Saving Willowbrook (6 page)

Before he brought his car round to the chalet, Cameron couldn't resist going for a stroll along the edge of the lake. He stopped several times to listen to birds chirping and twittering, once to watch a hare race across a nearby field. Then he stopped in delight to watch two small deer moving slowly through the trees.

By the time he got back to the chalet, he'd decided it'd be a great pity to spoil this delightful spot by building a DevRaCom Hotel and Conference Centre on it.

He clicked his tongue in exasperation at himself as he went to fetch his car, telling himself yet again that what happened here was none of his business. Yes, it was beautiful. But he also had a significant number of shares in DevRaCom. The money they brought in was one of the reasons he didn't need to do any more consulting work and could take his time in finding a new way of life, one less stressful.

A man didn't have to do the same thing all his life. Not this man, anyway. He wasn't going down the same track as his father, who lived for his job, and trailed his wife all over the world. Why his mother put up with it, Cameron had never understood. As a child he'd seen her in tears several times about having to move on from somewhere she'd made friends and a good life, had been upset himself for the same reasons.

What he really wanted was somewhere to settle down and
stay
. He envied Ms Turner with Willowbrook as a home.

And he was beginning to wonder if Ray's adviser on this project had some hidden agenda. The fellow was certainly sparing with the truth.

All in all, it would be a good thing to stay here a while and investigate further.

And he wouldn't mind getting to know Ms Turner better. She was a very attractive woman.

Three

In the kitchen, Ella caught sight of the clock. ‘Oops! Come on, Porgy! Let's go and meet Amy.'

She waited for the old dog to haul himself to his feet and lumber off towards the car. As she matched her steps to his, she bent to pat his head. ‘I think I'd better cut down your food, old fellow. Yes, I know you enjoy my cooking, but I also know for a fact that you haven't been chasing your quota of rabbits lately.' It had been a while since he'd actually caught anything, poor love. And he probably never would again.

She looked up to see Cameron standing by his car, watching her and grinning. She could feel herself blushing at being caught talking to Porgy like that.

Cameron nodded towards the dog. ‘Was he a good rabbiter once?'

‘The best. The very best.' Her voice came out choked, as she remembered Porgy the puppy, the young dog, the protector. He'd once ripped the leg of Brett Harding's trousers when Brett tried to force a kiss on her. She'd given the dog a juicy bone as a reward afterwards.

She should definitely have paid more attention to Porgy when choosing a husband. He'd known instinctively what it had taken her years to find out, and had never gone to Miles for petting. Indeed, he had often bared his teeth and growled during that last fraught year they'd been together.

Miles had once threatened to have him put down. That was when she'd lost it completely and told him that if he harmed her dog, she'd slice up all his fancy business suits and shirts, every last one. She'd meant it, too. Miles knew that. He'd never threatened her dog again. He was more vain about his clothes than any woman she'd ever met.

Unfortunately Amy had heard the quarrel and burst into tears, pushing her father away when he tried to reassure her that he'd only been joking.

Ella drew a deep breath. She was doing it again, wandering off into her memories, had to stop doing this. Surprised, she watched as Porgy ambled over to butt his head against Cameron's leg because he didn't usually treat strangers like this. ‘I'm sorry if he's bothering you.'

‘He's not bothering me at all.' He was caressing Porgy's ear now, sending the dog's back leg into an ecstasy of twitches.

She glanced at her watch and clicked her tongue in annoyance at herself. ‘Sorry. I can't stay to chat. Porgy and I have to meet my daughter off the school bus. Won't be long. Come on, boy! Come and meet Amy.' She helped Porgy up into the back of her station wagon and drove down the lane to the main road.

Amy got down awkwardly from the bus, schoolbag on her back, clutching a sheet of paper. Ella knew better than to offer any assistance. Amy hated being helped, even when she was tired and more wobbly on her feet than usual.

