Gooseberry Fool (Tales From Appleyard Book 3) Page 7

  Willow eyed him cautiously.

  ‘Only it strikes me that you have what you need right under your nose, and I’m wondering why you haven’t asked him.’

  Peter might be mistaken, but he thought he detected a slight blush at his words.

  ‘Ask who?’ replied Willow. ‘Oh, do you mean you? That would be perfect, Peter, I —’

  He held up his hand. ‘No, I don’t mean me… although I do almost have a degree in Business and Management. I meant Jude actually. He’s a salesman isn’t he?’

  ‘Well, not really,’ frowned Willow. ‘That makes it sound like he sells double glazing… not that there’s anything wrong with that of course,’ she added quickly. ‘But what Jude does is a bit different. He sells land, huge farms, estates, I mean he even sold an island once. He has a very specialist knowledge, and…’ She caught sight of Peter’s stony expression and ground to a halt. ‘Yes, at the end of the day I guess he is a salesman,’ she accepted.

  ‘So what’s the problem, Willow?’ asked Peter softly. ‘Why won’t you talk to him about any of this? And don’t say it’s because it’s a stupid idea and he wouldn’t want to be bothered with it.’

  ‘Okay then, I won’t.’

  ‘I’m trying to help here you know, and yes, I do have some ideas about how you could market and develop the business, but you and I both know I’m not the solution. I’m only here until October and then I go back to uni, so what use would I be then? What you need is a proper partner in the business who can help you longer term. Jude might be busy, but surely he’d see the value in what you’re doing? He’d be proud wouldn’t he? He’d want to help?’

  Willow bit her lip. ‘I know you’re right. But I also know that Jude is a stickler for detail and he never goes after anything if it doesn’t feel right, if the numbers don’t stack up. I have to present this whole thing as a viable business, up and running, with a business plan, forecasts, and projections if he’s ever going to take any notice of it. Otherwise he’ll discount it out of hand.’

  ‘Okay, I get that, but what’s the problem; you’ll have all that soon.’

  Peter stared at her, waiting for a reply, watching while she took a calming breath.

  ‘I trust you and I need your help, Peter, but if I tell you why I can’t say anything to Jude at the moment you have to promise me you won’t repeat it. I haven’t told a soul about this, not properly anyway.’

  His normally pale complexion coloured quickly. ‘Willow, how can I possibly do that when I don’t know what it is you’re going to say? It could put me in an untenable position.’

  ‘I know, and I shouldn’t ask, but I need your help.’ She raised her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘There’s nothing more I can say. Once you know and understand why I feel the way I do, you can’t unknow it. It has to be your decision. I’m not going to try and convince you.’

  Peter had never been in such a positon before. Sure he’d had friends tell him secrets, who hadn’t, but this was different. From what he could see, Willow and Jude had a happy marriage, but if there was something that Willow felt she needed to keep secret from her husband then it must be important. The other night while he’d waited with Jude for news about Beth, he had heard Jude’s soft words about his wife, affectionate words, caring words; a loving inflection in his voice that could never be faked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anything that might call that into question.

  Willow had said she wouldn’t try to persuade him and, as he looked at her downcast face, he realised that unwittingly perhaps he had lead them to this point. He couldn’t blame her now for trying to explain when that was what he had asked her to do. He liked Willow. He loved her business and the way she lived her life, and now she was asking for his help.

  ‘Go on,’ he said slowly. ‘What is it you need to say?’

  She gave a nervous smile. ‘You’re going to think I’m an absolute nutter, but to be fair you wouldn’t be the first…’ She took another deep breath. ‘I see things sometimes… or feel things. Things which I know other people don’t see or feel, but which give me a particular insight into a situation that’s happening now… or in the future.’ She glanced out of the window as if drawing strength from the view. ‘Have you ever walked down our lane in the other direction, up towards Fallowfield?’ she asked. ‘The house just past the huge horse chestnut?’

  ‘Only once or twice, although I’m not sure I really took much notice of it.’

