Moving On (3 page)

‘Then set off earlier or come here by another route.’ He bit back more sharp words. After years of Miss Buttermere being in charge of his office, and having a larger staff at his disposal, he was finding it hard to put up with such inefficient help. But he’d set himself this business challenge and he was going to make it work, whatever it took. Unfortunately, Avril Buttermere couldn’t be coaxed out of retirement at any price and he didn’t want to be without a secretary, even an inefficient one, not at this crucial time.

Avril still lived nearby and always waved cheerfully if he passed her in the car. When they met in the village, she stopped to chat, sounding to be involved in a dozen community activities already. Lucky them to have her help! She was the most capable organizer he’d ever met.

‘I’ll be checking out the new website this morning,’ he told Penny. ‘Cancel my first appointment and fit it in another time. I don’t want interrupting unless it’s important.’

He got the new website up on the screen. It looked very attractive. ‘Marlbury Golf Club and Leisure Village,’ it announced at the top in gold lettering on a teal blue background. Below that, it showed the architect’s concept sketch for the whole development, with the golf course in the background.

The golf course had been there for years, of course, but the leisure village was his own idea. He’d bought the golf course and adjoining land, and set out to make his long-time dream come true without impinging on his other business interests. That had left him a little tight for money, but he was determined to cope. He didn’t want any backers who might interfere with his plans. Fortunately, he’d leased the hotel and golf course to someone else, so that left him free to do what he wanted with the development.

This time he wasn’t building cramped little flats someone else had commissioned and trying to cram too many into the space, or office buildings that looked like a stack of crates. He was attempting to create a community, somewhere people would enjoy living – somewhere
he
would enjoy living.

He’d spotted a niche market – he was pretty certain about that – and was offering people second homes, suitable for expats or people who wanted to spend part of their time in England. Lodges was the official term for these wooden houses, but he always thought of them as homes. He was going to move here himself shortly and just keep a small flat in London.

His present house was far too big for one person. Once he’d got over his wife’s death, as much as you ever did when you’d loved someone, he’d bought a new house, thinking – hoping even! – that he might end up marrying again one day. Karen would have wanted that. Now that his sons had completely left home, he didn’t like living alone.

He’d spent several months in one relationship, but it hadn’t lasted, not because of quarrels or infidelity, but simply because he didn’t want any more children and it turned out she was aching for a child. He wished her well, but the thought of raising more young children didn’t appeal to him at all.

Euan didn’t see much of his sons at the moment. Jason was working in Newcastle upon Tyne and Grant had set off to see the world as soon as he’d obtained his degree. Jason had done the same thing, and you couldn’t help worrying about their safety while they were overseas. But you couldn’t hold them back.

Forcing himself to concentrate, Euan clicked on every link he could find on the new website, moving from the artist’s concept sketches of the finished development, to computer images of larger detached dwellings, to a photograph of the first group of six finished lodges, painted in a dark blue-grey with white window frames and doors.

The house plans came up clearly, but he didn’t linger on them because he knew them by heart. He wasn’t an architect, but the houses were basically his design and he’d put a lot of thought into them. The architect who’d checked them out for him had congratulated him on their workability.

Two hours later he smiled at the screen. Perfect. Not a single link that didn’t work. Becky was a talented woman, young as she was. She’d worked hard on this, knowing it would be a feather in her cap and could bring other major business her way. He had her on retainer for regular tech support and maintenance, which would give her a steady part-time wage.

When he went out into the reception area, he found it unoccupied. Frowning, he went to the corner and saw Penny standing further down the corridor next to the automatic food dispenser, which sold rubbish snacks for people staying at the hotel. He made a mental note to do something about that tendency of hers to wander off, but couldn’t just sack her without a better excuse.

She was making eyes at one of the waiters, her whole face animated as it never was in the office. He frowned. She was in a steady relationship, talked a lot about her partner, so shouldn’t be flirting like that. Not in his book, anyway.

Euan didn’t draw attention to himself, but watched for a few moments then went back inside the office, keeping an eye on the time.

Ten minutes later she came back just as he was answering a call at her desk. He looked at his watch and finished the call, then stared at her until she wriggled uncomfortably.

He’d hired Penny because she had all the necessary qualifications on paper and seemed enthusiastic, but it was clear now that she was a better actress than secretary. He needed to find someone else – and quickly.

He rang Becky and congratulated her on the website. ‘Every link that I could find works. We can go live now.’

‘Do you have sales staff ready to go.’

‘I’ll handle that myself for the moment. Thank you, Becky. You did a great job. Send me your bill, then we’ll go on to the monthly maintenance budget we discussed. And if you want to use me as a reference, don’t hesitate.’

She couldn’t hold back a few squeaks of joy and he smiled. He loved the enthusiasm of young people setting out to make a life.

Putting the phone down, he wondered what to do next. He fiddled with some papers. He really ought to get into these accounts. But he couldn’t settle, which wasn’t like him.

Since there was half an hour before his next appointment, he went out to stroll round the leisure village – well, what would be the village one day. The roads for the first stage were there, and the lamp posts, plus a great deal of cleared land where grass and wild plants were already growing back. He’d miss the wild flowers once the development was finished; hoped he could keep some growing in the nature patches; hoped the people who bought his houses would like that and not want billiard green lawns everywhere.

Wooden-framed houses went up quickly once you started building, but the group of six looked lonely at the moment. It was all happening so much more slowly than he’d expected. Maybe he should hire more admin staff. No, he’d set himself to managing this project himself, so that he didn’t lose touch with the grass roots.

If he did it right, this project would come in at a good profit – as well as giving him a sense of pride in his creation, which the more lucrative office blocks never could.

