Pathway to Tomorrow (2 page)

“Where is he going to live…this Marcus Lewis?”

“I think he’s bought the old farmhouse down by the beach.”

Jodie seized her arm. “Who told you?”

Izzie stared at her, surprised by her vehemence. “Someone at school. Her Dad’s an estate agent or something. Why are you so bothered when you don’t even have the first clue who he is?”

“Because your Marcus Lewis is the man who has closed the bridleway.”

“My Marcus Lewis…I wish,” Izzie grinned as she shook her head in puzzlement.  Then she looked around the room.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on, and why my dear sister seems to have gone ever so slightly mad?”

* * *

Jodie’s temper wasn’t any better by the end of the evening. For a start she and Izzie had spent so long trying to track down Marcus Lewis’ contact details on the Internet that she knew she wasn’t going to get her paperwork finished unless she stayed up until long after midnight. To make matters worse they hadn’t been able to find out anything useful.  No phone number. No address.  Just a website full of musical stuff.  Izzie had scrolled right through it but Jodie had given up and pushed back her chair in disgust. It wasn’t what she wanted.

“Lots of celebrities try to stay under the radar,” Izzie had soothed, stretching her back when she eventually got up from where she had been hunched in front of the computer.  “If they made it easy for fans to find out where they lived…well it would make their lives impossible.”

“It doesn’t help us though, does it?” Jodie grumbled. 

“No, but we can send an email to his agent’s contact address. We did find that. And anyway he’s bound to turn up in the village eventually.  You’ll be able to talk to him then.”

“Not if he’s such a celebrity I won’t.  He’ll probably travel everywhere by limousine, with minders or something.”

“Whatever!” Izzie gave a wide yawn and rubbed her eyes. She’d had enough of Marcus Lewis until he actually moved into the village. When that happened she was going to do everything in her power to get to know him, but when she spoke to him she wasn’t going to waste time talking about bridleways or footpaths. Not that she was about to tell Jodie that.

Chapter Three

The tall man in the wool beanie was leaning on the top bar of the gate on the third morning Jodie road by.  He was gazing into the straggle of woodland while a very old black Labrador sat patiently beside him. The man in the yellow flu
orescent jacket, the man who had secured the padlock in the first place, was just getting into a van that was idling at the curb. With a twitch of the reins she pulled Buckmaster to a halt as he drove away.

“What did he tell you?” she demanded.

The man in the beanie hat swung round and stared up at her, a look of puzzlement on his face.  He had very blue eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Did he say how long it would be before they start building?  Did he say how long it will be before Mr. Marcus…I can do exactly as I like because I have a lot of money and this is my land…Lewis, turns up? No he didn’t, did he?  I can see from the look on your face that you’ve no idea what’s going on. I bet he didn’t even tell you when they’re going to start cutting down the trees.”

Without giving him time to answer, she slid down from Buckmaster’s back and walked across to the gate to stand beside him. Her head barely reached his shoulder. Together they surveyed the tangle of undergrowth, and then Jodie turned towards him, her body taut with impatience.

“Didn’t he tell you anything?”

“Not about the bridleway, no,” Marcus Lewis shook his head.  He was torn between irritation, amusement, and just a little admiration. She was certainly passionate about her damned bridleway that was for sure. Courageous too. He could still remember what she had said about chaining herself to the gatepost.

“Why is this bridleway so important anyway?” he asked. “There must be others.”

“There are,” she conceded, looking up at him.  “But we have to negotiate a lot of traffic to get to them.  This is the only one that takes us straight down to the beach.”

“We?”

“The children who use my riding school.”

“You work in a riding school?”

She nodded dispiritedly.  “For what it’s worth I’m the manager, so I’ve a vested interest in keeping my riders safe.”

His gaze slid over her.  It didn’t compute.  She wasn’t much more than a teenager.  As if she knew what he was thinking she suddenly grinned at him. It totally transformed her face, changing her expression from angry to something altogether different.  He found himself responding with a smile of his own as he wondered if the hair hidden under her riding hat was as dark as her eyes.

“I’m older than I look,” she told him as she took hold of the horse’s saddle and vaulted onto its back.  “Way, way older!  In fact I’m plenty old enough to give Marcus Lewis a piece of my mind when he eventually turns up.  In the meantime I’m going to start gathering protest signatures.”

“I thought you said you were going to chain yourself to the gate,” he said, squinting up at her against the early morning sun.

She laughed as she began to move away, pleased he had remembered.  “Don’t worry. I’ll be doing that too, but not until the journalists arrive. I want to inflict maximum damage to his reputation.”

* * *

He watched her go.  She was a good rider. She sat straight and true in the saddle, moving rhythmically, guiding the horse beneath her with only an occasional twitch of the reins. She was attractive too, despite the riding hat and the shapeless green fleece that hid any curves she might have. Good looking, courageous, passionate…a girl worth knowing in different circumstances.  Then he shrugged and turned back to the gate.  Those No Trespassing notices were still going up.  After all he had Luke to think about.

Chapter Four

It was three weeks before there was any more action. Then a flat bed truck turned up and off-loaded a shiny new trailer.  Jodie saw it arrive when she passed by on her daily reconnaissance. The tall man with the dog was there again as well. He was standing beside the open gate, apparently quite unconcerned that he was in the way. Jodie waved to him but she didn’t stop because she didn’t want the bustle and the noise to spook Buckmaster.

