Never Too Late (9 page)

“This is the spot,” he told the small group that was gathering round him. “Let’s unload and get cracking.”

He patted the smooth barked trunk and smiled. This ought to get the media’s attention. All they needed was a little time and some support. “Do you want to sort out a camp fire Mia?” he asked one of the women.

“OK Josh, just while you’re unloading – but I get to climb first.”

“As always you are first and foremost in everything, my Queen.”

She quickly had a ring of stones to contain the fire and used kindling they had brought with them to start it. A quick rummage in the camper unearthed the coffee pot, coffee, mugs and sugar. With water from a gallon container the brewing commenced.

Combined effort made light work of unloading the van, with only a few knocks and bruises resulting from manipulating their supplies in the fading light. Soon a pile of tarpaulins, plywood, ropes and tools was growing in the clearing. Torchlight could be seen flashing between the tree trunks where Mia was collecting extra firewood.

One of the group positioned the hurricane lamps so that they could carefully inspect the climbing gear and sort out the tools they would need first. The group split into two, one taking equipment over to the beech Josh had selected and the other to a neighbouring oak.

“Anyone for coffee before we go up?” asked Mia, carefully holding the battered steel pot with a cloth round the handle.

“Nah,” called Will. “Let’s make the most of what light there is left. Anyway, the coffee’s not brewed thick enough yet.”

She laughed – Will was notorious for how strong he liked his coffee – and placed the pot on one of the stones enclosing the small fire. “OK then, onwards and upwards.” She strapped on the helmet with its attached torch and prepared for the climb.

It would be a long night getting their base platforms ready, and enough supplies hauled up to see them through the next few days. Hopefully Jess and Mark would be able to get fresh stocks to them after the story broke, but the group had no previous experience to inform them how the game might play out. The main task for those on the ground was liaison with their solicitor and the media. Mark would also be trying to persuade other local people to join the camp, via the contacts he’d made a few weeks back.

So much had happened since their group had first met to discuss what was being planned for this area. From what they’d been able to find out there were many matters recently concerning McTavish Construction that seemed to happen without due publicization of plans and proper consultation with concerned parties. Luckily they’d been tipped off about this project or they wouldn’t have known anything until too late. As it was they had very little time to pursue the correct avenues themselves, but as yet the trees were still standing so all was not lost. Delaying tactics were their only option just now.

It didn’t take Mia, an experienced climber, very long to get into position in the beech. Josh joined her and they secured winches to a sturdy branch, ready to start hauling the platform material up. In the oak, Summer and Danny were soon ready too. Will, Mark and Jess started attaching items to the ropes in the order they were called for and the building commenced.

“This is all quite exciting, isn’t it,” Summer commented when they finally all gathered for more coffee.

Josh snorted. “I can think of better ways to find my excitement.”

Mia slipped her arm through his and gently bit the side of his neck. “I know you can, lover, but this will have to do for now.”

They looked up at the outline of the platforms as they emerged into the pearly dawn light.

“Not a bad effort for utter novices I suppose,” was Jess’ assessment.

“You think you could do better?” Danny asked, a bit miffed.

Summer laughed. “You know Danny,” she commented to the others, “a platform today will be a full on tree house by tomorrow. Probably with running water, a flushing loo and central heating too!”

Danny punched her arm. “Don’t be ridiculous – I wouldn’t dream of a flushing loo up there. It would have to be a composting one!”

“Certainly rigging up a turbine to at least keep the laptop and phones charged will be a priority tomorrow, just in case the ground crew can’t get to us at some stage” Josh said. “For now, though, let’s get the bedding up there and all try and get some kip before the media hounds arrive.”

Once the rest of the gear was up in the trees, and the fire safely extinguished, Jess and Mark drove the vehicles away and the others settled in their sleeping bags.

“Good night John-Boy,” sounded out from the oak tree as Josh put his arm around Mia.

“Good night Mary Ellen!”

