Paradise Fields (6 page)

Pierce nodded.

‘It's outrageous!' went on Nel. ‘Do you know – no, I suppose you don't – but all the stallholders pay—' Just in time she stopped herself saying ‘rent'. Knowing her luck, if they found out about that, they would demand to have the money back.

‘What do they pay?' asked the solicitor.

‘A donation – it's a donation – a small proportion of what they earn at the market to the hospice.'

‘What market?' asked Kerry Anne, ignoring the references to the hospice.

‘At present there's an occasional, informal farmers' market held in the fields, just in front of the house,' said Jake. ‘There was one just before Christmas.' He looked at Nel, and while there was nothing in the look, she knew he hadn't forgotten that he'd kissed her, after all.

Kerry Anne shuddered. ‘I don't want a lot of cheap clothes and thrift-shop furniture making the place look like a garage sale.'

‘It's not that sort of market,' Nel explained. ‘As Mr Demerand said, it's a farmers' market. Sort of.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean the produce for sale is very high quality, produced locally, mostly organic – vegetables, meat, cheese, yoghurt and cream. No one sells clothes.'

‘I don't eat meat,' said Kerry Anne.

Nel took a patient breath. ‘Maybe not, but if other people do, wouldn't you prefer them to eat meat that's been reared in a kind, humane way? And there's the cheese.' She bit her lip at the thought of Kerry Anne eating cheese called Tom's Old Socks.

‘We don't eat dairy either.'

‘Well, there's the vegetables! You've got to eat
something, after all.' Although, looking at you, you probably just lightly spritz yourself with mountain dew and survive on that, she added silently.

‘I am very careful about what I put into my body.' She smiled at Jake in a way that warned him she was about to make either a joke or a risqué statement. It turned out to be a cliché. ‘The body is, after all, a temple.'

Nel winced. Her body wasn't a temple. It was perfectly functional, got her from A to B with no problems, but no one, not even Nel, worshipped at it. And no one, she was perfectly sure, would ever look at her temple in the way Jake Demerand was looking at Kerry Anne's. She may have only been able to judge this from the back of his head, but it was still a safe bet that he was practically drooling. How could she have spared him the briefest thought? He was obviously a womaniser. Simon might not make her heart race because of a simple kiss, but at least he couldn't be accused of that.

Nel cleared her throat. ‘Sometimes we have a different sort of market, with antique furnishings, linens, a lot of it from France –
brocante
.' (Sounded much better than bric-a-brac, Nel thought.) ‘As an interior designer, you might be interested in that.' Please God.

‘I may well like
visiting
a market like that – I'm always on the lookout for interesting pieces, but I don't want one on my doorstep.' She smiled, and Nel wondered if her teeth were naturally that white, or if she'd had them bleached.

‘So you're planning to settle in England permanently?' Nel addressed Pierce again.

‘Obviously,' answered Kerry Anne. ‘Otherwise why would we be restoring the property? But we'll spend most of our time in London, naturally.'

There was a faint knock on the door, and the nice woman who Nel now definitely remembered asked, ‘Would anyone like tea or coffee?'

‘That would be nice,' said Jake. ‘Kerry Anne, I know you like herb tea, and we have some camomile. What would you like, Mrs Innes? Pierce?'

Nel and Pierce both said, ‘Coffee, please.'

‘So that's one herb tea for Mrs Hunstanton, and for the rest of us, coffee,' said Jake Demerand.

Nel smiled at the woman, just in case she ever needed a spy in the enemy camp. The Hunstantons might legally own the land, but they weren't going to build on it if Nel had anything to do with it. If she needed someone to photocopy incriminating documents, steal the deeds or reveal evidence of an unethical affair, she'd better get the office staff on side as soon as possible. Although, knowing her luck, her potential ally would probably say that Jake Demerand was ‘a lovely man' and wouldn't have a disloyal thought, let alone use office equipment without authorisation.

‘It's not just the hospice,' said Nel. ‘Hundreds of local people would be disadvantaged by this building plan.'

‘Several dozen local people would be advantaged by it,' said Pierce Hunstanton.