  ‘Middleton Estates own it. We have a tenant living there: Henry, and although you can’t see it from the road, on the other side of the clearing is Jude’s office. Just past that is a five-bar gate that leads onto a track through the trees, at the other end of which are fields as far as you can see.’

  ‘Which the company also owns?’

  Willow nodded. ‘I had a dream the other week that it was all gone. All the fields, the grasses, the hedges, torn up and replaced with row upon row of houses. Huge jagged craters left in the mud like an open wound.’ She gave an involuntary shudder. ‘Peter, it terrified me to see all of that meadow-land gone, ripped aside through greed, houses crushed together…’

  Peter reached out a tentative hand to touch her arm in comfort.

  ‘I know that’s what Jude is planning. He’s going to sell the land to some developer and build houses on it. I can’t begin to imagine how much money it will make him… but however much it is, it will never be enough for his father. Andrew only ever taught Jude fear. Fear of being poor, fear of being despised by others, richer and more powerful than him, and all Jude ever wanted from his father was to be loved. But there isn’t enough money in the world to make him love Jude, not properly, not like a father should: unconditionally, wholeheartedly. But Jude hasn’t figured this out yet,’ she said bitterly. ‘His father will be behind this somewhere, egging him on, justifying his actions. Telling him you’re only as good as your next million.’ A tear dripped down her cheek. ‘I can’t let Jude do this to himself. I have to make him see that he has a life here, a good life, with people who love him for who he is. I have to show him that enough really can be enough.’

  This wasn’t what Peter had expected to hear from Willow, but curiously, it made sense. Now that Willow had said it out loud he could see the desire in Jude, the mercenary streak that ran through his veins, the way he dressed, the way he spoke sometimes. Jude was a person who liked life with a gilt edge. Peter fished in his pocket for a hanky, passing it to Willow and feeling his own emotions welling up. Willow wasn’t like that. Whatever she had would be enough, and she’d give you her last bean if you asked for it. She wanted a successful business but it wasn’t money that motivated her, it was love. Love for anything that lived, breathed, or grew, but especially, love for Jude.

  ‘Will he take your strawberry fields as well?’ he asked gently.

  Willow looked up sharply, her nose still buried in Peter’s hanky. ‘…I don’t think so,’ she replied, and then stronger, ‘no, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that… not to start with anyway, but it will come in time. What’s to stop the developer wanting more and more?’

  Peter thought quickly. ‘So, assuming what you’ve said is true, your idea is to give Jude a viable alternative to his plan so that he doesn’t sell the land. A business which ultimately you would run together, and one which he can see has a chance of being a success? He would stand to lose a huge amount of money though, Willow. Do you really think it might work?’

  She wiped her nose again. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s the only chance I’ve got.’

  ‘You’re going to have to speak to him about all this sometime; you do know that, don’t you? You might have got it all wrong, and–’

  Willow shook her head urgently. ‘I know, but not yet. I need to get things sorted out, Peter, I haven’t got much time. I don’t know how far advanced his plans are, or how much time I have on my side. It could only be a matter of weeks and, if I show my ideas to Jude now, without any of the assurances I know he’ll look for, the
n I might as well not bother. I need something solid to divert his course of action, not a half-baked plan that would simply reinforce the notion that his own pursuits are the only realistic option for our future. I either need more time, or more results, and that’s all there is to it.’

  There was no knowing what amount of time they had, Peter could see that. All this still might be for nothing, but they had to try, surely?

  ‘Have you got a pen and a notebook I can scribble in? I need to know exactly what you’ve done so far.’

  Chapter 9

  Jude turned his car into the secluded parking area with a flourish, covering the small distance to the guest parking spaces far more quickly than was necessary. His powerful car swung around, coming to a halt immediately beneath a security camera, one of several that ringed the car park. It didn’t matter whether you were inside the building or outside, appearances were what mattered.

