‘But the cottages only date from the 1930s and aren’t Listed. There are no covenants protecting the land. Unfortunately, I think that for the council and local businesses, an economic investment in the area is going to be attractive.’
Cold fear sluiced down Albie’s spine. ‘Is there anything we can do?’
Clover stood, moving closer to comfort him with her warmth. ‘Yes, what can we do?’
‘Not sure,’ Ethan sighed. ‘I’ll do my best to find out more on Monday.’
‘Thank you for coming to tell us personally,’ Albie said, voice gruff. ‘It’s good of you, considering you don’t live here.’
‘I care about this place,’ Ethan said, with a swift glance at Tori, ‘and want to see the village rebuilt. What they’re planning isn’t right.’
‘No,’ Albie echoed, ‘it isn’t.’
What were they going to do? This was catastrophic.Oh, Rose. I’m so sorry.
When everyone started talking about their hard work, and how it wasn’t fair, sharing anxious looks, Albie mustered a grim strength. It was clear they needed guidance, and he was Chair of this association. Not to mention the person responsible for bringing them all together and putting them in this situation. Brooding on the bad news would do no good. They had achieved so much already, so should have faith they'd find a way through this.
‘Okay everyone. Ahem!’ He waited for them to quieten. ‘There’s nothing we can do right now.’ He paused. ‘So, who’s coming to mine for some beautifully aged whisky? It’s excellent for shock, you know.’ He revelled in the choked laughs and head shakes from his friends, before tacking on, ‘That includes you, Clover and Ethan. Afraid you’re one of us now, for better or worse.’
Clover arched an elegant eyebrow. ‘A girl could misread that kind of comment you know, Mr Curville.’
His flirting days long behind him, he was shocked to hear himself retort, ‘Let a fellow have at least one glass of whisky before propositioning him, Ms White.’
The group erupted in laughter, gloom dispelling as they watched the exchange, before standing to tidy away their chairs. Filing out of the sumptuous ballroom to head for Albie’s flat, the room fell quickly silent.
Until a moment later, when Kit came running back in, grabbing his son’s pushchair. ‘I didn’t forget you, it was a momentary lapse. You’re not allowed to throw this in my face when you’re a teenager.’
Wheeling out speedily, the double doors clicked shut behind him. As they did, a prism of light flooded through the windows, bathing the acres of yellow silk wallpaper and making it glow, as if the room was smiling. A blanket of gold sparkles rushed across the floor, brightening it to a polished shine, before floating up to coat the gold filigree on the highly ornate decorative ceiling, providing it with a lustre it hadn’t seen in years.
CHAPTER 22
Tori
Accept the Kindness of Others Gracefully
Dear Notebook,
Knew whisky was bad idea. Been long time and alcohol tolerance low, but shocked by Ethan’s news. Thatched cottages will be lovely when finished. Such potential and so many plans. Can’t all be ruined.
Everybody awed by sumptuous antiques at Albie’s, touching reverently and asking questions. Someone dusted off vintage record player and put on jaunty 1940s music, Ezra napped in pushchair, Vanessa danced with Laurie. Rosie in Albie’s bedroom watchingBeauty and the Beast. Ariel and Gilly got slowly wasted (surprised as Gilly always so serious). Clover showed Kirsten how to jive, Harley pretending not to notice her body jiggling while chatting to Theo, Kit and Ethan.
I moved onto red wine, ignoring Ethan and considering what to do about developer’s scheme. Write article to raise awareness? No, not ready to see name on by-line. Hmmm… pen name? Local newspaper might not ask questions. Hard tothink, so clambered up from sofa. Realised drunkest have been sincethat nightwhen floor tilted beneath feet. Urgh. Stumbling to toilet, splashed face with water, feeling sick. Didn’t help, so pressed forehead against cool wall tiles to stop world spinning.
Didn’t realise door unlocked until Ethan walked in.
‘Oh, sorry! Tori? Hey,’ he said in soft, slurred voice, ‘you okay?’ Stepping closer, squinted down into my eyes. ‘Bit worse for wear? Me too.’
Couldn’t help it. Being in small space with a man, sugary alcoholic smell on breath, triggered panic attack. Started gasping. Vision tunnelled, dimming around edges. Heart pounded in chest.
Ethan moved closer, making it worse. ‘What’s wrong?’ Stretched hand out.
Flashback to night in bar.Him. Something glinting under lights.
Backing away, grabbed ceramic soap dish and swung wildly. Couldn’t make sense of everything. Too drunk. Too sweaty. ‘No.’ Sucked in breath, sobbed. ‘Get – back. Out. Get-get out!’
‘Is this to do with your scars?’ His eyes rounded.
Footsteps sounded and Kirsten burst in, red hair flying, eyes glassy. ‘Whash going on?’
