It had to be worth a shot.
And if – she pocketed her phone and walked across the cobbled path, already formulating her excuse in her head – if Evie was a little bit excited at the thought of seeing Michael again, it was only her heart playing tricks on her. She was fully in control, and these days her head made all the decisions. She would never be made a fool of again.
Chapter 8
‘I think this is about as close as I can get you, Evie. Bar Fortune is just down there.’
‘Thanks so much, Sarah. You’re a star.’
Evie’s excuse that she needed to go into town to visit the pharmacy – the best she could come up with on the spot – had been more successful than she’d hoped, netting her a lift from Sarah Lowry who was just on her way out.
Unfortunately, it also meant Evie had to come clean about the pharmacy and confide in Sarah her true reason for the clandestine trip to the city centre. Plus, she didn’t know the location of Bar Fortune, so she had no idea where she should be dropped off. But Sarah had listened without asking any questions, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, and when Evie got to the part about Michael appearing at the meeting yesterday she let out an unexpected guffaw of laughter.
Why, thought Evie, did everyone find it so hysterically funny?
‘So you had no idea?’ Sarah said, shaking her head. ‘No idea at all?’
‘No. How could I? His badge said DMC, which doesn’t actually stand for Dynamite Construction if you think about it. I knew his name was Michael, but I’d never heard of Michael Andrews in connection with the Cupid’s Way development. When he got up to leave I just thought he was bored of me. Or something.’
Sarah threw Evie a look, but said nothing. Evie filled her in on how she’d confronted Michael, and how bemused he’d seemed by the whole thing.
‘I don’t think he’s a bad person,’ Evie said, recognising as she said it that this was more wishful thinking than actual fact. ‘He seemed to be under the impression he was doing you lot some kind of favour.’
This time Sarah’s reaction was less controlled. ‘These big, faceless developers haven’t got a clue, have they? Doing us a favour, indeed. How could forcing people out of their homes ever be considered a favour?’
Evie didn’t have an answer to that, but she did know one thing: Dynamite Construction wasn’t a faceless organisation – it had a face, and that face was a very handsome one that had haunted her dreams for the past two nights.
She got out of the car and waved goodbye to Sarah, who was sworn to absolute secrecy. Evie had tried a couple of times to steer the conversation around to Tim Robinson, but Sarah either didn’t want to talk about him or Evie was losing her touch. She straightened her skirt, wishing she’d changed back into her jeans before she came out, or that she’d resisted her gran’s insistence that she dress up for the party. She didn’t want Michael to think she’d made an effort just for him.
Bar Fortune was a double-fronted, coffee-coloured eatery on the waterfront, slap bang in the middle of the city centre. Immediately she walked inside, Evie felt intimidated. Slouching languidly behind the bar were three impossibly beautiful waitresses, and each one turned and stared at Evie as she looked around for Michael. He was nowhere to be seen.
Deciding she had no option but to brazen it out, Evie stepped up to the bar and ordered a cappuccino.
‘A cappuccino,’ the nearest waitress repeated in a flat voice. When she stood up to her full height she towered above Evie, who felt more dumpy and plain than ever. She wasn’t overweight – far from it – but no woman with any kind of curves who stood just under five feet without shoes could ever be described as lithe. The waitresses were lithe. The one serving Evie slid across to a coffee machine and began to fiddle around with some levers, managing to look bored the whole time. Evie sighed and looked around again. Still no sign of Michael. So much for “I’ll be waiting for you.”
She tried to pull herself on to a bar stool, but gave up after two attempts. Her skirt was too short to be able to manage it gracefully without some kind of step-up. The waitress glided over with Evie’s coffee and told her it was four pounds fifty. Just as well Evie wasn’t sitting on the bar stool after all – she’d have fallen off in shock.
‘Actually,’ Evie said, gathering up her courage, ‘I’m meeting someone here and I expect he has a tab. Perhaps you could put the coffee on that. His name is Michael Andrews.’