  He levered his long legs out of the car, and reached into the back for his jacket. His Ralph Lauren suit clung in all the right places, the jacket settling effortlessly along his shoulders, the crisp shirt he’d chosen, just a little tighter than he would normally wear. He’d debated buying a new suit for the occasion but decided that this would deliver the wrong message. He didn’t want to look as though he was trying to impress; he simply wanted to be impressive, and far better to arrive wearing an old favourite that showed how accustomed he was to fine clothes than to look like some jumped up barrow boy. He straightened his cufflinks and closed the car door with a clunk.

  The cameras tracked him silently as he walked. He wouldn’t need to announce his arrival. By the time he pushed open the door into the elegant glass atrium, Emily would have alerted her boss to his presence and would rise to greet him, enquiring politely about his journey and escorting him personally up to the third floor. The board room would already be set up, and her order for fresh coffee would take only a matter of seconds as he approached the building. Edward would be ready for him, as, no doubt, would Olivia. He only hoped he was ready for them.

  His face had held a gracious smile for the whole distance across the car park to the reception area, and only now, as he reached out a hand for the door, did he allow himself to clench his jaws together momentarily. By the time he met Emily’s outstretched hand the smile was back. The next hour would possibly be the most important of his career, and he pushed the memory of the last conversation with his father away, thrusting it deep into a place where, today at least, it would not surface. He concentrated on Emily’s face, not only on what she was saying, but what her eyes told him too. Secretaries always knew what was going down, and he’d never met one yet who’d been able to hide it.

  Olivia met him as he stepped from the lift, her brown eyes twinkling mischievously. She was wearing a bright red dress, clingy and low cut, and Jude let his eyes wander its length for just a moment longer than casual interest might dictate. He met her gaze with a smile, leaning in for the customary kiss on both cheeks.

  Her cheek was soft against his, as she pressed her body up against him, one hand lingering against his arm as she slowly stroked its length. When she finally pulled away, her eyes flashed like a cat in the night, and Jude let a soft sigh whisper into the space between them.

  ‘Jude, you’re looking even more ravishing than the last time we met. How will I ever keep my hands off you?’

  He placed a hand in the small of her back as she turned around, applying just enough pressure to the base of her spine. His other hand was already extended towards her husband who he had spied walking soundlessly across the deep carpet to join them.

  ‘Edward, a pleasure as always,’ he smiled.

  The hand that shook his was cool despite the warmth of the day.

  ‘Jude,’ he nodded in return, and then taking his wife’s arm, ‘Shall we?’ He motioned towards the board room.

  Inside, the table which would easily accommodate twelve was laid for just the three of them. A black jotter marked each place, a white coffee cup at its top right hand corner. Apart from the carafe of fresh coffee, the table held a marble platter with milk, sugar, and a plate filled with a dozen or so small pastries. The only other thing on the table was a sheaf of thick white paper.

  As Jude sat in the space indicated, Emily materialised back into the room, holding a trio of iPads, one of which she set up on the table in front of him. The others she passed to Edward and Olivia before soundlessly leaving the room. It was like a dance, a bizarre mating ritual, but Jude knew the moves, and he played them effortlessly.

  The door closed behind them with a soft click as he waited for Edward to speak. His heart was pounding.

  ‘Well then Jude, how about it?’ he grinned. ‘Is today a good day to make an obscene amount of money?’

  ‘It’s always a good day for making money, Eddie, but obscenity can sometimes take a little longer.’ He flashed a candid smile. ‘And I never sign anything on an empty stomach. May I?’ he asked, indicating the tray of pastries.

  Olivia slipped out of her seat and began to pour the coffee. ‘Help yourself,’ she purred. The pastries were not the only thing being offered on a plate.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of summarising the key points of our agreement,’ said Edward, ‘which you can find in front of you, although you and I both know we could recite them in our sleep. I want to be sure that you’re happy with everything, Jude. It’s important to me that there are no doubts from your perspective; Jennings Pemberton has built its reputation on integrity and, important though this deal is, for both of us, I’ve no wish to jeopardise what we’ve worked so hard for on a detail overlooked, or a technicality. Please take all the time you need before signing.’

