Cupid's Way (10 page)

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Authors: Joanne Phillips

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Cupid's Way
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‘You’re freezing. Here, put this around you.’

To Evie’s complete amazement, instead of walking out Michael gently placed his woollen jacket around her shoulders and sat down again on the sofa next to her. He took her frozen hands in his and held them on her lap. He looked beyond her, out of the window, and waited. His breathing was calm and steady.

Whether it was his kindness, or simply a desire to finally come clean, Evie knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She’d spent the entire weekend trying to keep up the fiction that she was indeed an architect – accepting the faith and the hope of her grandparents’ neighbours, allowing Mavis and Frank to act so proud of her, so impressed by their good fortune in having her in the family – but she couldn’t take it anymore.

‘I’m not an architect,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘I am just an assistant, and to be honest I’m not even a very good one.’

‘Oh, Evie.’

She leaned into Michael’s arms and he stroked her head while she fought to stop herself crying.

‘Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference to your talk at the conference – which really was brilliant, you know.’

She shook her head and sniffed. ‘It wasn’t. I was awful.’

‘That’s not true. You were nervous, but you were passionate about your subject. I was impressed.’

‘The other delegates weren’t.’

Michael let that one pass. He said, ‘I take it your grandparents don’t know what you really do for Lee, Lee and Meredith?’

‘I didn’t make it up. I’ve never lied about it, not directly. It was my dream, the job I’d always wanted. I went to college, I moved to Manchester. Lee, Lee and Meredith took me on and they were going to put me through my exams, give me all the help I needed. But …’ She paused. How much to tell him? Why tell him anything at all, in fact? She didn’t even know if she could trust him. There was no need to go into it, to talk about how James had come along and taken her dreams to pieces, how she’d been a fool and allowed herself to get distracted. She said, ‘I failed my exams. Julia Meredith let me stay on as an assistant. It seemed the best option at the time. I just … I never quite got around to telling my family.’

He nodded. There was no judgment in his eyes, only understanding.

‘They think I’m going to solve all their problems for them, Michael. It was hell today – the residents had this sort of council of war meeting, and they’ve all put their faith in me.’ She stopped talking and clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re the enemy.’

‘I’m not the enemy, Evie.’

‘You are, though. Unless you’ve decided to withdraw your plans and leave Cupid’s Way alone.’

‘I can’t do that. And as I said earlier, if not us …’

‘Someone worse,’ she finished. She pulled away from him and took up a position on the far end of the squashy sofa. Her eyes felt gritty and her back was aching. She blinked with wet lashes, and smoothed her skirt down over her knees. She said, ‘Well, I’m going to fight you, Mr Dynamite Construction. I’m going to find a way to save my grandparents’ home. Cupid’s Way is here to stay.’

‘That sounds like a slogan,’ he said, grinning. ‘You can have it printed on T-shirts.’

‘I might just do that.’

‘And where does this leave us?’

‘Us?’ Evie gave him a blank look, although she knew exactly what he was saying.

He narrowed his eyes, and she felt herself being drawn towards him, imperceptibly but irrevocably.

‘There can’t be any us, Michael. Not while we’re on opposite sides of this.’

‘Does it have to be that way? Couldn’t we just put it aside? Talk about other things, have fun, spend time together?’

She shook her head. ‘You might be able to do that, but I can’t.’

‘So it’s all or nothing with you, is it?’

Evie thought about it, then nodded. ‘Yes. It is. I’m never going to compromise my principles again. It’s just not worth it.’

She stood up to leave, thinking that having made such a definitive statement there was really no point in hanging around. Michael stood too, and she took his jacket from her shoulders and handed it back. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

‘Evie,’ he said as she headed for the door. She stopped and turned around. ‘You asked me to level with you, so I’m going to tell you something about Cupid’s Way. Dynamite already own one of the houses. The empty one, number three. We bought it from Sandy Beaumont’s daughter last year. And, Evie – some of the residents have already approached me and expressed an interest in selling. I just thought you should know because … Because I want to try and be fair.’

Evie whirled around and stalked away, the image of Michael’s pained expression imprinted on her mind. Fair. There was nothing fair about this. But there was one thing she was certain of. He wasn’t the kind of man who would walk away from this, no matter how much he liked her. She was going to have to think of something else.

Chapter 10

Early Monday morning, Evie woke to the sound of sobbing. She lay in bed, disorientated, and looked at the digits on the clock by her bed. 05:46. Not her favourite time to be awake.

She slid out of bed and pulled on her gran’s spare dressing gown – a towelling, floor-length robe in a vivid shade of pink. She scraped back the curtains. Outside, the gardens were lit by a sickly yellow street lamp. A cat – two cats – yelped in the distance. Evie left the curtains open and went to investigate the source of the sobbing.

