Old Desires

by Liz Fielding

  ‘I will,’ she said. ‘You can be quite sure of that.’

  She thought for a moment that he was going to say something else, but instead he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the fingertips where they curled protectively over the keys.

  ‘Goodnight, Holly. Sleep well.’

  *

  The sound of the telephone dragged her from sleep. She groped for the phone, confirmed in her belief that they were a curse on mankind.

  ‘Hello?’ she mumbled.

  ‘You said to call you early.’ The laughter in his voice was an added insult. She opened her eyes sufficiently to look at her watch and groaned.

  ‘Beast!’ she said.

  ‘If you don’t get up right now you’re going to miss the sun. There’s rain moving in.’

  ‘If I need a weather forecast I’ll look at a piece of seaweed, thanks all the same.’

  ‘How do you think I get my information? Did you sleep well?’

  ‘I was sleeping very well, thank you. What was your problem?’

  ‘No problem at all, I’m going fishing but before you turn over and go back to sleep, will you make a note to meet me at eleven-thirty this morning in Marcus Lynton’s office? It’s in the square, opposite the bank. You can’t miss it.’

  Suddenly wide awake, she sat up, determined to let him know how things stood. ‘Joshua, about the house—’

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart, we’ll have to leave that for a few days. You’ve caused a bit of a stir with your enquiry about reparation to the Foundation. I did warn you.’

  ‘So you did,’ she said. ‘Silly me.’ She stuffed the corner of the quilt in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

  ‘You said it. See you later.’

  ‘Goodbye, Joshua. Enjoy your fishing.’ She dropped the receiver back on to the cradle and threw back the bedclothes, so thoroughly wide awake now that there was no point in staying in bed.

  Whether it had been Joshua’s instruction to sleep well, or the sound of the sea lulling her to sleep. Holly felt wonderful.

  She pulled back the curtains and the approaching rain did nothing to dampen her spirits. She showered and dressed in jeans and a soft cream shirt and discovered to her delight that the milkman had been and left a small carton of groceries. Everything she would need for breakfast. And she had no doubt who had asked him to call. She offered up a silent thank-you to Joshua, the temporary halt to the sale putting him back in her good books.

  But breakfast could wait. She made her way across the courtyard to a block of outbuildings that contained the garage.

  She opened the door and stood for a moment in silent wonder as she took in the sleek black lines of a Porsche. Not new. Nowhere near new. But it had been cherished and it was love at first sight.

  She sat in the driving seat and soaked in the atmosphere of the car. The smell of old leather, the feel of the wheel, the stubby gearstick under her hands. She slid the key into the ignition and, her heart pounding, she fired the engine.

  There was the most glorious, throaty purr and, almost laughing out loud for the sheer pleasure of it, she put the car into reverse and backed it out through the garage doors.

  An hour later, she and the car were firm friends. She had driven around the yard for a while, making sure of the controls, then along the lane that led out of Ashbrooke.

  Finally, when she was sure of herself, she had taken the car on to the dual carriageway, quiet so early in the morning, and just enjoyed driving something so beautiful.

  After breakfast she drove into the town to find Ashbrooke just opening its doors. She wandered around, looking at the shops, and found herself addressed by name wherever she went. Joshua had not exaggerated when he had said she was the object of local interest. No one actually asked her what her intentions were, but she sensed their curiosity and for the first time wondered what the local people would feel about caravans sprouting like a rash along the cliff top.

  She drove home deep in thought, put away her groceries and then, with a sigh, decided that she couldn’t put off phoning David any longer.

  She called his office and listened for a moment to his ironic thanks for letting him know where she was.

  ‘When are you coming home?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve a pile of mail a foot high.’

  ‘I’ll be here for a while. Can you send on anything that looks important?’

  ‘If you like,’ he said sulkily. ‘I suppose you’re with Kent?’

  ‘That’s really none of your business, David.’

