Page 98 of Never Gonna Happen

During the meeting Emily kept herself busy in the filing room and watched her phone for a message from Leon, who was pretending to wash the cars so he could keep an eye out for any sign of Jamie. But there was nothing, and when Mr Hunter opened her office door to ask if she could let Leon know it was time to bring the car round before showing Mark out, she dared to think she might get him off the premises without a man-on-man showdown.

‘I met Leon,’ said Mark as they walked down the grand staircase to the entrance hall. ‘I’m guessing he’s the guy you’re seeing.’

Emily did her coy Lady Di smile again. ‘What makes you think that?’

Mark looked pleased with himself, like he was some kind of crack detective. ‘I asked if he lived on the estate and he said he did, but it was OK because his girlfriend did too.’

Emily laughed, being careful not to confirm or deny either way. ‘What did you think of him?’ she asked.

‘I liked him,’ said Mark. ‘Polite, clearly good at his job. Down to earth, you know.’

Oh Mark, thought Emily. You’re such a snob. You’re happy because you think I’ve traded down, so you don’t need to feel threatened. But Leon is ten times the man you’ll ever be.

‘I’m glad,’ she said, opening the front door. ‘It was good to see you, and thanks for everything.’

‘Good to see you too,’ said Mark, giving her a kiss on each cheek. Leon was waiting outside by the Audi, the rear door open so Mark could climb in. Emily gave Leon a furtive smile and a nod, as if to say your task is complete, and he winked in return.

She watched the Audi disappear down the driveway and breathed out, unclenching her jaw for the first time since waking up. Jamie was none the wiser, and Mark was leaving Bowford with the information he’d come for, and hopefully having helped out Mr Hunter too. Knowing Mark as she did, she was reasonably confident he’d leave her alone now, comfortable in his own male supremacy.

It was almost lunchtime, so she headed for the kitchen and found Sam cooking up a delicious-smelling stir fry. Emily sat on a stool at the counter and sipped a Diet Coke from the fridge until he slid a bowl over for her to try. It was packed with fat prawns and vegetables and sweet and spicy flavours, which made her long to be back in the tropics with the sun on her face, rather than dealing with jealous, petty ex-boyfriends.

Anna appeared through the door from the delivery yard and gave her a conspiratorial nod, before heading upstairs with Mr Hunter’s lunch on a tray. She returned a few minutes later and gestured to Emily to join her in the pantry where they could talk away from Sam’s gossip-mongering ears.

‘Was everything OK?’ whispered Emily.

‘Jamie was fine,’ said Anna. ‘We had a good catch-up. I can’t say I approve of all the secrecy, but I’m sure you had your reasons.’

Emily breathed out slowly. ‘Thank you, Anna.’

‘He’s very happy, you know,’ said Anna, her face softening.

Emily blushed, slightly disarmed by the all-new caring version of Anna who wasn’t trying to make her life miserable. ‘I’m really glad. He makes me happy too.’

‘He reminds me of George sometimes. So gentle and easy to talk to.’

‘Mr Thompson is gone,’ whispered Leon, bustling into the pantry like an old woman who needed to be in on the action. ‘I watched the train leave, just to make sure.’

‘Thank you, Leon,’ said Emily.

He pulled a face. ‘I didn’t like him very much. He seemed like . . . I cannot think of the English word.’

‘Smug?’ Emily suggested.

Leon shrugged. ‘I don’t know that word. He seemed kind of an asshole.’

Emily laughed, trying to be generous to Mark in view of the huge favour he’d just done her, but also incredibly glad he was gone. ‘That too.’

‘So,’ said Mr Hunter, peering at Emily over his desk. ‘Mark Thompson did a very thorough job, for which I have you to thank. It seems Adam is working with a property developer called Milburn Scott. Do you know them?’

Emily nodded as she dug through her memory for the details. ‘I’ve heard of them, yes. Timber-framed homes and lodges, right? Pretty high end. My previous company pitched for some design work with them, but I don’t think it came to anything.’ She scribbled shorthand notes so she didn’t forget anything.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Hunter approvingly, as though Emily had just passed some kind of test. ‘It seems Adam has a gentleman’s agreement with them. Nothing in writing, obviously; he has no legal rights. But a deal in principle that once Bowford is under his control, plans can begin for development. Subject to all kinds of wrangling with the local planning department, but no doubt Adam is greasing the wheels there too.’

Emily’s mind boggled, imagining how many kittens her dad would have if that planning application landed on his desk. ‘Why that style of property, though? What’s the benefit of wooden lodges over normal houses?’

Mr Hunter smiled. ‘The wooden lodges are only part of the plan, I’m afraid. Another organisation is involved in this deal, a leisure company.’

Emily’s eyes narrowed. ‘What kind of leisure company?’