Paradise Fields (19 page)

There was a stunned silence. ‘That's out of the question!' said Nel, aghast. ‘The hospice is part of the community! Apart from all the upheaval, having to close, possibly for a long time, while we find new premises, it would take ages to make a new hospice local people's number one charity! Moving would be fatal.'

‘I have to agree with Nel,' said Nel's friend, Muriel. ‘The changeover would be a year at the very least. And what would our children do in the meantime?'

‘Unless we close down all together,' said a man who didn't usually say anything. No one was quite sure what he did, as he only ever turned up at committee meetings and was never seen at any other time. ‘I mean, there are other children's hospices.'

‘Over my dead body!' said Muriel, leaping to her feet.

‘And mine!' agreed Nel.

‘Mine too,' said Vivian.

‘There's no need to get so excited, ladies,' said Chris, making Nel even more excited with his patronising tone. ‘No one is seriously suggesting we close the hospice down.'

‘Aren't they?' asked Nel. ‘I thought that was exactly what Mr – Mr – he suggested!'

‘It's only a thought,' said the Mr in question.

‘Not helpful,' said Vivian.

‘So what are we going to do?' asked a retired vicar with a bad heart.

‘We're going to raise the money for a new roof,' said
Nel, and then realised that she shouldn't have. ‘I mean, I think I can say that, on behalf of the fundraising committee.' She glanced anxiously round at her fellow members of the team, and was relieved to see that while they didn't seem totally enthusiastic at the prospect, they did at least acknowledge money would have to be raised.

‘And how do you propose to do that? Cake sales?' The chairman wasn't even pretending to be polite any more.

‘Excuse me,' said Abraham, getting to his feet. ‘I've a suggestion.'

The chairman tutted and sighed. ‘What is it, Mr – er – I was hoping to close the meeting soon.'

‘I could build houses on that land – not so many, but better quality – and still leave a bit of river frontage for the children to play on. And what's more, while I'm at it, I could reroof the hospice.'

‘I'm sure it would be very nice for the children to be able to go paddling, but you seem to be forgetting, Mr . . .' He cleared his throat to hide the fact he didn't know the speaker's name. ‘. . . that Mr and Mrs Hunstanton have already agreed that Gideon Freebody should have the contract. They stand to make a lot of money out of this deal. They're not likely to be interested by a couple of two-bed semis.'

‘I'm not talking about two-bed semis – at least, not just a couple of them.'

‘How on earth would someone like you be able to raise the money necessary for a project this size?' said the chairman.

‘That's for me to know and you to ponder on,' said Abraham. ‘Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.'

Taking the plans with him (much to Nel's satisfaction), he walked out of the meeting.

‘Well! Of all the bloody cheek!' said Chris Mowbray. ‘He's walked off with the plans! Go after him, someone!'

‘No need,' said Jake quietly. ‘We can get another set easily enough.'

‘I'd have liked another squint at them myself,' muttered Viv. ‘I didn't have time for a proper look, but I'm sure all those houses couldn't have fitted onto just Paradise Fields.'

‘I don't expect they've got gardens, or anything. It's all so depressing,' said Nel.

‘Bloody ridiculous! But I suppose we'd better get on.'

After that, Nel deliberately tuned out of the meeting. It seemed it was a
fait accompli
. The fields were lost. The only consolation was to hope that Abraham did have an alternative solution. If the fields had to be built on, it would be nicer to think of some dear old man who cared about the hospice doing it, and not some faceless builder with a strange name, who, according to Abraham, built bad houses.

At last the chairman declared the meeting closed and there was a hurried scraping of chairs as people raced for the door. Nel and Vivian waited for the rush to die down before speaking to each other.

‘I don't suppose you fancy coming back to mine and talking about this?' asked Nel. ‘I've got to make another bloody cake, and I would do it with better grace if I had someone to share a bottle of wine with while I was at it. Fleur won't be home; we can thrash some ideas about while I cook. Send out for a balti, later, perhaps?' She tried to make it sound tempting, but she could see that Vivian didn't look as if she could come.

