by Sharon Booth
'Yes, we are. I've roamed these gardens since I could walk, and I've loved this house all my life. I've travelled to many places, and I've stayed at many of our other properties, but this one, this one is special. I knew I'd come back here one day. It's where I belong.'
David cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by his show of emotion. James wished his father would display the same depth of feeling towards his own son some time.
He jumped as David spun round to face him. 'So, no sign of a child yet, then?'
James felt his cheeks start to burn. 'Not yet, no.'
David nodded. 'Not looking very hopeful, is it?'
'Oh, you know. Early days.'
David flashed him a look of irritation. 'You appear to have lost your sense of perspective if you think it's still early days.'
'No need for that, surely?' James said, struggling to keep an even tone.
'You think?' David pushed him aside and headed back to the sideboard, reaching for the whisky decanter. 'Saw your Aunt Kathryn and Uncle Scott in London last month.'
James frowned. What had that got to do with anything? 'Oh, how are they?'
'Gloating, as per usual. Did you know your cousin Owen's wife's pregnant again?'
James swallowed, knowing where this conversation was heading. 'No, I didn't. Can't say I keep in touch with them.'
'Don't blame you. My God, that bloody Kathryn's a cow. Really rubbing it in about having a third grandchild on the way. Your mother was quite upset. She's longing to be a grandmother, you know.'
'Is she?' James was quite surprised. 'She's never mentioned it.'
'Not to you, maybe. Doesn't want to put pressure on you, obviously. But I know for a fact that she can't wait, and having Kathryn and Scott going on about their precious Samson and Delilah — yes, honestly! Can you believe that, for fuck's sake? — and then this new baby on the way ... Christ knows what they're going to call this one. The mind boggles.' He strolled back to the armchair and sat down, whisky glass clutched in his hand. 'You do understand the implications of this, boy?'
'Implications?'
'For God's sake!' David sat back in the chair, almost spilling the whisky. 'Use your noggin! Kathryn and Scott have three grandchildren. Your mother and I have none. At this rate, we're never going to have any, and you know what happens then. When you die, this house, the family fortune, will pass to Owen or, if he's already dead, to his children. Your grandfather's will was very specific about that. It's not to go outside the immediate family and they're the only immediate family left. You need to do something about this.'
'I don't see what I can do about it.' James protested, wondering what his father was suggesting. 'What does it matter anyway?'
David's eyes widened. 'What does it matter? Are you seriously telling me you don't care if Thwaite Park and all our other properties go to that jumped up little tosser?'
'The way I see it, when that happens, you and I will be dead and buried, so who cares who gets it then?'
'Really?' David's face was almost purple. Clearly, he didn't share James's view. 'And what about your precious wife? Suppose you die ten, twenty years before she does. Where does that leave her, or don't you care about her either?'
'Of course I care —'
'Selfish!' David drained his whisky glass and slammed it on the armchair in disgust. 'Didn't think how it might affect others if you died young, did you? The consequences of that don't bear thinking about.'
James slumped. Now he could see what his father was worried about. It all made sense. 'I'm sure it won't come to that,' he assured him. 'Rest assured,' he added, 'I've no intention of dying young.'
'Idiot.' His father's muttered response made him feel like hurling his own glass across the room. He pictured it for a moment, feeling some satisfaction at the thought of his father's shock, but dismissed the image with some regret. He would never have the nerve. 'I presume you've investigated the matter?'
'Investigated what matter?'
'Are you deliberately trying to annoy me? The matter of your apparent inability to father a child. Have you had tests?'
'Oh. Yes, yes we both have.'
'And?'
'And there's nothing wrong with either of us. It's one of those things, apparently. Some couples aren't compatible, and it seems we're one of those couples.'
'Hmm.' David frowned. 'Then maybe you should rethink the situation.'
'Rethink what situation?' James couldn't see what else his father wanted him to do. He couldn't conjure a baby up out of thin air.
'The Beth situation. If you can't get her pregnant, maybe you could manage it with another, compatible partner.'
