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‘Something like that. I admire your selflessness, Freya. I really do.’ There was sincerity in his expression.
‘Don’t admire me. There isn’t anything special about what I’m doing. I’m just making the most of what I have by spreading it around a bit,’ she told him.
‘Do you not think you could have done that if you’d stayed with your family? Taken your trust fund at eighteen and given it to Save the Whale or something?’
‘My father would never have given me anything unless I changed how I felt about his world. I couldn’t do that, not even for pretence. I’m a black-and-white person, Jonny; you know that. There are no grey areas with me.’ She pulled her head up to meet his eyes and jutted her chin out. She hoped it spelt out her determination.
‘I guess not. Well, here we are,’ he announced as the car came to a halt at the edge of a minor road.
He got out and walked around to open her door.
‘Here we are? We’re in Gatebrook, near Covenant Bridge. There’s nothing here but the river, the bridge and the old church. No one lives here,’ Freya said. She stepped out of the car, the biting wind chilling her to the bone. She wished she’d brought a jacket.
‘No one lives here at the moment. But they could do, in a year or so,’ he said. He walked off the road and onto the grassland.
‘I’m not with you.’
‘This land belongs to me,’ he announced. He spread his arms wide and let out a satisfied laugh.
‘You bought the field? Isn’t it a little out of the way for a Recuperation Inn? The nearest petrol station is at least three miles away,’ Freya commented.
‘I bought the town of Gatebrook, from boundary to boundary. Isn’t it great? I own the church, the bridge and all this grass.’ He was really going for it with the laughter now. It was like J. R. Ewing nailing an important oil deal.
‘You own one of the Christian Fathers bridges? But they’re protected, aren’t they?’
The thought of him taking a wrecking ball to one of her much-loved sites would be the final nail in their relationship. She might even have to vomit up the lunch if that’s what he was telling her.
‘Everyone has a price, Freya,’ he answered.
‘God, now you’re starting to sound like my father.’
‘So, what do you think?’ He turned to her, loosened his tie a little. He looked like he was waiting for her to answer favourably.
‘I think if you’re considering building one of those hotel monstrosities on this land then you’re going to have a lot of local opposition. In fact, I will start the protest.’
She’d heard enough and her stomach was protesting. She began to walk back to the car.
‘And what if I was going to create a purpose-built village with houses for the homeless, shops and businesses to create jobs for them and a school for their children?’ he called.
That got her attention. She turned back around to face him. She saw his expression was serious, not a hint of humour on his face.
‘I think your cause is really something the government should be providing. But, seeing as there’s a void there, I think your charity is exactly what’s needed. I like the idea of satisfying a need and providing opportunities. It’s caring coupled with self-improvement and I think it will work,’ he finished.
‘Be careful, Jonny. Your mask of ruthlessness is slipping.’
‘This isn’t business. This is giving something back. Giving something back to you,’ he stated.
‘You don’t owe me anything. I kept the Argos ring. It’s mounted,’ she replied quickly.
‘I’m serious, Freya. I really want to do this and I am doing this, whether you want me to or not.’
‘What’s the catch? There has to be one.’
‘No catch.’
‘No catch?’ Freya queried.
‘Well, I would like you to take some photographs for the Recuperation Inns, but it isn’t a deal breaker. Whatever you say to that, I’ll still go ahead with the Every Day project,’ he assured her.