On the way back to the admin suite, he stopped to watch two men playing the sixth hole, his hands twitching to pick up a golf club. He could play better than they were doing standing on his head. And he
would
once he’d got the village on its feet. He sometimes managed nine holes, but couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a whole afternoon free to play for pleasure.

The office closed around him like a stifling blanket. He gave a wry smile. He infinitely preferred being outdoors. Was he stupid to take this on single-handed? No.

He’d been growing stale, had needed to move on, make changes.

Two

Even though she had a dull headache and the doctor at the hospital had told her to rest, anger drove Molly to start packing her son’s things at once. She put his better clothes in his old suitcase because she couldn’t find the fancy new one he’d bought last month. Some of his clothes were missing, too, surely? She stuffed his remaining clean underwear into his backpack.

There were about thirty tee shirts in various stages of wear; from ragged to near new. Some had mottos on them, one or two distinctly rude. She grimaced. And as usual, Brian’s dirty clothes were scattered all over the place. He was nearly as bad as his sister for that.

She went to fetch a roll of dustbin liner bags and filled two with his washing. She found some sticky labels and wrote DIRTY CLOTHES – NEED WASHING, before slapping them on to the black plastic bags. Then she dumped them on the landing, ready to take downstairs next trip.

When she’d emptied every cupboard and drawer in his bedroom, stacking dirty plates and mugs on his desk, she carried the bags and bundles downstairs. Reversing her car out on to the drive, she began piling his things in the garage. Although it was a double garage, she’d need the whole of it for what she intended.

She glared at the empty cardboard boxes, which her new son-in-law was supposed to have cleared out. They were left over from the presents Rachel had taken with her to the flat. ‘Leaving me to get rid of the boxes!’ she exclaimed, then began to smile. Actually, these were just what she needed.

Back in the house, she began filling the boxes methodically with Brian’s books and CDs. His old boxes of toys were already in the garage and if he wanted them, he could lift them down from the shelving unit. Otherwise they were going to a charity shop.

She hesitated about his laptop, knowing he’d spent a lot of money on it, but then anger took over again and she disconnected everything. She cushioned the laptop and printer in boxes with some of his sweaters, and shoved the leads in any old how.

It took nearly two hours to clear everything out of her son’s room, by which time she was more than a little light-headed. When had she last eaten? She made a cup of tea, sipped it without much interest, then forced down some biscuits and cheese, with some of her favourite sunblush tomatoes and olives. She still didn’t feel hungry, but knew she had to take care of herself.

Nor was she going to rest. Couldn’t. She had vowed to change her life and this was the first step. If she didn’t do it, she’d have no respect for herself. What was there to respect? She’d let her family trample all over her, had loved them unwisely but too well. Where was that quote from? It sounded like Shakespeare, but she couldn’t be bothered to go and look it up.

After her snack she began work on Rachel’s room. There were very few personal possessions left, but there was a huge pile of wedding presents – and the usual pile of dirty clothes.

She could remember Rachel saying, ‘You don’t mind if I leave the presents here, do you, Mum? It’s such a small flat and they’ll make the place look a mess till we get a proper house.’

At three o’clock Molly went for another cup of tea and forced down a piece of stale cake, feeling her energy sagging drastically now. She swallowed two paracetamols then rang Brian’s mobile again. But there was still no answer, so she dialled her husband’s office.

‘Who’s speaking please?’

‘His ex-wife.’ As if his long-time secretary didn’t know who it was!

‘Mr Taylor’s busy, I’m afraid, Mrs— um, Ms Peel.’

‘If Craig won’t speak to me, then will you please give him a message, Judy? It’s very important. Tell him his son’s and daughter’s possessions are piled up inside my garage, wedding presents included. I can’t contact either of them, so if no one collects them by three o’clock tomorrow, I’ll have everything picked up and dumped in his drive.’ She heard a gasp at the other end, looked out of the window at the dark clouds building up and added with relish, ‘Whether it’s raining or not.’

Not waiting for an answer, she put the phone down.

Two minutes later it rang. She let it ring five times before picking it up. And if that was petty, well, she wasn’t feeling at all kind today.

‘Molly?’

‘Who else would it be?’

‘You’re out of hospital, then?’

‘No thanks to my family, yes. I got out this morning.’

‘Your message didn’t make sense to me.’

‘Oh? I thought it was very clear. I’ve moved all Rachel and Brian’s things out of this house. As of today, Brian doesn’t live here any more and I’m not going to act as a storage facility for Rachel. I don’t know where Brian is or I’d have told him to find a new place myself, and I don’t know which hotel Rachel’s in for her honeymoon. I’m sure you’ll have a key to her new place.’ She should have known which hotel, dammit.

‘Why the rush? Brian will be back next week. He’s only gone away for a few days. Surely he told you about it?’

‘No.’

‘Ah. Well, it was rather a last-minute thing. Friend of Tasha’s has a holiday cottage and she had a cancellation, so it was going dirt cheap. He and Geneva both felt in need of a break.’

Molly breathed deeply. Brian hadn’t even bothered to tell her, nor had he paid her any housekeeping money for the last two weeks. He’d have spent it by the time he got back, knowing him. He owed her a lot of money for his keep, but she didn’t suppose she’d ever see any of it.

‘What on earth made you move his things out today?’

‘The fact that neither of my children came with me to hospital after I collapsed, or even called to ask how I was.’

‘Rather childish, isn’t it? A bride can’t leave her own wedding and you only had mild concussion, after all.’

‘Not childish. And my concussion was bad enough for me to collapse.’

‘Well, you’re clearly better now . . . or maybe you’re not. Maybe that’s why you’re acting so stupidly.’

‘Not stupidly, I’m being practical. I can’t sell this house with the mess Brian leaves everywhere and with piles of Rachel’s bits and pieces all over the spare bedroom and dining room. You have to declutter to make a place look bigger, if you want to get the best price.’