By the time they returned from their morning gallop along the beach, all was quiet.  The tall man was still there though, only now he was contemplating a large red notice board that had been erected on the other side of the gate. Jodie stared at it.

THIS IS PRIVATE LAND.  ALL TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED

From her position, sitting high up in the saddle, she could see that a second board had been erected at the far end of the bridleway as well. 

“It’s war now,” she said. “There’s obviously no point in appealing to his better nature.  Those signs prove he hasn’t got one.”

“He is entitled you know. After all it is his land.” Marcus Lewis walked across to where Buckmaster was blowing through his nostrils.

“And I thought you were on my side,” she said in disgust. Then she wheeled about and trotted away, her parting words floating back to him on the breeze.  “If you want to sign the protest there will be a list for signatures in the village shop.”

He watched her go.  He didn’t know why he hadn’t told her who he was when they first met, or why he was compounding the problem now. After all she was bound to find out sooner or later because it was very clear she wasn’t going away any time soon. He sighed as he bent down and patted his dog.

“I guess I’m a coward Blue,” he told him. “But at least I know what I’m up against now.  A protest campaign that’s being run by the village shop!”

* * *

Marcus underestimated the power of the village shop, however.  Within a few days Jodie’s campaign had garnered a lot of sympathy, and once people from outside the village started adding their signatures to the list as well, the local Press got involved. 

At first it was just a couple of lines telling readers about the protest.  Then it was a half page picture of the closed off bridleway with the No Trespass sign featuring prominently in the foreground. By the third week things were a lot worse. Marcus, who had been away on business and so had missed the earlier papers, stared at the lurid headline in barely contained fury.

ACCIDENTS INEVITABLE AS MUSIC MOGUL

FORCES YOUNG RIDERS ONTO THE ROADS!

Underneath was a picture of that dratted girl and her horse. The caption said she was called Jodie Eriksson, and she was flanked by a group of small children. Marcus knew publicity and he could see they had all been told to look as miserable as possible.  If he hadn’t been so angry he would have found it amusing. Instead, he grabbed his cell phone and called his agent.  He needed to organize some damage limitation as soon as possible.

* * *

The following week he was standing on the steps of the trailer talking to his site manager when he saw Jodie clamber over the gate and start to walk up the path. She was clutching a folded newspaper in her hand and from her furious expression he knew he was in trouble.  Deciding he’d better meet it head on, he excused himself and strode towards her.

“You do know you are trespassing,” he said.

She glared at him.  “Did you enjoy making a fool of me? Did it amuse you to pretend to sympathize and then go away and laugh about me with all your celebrity friends?”

Wondering what she would think of him if she knew he could count his celebrity friends on two thumbs, he shook his head.

“I haven’t discussed you with anyone. I didn’t set out to deceive you either…I…it just it never seemed to be the right time to come clean.”

“Huh!”

One word, but somehow she managed to make it radiate disbelief and contempt.  Her eyes were the same.  They might be dark brown and luminous, and set under finely arched brows, but they were hard and unforgiving. 

He knew a sensible person would just point to the No Trespassers sign and send her on her way but suddenly, and inexplicably, he found himself minding very much what she thought of him. 

“Come into the trailer. Join me for a coffee while I try to explain things.”

“What’s to explain? You made your feelings very clear in your newspaper interview. You have no intention of opening up the bridleway. Your personal privacy is far too important.”

“Maybe.  But I didn’t say why.”

“You didn’t need to. Your picture says it all!  It’s obvious you want silence so you can be ready when the muse strikes!”

She thrust the newspaper at him as she finished speaking.  It was folded open at his picture and he cringed inwardly when he saw the PR shot his publicist had chosen.  It was the one where his hair was slightly too long and slightly too artfully arranged, where his silk shirt was open one button too many, and where his pose was soulful and serious. In it, he looked every inch the poseur maestro, right down to the white grand piano behind him. No wonder she thought she knew why he had refused to open up the bridleway.

He shook his head again.  “It has nothing to do with my music. It’s because of my son.”

“Your son?  The article doesn’t mention that you have a son.”

“That’s because I don’t talk to the Press about him.”

“But you’re talking to me.”

“Yes I am, because I want you to understand why I can’t open up the bridleway however much you want me to.  I want you to understand why Luke has to be protected.”

Her expression didn’t change but at least she was listening. He took a deep breath.

“He has...a learning disability.”

“And?”

His temper flared.  She was impossible. “And nothing!  Isn’t that enough for you.”

“No.  Not unless you think he’s about to be kidnapped or something.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t think so.  Explain to me why his learning disability affects the bridleway?”

“Well for a start he’s frightened of people.  A new face can make him hysterical for hours. He’s the same with people he does know if they turn up unexpectedly. He finds a lot of things challenging and that’s why I have no choice but to keep the bridleway closed…I need to protect him from himself.”

“So you’re going to turn your home into a fortress without any regard for the local people you’re going to upset in the process. Tell me, do you really think that is what your son needs, or is it just the easy way out?”

Surprised she was still challenging him he met her gaze and saw something close to sympathy had crept into her eyes. He resisted it.  He wasn’t interested in sympathy.  He just wanted her to understand about Luke.

She gave the tiniest of smiles when she saw his scowl.  “Maybe I will have that coffee after all, but only if I can bring Buckmaster inside the gate.”