'Are you talking about surrogacy?'
'I'm talking about divorce. There's still plenty of time. You're young enough to get another woman, and it's not as if you and Beth are exactly love's young dream.'
'What do you mean by that?' James spluttered.
'Oh, come on. I've got eyes in my head, haven't I? I can see that the relationship between you two has gone downhill quite drastically. There's no love there any more, that I can see.'
'You don't know what you're talking about!' Fear, in a funny way, made him brave. The thought that his marriage was in such a dire state that his own father had noticed it was terrifying, which spurred him into an aggressive response that he wouldn't normally have had the courage to give. 'Beth and I are fine. Absolutely fine.'
'If you say so.' David didn't sound convinced. 'So, the doctors ruled it out then?'
'Not ruled it out, no.' James was cautious. He didn't want to raise his father's hopes. On the other hand, he wanted to get him off his back. 'They said the longer it went on, the less likely we were to conceive.'
'Right.' His father sounded thoughtful.
James waited, hardly daring to breathe.
'Very well, we'll leave it at that for the time being.' David waved his hand airily at James, and he heaved a sigh of relief. The subject was closed — at least for now.
****
'Them barns are coming on in leaps and bounds.' Cain nodded approvingly as Eden shut the door behind them. Together, they wandered along the side of the beck before entering the farmyard, heading back towards the house. 'Reckon you've got a viable little business on the cards there, Eden. When do you reckon on opening?'
'We're hoping to get the bunk barns open for the May Bank Holiday.' she said. 'It's taken so much longer than we anticipated. It's been eighteen months since Eliot first started looking into this, can you believe? Planning permission was a nightmare, and then waiting for the building firm we usually use to schedule us in. At least the remaining work's only cosmetic now. The builders have finished the bunk barns. They're just doing some maintenance work on the other outbuildings now. The electrics are done, and it's passed building regulations and safety checks, so it's a case of plumbing in the bathrooms and kitchen sinks, decorating and furnishing the place and adding those finishing touches.'
'What's with them picnic tables?' he asked, nodding at the newly-arrived outdoor furniture that was currently piled up outside one of the barns.
'Going to put them by the beck so walkers can have a sit down. I'm planning to offer drinks and cakes, or cream teas to them. It's all extra income, after all.'
'Let's hope the weather improves then,' he said, shivering. There was an icy blast around his vitals. The cold in this place seeped straight through to your bones. It was no place for a man of his age.
'Walkers don't seem to feel the cold,' she said, with what sounded like admiration.
'Crackers, the lot of 'em. Still, good news for you. You'll make a fortune,' he said.
'I doubt that.' She smiled. 'We're just hoping to make any sort of profit. Truth is, we've sunk every penny into it, and if it doesn't work ... Worse still, it will be all my fault. It was my bright idea, after all.'
'It's a great idea,' he reassured her. 'All them daft bleeders in their hiking boots, tramping through the hills. They're gunna want a sit down and a cuppa
, ain't they? Nowhere else round here is there? And the bunk barns idea ... I mean, it ain't my cup of tea, sharing a room with a load of strangers, but walkers are funny onions. They'll doss down anywhere.'
'Thanks.' Eden sounded offended and he laughed.
'You know what I mean. Bit long in the tooth to spend a night in a dormitory, but when you're out tramping the dales and you want a bed for the night, I reckon this is just the job.'
'I think so. We researched it carefully. We were considering making a handful of larger en-suite rooms and charging more, but it seems people are happy to spend a night in a youth hostel type environment. Cheap and cheerful. The main barn will sleep sixteen and the smaller one twelve.'
'You ain't gunna be cooking for them all?' he asked, horrified at the thought.
'No. At first, the plan was that I'd offer bed and breakfast, but we realised I wouldn't have the time. The barns will each have a kitchen and dining room, so they're fully self-catering. I've got all the kitchen equipment and stuff on order. Libby had the bright idea, the other day, of making up picnics, so people can buy a basket of food and drink to take with them on their walks. That might be a useful side-line.'