At the mention of Michael’s name the waitress perked up, but not in a good way. She thrust out her non-existent chest and looked down at Evie. ‘Mr Andrews does indeed have a tab,’ she drawled, ‘but I’m not at liberty to add just anybody’s drinks to it.’
‘Evie isn’t just anybody,’ said a voice behind her. ‘Evie is my guest.’
The waitress simpered a little and ducked away with an apology. Evie took her time in turning around. She wondered if he made of habit of scenes like this – perhaps he hid around corners so he could step up at the perfect moment to rescue women from some embarrassing or awkward situation. She picked up her coffee and took a sip, wincing as the hot liquid scalded her lips. Then she slung her bag over her shoulder and whirled around to face him.
It was like being slugged in the stomach with a sandbag. Dressed once again in a white shirt, this time paired with faded blue jeans, Michael seemed to have doubled in gorgeousness in the past twenty-four hours. Which was ridiculous, of course. His hair curled around his ears, just a tiny bit too long to be tidy, and his eyes were just as twinkly as Evie remembered, and just as deep and inviting. When he smiled at her, the dimples in his cheeks caused a chain reaction; she smiled in return, before remembering why she was here and who he was and that she really shouldn’t be smiling at all.
‘Shall we sit down?’ he said, making it sound like an invitation to a grand ball. Evie nodded and allowed herself to be led to a table by the window. Michael’s jacket was thrown over the back of the sofa and the table was strewn with empty sugar packets and covered in paperwork.
‘You’ve been here a while?’ she said, sitting on the very edge of the low sofa opposite him.
‘I like to work in here sometimes. It’s less stuffy than the office. And the view is very stimulating.’
If her ex-boyfriend had made that comment, he’d no doubt have glanced at the waitresses and winked, leaving Evie in no doubt as to what kind of view he was talking about. James was a Neanderthal, a fact Evie had failed to notice until he left her for a twenty-year-old vegan animal rights activist. They now lived in a yurt, apparently, and the twenty-year-old was carrying his child. Not that Evie cared. Michael, however, was staring out of the window at … the view. Across the river was Castle Park, where the ruins of the medieval church rose majestically above the trees. Bristol’s skyline spread out behind it in glorious diversity, with the spires of All Saints, Christchurch and St Nicholas sitting comfortably among the modern tower blocks.
‘I love this view as well,’ Evie confessed. ‘There’s nothing quite like the mixture of the ancient and the modern. Bristol is beautiful because of it.’
Michael regarded her, his gaze intense, and Evie felt her face flush. She picked up her coffee and took another sip to mask her embarrassment.
‘That’s exactly what I love about it,’ he said, taking his eyes away from hers to look back out of the window. ‘You can see my office building from here. Just next to All Saints. See it? The glass one just there?’
Evie looked but didn’t really take it in. She shook her head and put down her cup. ‘Michael, I don’t understand you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You say you love the old side by side with the new, and that’s exactly what’s so wonderful about Cupid’s Way. Do you know there are hardly any Victorian terraces left in that part of Bristol? I don’t mind the new housing estates, or the retail park – I don’t even mind the office blocks, although the McAllister building is an eyesore. The juxtaposition is interesting, it shows the passage of time. And Cupid’s Way sho
uld stay exactly as it is.’
Michael watched her, listening with his eyes as well as his ears. When Evie finished she felt embarrassed again, but then she thought: Sod it. She wasn’t going to get anywhere being afraid to speak her mind. And Michael didn’t seem to be annoyed by her words. He seemed genuinely interested.
She said, ‘My grandparents grew up there, did you know that? They were neighbours, and they fell in love and got married. Neither of them has ever lived anywhere else, and they’re too old to change now. Stig, he lives at the other end of the terrace, he’s lived there his whole life too. He’s practically a recluse, he can’t even manage to keep up with the maintenance of his house – how do you think moving would affect him? And don’t even get me started on the Peacocks – we used to call them the Peacock clan when I was at school. There’s Rolo, who’s in his nineties now, and Bob and Freda and their son.’ She took a breath, aware that she’d started to go off topic. ‘The point is, it’s a community. It’s a piece of living history, a slice of life that can’t just be flattened to build something new. It would be wrong. Morally wrong. Even if that new building is a medical centre. It wouldn’t matter if it was a place guaranteed to find a cure for cancer. Cupid’s Way has to stay.’
