‘No problem, I’ll get it ordered for you. How about another pint?’
Fletcher looked down at his nearly empty glass. Another beer to dull the pain sounded like heaven.
‘Aye, another please.’
It was only when he’d finished his favourite meal, sunk two pints and had a whisky in his hand that Fletcher managed to relax. Warm and now reasonably comfy sat by the open fire as it sizzled and snapped, his eyes grew heavy and closed.
Cassie saw him asleep and went over to gently take the tumbler of whisky resting on his lap and placed it on the table in front of him.
‘The old boy looked tired,’ remarked Charlie as he passed again.
‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘He needs someone to look after him,’ she spoke quietly.
‘Hmm, don’t let him hear you say that,’ Charlie replied with a wry grin.
Half an hour later and now closing time, Cassie gently nudged Fletcher awake.
‘Fletcher, let me give you a lift home,’ she whispered.
Slightly startled, he rubbed his eyes and yawned.
‘Much appreciated, lass,’ he replied gruffly, glad his aching bones didn’t have to haul him home tonight. The thought of his warm bed was tempting enough to get back as soon as possible, rather than wandering down the dirt track and shortcut through the woods to The Laurels.
After bidding Cassie goodnight, Fletcher paused for a moment under the lantern hanging from the cast-iron arch at the top of his footpath. He surveyed his family home in the moonlight. How magnificent it was, with its sandstone walls and large sash frames. The slate roof had two tiny attic windows peeping out from it. To the left side was the elegant glass orangery, shimmering as it reflected the stars in the night’s sky. How beautiful, he thought.
Had it been daylight, his critical eye would have noticed the broken slates on the roof, the peeled paint on the window frames and the odd smashed glass pane. But it was dark and the full moon and starry night added a touch of romance to Fletcher’s gaze. For the millionth time, he only wished he was opening the door to a full house, bursting with family.
Jasper had finished for the day and closed his laptop. An analyst in oil research, he had completed his report for a network of local and international energy market players. Satisfyingly, Jasper had finished it earlier than expected. The reason being, he was eager to go home. Back to England, back to Fletcher, who was now constantly on his mind. Ever since that phone call and hearing Lilly’s concerns, he’d grown more and more resolute in flying home and seeing his uncle. Despite looking forward to staying at The Laurels, a part of him was apprehensive, however. Exactly what state was his beloved old uncle going to be in?
His mind cast back to childhood days, filled with joy and exhilaration that Fletcher had provided in abundance. He really had given him the most captivating time in his country house, which exuded history and times of yesteryear. Jasper pictured himself as a little boy, running through the vast corridors being chased by Fletcher; creeping through the dark, secret passageways by torchlight, gripping his uncle’s hand tightly; and galloping on horseback through the rolling hills with the wind gushing past him. It all seemed like a lifetime ago now.
Jasper’s eyes misted over. How could he bear to see the most precious gentle giant decline into a frail, elderly man?
Once again, that needling voice whispered inside, digging well into his guilty conscience:He needs you now. It’s your turn to look after him.
Jasper swallowed, then rang through to his secretary.
‘Zara, have you a moment?’
‘Of course,’ came the immediate reply.
Zara was used to Jasper’s instructions. Although always courteous, she knew he wanted an instant response due to the tone in his voice. She’d grown to read and understand him very well, professionally anyway. Zara craved more. She didn’t just want a working relationship with Jasper. So, dropping everything in a second to attend to him would be a pleasure – literally.
Zara had totally fallen for his dark good looks and charisma. He had real English charm. She had instantly seen what a gentleman he was, with his impeccable manners and approachable way. Experience told her that not all people were as good to work for. Zara had appreciated the way Jasper had treated her as his equal, even though he held such a prestigious position in the company. And she’d been at pains to show it – well, as much as she could under the circumstances. All he had to do was say the word.
They’d been out together, but mainly business lunches accompanied by clients; not what you’d call dates, except for one evening dinner in a high-class restaurant as a thank you for all her efforts in the office. Only then had he opened up and spoke about his home in the UK and his family. Zara yearned to learn more about him, but it seemed there were limits to Jasper. Apart from that one evening, when he had driven her straight home after eating (much to her disappointment), it had been strictly business.
Not to be perturbed, Zara had upped her game, taking extra care of her appearance. Her long, black hair hung heavy and glossy past her shoulders and those big, brown eyes, darkened with liner and smoky eyeshadow, always took everything in. Her clothes, whilst covering every inch, as was expected, still fit closely enough to hint at what lay beneath. Once or twice, she had caught Jasper discreetly glancing – well, he was a man after all – and she had smirked to herself with satisfaction. Just give her more time and she’d crack him.
Entering Jasper’s office, she had her notebook and pen at the ready.
‘Zara, can you book me a flight to the UK?’
Looking slightly surprised, she blinked.
‘Immediately please,’ he said with force.
‘Y-yes…’ she stumbled, then quickly recovering, asked, ‘Your report to the—’