'You're going to have your hands full,' he observed. 'You sure you can handle it all on your own?'
'I think so. We're asking guests to bring a sleeping bag and pillow case with them, to save on laundry. We'll provide a sheet and pillow. I'm trying hard to cut down on work, and I've looked at loads of other bunk barns to see what they offer. I think we can compete.'
'But you've got the kids to see to,' he pointed out. 'Aren't you taking on too much?'
'The kids are at school, or with the childminder,' she said. 'When they're not, they pitch in and help either me or Eliot, anyway. They're ever so good. Even George has his jobs to do. It will be okay, Cain, don't worry.'
'I hope you're right, darls. I'd hate to see you struggling. Seems like an awful lot of palaver for a few quid.'
Eden pulled a face. 'Maybe so, but that few quid could be the difference between make or break for us. We have to try.'
'Things that bad?'
She opened the farmhouse door and ushered him inside. As they wiped their shoes on the doormat, she said, obviously trying to sound casual, 'Not exactly a thriving business, sheep farming. It's tough to make a living from it these days, but we do okay.'
'Hmm.' He frowned, then put his arm around her. 'If you ever need any help, you know where I am. I mean, I ain't no sheep farmer, but I can always put a few quid your way, if you need it. You know that, don't you?'
'What a saint,' came a voice from the end of the hall, and Cain groaned inwardly as he glanced up and saw Emerald standing there, arms folded and a face like thunder.
'Don't start,' he warned her, sick of hearing her whining pleas for cash.
Eden looked uncomfortable. 'I'll put the kettle on,' she said, pushing past Emerald and heading into the kitchen.
'Yeah, you do that,' Emerald said. She put her hands on her hips and glared at her father. 'Well?'
'I ain't discussing this again,' he said, following Eden into the kitchen, a protesting Emerald following him. Cain's heart sank when he saw Jed standing there, too. That was all he needed. He only hoped the lad hadn't come here for round two of their argument. There'd been quite enough rowing going on last night. Gawd knows what the other guests at The Paradise Hotel had thought.
****
Beth pulled into the farmyard at Fleetsthorpe, her heart sinking as she spotted a vintage Rolls Royce, parked beside Eliot's Land Rover, Eden's Nissan, and the builder's van. So, they had visitors, and rather grand ones at that. Maybe she should leave. Go home.
She ran a weary hand over her face and sighed. Home. It hardly felt like home these days, with David prowling around and Deborah avoiding her. She felt awkward, on edge. It was their house, after all, and she was the intruder. Very much so. Clearly, eight years of marriage to Deborah's son hadn't changed that.
It was even worse than she'd imagined. David was behaving very oddly. He kept looking at her with a definite query on his face, and James was being strange, too. Evasive. Shifty. Something was wrong but, as usual, she was the last to know what it was. With Deborah barely managing to exchange two words with her, Thwaite Park wasn't somewhere she felt comfortable anymore, and Fleetsthorpe was becoming more appealing by the day.
She knocked on the farmhouse door and waited. A movement caught her eye, and she laughed as a large, reddish brown hen strutted over to survey her. 'Hello. Are you visiting, too?'
The hen stared up at her in disapproval, and she was suddenly reminded of her mother-in-law. It wore the same expression that Deborah permanently bore. I'm not even good enough for a chicken, evidently.
She heard the door open and turned, expecting to see Eden or one of the children standing there. Instead, a young man with fair hair, a wide smile, and the kindliest blue eyes she'd ever seen stood before her. He was tall, even taller than Eliot, and broad, with tanned skin and white, even teeth. Yet, he wasn't traditionally handsome. She would have said his face had character, rather than that he was good looking, but there was something about him. Something instantly appealing, and far too attractive for her peace of mind.
She gaped up at him for a moment, not able to speak.
The man's smile faltered, and he cleared his throat. 'Can I help you?'
She swallowed. He was American. Well, that was the last thing she'd expected to find in a remote farmhouse in the Yorkshire Dales. A tall, attractive American man. You never knew what the day would bring.
