Country Pursuits (47 page)

‘What a load of crap,' rasped Sid Sykes. ‘It's my fuckin' land now and there ain't no friggin' bird going to stop me building on it.'

Several people winced at his language and some covered their children's ears. The auctioneer took great pleasure in what he said next.

‘In case you didn't notice, your bid hasn't yet been formalized. And even if it had been,
Mr
Sykes, you wouldn't have been able to build anything on it. As this young man just pointed out, it looks like the Meadows will be staying as it is.'

Sykes's eyes blazed furiously. ‘This is a fuckin' fit-up!'

‘Mind your language,' thundered the auctioneer. ‘Now get out or else I'll make sure you're blacklisted from every land auction in the county!'

Sykes was white with anger. ‘You'll be hearing from my lawyers!' he hissed, and stalked from the room, his henchmen glowering as they followed.

Within seconds, everyone was crowding round Archie, congratulating him. ‘Arch, have I missed something here?' a perplexed Freddie asked. ‘Since when did you become interested in
ornithology
?'

Archie flushed and grinned. ‘Since I've been grounded and spent half my life in the library. I just picked up a book on it one day and thought it was really interesting. I've been going down to the Meadows after college to see what birds I can spot.' His face grew anxious. ‘You're not going to bollock me, are you, Dad?'

Freddie hugged his son fiercely. ‘I've never been so proud,' he told him.

‘Does that mean I'm not grounded any more?' Archie asked hopefully.

‘Don't push it,' Freddie said. He roared with laughter. ‘Just joshing! I think you've learnt your lesson. At least you've started speaking like a human being again.'

As it dawned on everyone that, at the last second, the Meadows had been saved, the room went wild. Overcome by emotion, and much to the disgust of Stacey, Jack and Beryl Turner started kissing passionately, while Calypso burst into tears again. Amidst all the whooping and hugs, Johnnie picked up his mother and swung her round in delight.

‘This Christmas is going to be the best we've ever had!' he shouted.

‘Hear hear!' everyone chorused back happily.

The next day, the whole saga made front-page news across the country. An explosive exposé on Sid Sykes's disreputable business practices ran in one tabloid, and his associates and backers quickly deserted him in droves. A team from the RSPB had been promptly despatched to the Meadows and, to everyone's surprise and delight, they found a whole family of Lesser Spotted Gull Beaks in residence there. The next day the land was declared a natural habitat for endangered species under the 1981 Wildlife and Countryside Act. As Gull Beaks normally stayed nesting in one place for years, the area was also designated a ‘site of special scientific interest', and all plans to sell it were called off indefinitely.

After a lengthy discussion, the committee
members decided to divide up all the fund money and donate it to various charities. But not before Clementine insisted they bought two more much-needed new pews for St Bartholomew's.

SIX MONTHS LATER
. . .

Village life had finally returned to normality. A few weeks after the sensational outcome of the auction, an ancient Roman settlement had been discovered by a mushroom collector in the Forest of Dean. As artefact after priceless artefact was dug up, it was hailed as the greatest find in modern-day history. Suddenly Churchminster was old news, and to the relief of the residents, the coachloads of tourists and the press abandoned the village for the West Country.

It was a gorgeous sunny June day as Caro drew up outside Mill House. Turning the engine off, she climbed out of her 4 × 4 and went round to open the boot. She carefully heaved out the large potted plant she'd bought from the garden centre that morning, and with the fob of her car keys gripped between her teeth, staggered up the path. Since Sebastian had left, Caro had been busy redecorating the house in softer, feminine colours. It felt like a different place.

Her front door opened. ‘Let me help.' Benedict strode towards her and took it easily, flashing her a
perfect smile. Caro's heart quickened, and it wasn't just from the exertion of carrying the plant.

‘Has everything been OK with Milo?' she asked, following him back into the house.

Benedict carefully put the plant down in the hall. ‘He's been great,' he said. ‘We read
Elmer and the Lost Teddy
and then I put him down for his afternoon nap like you said.'

‘Thanks for looking after him again, Benedict,' she said gratefully.

‘My pleasure.'

They looked at each other for a second, before Caro lost her nerve and broke eye-contact. ‘Come through to the kitchen,' she said brightly. ‘I made some lemonade earlier.'