‘Not local people,' said Nel. ‘Incomers. People round here who need homes wouldn't be able to afford executive housing.'

Kerry Anne yawned. ‘Oh God! Don't tell us we're moving into Nimby land, and the people resent anyone who wasn't born and raised in the village for three generations.'

‘Three generations hardly gives you the right to vote round here.' Nel smiled to disguise the fact she was
being bitchy. ‘Although actually, they were all very welcoming to me when I came here with my children ten years ago. But I lived in the area, my children went to the local schools and I was active in the community. I still am. What villages and small towns resent is people who just come at weekends, don't contribute to the local economy and make the place a desert during the week.'

‘On the other hand,' said Jake, who Nel was beginning to think of as the devil, ‘if people earn their money outside the community, but spend it inside it, the local economy benefits hugely. Think how many jobs a building project like this would provide.'

Luckily for Nel, she'd had this argument hundreds of times. She was usually on the other side of it, fighting in the corner Jake now occupied, but she still knew all the words. ‘It's only short-term employment. When the building is completed, the builders and labourers are all laid off. The community has lost their facility and the houses are empty for most of the time.'

‘We are not planning to build small houses,' said Pierce Hunstanton. ‘Our houses are unlikely to be bought by weekenders.'

‘They're not likely to be bought by local people either. What will happen is that people who work in London' – she shot a hate-laden glance at Jake – ‘will leave their wives and families down here during the week. The children will be sent to boarding school and the mothers . . .' She paused, her argument and her spirit flagging at the same time.

‘Well, what will the mothers do?' Jake, who hadn't shown any signs of having a sense of humour up to now, seemed to be laughing at her.

‘Nothing very constructive. Shopping in Cheltenham, probably.'

‘I find retail therapy very constructive,' said Kerry Anne and then laughed. She made Nel feel unbearably frumpy and gauche. She was young and sophisticated and in a position of power. Nel felt past her best, untidy and trying to push mud uphill. Both men laughed with Kerry Anne, amused at her womanly wiles and her fondness for spending money.

Nel got to her feet. She only had right on her side, and at that moment she'd willingly have swapped it for one tiny atom of Kerry Anne's confidence. But what the meeting had given her was a whole lot more determination to see the Hunstantons off, to prove to Jake Demerand that she wasn't just a woman you could kiss under the mistletoe and then dismiss. She had lots of friends and between them they would become forceful and effective. There would be a protest, people would camp in trees, inter themselves in drainpipes, and chain themselves to earth-moving equipment. Eventually, the Hunstantons would admit defeat.

‘I'd love to stay here chatting,' she cooed, ‘but I've got a campaign to organise. Thank you so much for meeting with me.' She smiled at Kerry Anne and her husband. ‘It's been very informative.'

She didn't smile at Jake as she stepped over his shiny shoes to get to the door, but she was very friendly to the woman whose name she at last remembered was Margaret.

She'd arranged to meet Vivian in the local wine bar after the meeting.

‘It was awful,' Nel told Vivian as she sat down and
took a sip of the white wine Vivian had ordered for her. ‘Absolutely awful. The hospice doesn't own the land at all. It's the Hunstantons', to build on if they want.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘The solicitor, Jake Demerand' – she clenched her teeth on the words – ‘offered to show me the deeds. I realised then there was no hope.'

‘Not no hope, just that we don't own the land.'

‘That's what I thought!' agreed Nel. ‘We just stop them building on it, then we can go on having the use of it. We'll start a campaign.'

‘Will you have time, what with organising the farmers' market stuff?'

‘Oh yes, I'll have you to help me!'

Vivian sighed. There would never be any question of her not helping. Not only was she as committed to the hospice as Nel was, she would have helped just for Nel's sake.

‘So, tell me about the young interlopers.' Vivian liked to know about people.

‘Well, Pierce Hunstanton is a bit younger than me, I suppose, OK-looking, but not very exciting. But his wife was so gorgeous she'd make anyone look dowdy. Jake Demerand could hardly keep from licking her feet, he was so besotted.'

‘Doesn't sound very promising.'