'I'm — is Eden in? Or Eliot?'
He blinked for a moment, as if he hadn't understood what she said, then he shook his head slightly, as if clearing away brain fog, and nodded. 'Sure. You are?'
Who was she? Oh yes. 'Beth. Beth Fuller.'
He held out his hand. 'Pleased to meet you, Beth Fuller. I'm Jed Carmichael.'
'Pleased to meet you.' She shook his hand, almost gasping as what felt like an electric shock shot through her fingers. Through a daze, the name registered. 'Carmichael? You're Honey's brother?'
'That's right. You know Honey?'
'Not really,' she admitted. 'I know of her, obviously. After the other year...'
Her voice trailed off, not sure how much he knew of Honey's escapades the summer before last.
His laughter told her that he knew it all, and she warmed to him as he said, 'Yeah, she was kinda bad, wasn't she? But it all worked out for the best, right?'
'Right. Absolutely.' She realised he was still holding her hand and blushed. What the hell was wrong with her? She felt like a schoolgirl gazing up at some gorgeous pop star whose poster she'd had on her bedroom wall for months.
'I'm so sorry for leaving you on the doorstep. What am I thinking? Come in, please.'
He let go of her hand and moved aside, allowing her to pass. She hoped he didn't see her trembling. He would think she was peculiar.
'Eden's in the kitchen,' he told her. 'You might want to rethink your visit, though.'
'Oh?'
'Let's just say, things are a little tense in there. You know the way?'
'I know the way,' she assured him. As she headed up the hallway, she was all too aware of his presence behind her. My God, the air was crackling. Was she having a mid-life crisis, or something? She gradually became aware of the sound of raised voices coming from up ahead and realised the American hadn't been joking. It sounded a little heated in the kitchen, and not in the usual way.
As she walked into the kitchen she spotted Cain Carmichael, whom she recognised immediately, arguing with a rather beautiful blonde girl who, she realised, was probably the American's girlfriend. Damn.
Eden, meanwhile, was heating something in a pan on the hob, while making cups of tea and casting wary glances at the clock on the wall.
Jed murmured in her ear, 'Told you, didn't I?'
Beth gulped. 'So you did. Seems like I've walked into a war zone. What on earth's going on?'
Cain shook his head. 'I've told you, Emerald, it ain't happening. Look, I know what you said about it being a proper business, but I don't see it. I can't imagine people paying good money to sit in a field and chant. I mean, I just can't. Most of the types you'd attract ain't got two pennies to rub together. Bleeding drop-out hippies. It wouldn't work, and I've been there before, with Honey. Her shop never made a pound profit in all the years she had it. Cost me a fortune to indulge her and make her feel she was doing something worthwhile. I ain't making that mistake again.'
'You haven't listened to a word I said!' She stamped her foot in clear frustration, and Cain shook his head, his irritation growing when Jed came to stand beside her. 'I know what I'm doing, and I have lots of friends who can advise me. I want to make a living from something, not be dependent on you for an allowance. Why won't you take me seriously?'
'Dad, I don't see why Emerald has to pay the price for Honey's mistakes.'
'I might have guessed you'd be on her side, as usual. What are you doing here, anyway?' he demanded.
'I called a cab and came to collect my little sister. We're heading back to the hotel to pack. I think we've both been under your feet for long enough, don't you?' His voice was even, but there was unmistakable tension there.
Cain sighed. 'Look, you don't have to go yet. Wait until tomorrow and we'll go back to my gaff together, talk things through properly.'
They all looked up as Eliot opened the back door. He stared round at everyone, and Cain saw the look of dismay in his eyes. Bloke's face was an open book. You could tell at a glance what he was thinking, and it wasn't usually complimentary, come to think of it.
'I think we talked things through enough last night, don't you?' Jed's voice brought his attention back to the matter in hand, as his son put his arm around Emerald. 'You know, Dad, I get that you're disappointed in me. I get that you wanted me to follow in your footsteps and be some great rock star —'
