by Ashe Barker
“Good. I miss you in my shower. Pass me the shampoo please. Would you like me to wash your hair before I go?”
I do as I’m asked, then, “Will you be back in time for the board meeting tomorrow?” I sign the question as soon as he takes the bottle of shampoo from my hands. “And there’s no need for you to wash my hair. I can do it myself.”
“Not with your wrist in plaster, you can’t. And why would you want to when I’m here to do those sorts of things for you? Run yourself a bath and I’ll pamper you a bit before I go. And yes, probably. The meeting’s not till two.”
“Would it be all right for me to be there too?”
“Of course. I’d assumed you would be.”
With that the conversation pauses as he applies himself to soaping, shampooing and rinsing, and I run my bath. Finally he asks me to pass him a towel. He brushes his teeth as I slide into my warm bath.
He comes to crouch behind me to pour water over my hair from a jug. Then he massages shampoo into it, piling it on top of my head in a soapy topknot. Satisfied at last, he rinses it before finger combing conditioner through the long strands. I lie still, enjoying the sense of being well cared for. There are distinct advantages to having your arm in plaster, I suppose.
“So, you happy to stay here then? And is it okay if I use your car?”
I nod on both counts. I know Ashley and Eva are planning a ride on their quads up onto the moors because Ashley wants to take some shots of a particular view, and today’s weather forecast was just right for what she wanted. I might be able to scrounge up a third crash helmet and hop on the back of one of them.
Summer and Dan have disappeared somewhere together. They left late yesterday evening, and once again Summer didn’t tell me where she was going. She’s with Dan, though, and he at least is expected back tomorrow. One way or another, the board meeting will be eventful. I’m not sure just when Nick will be able to get back here, but I doubt there’ll be time to make my confession before the meeting now.
* * * *
There is a spare helmet. Tom drops his off at Black Combe for me to use. Eva’s on Nathan’s bike, the bigger of the two, so I’m riding with her. Ashley arrives over the rough moorland on hers. Even Rosie is coming with us, on her own mini-quad, her birthday present from Nathan and Eva last month. She’s not allowed to ride it on her own, and Nathan has promised to have it carted off and scrapped if she so much as thinks of riding it without her crash helmet.
Eva gives me a quick spin around the yard at Black Combe so I can get the feel of it, but really, it’s simple enough. A lot of fun, though. I definitely want one of these, though I dread to think what risk category Max will put it in. By late morning we’re all four of us, five if Barney counts, rolling up the steep hillside towards a spot that Ashley picked out when she first came here a year ago. She returns every couple of weeks or so and takes the same shot, from exactly the same spot and angle. Apart from a series of landscapes showing the scene in all weathers and seasons, the different colours and moods captured on canvas, she’s working on a sort of moving digital exhibit. She explains to me as we make our way uphill that she’s been layering each picture on top of the last to create a sort of slideshow, the Yorkshire landscape through the seasons, shimmering and constantly reshaping, timeless but constantly on the move. I’m fascinated, I’d love to see it, but she’s adamant that I’ll have to wait until it’s finished.
We reach Ashley’s special viewpoint and she sets up her gear while Rosie and Barney wander off up the moor on foot now. Eva and I perch on a dry stone wall close by and watch Ashley at work.
“Did you ask her yet, about Summer?”
I shake my head. “No opportunity yet. I will, though, this afternoon if I can.”
“I’ll go rabbiting with Rosie and Barney after lunch. You’ll have a chance then. And is Nick happy for you to be at the board meeting?”
“Yes. He said he expected me to be there anyway.”
“That’s okay then. My interpretation services still required?”
“Please.”
She nods, tactfully not asking me why I expect to want to speak, and we both get to our feet to rummage in the quad saddle bags to see what goodies Mrs Richardson has tucked in there for our lunch.