Her red-gold hair, several shades lighter than her mother's but equally curly, was an untidy tangle, as usual by this time of day. Her white socks were filthy, her blue checked school dress was crumpled and stained where she'd probably fallen. She fell a lot, inevitably, but never let that stop her trying to do things. And she was definitely growing again. The dress was getting too short and there was no hem left to let down. Time to buy some new clothes. Ella prayed they'd have something to fit Amy in the school's clothing exchange.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a new outfit herself, apart from the jeans and tee shirts she wore most of the time, and she got those at charity shops when she could. If it made a difference to keeping her home, she didn't care if she never had another new outfit as long as she lived.

She forgot her worries for a few minutes as she stood smiling at her daughter's afternoon ritual. Unless it was raining Amy always dropped everything to lean into the back of the car and cuddle Porgy, assuring him that he was the ‘most handsomest dog in the whole world'.

Lately, Amy had stopped flinging herself into her mother's arms when she got off the bus. That wasn't a cool thing to do in front of her friends, it seemed, but once the bus had driven off, Ella usually got a hug. Amy was growing up so quickly. Seven already, and very mature for her age. Already the child accepted that as she grew older, she'd find it more difficult to walk and might prefer to use a wheelchair, though that would be her own choice and wasn't inevitable.

Miles had hated to see Amy's awkward, rolling walk, hated a child of his being ‘crippled'. His use of that old-fashioned and derogatory word had caused another huge row and his lack of real affection for his daughter had helped accelerate the process of alienation between him and Ella.

‘Did you have a good day, darling?' she asked as the cuddles with Porgy came to an end.

‘Wicked. We had sport this afternoon. I played rounders and guess what – I hit the ball right to the edge of the field. My running partner got to third base.'

‘Who was your running partner today?'

‘Louise. She's terrible at hitting the ball, with her bad eyes, so we make a perfect team, Miss Baker says.'

Thank heavens for understanding teachers, Ella thought as she drove back to the house and parked at the rear.

‘Oh, wow! Look at this car!' Amy hurried over to examine it. ‘I'd love a ride in it. Wouldn't the other kids stare?'

‘You are not to ask Mr O'Neal for a ride. He's a guest.'

‘But if
he
asked me to go for a ride, you'd let me, wouldn't you?'

‘He won't ask if you don't hint.'

Amy hunched one shoulder and scowled, understanding the hidden warning. ‘Who is he, anyway?'

‘Mr O'Neal is from the bank.'

‘Oh.' Amy wrinkled her brow in thought. ‘But you said they'd send us a letter or phone us.'

‘Well, they sent this man to see us instead.'

But the child's innocent words had added to the worry lurking at the back of Ella's mind. Why had Cameron O'Neal decided to stay at Willowbrook? A quick inspection of the property wouldn't have taken more than an hour or two, surely? And now she came to think of it, he didn't seem like a bank minion. He looked too affluent, too confident. What sort of job did he hold there? Her heart lurched and a leaden feeling settled in her stomach and set up camp there. Was he here to prepare the ground for a forced sale?

As she prepared the meal, still puzzling over that mystery, she watched a mature rabbit and two young ones move slowly along the nearer edge of the lake.

Lately these everyday sights and sounds had seemed more charged with emotion because if Miles pushed things too far, she might not be here for much longer. Her worries swirled inside her in a black flood and she rubbed her aching head. If she lost the farm, where would she go? Jobs weren't easy to find in Chawton Bassett and she didn't have very marketable skills. Worst of all, if she had to find employment elsewhere, how would she bear living in a town?

‘Mummy, there's a man coming to the house. Is he the one with the car?'

Ella jerked to attention and peeped out of the window to see Cameron strolling towards them. Gone was the business suit, the crisp white shirt, the immaculately styled hair. Instead, his hair was damp, his skin rosy from a shower and he was wearing a tight-fitting pair of jeans and casual sweater.

He'd looked good before, but now he looked absolutely gorgeous. She deliberately finished rinsing two mugs before turning to nod to him casually as he stood in the open doorway.

‘This is Mr O'Neal – my daughter Amy.'