He’d let her talk without interruption, but now when she paused for breath he reached across the table and laid his hand on hers.
‘Evie, I’m not going to force anyone out of their homes. No matter what Councillor Martin said yesterday, Dynamite aren’t interested in compulsory purchase orders or any kind of controversy. We want to buy the houses, fair and square.’
Evie sat back and stared at him. She looked at his hand and her hand together, then back into his eyes. ‘So, you’re saying they’re not under threat unless they choose to sell up voluntarily?’
He nodded. ‘As far as I’m concerned, that’s the deal that’s on the table. But …’
‘But?’
Michael looked uncomfortable. ‘The city council really want that medical centre built, Evie. And if we don’t build it, someone else will. Someone who perhaps won’t be so scrupulous about giving the residents a fair price.’
She slumped back, deflated, and pulled her hand away from his. She looked out of the window, down to the waterfront.
‘Why there? Why do the council want it built there?’
Michael shrugged. ‘That I don’t know. I guess it fits their criteria for size and scope, and it’s central to the increasing population.’
‘A population that wouldn’t be increasing if people like you didn’t keep building bloody housing estates,’ Evie cried, suddenly angry.
‘I don’t think Dynamite Construction can be blamed for folk choosing to procreate, Evie,’ Michael said with a smirk.
‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Oh, what’s the point. You’re not going to agree, are you? You’re a businessman. You’re the CEO of a company that’s known for its aggressive pursuit of new developments. Don’t look so shocked – we do have the internet in Cupid’s Way. I’ve looked up your company. I know what you’re about.’
‘You looked me up?’
‘I looked up Dynamite Construction,’ Evie corrected. ‘And while we’re on the subject, why did you shorten it to DMC? You do realise dynamite is actually only one word.’ She spoke in her most patronising tone, but Michael wasn’t fazed.
‘Dynamite Construction Incorporated is quite long for a name badge. But at least they got my name right, Phoebe Sloan.’
The way he said it, the intimacy of what he clearly thought of as his special name for her, made Evie catch her breath. But she couldn’t let him dazzle her the way he’d dazzled the receptionist at the Go Green conference; the way he clearly dazzled the gorgeous waitresses. She fixed an image of her grandma firmly in her mind, complete with her pink leisure suit and pristine white trainers that made her feet look slightly too big, and drew in a steadying breath.
‘Michael, let’s cut to the chase. The way I see it is, you owe me.’
‘I do?’
‘You do. You know perfectly well you put me in a horrible position by not telling me exactly who you were at breakfast yesterday. The way you ran out on me, knowing that in a few hours I’d get the shock of my life – it wasn’t exactly gallant.’
She knew she had him there. One thing this man’s behaviour told her was, he prided himself on being a gentleman.
Michael dipped his head to the side and nodded. ‘You’re quite right, Evie. It wasn’t my finest hour. We’d been getting on so well, and I was sitting there thinking about how we might … Well, anyway. You mentioned the Cupid’s Way development and it all suddenly slotted into place and I panicked. You’d already made it quite clear what you thought of me.’
‘What I thought of you?’ Evie felt her cheeks grow hot. Had he been able to read her so easily?
‘What was it you said? “Cut-throat developers stomping on the little guy”?’
Evie let out a relieved breath and shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
‘So I knew if I told you there and then there’d be fireworks. I guess it was selfish, but I wanted to let you think well of me for a little while longer.’
‘What makes you think I thought well of you before I knew you were a cut-throat developer?’ Evie knew she shouldn’t be flirting with him – it wasn’t only inappropriate, it was pointless. But she couldn’t help it. He was like a magnet to her.