  ‘He’ll hurt you, Holly. I’m warning you.’ Too late for that, she thought unhappily. ‘Not that there’s much in the papers these days. He’s a very private man.’

  ‘You’ve been making enquiries about him?’ she asked, shaken that David had taken her imagined defection so personally. She had never given him any encouragement. There was an awkward little silence. ‘David?’ she demanded.

  ‘When he turned up at the house I made it my business to make a few enquiries.’ She didn’t say anything. ‘There’s some old money, inherited wealth from his mother’s side of the family, but there’s a lot more of it these days. Mr Kent is very astute.’

  ‘Oh? What does he do?’

  ‘Anything that makes money.’ Her heart sank. It wasn’t want she wanted to hear. ‘Holly?’

  ‘There’s really no need to worry about me, David.’ She made herself sound cheerful. ‘He’s my cousin’s executor, that’s all. Obviously I should be taking his advice very seriously.’

  ‘What advice?’

  ‘There’s a company, Ashbrooke Leisure. They want to buy my house for some holiday development.’

  ‘That sounds serious money. But that’s Joshua Kent for you. It seems to stick to him.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HOLLY neatly reversed the Porsche into a space in front of Joshua’s silver Rolls a minute before eleven-thirty. She climbed out and paused briefly to admire her handiwork.

  ‘Neatly done.’ She jumped as Joshua took her arm and turned her towards Marcus Lynton’s office.

  ‘Where did you spring from?’ she demanded.

  ‘I had to pick up some share certificates from the bank and you arrived just as I came out. I’ve been standing on the other side of the square watching you.’ His eyes creased into a teasing smile. ‘Would it have been more difficult to park if you’d known you had an audience?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ she said firmly, lying through her teeth. She had reversed into the space without a second’s hesitation, but she was sure that it would have been a very different matter if she had known he was watching.

  Even the simple task of standing beside him in the street, with his hand under her elbow, his lithe body against her shoulder, made control over her limbs a matter for absolute concentration. Putting one foot in front of the other was a great deal harder.

  ‘How did you find it?’ he said, nodding towards the car as he opened the door for her.

  ‘The car?’ she asked, pausing in the entrance to the solicitor’s office. Then, with a nonchalance that took every ounce of acting ability she possessed, she shrugged and encouraged a wicked little smile to dance on her lips. ‘I just opened the garage door, Joshua, and there it was.’

  His eyes glinted and a slightly unnerving brow crooked a fraction. ‘Knives for breakfast, Holly?’

  ‘No,’ she said, and had the grace to blush. ‘Eggs. For which I thank you. And owe you,’ she added.

  ‘Your thanks are quite sufficient. Just pay the milkman at the end of the week. Shall we get on?’ he suggested, urging her through the door. ‘Marcus is expecting us.’ For the next hour, she read apparently endless amounts of legal documents at Joshua’s insistence, until her head felt as if it had been stuffed full of cotton wool. But he explained everything carefully and when he was sure she understood he let her sign her name to each of them.

  At last it was over and he spent a while longer explaining exactly what her income would be and where it would come from. It was all q
uite bewildering; her only financial problems in the past had been connected with a lack of money, not what to do with large quantities of the stuff. She felt embarrassed by it. Undeserving.

  ‘It’s all invested in pretty sound stock. I’d leave it be for the moment,’ Joshua said as they finally left the office.

  ‘Thank you. I will.’ His eyebrows rose slightly at such unexpectedly meek acceptance of his advice and she raised her shoulders in a deprecating little shrug. ‘I have been told you’re very good at making money, Joshua.’

  ‘Have you?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And just who have you been discussing me with?’ There was no change in his voice, yet she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was absolutely furious.

  She raised her eyes to his. ‘I haven’t been discussing you with anyone, Joshua.’ The chill was back, she recognised with a sinking heart, the steely eyes wintry in an emotionless face. ‘I was simply told that you were astute,’ she said, trying to improve matters. It didn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry, the difference is a little too subtle for me, but I’ll say this for him — David Grantham isn’t quite as stupid as I thought.’ He nodded abruptly and without another word got into his car and drove away, missing her rear bumper by no more than a cat’s whisker.

