Helen shifted closer to the banister. The people below were all dressed sharply in suits and carrying briefcases. One man rolled out site maps onto the console table and tapped an area. “This is the only access road at the moment. We’ll need to make another one here.”
“That’s Pendlebury Cottage,” Mr. Roberts said. “We have a tenant in occupancy.”
“For how long?” a woman asked.
“The lease has been extended until the end of the year and she has the option to buy. That’s something we’ve agreed on.”
“And if she can’t buy?”
Roberts had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “The new estate owners will then have the right to evict.”
“That’s good to hear,” the man with the site maps said.
“But there’s the chance shewillbuy.”
“How much of a chance?”
“I’ll have to inquire.”
“Please do,” another man said. “We can offer incentives for her to move elsewhere. As it is, Land Registry has confirmed the boundaries to the cottage are at a ten-meter radius. Even if she does buy, we can run the new road alongside it and erect the storage buildings close by. A golf club retreat with the current site access and facilities wouldn’t be feasible.”
A golf course!Helen gasped as she took a step back and stumbled into something solid.
“Let’s go, Helen,” Sebastian whispered, his hands gentle on her shoulders. “You don’t wanna hear this.”
No. But she had to.
New buildings and a road ten meters from her cottage would cut straight through her garden, destroying the old shed, the vegetable patch and her chicken enclosure. Destroying the beautiful peace and quiet, the wildlife, her precious view of the hills and—
“Helen, we have to go.” Sebastian pulled her away. “Where to now?”
Dimly aware that he’d already led her down the back staircase, Helen pointed a shaky finger to the wooden door that led to the scullery, her legs trembling so much that Sebastian had to carry her outside.
Away from the house, he set her back on her feet.
“Now, get it together, Hobbs.” His voice was low and firm, his grip on her shoulders tight and solid. “Breathe.”
They were under the trees now, near the gate which Mr. Roberts must’ve left open. Sebastian guided her out into the wide-open fields.
“I’m going to be sick.”
“No. You’re not. Breathe.”
“Ada, she …”
“Breathe, Helen. Talk later.”
“A—a road!” She was shivering in the sunshine, hot tears streaking down her face. “They’ll bulldoze the garden and tarmac it. Ada’s ashes are scattered by the bench next to the honeysuckle and now everyone will drive over them and—and—and—”
“Helen.” Sebastian gripped her shoulders again. “You need to keep breathing, honey, or you’ll hyperventilate. Copy me.” He sucked in air, blew it out, his steady, solid gaze holding hers.
But all she could do was shake in his arms.
Having finally gotten Helen back to the cottage, Seb made her a cup of sweet tea hoping it would bring down her shock. When he brought it out to her in the garden, she was sitting on the grass speaking to Tom on the phone.
“This would break Ada’s heart,” she was saying as Seb placed the tea on the table. “It’s not just bricks and mortar to me … yes, I know you love it too, Tom, but … we came back to life here, didn’t we? I’ll do anything to keep this house.”
Seb hung his head. He shouldn’t be listening in like this, but watching her fall apart like that earlier, it had made him … it had made him want to be there for her. To soothe, comfort and protect.
