though. It might not be directly under the house.’ Guy kept his expression as neutral as he could manage. ‘It could just be under the yard.’
‘No one mentioned this,’ Mr Gerner-Bernard said, frowning.
‘Really?’ His face was the picture of innocence. ‘It’s well known round these parts. Might not give you any trouble for years though.’
They looked relieved at that.
‘Then again . . .’ Guy rubbed his chin and sucked in his breath.
‘I’m surprised Mrs Ashurst didn’t tell us,’ the man said. ‘She seemed like a decent sort.’
‘Oh she is,’ Guy assured him. ‘But then she was desperate for a quick sale.’
Their frowns deepened.
‘But maybe I’m worrying you unnecessarily,’ he said lightly. ‘Perhaps the great fissure in the earth isn’t serious enough to trouble your property.’ He smiled sweetly at them. ‘Yet.’
The Gerner-Bernards looked frozen to the spot.
‘Don’t let me hold you up in taking your measurements,’ he said politely. ‘I’ll just wait in the yard with the animals until you’re ready. And please don’t worry about them still being here either. They’ll all be gone by the time you arrive. As you don’t want them we’re sending them all to slaughter.’
The Gerner-Bernards recoiled at that. ‘Let’s . . . let’s get a move on,’ the wife whispered, and together they shot through to the living room.
Despite Amy’s harsh words on the morning she left, Guy was still convinced that she’d fallen in love with Helmshill and the Grange. No matter how much she tried to deny it. He sighed to himself. If only there was a way . . .
A scant ten minutes later and they were back in the kitchen. ‘Thank you,’ Mrs Gerner-Bernard said stiffly. ‘We’ve seen more than enough.’
‘Good,’ Guy said. ‘I look forward to welcoming you to the village. It takes people a long time to warm to strangers round these parts, but when we do, we’ll never be away from your door. You can count on that.’
He gave them a friendly wink and Mr and Mrs Gerner-Bernard held hands together tightly.
Strangely, they rushed away after that. And when they’d gone, their Mercedes purring off into the distance, Guy leaned back on the fence that bounded the yard. He regarded Helmshill Grange, massaging his chin thoughtfully as he did. It was a fine house. Despite Alan’s ministrations, it was still looking a bit dilapidated, but there was nothing insurmountable. No mine-shaft running beneath it, for instance. He grinned to himself. That was a very cruel thing to do. All the Grange needed was a serious cash injection of about twenty grand, give or take a few bob, which could transform this place into something quite spectacular. The house had been an integral part of the village for many years. It should be a family home, filled with children and animals, not a bland showcase for some arsey posh people to do their entertaining.
He’d tried his best to put the Gerner-Bernards off the place. Had it worked? He should know soon enough. Amy would kill him if she knew what he’d done, but it was hard to stand back and watch while some more ‘incomers’ moved in, to use it only as a weekend place. And maybe that was when Guy had decided that he wouldn’t.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
I’ve been calling Kati’s mobile phone all day to see if she
’d be available to babysit for the children tonight, but I’m getting nothing but voicemail. After leaving a dozen messages, she still hasn’t called me back. Now I’m worried. I’ve tried Serena too, but she’s in a conference and unavailable, so I texted her instead.
Even though it’s my first day back, I’m going to have to leave the office early in order to meet Tom and Jessica from school. If I can’t get hold of Kati, how can I be sure that she’s going to be there to collect my children? I glance at the clock. Three-thirty. I try Kati’s phone for the millionth time. A big fat nothing. Now I’m going to have to explain my plight to Gavin and then fly to get to the school in time.
Just at this moment Lawrence bowls in. That’s all I need.
‘Amy . . .’
I hold up my hand. ‘Lawrence, I have to leave. Now. I’m really, really sorry. My au pair’s let me down and my children will be standing outside the school with no one to collect them.’
The full Holmes frown is bestowed on me again.
Then my mobile phone rings and his frown becomes a great line of furrows as we’re technically not allowed personal telephone calls during working hours either. ‘This could be from her,’ I say, and I pick up anyway.
‘Hello, Mrs Ashurst. It’s Wayne at Collier’s here.’ The estate agent.
‘I’m busy right now,’ I say reluctantly. I hope he’s phoning me to say that the sale of Helmshill Grange has finally been completed. That would certainly be a weight off my mind. ‘Can I call you back?’
‘I won’t interrupt your fun, Amy,’ Lawrence says with raised eyebrows. Then he strides away, slamming the office door as he leaves.
I sigh and speak to Wayne as I shrug on my coat, grab my bag and make for the door. ‘I hope you’ve got some good news for me,’ I say wearily.
‘Er . . . ’fraid not,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘The Gerner-Bernards should have gone to their solicitors this afternoon to sign the contracts.’