Mentally shaking herself into action, she got up from the sofa and nipped to the bathroom to put on a touch of make-up, where she gazed at the reflection before her. She sighed, noticing how pale she looked, then applied some blusher and lipstick. There, that was better. Then she ran a brush through her pixie cut until the chestnut hair shone. Not bad, she told herself, before making her way downstairs to the bar. She was on lates tonight, so wouldn’t finish her shift until after eleven p.m. As assistant manager of the Inn at Lilacwell, it was up to her to make sure the place was closed securely last thing at night.
At least she didn’t have a journey home to make. Living in the hotel was convenient in many ways, yet inconvenient in others – such as being permanently on call. Not that it bothered Cassie too much, for she loved her job. However sometimes, like now, after seeing Rory on the news, she craved a little piece and quiet, a sanctuary where she could stop and take stock. Had she made the right choice? That low, sick churning sensation began to settle in the pit of her stomach. Again.
Before she had chance to dwell, she switched on her best friendly front-of-house smile and began serving and chatting to the locals. Here was her safe place, comfortable in familiar surroundings doing what she did best – being the hostess with the mostest. Cassie knew every nook and cranny of the Inn and all its punters. It had been her local pub, having been brought up in the village, and after obtaining a degree in hotel management, Cassie couldn’t think of a better place to be than the Inn at Lilacwell. She hadn’t been tempted to stray to the bright lights of a city, it had simply never appealed to her. Cassie was a home bird. Unlike many her age, she totally appreciated her roots and where she came from. Being born in an area of outstanding natural beauty had been a privilege to her and she’d vowed never to leave it, a country girl through and through. She craved the wide, open space of the lush green fields and the trickling of spring water. She loved nature trails with the family labradors, swimming in the babbling brooks and cuddling up to crackling inglenook fires. The whole country life suited her down to the earthy ground she walked on.
Only once had she ventured out and momentarily considered another way of life. But that was history now. Justin was an ex-boyfriend who lived and worked in London, having now made quite a name for himself as a hedge fund manager. He was ambitious and had wanted Cassie to share his lavish lifestyle in the city, with a promise that once he’d made his fortune, they’d settle down in the country. But Cassie realised early on that was never going to happen. Justin was not going to give up his high-flying career, his flat on the Thames, his Porsche or his Champagne Charlie friends, to stay put in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with her. She’d grown tired of the long trips to London, packed on a train filled with commuters, to visit him and she’d grown tired of waiting for him to join her in Lilacwell. In the end she did the sensible thing and called the relationship off. From then on Cassie had made a conscious decision – no more long-distance relationships.
The trouble was, all the locals were spoken for. Every farmer had a wife it seemed. So, when a certain tall dark stranger approached her at Adira and Jasper’s party, Cassie thought her luck was changing. He had an easy confidence, not in an arrogant way, but more natural and charming. He made her laugh and she was genuinely interested in his job as a barrister. Then came the bombshell – he lived in London. She’d blinked when he’d told her. He had a northern accent, so she’d assumed he was a friend of Jasper’s from Cumbria. When Rory explained he was in fact Adira’s friend and they’d worked together in Goldgate Chambers, Cassie’s heart sank. Not again. From that moment her defences came up and she found herself suddenly inventing a boyfriend – using Justin’s details, because the best lies are grounded in truth, right? – who couldn’t make it to the party. A prickle of guilt stung her at the disappointment on Rory’s face, but he seemed to take the hint and soon made his excuses to move on.
Throughout the night they’d catch each other’s eyes every now and then, but neither made the effort to talk again.
Convincing herself she’d done the right thing still hadn’t stopped her from looking him up on the Goldgate Chambers’ website though. There he was looking devilishly handsome, complete with a mischievous grin, making his cheeks dimple. Apparently he specialised in human rights and had a long list of letters after his name. Cassie had been quite surprised because he most definitely had not come across as pretentious, which many would if they had similar qualifications. All this had truly piqued her curiosity; Rory Molloy intrigued her and the more she researched him the more interested she became. Often, she would go on the chambers’ blog and follow what he was up to – a lot, it appeared. Rory was forever fighting one cause after another and his latest had caught the attention of the national press, and now hers.
After a long, hard but enjoyable night, Cassie eventually turned the lock on the hotel front door and heaved a sigh of relief. Her feet, back and shoulders ached. She was desperate to relax in a hot, deep bubble bath. The added bonus of living in a hotel was the luxury of a huge roll-top bath with Molton Brown toiletries. Tonight, Cassie decided to have a drink of wine to accompany her soak. After an hour of utter indulgence, she wrapped herself up in a fluffy bathrobe and sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes homed in on the laptop sitting on the bedside cabinet. Unable to stop herself, she reached out and opened it up. Clicking on the BBC news page she searched for the report on the Goldgate Square activists and there Rory was once more. She played the footage and heard his voice.
‘These people are defenders of the earth…’
Cassie stared, taking every detail of him in. The way he swept back his hair, as he spoke so valiantly, a real hero. That wretched pain came back, twisting her insides. A dull realisation ate away at her. She’d messed up.