‘Oh God, I'm sorry!' said Vivian, putting her hand on Nel's sleeve. ‘I promised Mum I'd take her shopping the moment the meeting was over, and I can't let her down, as I've had to change the arrangement about three times already. I'll come over first thing tomorrow, if that's any good.'

Nel shook her head. ‘Don't worry. I'll have to do the cake now, or the icing won't be set properly before tomorrow afternoon.'

‘I'm so sorry to let you down. This is awful, Nel, we will have to do some serious thinking about how to raise a proper amount, not just dribs and drabs added together.'

‘We will, and we will think of something. We always do. Give my love to your mum and tell her I've got some books she might like to read, and that I'll bring them over some time.'

Vivian kissed Nel. ‘That's really kind. You know what she really enjoys, not like her kindly neighbour who doesn't think she should read anything with sex in it.'

Nel returned the kiss with a hug. ‘We'll get together soon, huh?'

NEL WAS UNLOCKING
her car when Jake came up behind her. ‘I'll come home with you and help make the cake.'

Nel turned. ‘No, it's all right. I can manage.'

‘But I want to come. It's my fault the cake was ruined. The least I can do is help.'

‘I don't need your help! I did the last one on my own. Besides, if you came, your car would be stranded here.'

‘I could follow you home.'

‘I'd rather you didn't.'

‘Then I'll come with you now, then.'

‘No!' Nel squeaked as he walked round the car, at the same moment wondering if she'd locked the passenger door.

She hadn't. Jake was sitting in the car before she could get in herself. ‘Could you please get out of my car?'

‘Well, I could, but I'm not going to. I ruined your cake: I want to help you make another one.'

Nel got in next to him. She had often wondered how women, when they referred to ‘throwing men out', did it. After all, he was much bigger than she was, and no amount of pushing and shoving would shift him if he didn't want to be shifted. She could have called for help, but she didn't want to draw attention to the situation.

‘Well, that's very kind of you, but I forgive you for ruining the first one, and want you to get out of my car.'

‘Well, that's very kind of
you
, but I'm not going to get out, so you might as well just drive home.'

As Chris and the man who suggested closing the hospice down were now approaching, obviously intending to talk to Jake, Nel started the car. She didn't want to give either them, or Jake, the opportunity to hatch up more skulduggery. ‘Very well, if you insist on coming home with me, there's nothing I can do to stop you.'

‘No.'

‘But you won't like it. It's a very untidy house, full of dogs and cats who all leave hairs all over you.'

‘That's my favourite sort of house.'

‘Hah!'

She swept round into the supermarket car park. ‘I'll have to buy some ingredients. You wait here.'

‘I'll push the trolley.'

‘No! We might meet someone I know! Think how embarrassing! People will think we're a couple! Only they won't, because all my friends know I'm with Simon.'

‘Oh, him.'

‘There's nothing wrong with Simon!' Nel was so used to defending him to Vivian and Fleur, she did it out of habit.

‘I'm sure. You'll just have to think of some other way of describing me if we meet anyone you know. I quite like “bit on the side”.'

Nel bit her lip. Her sense of humour was threatening to ruin her bad temper with Jake again. ‘Oh yes. I can see me saying that.'

Jake smiled slightly, seemingly totally unconcerned
about her reputation. He pulled out a trolley. ‘This big enough?'

Nel snatched it from him, irritated once more. ‘I'm making a paddle-steamer, not the
QE2
.'

‘Same difference, when it's cake. Now, what do you need?'

‘It's like going shopping with the boys!' she said a little later, when the trolley was full of things she was not at all sure she needed. ‘They just pick things up and say, “Can we have this?” Only the things they choose are at least mostly quite cheap.' She looked resentfully at some delicious-looking olives that had no place on any cake. ‘Oh hi!' she greeted an acquaintance.