“Hey,” he called back, “that’s enough Waltons, thank you very much.” He rubbed his hand up Mia’s leg. “Besides,” he murmured as he nibbled her ear, “that would make what I’m about to do incestuous.”

Mia kissed him slowly. “Mmmm, I’ve never made love in a tree before, with that glorious dawn chorus for accompaniment.”

“They’re just singing my praises, wench.”

*

The bone china mug flew across the room towards James’ head, accompanied by a banshee screech from his wife, her normal soft lilt coming out pure back lane Limerick with her anger.

“Feckin’ hell will ye never remember to put enough sugar in?”

Her face wrathful Keela half rose from the chair but James had ensured long since that there was little within her reach to throw at him and the worst that came this time was a ball of wool, still attached to the needles.

Her curses followed him as he silently returned to the kitchen to rub the back of his hand, scalded by the hot tea, with some aloe vera sap. He made Keela another cup – this time with the three spoons of sugar she liked in her first cup of the day. He could feel the trembling beginning again and gripped the edge of the sink. He listened to her crying as though her heart would break.

He knew what would be expected of him later, when she was in this mood, and he dreaded it. There’d be no peace for him though until he complied. She’d had him bruised all over, that first time, when he’d finally discovered what she was after. The shame of it lived with him morning, noon and night. He hated himself for doing it, and hated himself even more for the knowledge that it had, in a way, excited him too. The first time, anyway. Not since. Just what kind of a man was he?

Somehow he managed to make the toast for their breakfast before he went off to his office and she to hers. His mouth was dry and he needed lashings of extra marmalade and lots of orange juice to force it down his throat but he did so to save the comments from Keela. Thank goodness they both did have work to go to, much as he hated what he did. It had been a godsend Keela working at the bank and getting the preferential rate mortgage for their first home together, but even more important was the time they had apart on days like this.

The headache began throbbing in his temples almost as soon as he reached his office and sat in front of the endless files. He knew it was a tension headache but it didn’t help that much to know why you’re hurting, not when there’s nothing you can do to remove the cause, or rather causes. Some days it was a difficult call, which was worse – to be cooped up here doing work he had trained so long to do, work he was good at, but work he detested, or whether it was worse to be finished with work for the day and have to face Keela when she felt as she did today.

He groaned inwardly as he turned on the PC and went to get an instant coffee while it booted up. The sparkling fountain and verdant lawns outside his window mocked him as they basked in the early sunshine while he was confined inside. If only…

Still, it could be a lot worse. Their market research had paid off and though the rent for these premises was high they did attract the wealthier end of the market as clients. Once word started spreading through the old boy network they had more business than they decently knew how to handle. There was even some discussion between them now about taking on an associate partner.

At first James had had his doubts about their prospects when he and Adam were still so young and relatively inexperienced, but the third partner, Brian, was old enough to put the more conservative clients at ease. In some ways their youth had paid off as it was evident they were of the generation where all the new technology would be put to full use and their very recent training ensured they were right on top of all legislative changes. The trust fund his parents had set up for him had provided the capital input he needed at just the right time.

He had just about finished with his emails when his office door was opened and a welcome fragrance of fresh coffee heralded the arrival of Carole, his secretary, receptionist, administrator and mother substitute all rolled into one, along with any other duties she could provide to look after her ‘boys’. No instant coffee when Carole was there.

She was in her early fifties and had seen it all during her working life. When James and his two friends had set up this new practice she had decided the position would suit her admirably until retirement. She had complete autonomy, a good salary from them, a very pleasant work location and a girl to train up according to her methods, no interference from anyone.

“Oh bother,” she tutted as she put the tray down on James’ desk. “I just can’t get this scarf to stay in place today and it keeps tangling in my glasses.” She rearranged the purple and lavender silk around her throat. “Must be static in the air. I wonder if there’s a storm on the way?”

She raised her glasses on their chain as she picked up the letters for James that she had just sorted from the morning post.

“Good morning, Carole,” James greeted her with a smile.