Eventually, it’s just me and Ashley. She’s finished her work, and we’ve guzzled our way through a huge pile of sandwiches—tuna, cheese, and ham salad—all washed down with homemade lemonade. Mrs Richardson even tied a note to the bottle declaring it sugar-free. When Nick texted Nathan to thank him for inviting us to dinner that first evening he mentioned that I’m diabetic. Mrs Richardson made it her business to research a suitable diet for me, and she’s come up with some real treats. There was even a sugar-free section at yesterday’s wedding buffet. We’ll be exchanging recipes before I leave.
Ashley and I lay on the springy heather watching Eva and Rosie disappear over a hilltop about half a mile away, Barney bounding along behind them. I drag my phone from my pocket and bring the notepad app up. Ashley glances sideways at me, and waits for me to pass her my message.
“That does it. I’m learning that sign language of yours. It’ll be a nice quiet hobby for me when I get as big as a house and Tom locks me in the bedroom for safekeeping.”
I smile, strongly suspecting that she won’t be on her own in that bedroom. I pass her my phone.
Eva tells me you might be thinking of hiring a wedding planner?
Ashley glances at the note, then back at me. “Yes, I am. We want to develop the farm as a wedding venue, maybe other events too, parties, conferences and such like. But I hated all the administrative detail of organising mine. And we’ve got more and more paperwork these days. We need someone to take all that on. It’s not just the weddings, there’s loads of stuff needs doing.” She pauses. “Why? Are you interested?
I shake my head and take my phone back.
Not me. Summer?
“I didn’t know Summer was looking for a job.”
I don’t think she does either. But she’d be good at all that organising and logistics stuff. She’s so bloody efficient it scares me.
Ashley grins. “Well, you know her better than I do, but yes, I know what you mean.”
“So?” I sign the one word and look at her expectantly, wondering how much I’ll need to work to convince her. Apparently not much at all.
“I’ll ask her. It’d be full-time, and she’d have to live here, though. We’d probably be able to let her have a cottage, my old one is free, or will be once all the wedding guests have gone. And there are offices she could use at both Black Combe and at the farm. What about Dan? Are they an item or what?”
Or what? I shrug. I really have no idea what the score is there, but I can’t imagine he’d object either way. And it’s even less likely that Summer would take any notice if he did. I think. And whatever, I’ve reached the limits of my influence so I let the matter drop. The ball is in Ashley’s court now. We spend the next half hour or so as we wait for the rabbiters’ return practising greetings in BSL.
Chapter Thirteen
It’s just after one o’clock the next day when the gate buzzer sounds in the house, and Grace Richardson presses the button to let Nick in. A few moments later I hear the familiar purr of my Vanquish sweeping into the yard outside the Black Combe kitchen. I’m on the doorstep with a daft smile plastered across my face as he kills the engine and slides out. I run down the step intending to throw my arms around him, incredibly pleased to see him back. He drops his overnight bag just before I launch myself at him, catching me easily and swinging me around. He kisses me, a deep, sensual kiss that promises so much more later. Apparently Nathan Darke thinks so too as he strolls towards us from his huge aircraft hangar of a garage, carrying an armful of folders, with Rosie dancing happily at his heels. I’ve noticed she almost always goes with him when he has errands to run, his little shadow.
“Take that upstairs, you two, if you must carry on like randy rabbits. My daughters aren’t used to see
ing people necking in the yard.”
“Yes we are. You and Eva are always doing that stuff. Daddy and Eva sitting in a tree K.I.S.S.I.N.G.…” Rosie chimes in.
But her little sing-song is interrupted by her father’s muttered, “Bloody kids…”
I’m not entirely sure if he means Rosie, or me and Nick, but we grin and all four of us troop into the house.
The kitchen table has been cleared of lunch things, and is being made ready for the board meeting. Not that the preparations are extensive. Basically, the table is clear apart from a pile of pencils. Nathan dumps his folders in the middle of it, and I see now that they contain some sort of briefing pack about the wind farm. I pick one up and raise my eyebrows at Nathan, silently asking his permission to look at it.
He nods, before dropping a kiss on Eva’s mouth as she comes in from the hallway. So much for not in front of the children. “Feel free. Any coffee going?”
