‘As much as we can be,’ Rory replied. ‘We are installing solar panels and relying on solar thermal power, planting vegetable crops and fruit trees, plus keeping livestock.’
‘All sounds idyllic, the real country life.’ Julia smiled sweetly, but unconvincingly. ‘What do the Hendricks family say about all this? After all, you are living on their estate.’
‘I’m not sure they have an opinion,’ said Cassie. ‘I’ve certainly never heard anything.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really,’ replied Rory flatly, beginning to feel a touch pissed off with this journalist’s attitude. Wasn’t Lancashire Lifestyle supposed to be a family magazine? Full of cheery articles about living in the country? He found her line of questioning a touch too confrontational, or was he being oversensitive? ‘And for the record,’ he continued, tipping his head towards her pen and paper, ‘we paid the asking price for this land. No favours, no handouts.’
‘I’m sure,’ Julia gave another sweet smile. ‘Well, I think that’s all for now,’ she said getting up and collecting her things. ‘If you could contact the magazine once the barn’s completed, that would be great and I’ll come for another visit.’
‘We’ll look forward to it,’ lied Rory, opening the shepherds hut door. Once she’d left, he slammed it shut. Cassie gave him a wide smile.
‘I thought I was supposed to do all the talking,’ she laughed, relieved the whole thing was over.
‘I couldn’t help it,’ he said. ‘It felt like being back in court, all that questioning.’
‘I know,’ she agreed, ‘but you handled her perfectly.’ His eyebrow rose.
‘I can handle you better,’ he replied with a playful grin.
Chapter 43
Jasper was at The Cobbled Courtyard, in The Potter’s Bolthole. He had been overseeing a new boiler which had been fitted that morning and was now in the kitchen with Fitz. Having already taken measurements for the units, Fitz was fitting the cupboard carcasses, the doors for which were still in his studio, being worked on by him. Jasper had chosen oak wood, along with a matching worktop.
‘I’ll have the whole kitchen fitted by next week,’ he told Jasper.
‘That’s great. Thanks, Fitz. I’ll go and see Max, hopefully he’ll have the handles for me.’
Max was making cast-iron door handles, which would really finish the job off nicely. As he entered the forge, Max was busy hammering away on an anvil. He looked up when seeing Jasper.
‘Hi,’ he smiled, his face covered in soot. He stopped what he was doing and went to fetch the handles. ‘There they are, take a look.’ He handed Jasper a hessian sack. Jasper took one out and examined it. As he fully expected, it was a work of art. Black cast iron, twirled into a slender hook, so stylish and elegant.
‘Brilliant, Max. Thanks.’ He shook his hand. ‘Have you the invoice?’
‘I’ll make one out and send it,’ replied Max. As always, Max was more interested in creating his pieces, rather than dealing with paperwork and figures. Once more, Jasper was reminded of why Max hadn’t wanted to take over The Cobbled Courtyard as a business venture from his family. Obviously Max wasn’t cut out for it, choosing instead to stick to his craft.
‘Make sure you do,’ said Jasper on his way out.
On his return to The Laurels, he was surprised not to see Adira in the library. Usually he’d find her there, busy sat at the desk. She wasn’t in the drawing room or kitchen either. He called her up the stairs to see if she was there. Then he heard a door slam. It seemed to be coming from their bedroom. Frowning, he went up to see what was happening.
Entering their bedroom he stood still. Adira was in the en suite, on the floor, hunched over the toilet vomiting.
‘Adira?’ He quickly went over. Kneeling down beside her, he put an arm round her shoulders and held her forehead. Adira spewed up once more, then taking deep breaths, managed to get up. ‘Adira…’ Jasper’s face was contorted with anguish. ‘Sit down, here.’ He led her to the edge of their bed. ‘I’m ringing the doctor,’ he said, reaching for the mobile in his jeans pocket. Adira’s hand stopped him. He stared down at her in confusion. ‘Adira, you’re not well—’
‘Please, just sit down,’ she said in a shaky voice.
‘What is it?’ His eyes searched her face.
‘Jasper, I think I may be pregnant.’ There was a stunned silence.
‘But… we’ve always been so careful,’ he replied in bewilderment.
‘Not always,’ she said in a small voice. Another short silence followed. Then Adira continued, ‘Remember your stag do? When you came home—’
‘Drunk,’ stated Jasper, penny dropping.
‘And rather amorous,’ she smiled, touching his hand. He turned to look at her. Their eyes locked, each digesting the news.