  Jude smiled. Edward was smooth, there was no denying it, but the fact of the matter was that Jude would not be sitting here today if he were in any way unsure about the deal on the table. Jude paid his lawyers a great deal of money to make sure that every detail was locked down, and indeed Jude himself had set the terms of this deal. There was never going to be any deviation from its specifications, he simply would not allow it. Today had been a very long time coming and Jennings Pemberton were certainly not the first organisation with whom he had sought to broker a deal. It was gracious of Edward to make it appear that they were doing him a favour, but really it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Even the parcel of land he’d thrown in as a sweetener had been chosen with the utmost care. Completely disingenuous on his part of course; he was well aware that there was every possibility that planning permission would be granted on it, but it didn’t hurt to feign ignorance. Punters liked to think they were getting one over on the seller, and for all his integrity, Edward was no different.

  He sipped his coffee, savouring the rich taste. ‘I’m happy to sign, Eddie,’ he said. ‘I trust you received Andrew’s instructions yesterday?’

  ‘On the dotted line, Jude, all present and correct.’

  Jude lifted the cup to his lips once more, letting it hide the outward breath he released. Andrew’s co-operation had been by no means assured, and after their argument of the other evening there was a small, but none the less, significant risk that he would veto the agreement at the last minute. Jude was mightily relieved to see that Andrew’s mercenary tendencies still held. Cold-hearted he might be, but he was no fool, and given the choice of either signing and accepting the new arrangements or losing a good deal of virtually free money, was there really any other choice open to him?

  Edward reached inside his jacket pocket to retrieve a midnight blue fountain pen that exactly matched the colour of his tie, and slid it along the table towards Jude.

  Jude looked down at the sheaf of paper on the blotter in front of him. He scanned the pages with a practised eye, and flipped to the last page with a casual flick of his wrist. He signed his name on the bottom without a second glance.

  As if a spell had been broken the calculated atmosphere in the room relaxed, and jackets were removed, ties were loosened and the conversation flowed
amiably. Olivia rubbed her foot along Jude’s calf a total of three times and Jude enquired politely how their eldest daughter’s GCSEs had gone. Forty nine minutes after he first entered the building, Jude bid a cheerful goodbye to Emily in reception and walked back out to the car park. Moments later he swung out past the security cameras with just the same panache as when he had entered.

  He waited until he was several streets from the offices of Jennings Pemberton before pulling his car to the side of the road, opening his door and vomiting the two almond pastries and Olivia’s unwelcome attention and cloying perfume into the cool grass of the verge.

  Chapter 10

  It was difficult to see how Freya was managing to type anything on her laptop. It was precariously poised on a pile of papers, resting at such a slant that it bounced up and down each time she typed. Willow hovered in the doorway for a moment, unwilling to break Freya’s concentration, but also fascinated to see her working in such a haphazard fashion. As she watched, Freya lifted up her laptop, peered at the piece of paper directly underneath it, and then carried on typing completely oblivious to how absurd she looked.

  Sam leaned towards Willow. ‘She’s been like that for hours. Every time I come in the paper level has risen another inch. God knows where it’s all coming from. In fact, if you hadn’t arrived I’d be worried I might lose her altogether.’

  ‘I can hear you, you know,’ came the disembodied voice from behind the laptop. ‘Sorry, Willow, I’ll be with you in a minute… I just want to finish this sentence. . . while it’s all in my head.’

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ grinned Sam, crossing the room.

  Willow looked around her at the homely kitchen. When they were children she used to come here at least once a week after netball practice. Freya’s dad would make them hot chocolate and they would sit and giggle their way through copies of Just Seventeen. She’d never dreamed that years later they would still be here, hatching plans and schemes of a different kind. But it felt right; the happy energy in the room was still here after all this time, as if nothing had changed, and even Freya herself didn’t look much different to how she had then, frantically trying to finish her homework before school the next day. When Freya’s father had died last year it had looked for a while as if she might lose both the farm and her childhood home, but today, with Sam at her side their future was secure. She could only hope that her own plans would bring about a similar resolution for her and Jude.