While Nathan helps himself from the percolator and Nick lugs his bag upstairs, I seat myself at the table and leaf through the information pack. There’s nothing in here that I didn’t already know. Max’s investigations have been as diligent as ever, and I know the basic facts. Suffice it to say, Darke Associates has been pronounced solvent, always an accolade these days, and I’m assured that the wind farm proposal is a sound commercial opportunity. It’s achieved a score of ‘moderate’ on Max’s risk scale, and I’m amused to note that at one time, not so very long ago, I’d have run a mile from anything so hazardous as to be deemed a moderate risk. But that was before I marched up to Nick Hardisty in the Collared and Tied club and calmly invited him to punish me. Now that was moderate.
And speaking of which, Dan and Summer arrive about fifteen minutes after Nick. They seem—okay. At least, hostilities seem to have been suspended. I leave my perusal of the wind farm brochure to give her a quick hug.
“Where have you been?” This time the query is just genuine interest. Even though her departure was unexpected I wasn’t concerned about her this time. Simply curious.
“Leeds.”
Her answer leaves me even more curious. I frown, open my hands in query. “Why?”
“Nathan’s apartment. You’d like it there.”
Shit! I know all about Nathan Darke’s penthouse in Leeds city centre. The apartment that doubles as a dungeon. Both Eva and Ashley have mentioned it, and from what I’ve heard I have absolutely no doubt at all that I would like it. But Summer? And Dan? Wow! I do so need to get to the bottom of this. And speaking of which, I note that Summer does not look entirely comfortable as she takes her place at the table. She’s shifting in her seat, and Dan looks entirely too pleased with himself. There’s no doubt in my mind, Summer has benefited from one hell of a spanking and not too long ago. Lucky cow!
The rumble of a diesel engine outside announces Ashley and Tom’s arrival as the Land Rover rumbles into the yard. The newlyweds join us a few minutes later, and that seems to complete the gathering. Sure enough, Nathan seems keen to get on with matters.
“Is everyone here?” He looks around the room, nods, then gestures that we should all be seated.
I make sure I’m opposite Eva, and Nick takes the chair next to me. The rest of the group arrange themselves as they see fit, there doesn’t appear to be any particular seating plan, and most reach for one of the folders scattered across the table. Grace Richardson has decided not to join us for this, opting instead to take Rosie and Isabella to the indoor play centre in Haworth. Apparently this is a wonderful place housed within a converted weaving mill where they have massive squashy structures to scramble over and slide down, and—most importantly—a quiet place for parents and other adults to enjoy a coffee and chocolate biscuits. There’s even a ball pool for babies. They’re soon bustling across the gravel in Grace’s trusty Clio.
“Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome.” Nathan brings us all to order. “First things first, may I welcome our guests—Freya, Nick, Summer. It’s good you could join us, and please feel free to chip in at any time. These meetings are not formal, and we want to hear from anyone with something to say. That said, we do need a minute taker. Any volunteers?”
“Me. I’ll do it.” This from Summer.
Nathan looks surprised. “That’s kind of you, but you’re a guest.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m not directly involved, and I’d like to do something useful, if that’s all right. I’m quite good at minute taking…” Her voice trails away as she suddenly appears to realise that she’s arguing with the prime Dom in the room. This is, of course, a business meeting rather than any sort of Dom/sub encounter, but even so.
Nathan doesn’t seem unduly bothered by matters of protocol, though. “Thank you, Summer. Your skills were never in doubt.” He stands and fetches a notepad from the worktop behind him, before passing it to Summer. “Do you have a pen?”
She nods and digs in her bag for a ballpoint. Seconds later she’s set, and we’re off.
Nathan opens the proceedings. “First of all, has everyone got sight of an information pack?”
There’s a general nodding around the table, and a rustling as we all leaf through the contents of the packs.
Nathan continues, “Fine. In that case, Tom—would you like to just outline for our guests the key issues we need to settle today.”
“Sure. It’s probably easier if we all turn to the costings sheet in the pack. That’s page seven.”