But Michael didn’t react the way she had expected. He didn’t continue the banter with his twinkling eyes and his dimpled smile. Instead he leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious. He said, ‘Evie, I think we both know that something happened between us at that conference. I could be wrong about you, but I know I’ve never felt a connection like that with anyone before. And I think you feel the same.’ He paused and bit his lip, as if trying to gauge her reaction. ‘Or at least, I think you felt the same. Before.’
The way your life is supposed to flash before your eyes when you’re drowning, Evie’s future played out in her imagination in graphic detail. Or at least, the future she might have been facing had Michael not turned out to be Michael Andrews, cut-throat developer. He liked her – he really liked her – and he was a gorgeous, interesting, interested, professional man who shared her passion for architecture. He had a sense of humour, he knew how to dress, he was powerful and sexy. Exciting. But most important of all, he was the first man Evie had ever met who didn’t need rescuing.
Well, except perhaps from his own misguided ethics.
The images dissolved into dust and drifted away. Evie gave herself a mental shakedown and fixed a determined expression on her face. What was that saying she’d heard years ago on the radio? Some know-it-all life coach had come out with the line “Fake it till you make it”. If she allowed Michael to break down her defences she wouldn’t stand a chance. She’d have to fake an aura of disinterest until it bedded itself in so deeply she believed it herself.
She just hoped it would work quickly.
‘You’re mistaken,’ she told him. Her voice was cold and airy, and she was shocked by how convincing she sounded. ‘Although I’m not surprised you jumped to that conclusion. I’ve seen how you try and work your charms – on poor Martha at the hotel, and on that waitress. But I’m afraid they didn’t work on me.’
Michael looked like he’d been slapped. He recovered his composure quickly, but not before Evie had registered his shock turn into disbelief. She pressed on.
‘So, as I was saying, because of your despicable behaviour, you owe me. And what I want, right now, is for you to level with me. I want to know exactly what you’re planning, and why, because, frankly, it doesn’t ring true. My grandparents deserve to know what they’re up against, and you’re going to tell me.’
Across the table, Michael raised an eyebrow. Then he glanced over towards the bar and raised his hand. Evie didn’t take her eyes from his face. Her body felt suffused with an energy she’d never known before. She had no idea what was
going to happen next.
Chapter 9
Michael waited for a moment or two, as though giving her a chance to say more, then he leaned back and stretched an arm across the cushion of the brown leather sofa. The leather squeaked under the weight of it. The sound made Evie think of nails on a chalkboard.
‘Fair enough,’ he said, his voice measured and calm. ‘I’ll tell you as much as I can, but you need to understand that while I might be the CEO of Dynamite, I still have to answer to other people in the organisation, just like any other employee. I don’t get to make all the decisions, and there are certain things I can’t discuss. With anyone.’
Evie gave him a “whatever” shrug, not trusting herself to speak.
‘The council approached us following an application we made that’s unrelated. The site they proposed for the medical centre was, in their words, run down and in need of extensive regeneration.’
‘Rubbish!’ Evie couldn’t keep quiet at this. ‘Cupid’s Way is full of character, it’s not run down.’
‘Evie, you’re seeing it through rose-coloured glasses. Have you looked at it recently – really looked at it? The surveyor’s report was grim. It said that without tens of thousands of pounds being spent over the next few years the terrace was unlikely to be standing in twenty years.’
‘Rubbish,’ she said again. It couldn’t be true. But a part of her was picturing the dilapidated windows and the missing roof tiles; the cracked pavements and the strange black stuff she’d seen creeping up the brickwork along the side of Stig’s house. She shook her head, and replaced the degeneration with images of the brightly painted front doors and the cute little allotment; the pots of winter-flowering plants and the beautiful cherry blossom that was already promising to be spectacular this year.
Michael started ticking off points on his fingers. ‘You said yourself that at least one of the residents couldn’t manage the upkeep. Some of the houses are overcrowded. Your grandparents are nearly in their eighties. I know for a fact that only two of the houses have central heating – your grandparents’ house is not one of them – and that most of them have rising damp, leaking roofs, old wiring and poor security. There’s no double glazing, the walls are single-skinned. Evie, don’t you think your grandparents would appreciate living somewhere warm and safe and cheaper to run?’
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