Jake, who was a little way behind her, and should have stayed there, pretending they weren't together, came up.

‘This is Jake,' said Nel.

‘I'm from the hospice,' said Jake. ‘I'm going to help Nel make a cake.'

The acquaintance, whose name Nel had momentarily forgotten, regarded Jake with amazement, and Nel realised she shouldn't have worried about people thinking they were a couple. No one would ever believe they were together in that way, Jake was too gorgeous. Nel had a sudden urge to tell this woman that although at the moment she was looking a complete wreck, with not only half her eye make-up missing, but with a lot of mud in strange places, she and Jake had slept together. She clamped her lips together so she couldn't.

‘You didn't introduce me,' said Jake when they had moved on.

‘I forgot her name. Sorry. And you could have just stayed looking at something else.'

‘Not ashamed of me, are you, Nel?'

‘Well, you weren't too pleased having to take me to dinner with all your workmates!'

‘That's perfectly reasonable. They take the rip out of me terribly.'

‘Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it!'

‘You know something? You're attractive, even when you're being ratty.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You do know they sell sharp knives and big pairs of scissors at this supermarket, don't you?'

‘You just get more and more exciting. Now let's buy some chocolate buttons. I haven't had chocolate buttons for years. Oh, and squirty cream. I love that!'

There had been a short, sharp row at the checkout when Jake insisted on paying. When forced to admit defeat, Nel said, ‘Well, if I'd known you were paying I'd have put a bottle of Baileys in the trolley.'

‘Oh, do you like Baileys? I can pop back and get some.'

Nel found herself blushing. It was a sweet gesture, one Simon would never have made. Simon, if she found she'd forgotten something really vital, and had to go back, would sigh and tut and ask her what was the point of making a shopping list if she didn't look at it.

She put her hand on his sleeve. ‘Oh no, I was joking!'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes! It's a bit sweet for me, although Fleur likes it.'

‘OK. Here, let me push the trolley. It doesn't steer very well.'

As they made their way through the car park to the car, Nel wondered why, when Simon said that sort of
thing, she felt irritated and patronised, but when Jake said it she felt cherished.

At home, as she put the key in the door, Nel realised that the house was in a state. She had rushed out that morning, before the meeting, to visit someone who was thinking of becoming a stallholder at the farmers' market. It would be their first official market, and Nel knew they would take a bit of persuading that it was worth going through all the necessary hoops. But she needed a certain amount of regular stalls, or the council wouldn't consider them. The market was going to be even more important to the hospice now, if she could arrange for it still to be a source of regular income.

She opened her mouth to tell Jake all this, and then shut it again. He probably wouldn't be interested, and why should she apologise for the state of her house? If she was too busy to do housework, what business was it of his? Her home was her castle, he could like it or lump it.

‘I'm sorry about the mess,' she said, aware too late that the words had come out like an inward breath, automatically.

But Jake had put down his bags of shopping and was talking to the dogs, who were all jumping up at him, whimpering, as if no one ever usually spoke to them at all. He didn't hear her apology, and obviously didn't care about the mess as he wasn't looking round her kitchen in shocked silence, like Simon had the first time he had arrived unannounced.

While Jake was allowing the dogs to lick icing off his trousers, Nel put the bags on the table, and noticed that one of the animals had been sick in the sitting room.
She fetched a dustpan and her rubber gloves. It happened quite often, so she had a routine.

‘Put the kettle on, would you?' she called from her knees as she scooped and scrubbed, to keep him in the kitchen where it was messy, but vaguely hygienic. ‘I won't be a minute.'

‘If I move to the country, I'll have dogs. It's one of the things I don't like about working in London.'

She could hear him filling the kettle. She just wanted to shove a few things under cushions while she had the chance. ‘What are the other things?'

‘Oh, the general pace of life. Property prices. I'm renting at the moment, but it seems such a waste of money.'

She came back into the kitchen. ‘But would you like living in the country? What about the culture? Theatre, cinema, art exhibitions?'