My pack is already open at page seven—I’d already worked out this is the key document here. I’ve read the figures carefully so Tom’s explanation holds no surprises for me. And probably not for anyone else here either, except perhaps Summer. Essentially, the total cost of the scheme is estimated at up to thirteen million pounds, though a more realistic estimate is nearer eleven million. The plan is to install four, or possibly five one hundred kilowatt turbines at a cost of two and a half million pounds each. The site is huge and could easily accommodate more and still remain within the required limits for noise levels, proximity of dwellings, and so on. There are no significant wildlife or watercourse issues to address but the opposition to the proposals has been vociferous and sustained. In view of the political implications the scheme has been reduced in scale from the twelve turbines Tom had originally considered to the four or five now proposed. But still the combined efforts of the NIMBY brigade and the Brontë preservation lobby remain staunchly opposed. They are not satisfied with the concessions made and they are likely to challenge any positive decision by the planning committee. Tom is confident of eventual success, but has factored in additional time and legal costs to allow for these eventualities.
And so, to the figures. Based on a four turbine scheme and a budget of eleven million pounds, Darke Associates has so far been able to raise a little over five million. At this point Nick raises his hand, seeking permission to speak.
Nathan turns to him. “Please feel free. We understand you may be interested in joining our consortium?”
Nick nods. “I am. I’d be prepared to invest half a million pounds.”
Summer notes this down carefully.
Dan goes next. “I could match that, though I couldn’t raise the cash immediately. How soon would you require it?” He directs that question at Tom.
“The scheme will be at least another year in the development phase. We need to clear planning and get past any subsequent judicial review. We’ll incur legal costs up to that point, but the main spend won’t be required until we start construction. Would that be feasible?”
Dan nods. “Yes, that’ll be fine.”
Nathan looks around the table. “So, by my calculations, we have six point two million pounds in the kitty. Anyone have any ideas about where we might go for the rest? Any more potential investors before we approach the banks?”
Silence. Then I tap the table. I make eye contact with Eva, ready to sign my contribution to the debate.
“Would you accept an investment from me?” I direct the question at Nathan Da
rke.
Eva translates quickly. I’m very impressed, to say she knew hardly any BSL this time last week.
Nathan looks at her, then to Nick before finally his gaze is back on me. “From you, Miss Stone?”
I nod, and note that Nathan is trying to gauge Nick’s reaction too. Well, that makes two of us. So far, though, he seems unperturbed, so I continue, “Yes. I have funds I’d like to invest in the project.”
Nathan’s eyebrows lift, but he says nothing, waiting for me to elaborate.
“Freya won some money on the lottery a while back. She spent most of it, but I’m assuming you want to contribute something from whatever’s left, Freya? Is that right?” This is from Nick.
I catch Summer’s start of surprise. She knows full well I came nowhere close to spending most of my winnings, hardly made a dent in it in fact. She’s aware of my potential interest in this project—we discussed it the night before the wedding while we were both still sober enough to have a sensible conversation. I also told her about my impulse buy at Cartmel, which resulted in me becoming the proud owner of a racehorse. Before she can say anything that might blow my pitch, I’m signing again and Eva is managing to translate simultaneously. She really is exceptionally gifted.
“Yes I do. Subject to my accountant having access to the detailed financial projections, I’d be prepared to invest the balance of the finance required. I understand that to be a sum of not less than four point eight million pounds, and as much as six point eight million. Is that correct?”
As Eva’s voice falls silent, you could hear a pin drop if anyone were to be so clumsy. No one is. All eyes are on me, but the pair I am most conscious of is Nick’s.
“Six million quid! For fuck’s sake, Freya, where would you get six million quid from?”
Not the most eloquent remark I’ve ever heard from him.
I start to reply, but Summer’s there ahead of me. “From down the back of her sofa, probably. Why are you all looking so stunned? Six million quid is small change to Freya.” Pausing, she turns to me. “And it’s about time you bought something useful. You can’t just fritter away forty odd million on racehorses and trips to Australia.”