  ‘Damn!’ How could she have been such an idiot? There had been no need for him to take so much trouble over her affairs. No doubt there were people who would happily pay to have his investment advice and in one thoughtless second she had given him the impression that she hadn’t trusted him.

  The word twisted inside her. The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t trusted him, but there was nothing to be gained by standing on the pavement worrying about it. She wished she had simply asked Joshua outright whether he was involved in the house purchase. He might not have liked it, he might not even have given her a straight answer, but she wouldn’t feel quite so dirty.

  ‘Still here? I thought I saw Josh drive away.’ Marcus smiled as he noticed the car. ‘Oh, I see. You’re driving yourself. Nice little job, isn’t she?’

  ‘Lovely,’ Holly replied absently, her thoughts still wrapped up in her own foolishness.

  ‘Well, if you’re not having a celebration lunch with Joshua, why don’t you join me instead? You can tell me all about your plans.’ Holly glanced at the slight, white-haired figure of Marcus Lynton, intending to put him off. She had nothing to celebrate but the smile was full of charm, and on an impulse she said, ‘We’ll have lunch together, Marcus, but only if it’s my treat.’

  He laughed. ‘In that case, my dear, it will be a double pleasure. Shall we try the White Hart? They do a passable cutlet.’ He took her across the square and insisted on buying her a drink, at least.

  ‘I’ll stick to orange juice while I’m driving,’ she said, and he fetched their drinks and a menu and, when they were settled at a quiet table in the corner, he asked her how she was settling into Ashbrooke.

  ‘The house is lovely. I haven’t seen much of the town yet.’

  ‘Yet? Can we dare hope that you’re planning to stay with us for a while?’

  ‘I’d rather like to, but Joshua tells me that the people who want to buy Highfield are pressing for an exchange of contracts. Or they were.’ She sipped at her juice. ‘It seems that I’ve thrown a spanner into the works.’

  ‘Have you? What’ve you done?’

  ‘Oh, I just suggested that the buyers should recompense the Graham Foundation for all the work they did at the campsite.’

  Marcus looked thoughtful. ‘And what did Josh say to that?’ he asked carefully.

  ‘He thought something could be worked out.’

  ‘If he says so, I’m sure it’s right.’ He picked up his drink. ‘Who are these buyers?’

  ‘Don’t you know? I thought there had been some dispute over planning permission for a caravan park.’ Marcus choked as his beer went down the wrong way and by the time he had recovered lunch had arrived and for a moment they were occupied with more mundane matters. But Holly reverted to the subject as soon as the waitress had left.

  ‘What do you think of the prospect of a couple of hundred caravans on the cliffs at Highfield, Marcus? Is it a good idea, do you think? Would it provide jobs locally?’

  ‘I can honestly say that I don’t know,’ he answered evenly, not quite meeting her eye. ‘Perhaps you should ask Josh for a few more details. He seems to know all about it.’

  ‘Yes, Marcus, I think I will.’

  ‘On the subject of the Graham Foundation. There was a meeting of the trustees last week and they were wondering if you could be persuaded to take some active role.’ She seemed at a loss. ‘Because of the family connection?’ he suggested.

  Holly’s mind was wrenched from contemplation of a cold spot of misery that had unaccountably settled in her chest.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, Mary took an active part in promoting the Foundation’s work. She had a very great love of children, you know. It always seemed a pity that she never married and had a family of her own.’

  This was so unexpected that she almost blurted out the truth, and Marcus looked at her oddly as she gave a little gasp. ‘I’d like to do something,’ Holly said quickly, in an effort to hide her confusion. ‘In fact, I’m going to have supper tonight with the holiday group camping up at Highfield.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. See for yourself what’s being done. I’ll drop off some of the literature in a day or two and you can have a think about it. There’s no great hurry.’