The child limped across to give him a wide, gap-toothed smile and hold out her hand. ‘My name's Amy Parnell, but I'm changing it to Turner like Mum when I grow up. My dad won't let me change it now, though.'

‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Parnell.'

Amy giggled at this formal way of addressing her and shook the hand he was offering.

‘Have you hurt your foot?'

She gave him another of her sunny smiles. ‘No. I've got SMA, so I can't walk properly.'

He didn't move away, either mentally or physically. Ella always watched carefully to see how people took her daughter's frankness about her disability.

‘I don't know what that is, exactly.'

‘Mummy can tell you about it best.'

Ella explained briefly about the faulty cells in the spinal cord, which meant that messages from the brain didn't get through properly to the muscles in her daughter's body, and how this would have more effect on mobility as Amy grew bigger.

She was pleased when he continued to talk normally to her daughter afterwards. So many people behaved as if the child was slow mentally as well as physically, when actually this disability had no effect on intelligence.

‘Must be a nuisance for you,' he said.

Amy considered this, head on one side. ‘Sometimes. But it's a nuisance to wear glasses all the time, like Ruth Makerby does. They mist up on hot days or when she's doing sport. And Colin Seeble has to use a spray for his asthma. He has to carry it everywhere and sometimes he can hardly breathe.' She imitated the wheezing sound her friend made with a fair degree of accuracy, then added philosophically, ‘Most people have some problem or other, Mum says.'

Cameron nodded gravely. ‘I guess you're right. I'm allergic to cats. Being near one makes me itch and sneeze.'

Amy nodded. ‘I like dogs better anyway.'

‘So do I.

Ella judged it time to intervene. ‘How can I help you, Mr O'Neal?'

‘You said you sold snack foods.'

‘Yes, we do.' Ella turned to her daughter. ‘Amy, can you deal with it for me? I have to start making the tea.'

The child came forward, very self-important, and indicated the display area. ‘What would you like, Mr O'Neal?'

‘I'll have some lemonade, I think. A couple of cans. A packet of nuts – and are those chocolate bars on sale, too?'

‘Uh-huh. And I get to have one every Saturday after I've finished my jobs. They're yummy.'

‘Then as you recommend them so strongly, Miss Parnell, I'll take one as well.' He hesitated, looked at Ella and when she shook her head as if guessing he was going to offer to buy one for her daughter, he said nothing more. Not slow on the uptake, Ms Turner.

Amy opened the glass door of the display cabinet, reached up to get the things he wanted then shut the door carefully. She took a printed list from the nearby holder and a pencil stub from the drawer below it. ‘Which chalet are you in, Mr O'Neal?'

‘Number six.'

‘And how do you spell your name?' Laboriously, she printed his name and chalet number on the paper, then ticked off the items he'd bought and showed the list to him, before putting it into the numbered slot of the bill holder.

‘You did that very efficiently,' he told her gravely.

She nodded several times. ‘I like to help my mummy. She works too hard, my Auntie Rose says. Hey, I love your car. It's—'

‘Amy, don't gossip!' Ella warned. ‘Can we get you anything else, Mr O'Neal?'

‘No.' Sensing the dismissal in her tone, he turned towards the door. ‘Seven o'clock, then.' He strolled off, whistling softly.

‘He's nice, isn't he?' Amy put her head on one side. ‘And quite good-looking for someone so old. He's probably even older than you.'

‘Yes.' Ella watched him walk back to the chalet, wishing there were some other guests to interrupt the strange sensations that swirled between her and Cameron O'Neal. What was there about the man that attracted her so strongly? Maybe his aura of confidence or no, the twinkle in his eyes. And of course, the kind way he'd dealt with both her daughter and her dog.

Amy's indignant voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Mummy? I just asked you a question twice and you didn't answer!'

‘Sorry, love. What did you want?'

By six o'clock, Ella had heard Amy read, fed her, supervised the nightly shower and made sure everything was ready for school next day. She switched on the TV in their private sitting room and left Amy watching it with Porgy sprawled on the carpet beside her, then went to set the table for her guest.