Saving Willowbrook (2 page)

He came into the huge kitchen without knocking, smiling as if nothing was wrong. ‘Hi.'

She folded her arms and glared at him, waiting.

He cocked one eye at her questioningly. ‘Surely we can talk about this in a calm, adult way?'

‘I'm past the talking stage. Just take the rest of your things and get out! And don't ever come here again. I want a divorce.'

He studied her and sighed. ‘Very well. But we should make this divorce amicable, for Amy's sake, don't you think? How about a coffee? It's a long drive from London.'

‘I'd not give you a drink of water if you were dying of thirst.'

‘Dear me. How melodramatic!' His smile didn't falter, but his eyes were cold and watchful. ‘You always were rash, Ella. Typical redhead. That temper of yours will be your undoing one day.'

‘How could you possibly think I'd sell Willowbrook?'

‘I thought when you found out how much they were offering, you'd see reason. We could have made a fortune.' He looked out of the window towards the six holiday chalets they were building as the first stage of a venture into tourism. ‘I started those chalets to tempt buyers to the farm and they've done that. If you read those papers you opened—'

‘I did
not
open them!'

‘However you came by the information, you'll know what a big fish we had on the hook, Skara Holdings was offering enough to set you and Amy up in comfort for the rest of your lives, even after I'd taken my spotter's share. Look at that!' He gestured to the view. ‘A private lake, woods, land zoned for agriculture that can't be built on. It's perfect for a major tourist development.'

‘We had trouble getting even limited development permission from the council.'

‘But those chalets got our foot in the door, planning-wise. That's how it's done these days, create a precedent. It wouldn't be hard to push the council for more if someone went about it the right way. As it is, you're going to be left in the mire, Ella, my pet. How are you going to finish the chalets without my money? I'm definitely not paying for something which won't benefit me.'

She'd been worrying about that. ‘None of your business now. I'll manage.'

‘You're being stupid as well as stubborn. What about Amy? She's only going to get worse. Wouldn't a disabled child be better facing life with money behind her? She may never be able to work and—'

‘How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing wrong with Amy's brain? Her problem is physical and children like her are usually smarter than average, so she'll be able to do a desk job as well as anyone else, probably better than most. And if by the time she grows up, she's using a wheelchair to get around – which isn't always necessary for people with her problem, remember – well, the world is used to people with disabilities and technology is getting better at helping them all the time.'

She clamped her lips together. It was no use talking to him about their daughter. The minute they'd found out that Amy had spinal muscular atrophy, in her case the milder version known as SMA3, Miles had withdrawn mentally and physically, not only from their daughter but from Ella as well. And yet, the defect only showed up if both parents were carriers, so why he always blamed her for it, she didn't understand.

Actually, she did understand. She'd come to realize that he never admitted being in the wrong, always found someone else to blame. It was part of the way he dealt with every aspect of life.

‘The child would get help more easily, if you had money,' he said slowly and with heavy scorn, as if speaking to someone stupid. ‘You do realize my medical insurance will no longer cover you from now on?'

‘You'll cut Amy off it too? I was hoping . . .' Ella bit back further words, annoyed at having betrayed her feelings.

‘Now that
you
have ruined this project, I'm damned if I'm helping you in any way. You've not only turned down a good offer – you always were stupid financially – you've lost me a top job with the same company. It'll be a while before certain people have confidence in me after this fiasco.'

‘So why did you waste petrol money coming down here?'

‘Haven't you been listening?
We need – to reach an agreement – about the chalets
. You and I, not some damned lawyers.
I
borrowed the money to build them, so I could still close you down and force a sale if I demanded repayment.'

‘And if you did that, I'd tell Skara Holdings you were trying to sell my house without my permission, which would further damage your reputation in that wonderful business world you inhabit.'

The look he gave her was briefly vicious but was quickly replaced by a cool expression. ‘You won't do that, though. For our dear daughter's sake. Anyway, I'm not going to foreclose. I'll treat it as an investment and let the money you owe me stand for the moment, for Amy's sake – I do care for my child, whatever you believe. But you'll need to buy me out one day – and not in twenty years' time, either. Let's agree that you'll pay me back within five years – with annual interest at current mortgage rates? What could be fairer?' He looked at her questioningly.

‘Ten years would be better.'

‘I'm not a bloody philanthropist. And what's more, I'm not paying maintenance for Amy as well as losing the chance to use my own money. Is it a deal or not?'

‘Probably.' She'd manage somehow, pay Miles back, do whatever it took. She didn't intend to be the Turner who lost Willowbrook, even though she was the first not to farm it. She'd no interest in raising beef cattle and had leased the fields out after her father died, keeping only the land around the lake. Her mother had moved back to Lancashire to be near her elderly parents and was now remarried, to a great guy.

Miles smirked at Ella and she pulled her attention back to the present.

‘You'll have to get the chalets up and running without my help.' He reached into his inside pocket. ‘I've drawn up an agreement. If you could just sign it and—'

‘Send it to my lawyer.'

‘I thought we were going to keep this between ourselves. It's all perfectly straightforward, just read it.'

‘I'm signing nothing without Ian Hannow's say-so. I trust him; I don't trust you.' She gestured towards the door. ‘If that's all, we'll say goodbye. Don't come back here again, Miles. You can make any further arrangements through my lawyer. If you want access to Amy, he'll arrange that too.'

He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I might have known you'd go back to the Hannows. They're as stick-in-the-mud as you are. Right, then. I'll go up and pack my things, then I'm off.'

He was out of the kitchen and up the stairs before she could stop him.

She followed him up. ‘Your clothes are no longer here; they're packed and waiting for you out in the barn.' She hadn't been able to face sharing a wardrobe for one hour longer with his precisely arranged row of designer jeans and trousers, expensive shirts and tops.