Benedict took a seat at the breakfast bar, as Caro bustled around getting out a pitcher and two glasses. Once again, she marvelled at how well Benedict had fitted into her and Milo's lives. If Sebastian hadn't had a paternal bone in his body, Benedict Towey was put on this earth to be a father. He doted on Milo, and whenever Caro wanted some time out, or her grandmother or sisters couldn't babysit, it was Benedict who happily stepped in. Once, when Caro was suffering from dreadful toothache, he had even cancelled an important meeting in London to come home and take care of Milo, so Caro could get an emergency dentist's appointment. Milo adored Benedict in return. Whenever he laid eyes on him, his little cherub face lit up in delight, and he held out his arms. It was a world apart from Milo's relationship with his father, who was a virtual stranger to him now.

Caro had put the divorce petition in shortly after New Year. There was no going back. As hard as it was at times, she knew if she didn't push on, Sebastian would try and wheedle his way back into her life. The divorce papers had been sent to Sebastian. All they needed was his signature and the process would be under way.

Up until recently, the couple had only communicated through solicitors, and Sebastian hadn't bothered to make a single arrangement to see his son. But recently he had been on the phone every few days asking how they both were. Caro wondered if he'd undergone some sort of miraculous transformation and finally discovered where his conscience was.

In fact, Sebastian was just beginning to realize what a good deal he'd had with Caro. After their showdown at the ball, he'd invited himself on a skiing trip with some bachelor friends in Aspen. Christmas and New Year were spent drinking, skiing and vowing to get as much sex as possible over the next twelve months. When he returned to London, convinced that Caro would be hysterically pining after him, Sebastian had maliciously decided to cut all communication for the time being. That would teach her a lesson, let the silly cow see what she was missing! He had left instructions for Caro to put all his belongings into storage, and promptly moved in with Sabrina.

It was far from the shag-fest he'd been expecting. After a few weeks, it quickly dawned on him that while Sabrina was the perfect mistress, she was God-awful to live with. He became irritated with the piles of mess and clothes everywhere, and the
fridge that never had anything in it apart from champagne and Sabrina's nail varnish. The pressure of daily domesticity was new to both of them, and their sex life started to dwindle. Unfortunately, sex was the only thing they'd ever really had in common, and Sebastian quickly learned to despise Sabrina's slovenly ways and selfish, moody temperament. It never occurred to him she might be feeling the same way, and after a blazing row one morning, he'd packed his bags for good and left. He'd been back in his huge, stark penthouse flat in Clerkenwell for six weeks now, and its appeal was starting to wear off.

While Benedict was making headway with her son, Caro still found she couldn't let him get close to her. For all the time they had spent getting to know each other, their relationship was still strictly platonic.

A few months earlier Benedict had tried to kiss her one night in the kitchen, but Caro had frozen. ‘I'm sorry,' was all she could say and she had busied herself opening a bottle of wine so she didn't have to see his expression. Benedict hadn't pushed her or made any kind of move since.

It wasn't that she didn't want to reciprocate his advances. Christ, if only he knew! Night after night she had lain awake tossing and turning, imagining what it would be like to have him lying next to her. His mouth on hers, his strong hands running over her body . . . Caro had wondered if, just a few feet away next door, he had been feeling the same. Or perhaps he'd got fed up with waiting and started dating someone else? The thought had made her feel sick. It wasn't just Benedict's heart-stopping
good looks that she had fallen for, or the tiny crow's feet around his eyes that she longed to trace with her fingers. It was him as a person. Every day he surprised her with another aspect of his character. Tender, kind, funny . . . All the things Sebastian was not. In the darkness of those long, interminable nights, Caro had stared at the ceiling and wondered if her marriage had crippled her emotionally for life.

Later that day, after Benedict had carried the new plant out to the garden, Caro asked him to stay for a glass of wine. As it was a warm, early summer evening they sat outside on the patio, watching the sun's rays dip over the ripe, blooming flowerbeds.

Caro was luxuriating in the moment when, across the wooden table, Benedict cleared his throat. She looked at him expectantly. ‘I was wondering,' he said tentatively, ‘if you'd do me the honour of letting me take you out to dinner tomorrow night.'