‘It wasn't. They've obviously got pots of money but according to them, the house is going to take about a million to restore, which is why they need to build.' Nel made a disgusted face.

‘So what's Jake Demerand like? Ancient and black-clad with half-moon spectacles?'

‘That's just what I was expecting! How funny! But no.'

‘I suppose Jake is quite a young name. So?'

For some reason, although until this moment Nel was convinced she always told Vivian everything, she didn't tell her that he was the man who had kissed her under the mistletoe. ‘He's – well, tall, dark and handsome. Bit of a stereotype.'

‘Mm. It's funny, but no one ever says small, fat and handsome, do they? Yet lots of the most attractive men are nothing to write home about in the looks department. So he likes animated Barbie dolls, does he?'

‘He appears to. But you might be able to convince him otherwise.' As she said this, Nel realised she didn't want Vivian sweeping Jake Demerand off to bed, even if it would help their cause, but nor did she want to admit she felt anything except dislike for him.

‘Actually, I've got my sights on someone else at the moment. Besides, I think you should take a crack at him.'

‘You've got to be joking! He'd never look at me in a million years!' Nel paused. He had looked at her, for a brief moment. ‘Anyway, he's probably married.'

‘Doesn't necessarily make any difference. Go on, it would be good practice for you.'

‘Vivian, I was married for a long time; I believe in fidelity. I would never do anything with anyone who was in any kind of relationship. I think it's immoral.'

Vivian yawned. ‘All right, keep your stays on. It was only a suggestion. You've got to do something about your sex life and Simon's not going to do it for you.'

‘Viv!'

Vivian picked up the menu. ‘What are you going to eat?'

‘Salad. That woman was so thin she'd make the presenter of that programme Fleur likes so much look porky.'

‘Sounds bony to me.'

‘To be honest, she wasn't. She glowed. But all that you were saying the other day about men liking flesh is clearly nonsense.'

‘Not all men, obviously, but I also told you my theory about men who only want to sleep with women who look like their skin has been airbrushed onto their bones—'

‘They're paedophiles or latent homosexuals,' Nel chanted patiently. ‘Much as that theory would suit my case, I don't think it applies here.'

‘So, what was she wearing?'

‘A dear little suit. It looked like Chanel, but what do I know? The nearest I get to designer clothes is TK Maxx. Her shoes were heaven too. Lovely little boots with extremely high heels. I suppose she might have really ugly feet. Model beauties so often do.'

‘But she didn't look like trailer trash?'

‘Not exactly. So depressing.'

‘Do we need a little trip somewhere?' suggested Vivian.

‘I'd love to, but I've got no money and no time.' In spite of her disparaging remarks in the solicitor's office, Nel enjoyed retail therapy as much as anyone, even if she did stick to sale rails, charity shops and the energy-sapping TK Maxx. ‘I was hoping to get the Hunstantons to let us go on using the fields for the market until we become official, although I may wait a day or two before storming that barricade again. But I've loads to do, and we've got to get this campaign going.' A young man
came up to their table with a pad. ‘What are you eating?' Nel asked Vivian.

‘Rosti with mushrooms. It's to die for.'

‘I think I'll have that too.'

‘I thought you were going to have salad.'

‘Changed my mind. It's too cold. And I couldn't compete with Kerry Anne even if I were a size ten. Make that two mushroom rostis and we'll share a salad. Thanks.'

When the young man had gone, Vivian leaned forward. ‘So, you're thinking of giving Kerry Anne a run for her money, are you?'

‘No! Of course not! I told you.'

‘It's just in all the years I've known you, I've never known you admit to fancying anybody.'

‘I never said I fancied him. I hate him.'

‘Practically the same thing, darling.'

‘
ALL RIGHT, LOVE?
You're looking a bit down.' Reg, the greengrocer, flung the bag over to twist the corners.

The effect of a cheering lunch with Vivian obviously hadn't worked for long if Reg noticed she was feeling depressed. ‘It's this building application. Have you seen it? They're going to put houses on the water meadows – Paradise Fields. We all thought the hospice owned the land. It doesn't.'