‘You don't mind if I check that you've got everything?' He moved towards the wardrobe and stared inside, then opened the drawers that had been his one by one. ‘You were very thorough, weren't you?'

‘It was a labour of love.'

Before he went downstairs he flicked a scornful finger towards her jewellery box. ‘You should put that away. It's stupid leaving it in full view. Any burglar would go straight to it. As I said, you have no financial sense.'

She shrugged and followed him downstairs.

He looked at Amy. ‘I'm leaving now. Be a good girl.'

But he didn't touch the child or even wait for her answer, simply moved on across the yard to the structure they still called the barn, though it stood empty now, housing only her car and a few old farm tools. She gestured to the pile of rubbish bin bags to one side. ‘There you are. Every single thing that belongs to you. I doubt anything's missing, but if it is, tell me and I'll send it on.'

‘You realize I'll need to have them all ironed after they've been stuffed into those bags and dumped out here.'

She shrugged. Whether his suits and shirts would need ironing had been the last thing on her mind. He dressed well, she had to give him that. No woman took more care with her appearance than he did.

For a moment he continued to glare at her, then he picked up a couple of the bags and carried them out to his car.

In the yard, Amy took a few uncertain steps towards him, the rolling gait caused by her weak lower spinal muscles very marked. He didn't even slow down as he walked to and fro, just said, ‘I'm busy, Amy.'

Ella put her arm round her daughter. ‘Let's go into the house, love. Your father's in a hurry to leave.'

Inside, she went round bolting all the external doors so that he couldn't come back in. She'd have the locks changed tomorrow. Well, the house locks, anyway. The barn locks were centuries old and would have to stay, but she didn't think he had keys to them. Why would he? After his first tour of the group of outbuildings, he'd hardly ever gone inside again.

‘Why is Daddy so angry?'

‘Because he's not going to live with us any more.'

Amy frowned. ‘Never?'

‘Never.'

‘Nessa's old daddy went away. It's called a divorce. Are we going to have a divorce?'

So much for breaking the news gently! ‘Yes.'

‘Nessa's going to have a new daddy soon. Are we going to get a new daddy?'

Ella shuddered at the thought. She was done with men. ‘No. There'll just be you and me.' She hugged the child and settled her with a glass of milk and a biscuit, keeping an eye on the barn through the kitchen window, watching Miles load his possessions into his car. When he'd finished he stood for a minute or two, studying the jumble of outbuildings, turning slowly round in a circle, staring for a few minutes at the picturesque eighteenth-century farmhouse then staring at the line of willow trees along one side, where the stream ran into the lake.

Taking out a camera, he snapped a few photos then climbed on a nearby wall and turned his attention to the chalets. The outsides were fully clad in timber now, waiting for the insides to be finished, and the buildings looked pretty, even without being painted.

That raised her suspicions again. She could only suppose he'd not given up hope of making money from Willowbrook.
Well, I'm not going to sell it, whatever you do!
she thought as he put the camera back into his briefcase.
You'll get nothing from knowing this place exists
.

It was a relief when he got into the car and drove away, but sounds carried clearly in the still air and she heard the car stop again on the other side of the house. She ran upstairs and watched him get out of the vehicle near the end of the long dirt drive. Once again he took photos.

Surely he didn't think he could still get his hands on the farm?

She'd see him in hell first.

After lunch the next day, Ella went up to the bedroom to change out of her old jeans ready for her trip into the village to see Ian Hannow and discuss the divorce plus Miles's suggested financial agreement.

Sitting down at the dressing table she tidied her hair then opened her jewellery box. Tears came into her eyes as she took out three eighteenth-century pieces she knew to be valuable. They were family heirlooms, but she'd have to sell them now to finish fitting out the chalets. Perhaps Ian would be able to advise her on how best to do that.

‘Georgina's set' was named after the jewels' original owner. The small gold brooch was in the form of a circle bridged by a bar studded with pearls and it was one of her favourite pieces. She held it up against herself one final time, admiring it in the mirror, then put it resolutely into the padded bag, together with the matching necklace and bracelet.

She couldn't afford to get sentimental. Keeping Willowbrook was more important than keeping the jewels and anyway, there were still one or two other pieces of jewellery left, so she could at least pass on part of the family inheritance to Amy.

Closing the drawers, she locked them carefully, something she didn't usually bother doing, then studied the battered old box, which held her last objects of real value.

Perhaps Miles was right, about this at least, and it wasn't safe to leave the box on her dressing table. She hadn't bothered much about security before, because she was two miles out of the village and could see or hear if anyone drove up the track to the house.

But now . . . She couldn't be too careful of what few treasures she had left.

So she put the box in the safest place she knew. The old house could still keep its secrets, she thought with a smile as she went back downstairs afterwards.

Ten days later, having sold Georgina's set with Ian Hannow's help, Ella went into the village to look at paint colours for the inside of the first three chalets. She'd thought about it a lot and had decided not to press for child maintenance because it might push Miles into demanding his money back. Anyway, Amy was hers, had always been hers and she didn't want Miles to have any reason for interfering in how she brought the child up.

Ian had tried very hard to change her mind about that, but she'd stuck to her guns. She wanted Miles to leave his money invested in Willowbrook.

It'd take all the money from the sale of Georgina's jewels to finish the chalets. She'd got slightly less money than she'd expected, but if she managed it carefully, it would be enough. She was considering giving each chalet a colour theme, so in the end she left the shop with a handful of sample colour cards. She'd get her cousin to come over and help her decide. Rose was the artistic one of the family. They'd grown up together, been inseparable till her cousin went away to art college, were still close friends.