Chapter 3
Fletcher Hendricks eased into his favourite chair. He was in the drawing room sat by the open fire, enjoying its warmth as he gazed into the dancing flames. He found it therapeutic. He could hear his housekeeper, Lilly, in the kitchen with Classic FM playing gently in the background. Soon she’d be joining him for a mid-morning coffee. Simple pleasures, he smiled to himself, but weren’t the best things in life free? For him that was certainly the case – all Fletcher had to do was compare this time last year to be reminded.
Lilly had been the one to alert his nephew to the startling state of affairs; at eighty-five, Fletcher was struggling to manage The Laurels and its estate. Although Jasper had practically been raised there, and as the closest relation to him would inherit the lot, he had been living in Dubai for a few years and hadn’t realised the extent of his uncle’s decline. On returning to Lancashire, he saw for himself just how much he was needed there on the estate, so set about plans to move back to Lilacwell. Of course, this all coincided perfectly with his new-found love, Adira.
Together they had transformed the beautiful, yet rundown country house, giving it a new lease of life. Jasper, having a good, sensible business head had whipped the estate into shape too. Fields were now harvesting, orchards producing fruit, tenants paying rent and together with Adira, they had set up The Laurels Hideaway, a glamping site on their most picturesque field by the river. Adira’s campervan took pride of place, as a flagship to illustrate how the venture originated.
Fletcher would be eternally grateful for Lilly’s intervention. Often he would consider how things may have panned out, had she not. He shuddered at the thought of him being a lonely old man, left to cope alone in a huge empty house. While he loved The Laurels – of course he did, it was the family home, passed on from generation to generation – it also meant inheriting its problems and the astronomical cost to upkeep it. As the years had tumbled on, so had Fletcher’s health until he was riddled with arthritis and his bones didn’t half bloody ache. Whereas once he’d enjoyed surveying his land, chatting to tenant farmers and discussing matters with his estate manager, it all became such hard, hard work. He still took pleasure in his blessed vegetable garden, but even that had taken its toll; all that bending and digging had left him in pain and useless for anything else. In a nutshell, it had been well and truly time to pass on the baton – and who better than Jasper to take over.
Jasper was his pride and joy. He’d been a big influence in his life from birth. Indeed, Uncle Fletcher had had much more of an impact on Jasper’s life than his own parents. Summer holidays had been spent at The Laurels with Fletcher filling the little boy’s days with fun and excitement. Foraging in the forest, fishing in the river, camping in the woods – huddled together as they toasted marshmallows by a fire under a starry sky. Uncle Fletcher had a knack for storytelling, often leaving a young Jasper in hysterics. Every summer holiday was the same, full of joy and laughter, but inevitably had to end. Watching a sad little boy made to pack his suitcase with tears in his eyes had always broken Fletcher. Gritting his teeth, he had hugged his precious nephew hard, with promises of Christmas coming soon. Even now, when reminiscing those times Fletcher still filled up.
But it was all different now. Lilly had alerted Jasper and he was here, permanently. Would Fletcher be around to see Jasper’s children grow up in The Laurels? He bloody hoped so! There was life in the old dog yet, of that he was sure. Which brought him nicely to his next thought: Lilly. Not much younger than himself, he thought she well and truly deserved a break. They’d always been good friends, having been brought up together. Lilly had secretly worshipped Fletcher from afar, and had been more than happy to help out at The Laurels when his housekeeper had up sticks and gone. Truth be told, it was more companionship than anything else they both needed, so the arrangement suited. Lilly would pop in and do the ironing, or wash a few pots, then together they’d sit and chat.
Fletcher though, in his wisdom, wanted more. Whether it had been Jasper and Adira living with him that had put a spring in his step, he wasn’t sure, but a new lease of life he most definitely had. And, as such, wanted to share it with Lilly. She had been his most loyal and faithful friend.
He pulled out the brochure from the side of his chair. A river cruise, that’s what he’d decided upon. Why not? He pictured him and Lilly sailing along the Danube, sipping cocktails, exploring Budapest, Slovakia and Vienna with their medieval history and gothic architecture; cruising through picturesque wine regions, with the wind in their hair and not a care in the world…
‘Fletcher, tea break!’ chimed Lilly, interrupting his thoughts. In she came carrying a tray.
‘Ah, Lilly, come and sit yourself down.’
‘There we are.’ She passed him a cup and saucer.
‘Thanks. Lilly, I’ve been thinking, let’s get away for a few days, go on a little holiday.’
‘A holiday?’ She looked at him in alarm, like he’d gone mad, slowly sitting herself down on the chair adjacent to his.
‘Yes. A holiday. Why shouldn’t we?’ She paused to think. Not waiting for an answer, Fletcher continued with gusto. ‘Just think, me and you, Lilly, being pampered in luxury.’
‘Well… yes I suppose—’
‘We deserve it!’ he barked. ‘At our time of life, after all we’ve been through.’
‘I know where we could go,’ clapped Lilly, soon adjusting to Fletcher’s way of thinking.
‘That’s the spirit,’ replied Fletcher, beaming.
‘How about Blackpool?’
