Page 84 of Never Gonna Happen

He unrolled the photocopies and spread them out across the desk, weighing down the corners with various heavy objects – a photo of his three children flanked by dogs and horses, a pen pot, his coffee mug. Emily had only glanced at them for a few seconds at the time, but she could see that they were topographical maps of the Bowford Estate, with several areas shaded in different colours.

‘A little bit of background information first,’ said Mr Hunter. ‘Adam is due to inherit the Bowford Estate when I die, the eldest child of the eldest child.’

Emily nodded, not entirely sure if she was supposed to be making notes. She decided she probably wasn’t and sipped her coffee instead.

‘It’s not a legal entail or anything like that,’ continued Mr Hunter, ‘they got rid of those a long time ago. But it’s how this estate has worked for four hundred years. I have every intention of being around for a while, but I suspect Adam is thinking ahead to a time when this place might be his to do whatever he likes with.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s a property developer, Emily. Conservation is of no interest to him, he likes to build new things, not look after old ones.’ He held the corner of a sheet down while he sipped his coffee, then pointed to an area shaded pink on the plan. ‘These coloured areas are parcels of land around the estate. Currently farmland – they’re the higher points on the estate that never flood in winter. Prime development spots, perfect for new housing.’

‘You think he’s planning to sell bits of the estate for housing?’

‘None of it is his to sell, at least not yet. So we’re safe for the time being, as long as I don’t pop my clogs tomorrow. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s laying the groundwork for the future.’

Emily stared at the plans for a moment, scanning the margins for tiny details. ‘Did he draft these plans himself, do you think?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Mr Hunter, his brow furrowed. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘It looks to me like he’s had the estate fully surveyed and had someone make recommendations on the best sites for development. Unless he’s a qualified surveyor and has the right equipment, he’d definitely have needed help.’

Mr Hunter raised his eyebrows. ‘Is this a field of expertise you didn’t mention on your CV?’

Emily gave an awkward smile. ‘I was PA to an architect for three years; lots of plans like these passed over my boss’s desk. Could he have brought land surveyors here without you noticing?’

‘I suppose he could,’ said Mr Hunter thoughtfully. ‘I’m away all the time; when I interviewed you back in October I’d been in London for over a week. James and Leon were with me, James was staying with a, uh . . . friend.’ He tripped over the final word, and Emily realised he meant Louisa. It wasn’t important, so she moved on.

‘What about Anna? Would she notice a team of surveyors with all their gear?’

Mr Hunter shook his head. ‘There’s no reason why she would. Anna rarely leaves the house and garden, and the estate workers mind their own business.’

Emily thought for a moment, her eyes narrowed. ‘So I guess it would be good to know if this is just Adam messing around with a wild idea, or if he’s already laying concrete plans.’

Mr Hunter nodded and smiled. ‘That, my dear, is the killer question. We need to find out if he’s in cahoots.’

‘Who would he be in cahoots with?’ The word felt unfamiliar on Emily’s tongue; she was pretty sure she’d never used it before.

Mr Hunter sat back in his chair. ‘Adam calls himself a property developer, but actually he’s a fixer. He finds the investors, influences the powerful and makes things happen. He greases the wheels of the property industry but doesn’t actually build anything.’

‘So he could be working with a developer?’

‘Yes. Probably not one of the big ones; it will be somebody who doesn’t have to answer to board members and shareholders, easier to keep everything under wraps. But they’ll be an established firm; this could be a very long game for them. I might go another twenty years if Adam is unlucky.’ He removed his glasses and chewed the arm thoughtfully. ‘Any ideas how we find out, without my son getting wind of it?’

Emily didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes.’

Mr Hunter raised his eyebrows in surprise, like he’d just been musing to himself without any expectation that Emily would answer. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know a man with a lot of connections, who also owes me a favour. His name’s Mark Thompson.’

Emily walked through the walled garden, enjoying the early signs of industry in the vegetable beds and the greenhouse. Sadly there wasn’t time to stop and chat with the gardeners as she was carrying lunch for her and Jamie on a tray. Sam had made them bean curry flatbreads that were as close as he could get to Mauritian street food with the limited access he had to authentic ingredients.

An uncomfortable feeling had been sitting like a brick in the pit of Emily’s stomach since she’d messaged Mark to ask if they could meet for dinner on Wednesday. He’d replied almost immediately with a yes, without asking any other questions. She definitely didn’t want to keep the dinner secret from Jamie, but she also couldn’t tell him why they were meeting. Which meant she now needed to tell a white lie, or at least fail to mention relevant information. It didn’t feel right, particularly in view of the conversation they’d had about honesty yesterday. But the alternative was saying nothing at all, which felt even less right.

She’d always known that something like this might happen – when she’d told Jamie that having a relationship with him was a conflict of interest, she hadn’t been joking – but she hadn’t envisaged Mark somehow being involved in the subterfuge, and she didn’t like it one bit. But there was no way round it that she could see, so she was just going to have to go with it.

‘Lunch delivery,’ she sang as she opened the door. Jamie flew across the kitchen on his crutches, showing off how fast he was now. She put the tray on the counter as he pulled her into a passionate kiss.

‘Steady on,’ she laughed, ‘I’m only on my lunch break.’