  Holly paid the bill and they made their way to the door. The rain that had been threatening all morning had finally begun to fall with a vengeance and they ran together across the square back to her car, where Marcus paused to offer his hand and thank her for lunch, before returning to his office.

  She sat for a moment, trying to sort out all the conflicting emotions that were jostling for attention. Marcus had been very odd about the caravan park. He had been hiding something. As she started the car, she made herself a solemn promise. Whatever decision she came to about Highfield would be her own. Made with all the facts. She would start making enquiries after the weekend.

  *

  The rest of the day went quickly enough, without any further interruptions from Joshua, or anyone else for that matter. For a while she pottered about the house, poking through cupboards, finding little treasures that had belonged to Mary, getting the feel of the place, more at home with every passing hour. Then, when the sun unexpectedly broke through the grey, she put on a pair of Wellingtons and an old waxed jacket she found hanging in the rear porch and went outside.

  Even drenched with the rain the garden was lovely and she wandered about the narrow paths, coming across unexpected delights tucked in odd corners.

  A beautiful white Lutyens garden seat set to take advantage of a glimpse of the sea through a stone archway. A tiny burble of water, bubbling through a ring of old granite setts. A delicate little statue of Aphrodite glistening with rain and looking as if she had just that moment stepped from the sea.

  She followed the path as it wound mysteriously through a shrubbery until she came to a brick building that might once have been a store of some kind, the front almost overgrown now with a pale pink flush of clematis. Holly tried the door, but it was locked and she fished in her pocket for her bunch of keys.

  She eventually found one that turned in the lock. She hesitated for just a moment before she opened the door, wondering what she would find on the other side. Nothing but dust and cobwebs probably and she shuddered at the thought. But she had to know and, impatient with herself for being so foolish, she turned the handle and threw it open.

  It was an artist’s studio.

  Fresh, new canvases by the dozen were stacked against the opposite wall. On shelves there were tubes of paint laid out in every colour, oils and water-colours and pots of gouache. There were brushes, palettes, an easel with a blank canvas propped against it as if inviting her to start immediately on some major work. As
if it had been waiting for her to open the door and find it.

  She took a step forward and was lost.

  She had promised herself that whatever decision she made about the house would be hers, but Mary had taken it out of her hands. There was no longer a decision to be made. She was staying.

  She locked up carefully and made her way back to the house. As she opened the door she heard the telephone ringing, but it stopped before she could reach it and she shrugged, unconcerned. After this morning it wasn’t likely to be Joshua and whoever else might want her would certainly ring again.

  She twisted her hair into a French plait, put on a clean pair of jeans and a thick sweater. There was a pair of stout lace-up boots in the back porch. She and Mary had the same size feet and she thought they would be more comfortable than Wellingtons to wear for the cook-out. But she decided to wear the waxed jacket, the rain hadn’t gone very far.

  As she walked along the cliff top the sound of excited voices reached her and she smiled. She would phone Marcus in the morning and tell him she would do whatever she could for the Foundation. And ask him how she could protect the land from marauding developers.

  Those decisions taken, she felt her step lighten and the eager swoop of children around her carried her through to the fireside. She handed the bags of goodies she had brought to be shared out among them to Laura.

  ‘I probably shouldn’t have brought sweets, but I didn’t know what else to bring.’

  ‘They don’t get that many so it’s a genuine treat for them.’ Laura eyed her thoughtfully, then after a moment said, ‘Come and give us a hand with the barbecue, if you like.’

  ‘I should have brought marshmallows to toast,’ Holly said, looking regretfully at the fire as they passed.

  ‘Don’t worry; Josh was ahead of you. He dropped them off earlier.’

  ‘Joshua?’ Was it panic making her heart beat like a trapped bird? Or hope? ‘Is he here?’

  Laura smiled. ‘No, more’s the pity. He’s great with the kids. But I’m sure he’ll get back if he can.’