“Good morning, James,” she responded, “and another beautiful day it is too.” She looked out at the sunshine turning the fountain spray to a liquid silver fantasy, edged with tiny rainbows.

“Much too nice for us to be trapped in here all day,” James sighed.

“And is that how you feel?” Carole asked gently. “Trapped?” she elaborated in response to his raised finely arched dark eyebrow and the puzzled look in his grey eyes. In some ways he was the spit of his mother.

“Of course not,” James was quick to assure her, although his embarrassed manner gave the lie to his words. “Now then, what do we have of importance today?” he asked rather abruptly, indicating the post.

“Now which one was it?” she asked herself, peering through her bifocals and referring back to the letters in her hand. “Oh yes, this one here from Mr Anderson is quite urgent – there’s still the query about his tax year end papers. If you could speak to the Inspectorate today he’d be most grateful.”

She was a trim woman, always elegantly dressed. Today the scarf toned beautifully with her pleated purple skirt and shoes. Her white silk blouse was unfussy and set off to perfection her flawless complexion and dark hair, swept up into its usual French pleat.

He quickly scanned the letter. “No problem – it’s quite a straightforward misunderstanding really. Carole,” James smiled at her, “could you be an absolute lifesaver and bring a couple of paracetamol to go with the coffee?”

She knew better than to think it was a hangover he was suffering from, unlike that rascal Adam. Oh, the tales that young man came out with! He certainly knew how to enjoy himself but he also regularly paid the price the next morning and no mistake.

James, now, she was getting worried about. Something was badly wrong in his life and for all the openings she’d given him he had not revealed anything that would enable her to help him sort it out. She firmly believed that just talking through a problem helped get one step nearer to resolving it, but James just clammed up on her these days. She’d been their confidante for long enough now that he should know he could trust her not to blab out any secrets. What could be so terribly wrong that he couldn’t even talk about it? Oh, wasn’t it sad that in this world you could have a beautiful young wife, a lovely home and a successful career, yet still walk through the days bowed down with your troubles.

Carole returned with the tablets and a glass of water for James and went behind his desk, ostensibly to look out of his window. She laid her hand on his shoulder as she passed him and stood there in silence for a few minutes. It was sometimes easier to unburden yourself if you didn’t have to look at the person you were confessing to, a system that had worked for the Catholics for centuries. From the pale reflection in the window she saw James’ hand shake as he lifted the water to his mouth but he turned back to the PC screen and said nothing. When the glass was empty she took it and returned to her own office.

The figures on the screen blurred as James fought down the bile in his throat. Once he had himself under control he opened Mr Anderson’s file and reached for the phone. He couldn’t help himself but there were other people he could help today.

Get a grip!
he told himself firmly and forced his mind to the work of the day.

The morning passed, as they all did, and he was just gathering up his sandwich box and can of drink to go and sit out by the water in the inner courtyard when Chloe breezed in, looking very chic in a summery sweetheart bodiced dress and strappy sandals.

“How goes it with my favourite accountant today?” she called as she came over and perched on the edge of his desk, totally unconcerned that in doing so she nearly knocked several files on the floor.

“Be careful, Chloe!” he snapped at her. “It’ll take ages for me to sort out where I am if you get things out of sequence.”

“Get out the wrong side of bed today did we?” she teased him, tucking a blonde tress back behind her ear.

He paled at the mention of bed and didn’t reply for a few moments.

“What do you want?” he asked when he was sure his voice was under control. “I was just going to take my lunch break.”

“Oh good,” she replied as she jumped off the desk. “I’ll join you. Where are we going?”

“As you can see,” he said, holding up his lunch, “I’m not going anywhere except outside.”

“OK – I can start my tan off,” she agreed, inspecting a very shapely leg that was still showing some of the pallor of winter. “Don’t worry; I won’t pinch your sarnies. I ate much too much when I was out last night and I’ll be piling the pounds on if I’m not careful.”