Caro felt her heart start to pound, and tried to keep her cool. ‘Oh! That would be lovely.' She thought for a second. ‘I could always ask Granny Clem if she'll have Milo for the night.'

Now it was Benedict's turn to redden. ‘I hope you don't mind, but I've already taken the liberty of asking your grandmother.' At the age of nearly eighty Clementine was well past swooning at the opposite sex, but when Benedict Towey had turned up on her doorstep the evening before, bearing a bottle of vintage French burgundy, she'd found herself smoothing her hair back and rapidly agreeing. No woman was immune to Benedict's blond, godlike beauty, no matter how old, wise or battle-scarred. Besides, over the last few months
Clementine had begun to think very highly of the man. And when the final financial paperwork for the Churchminster fund had arrived from the bank that morning, accidentally revealing the identity of the mysterious million-pound benefactor, Clementine's opinion of Benedict Towey had taken on reverential status.

‘What do you think?' Benedict asked Caro.

She smiled at him cheekily. ‘I suppose I can always Sky Plus
EastEnders
. I'm joking. It sounds wonderful.'

All Benedict had told Caro was that he'd be picking her up at 7 p.m. that night and the dress code was smart.

‘I wonder if he's taking you to Raymond Blanc's new place near Cheltenham. I've heard it's
amazing
,' said Calypso that afternoon. They were out in the garden and she was lying on Milo's blanket tickling his tummy. He gurgled happily. ‘You are just too cute!' she said, ruffling her nephew's hair. ‘It's amazing how much happier he's been since bloody cockface has gone,' she remarked briskly.

Caro had to smile. Calypso's outspokenness and fierce loyalty was one of the reasons she loved her.

‘So what are you wearing, sis?' Calypso asked.

Caro got up from her deckchair. ‘I'll show you. It's this dress I saw in a boutique in Cheltenham a few weeks ago.' She paused. ‘I'm not sure if it's really me, though.'

‘Crap, I bet you look great. Go and put it on,' urged Calypso. ‘Let me have a sneaky preview of what Beautiful Ben Boy has in store for him later.'

When Caro reappeared a few minutes later and
stood in the open French window, Calypso let out a long, low whistle. She sat up to get a better look. ‘Come out here so I can see you properly. Oh, wow!'

Caro had never looked so stunning. She was wearing a soft gold, halter-neck dress made of a fabric that flirted with every contour of her body. It stopped just above the knee and showed off Caro's slim, lightly tanned calves. Sewn in around the neckline, tiny gold bejewelled stones lit up Caro's face and set off her chocolate-coloured eyes. She had pulled her freshly washed hair out of its ponytail and it cascaded round her shoulders.

‘Fuck, he is not going to know what's hit him!' Calypso cried. She held Milo up. ‘Look at your gorgeous yummy mummy.'

‘It's not a bit OTT?' asked Caro. ‘He could be taking me to Pizza Express for all I know.'

Calypso laughed. ‘Somehow I don't think that's Benedict Towey's style. You look fucking hot, sis.'

Caro was reapplying her lip-gloss in the hallway mirror when the doorbell sounded. She looked at her watch. He was bang on time. She took one last glance at her reflection and opened the front door.

Benedict was wearing a beautifully cut midnight-blue suit and white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. His hair had been cut that day, and his strong, firm jaw gleamed from a recent shave.

‘You look beautiful,' he said appreciatively. Caro blushed. Benedict held out his arm. ‘Shall we?'

As Caro took it, she noticed a black Bentley at the end of the path, gleaming spotlessly. ‘I thought you were driving?' she asked, stunned to see a chauffeur get out and hold open the passenger door.

‘Ma'am,' he said courteously as she climbed in.

Inside, the cream leather seats smelt gorgeous, and she sank down into them. ‘How fantastic, I wasn't expecting this at all!' she told Benedict as he climbed in beside her, and the car silently pulled away.

He smiled. ‘Let's hope you enjoy the rest of the evening as much.' Leaning forward, he pressed a button on one of the mahogany panels. ‘Now for my James Bond moment.' A tray slid out, holding an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two flutes in it.