208 miles to go
The moment she got in from the office that evening, she put the TV on to find Cam had madeSpotlight– a regional programme covering south-west England. A thrill of excitement ran through her. That meant he’d made it through Shropshire and Wales and was actually in the region, albeit still over two hundred miles away in the Somerset hills.
Over the past week, Cam’s quest had gathered even more attention. She could track his progress through various news channels and not just their daily video calls, for which she sensed Cam was putting on a brave face. He’d even raised over two hundred thousand pounds in donations. Now, in just two days’ time he would be pedalling over the line at Land’s End and she would meet him at last.
And then, what?
Jenna didn’t have time to answer her own question because Nate marched in and flopped down on the sofa next to her.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Not again.’
‘Please, I want to see this,’ she begged, then wondered why she was begging in her own house.
Cam was interviewed, astride his bike, in Cheddar Gorge in Somerset. Before riding off, away from the camera, heading ever closer to her.
‘Might have known you’d be watching your hero mate, again,’ Nate muttered, turning the news over to a sports report.
Jenna was tired. They’d had a similar conversation for days now. ‘I’m sure Cam doesn’t think of himself as a hero.’
‘Well, he certainly seems to enjoy the attention.’
‘No, he won’t be. It’s the job – we have to get attention so we can raise as much awareness and money as possible for HeartBeat. It’s all to help families like Sholto’s – like ours.’
‘OK. OK. I didn’t mean to be snarky. I understand how important this is to you.’ Nate reached across and stroked her fingers, but Jenna didn’t feel soothed as she usually did, she felt itchy. Silence stretched between them. She was dreading him asking if she’d OK’d the wedding invitation proofs or decided on menus. She hadn’t done either.
He slipped his arm around her. ‘I’ve had a busy day. Loads of problems with a big project, but I also have some news.’
‘Oh?’ Jenna asked warily, wondering if he’d added a tower and helipad to the Glass House.
‘Yeah. I didn’t want to say anything before it was finalised, but I signed the contract today.’
She sat upright and moved out of his arms. ‘What contract?’
‘I’ve bought the farm behind your cottage.’
Her jaw fell open. ‘You can’t have. It’s not for sale.’
The smallholding behind her place had two cottages rented by Jenna’s neighbours.
‘Well, it wasn’t. Old Farmer Thomas has finally decided to let it go, now he’s been offered the right price, crafty old git.’ He smirked, pleased with his joke, his contract, himself – but Jenna wasn’t laughing.
‘We’ll be quids in.’ Nate carried on as if he hadn’t just stunned Jenna into silence. ‘I thought when we sell your place, we can develop the land for luxury houses. Planning won’t be a problem with the existing residential development.’
Jenna found a vestige of her voice, though she was cold with shock. ‘B-but the cottages weren’t for sale.’
He scoffed. ‘Oh, come on! They were virtually derelict. Old Farmer Thomas was happy for me to take them off his hands.’
‘They weren’t derelict. Old, but not derelict. They were – are – cherished homes. What about the tenants? Mrs Lerryn and the Jones family?’
‘The tenancies were coming to an end anyway and you have to admit, the cottages were horrible places to live. Damp, rotting windows. I’ve done everyone a favour,’ he added sullenly.
‘They’ll find it incredibly hard to find somewhere new.’
‘If it bothers you that much, I’ll help them find something more suitable.’
‘It does bother me, Nate. It’s – well, it’s feudal!’
Nate looked hurt. ‘I did it for you. For our future. For ourkids.’