The sound had stopped now, but she figured it had come from downstairs. She descended, treading carefully in the dim light. When she reached the bottom she held on to the newel post and leaned forward. Number eleven Cupid’s Way was so small she could see from the stairs into the living room and then on to the kitchen. There was no one in the living room. She stepped down and crept towards the kitchen door.

Mavis was sitting on the single kitchen chair with her back to the doorway, her outline picked out by the faint glow of the blue LED display on the cooker. She was hunched over and wrapped in a blanket. A glance at the fireplace told Evie that the fire needed rekindling.

She was just about to speak when Mavis said something in a low, croaky voice. Evie stopped and listened. She didn’t want to give her gran a fright by stepping up behind her and making her jump, but that wasn’t the only reason she waited. She thought she’d just heard her mother’s name.

‘… and I said to her “Angela, put that down right now. You’ve had enough already.” Well, you know what she’s like, she just went into one, didn’t she? Do you remember how she screamed the place down? I was so embarrassed. She was nothing like her brother. You never did that, did you, my lovely one? You never screamed or cried or stamped your feet. You were my angel. My angel … my angel …’

Evie held her breath, trying to listen and trying not to listen and wondering what to do. Mavis was mumbling, and her words were indistinct, but Evie had clearly heard the word “brother”. She felt a shiver run up her spine that wasn’t solely to do with the chilly morning. Evie’s mother, Angela Stone, was an only child.

‘Gran.’ She spoke softly, moving into the kitchen and putting on a fake yawn and a stretch. ‘What are you doing up so early?’

Despite Evie’s efforts, Mavis jumped and held her hand to her chest.

‘Evie! Bloody hell, you nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘Sorry, Gran. I thought I heard someone moving around down here, figured I should check it out.’

‘Did you take me for a burglar? Not sure we’ve got much worth stealing.’

Evie filled the kettle from the water filter and switched it on. She got two cups from the cupboard and popped a teabag in each. Outside the kitchen window it was starting to get light in that dusty, musty way where boundaries between objects suddenly become blurred. She’d read once that more accidents happen on the roads at dusk and dawn than at any other time of the day. She crouched down next to her gran and put her arm around her narrow shoulders.

‘Gran, are you okay?’

‘I’m just fine and dandy. Why wouldn’t I be?’ Mavis stood up and took over making the tea. Evie slid into the vacated chair and watched her. Should she mention what she’d heard? It felt too much like eavesdropping.

‘I went to see Michael Andrews on Saturday,’ Evie said. She hadn’t known she was going to come clean until the moment the words were out of her mouth. She’d spent most of the day before going over and over his words, but she’d had no desire to share them. Now, she had the sudden urge to unburden herself.

Mavis stopped briefly, then carried on pouring the water.

‘Did you, now? A social visit, was it?’

‘Of course not.’ Evie thought about the moments of intimacy she’d shared with him despite herself and winced. Still, it had been worth it. She knew more about the development than she would have done otherwise, and her grandparents had to appreciate that.

She filled Mavis in on Dynamite’s ownership of number three, and of the company’s certain pursuit of the renters’ house.

‘We should ask Pip and Cissy who they rent from,’ Mavis said. ‘Maybe we can go and see them, persuade them not to sell.’

‘Maybe.’ Evie wondered whether she should mention what Michael had told her about some of the residents showing an interest in selling. He could have been bluffing, but Evie doubted it. He just didn’t seem the type.

Not that she trusted herself to be able to tell one way or the other.

‘To think they already own old Sandy Beaumont’s house,’ Mavis said, cradling her cup of tea in both hands. ‘They must have tracked his daughter down in Australia – that’s where she moved to. What do you think of it, Evie?’

‘I think it means that this deal has been on the cards for a long time, Gran. They’ve got an independent surveyor’s report on all the houses in the street. There were plans already drawn up for the medical centre at the community involvement meeting. But the good news, such as it is, is that Michael says they’re not interested in forcing anyone out. He says he’d rather buy the houses for a fair price than go down that road.’

‘Well, that’s that then. We’ll never sell.’

‘Gran, do you think you and Gramps should at least think about the offer? No, hold on a minute – don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying, this house is lovely and Cupid’s Way is worth fighting for, of course it is, but might you two be better off living elsewhere? I mean, somewhere warmer and cheaper to run and easier to keep on top of. And the money you’d get for this place, you could afford to go on holidays, live it up a little …’ She tailed off, finding her grandmother’s icy gaze too painful to bear.

‘Evie Stone. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We asked you to come here and help us, not to go off consorting with the enemy – and now you’re trying to do his dirty work for him!’

‘Gran, it’s not like that. I just–’

‘All I’m hearing is “Michael says this” and “Michael says that”. I wonder if you’ve forgotten whose side you’re on, young lady.’

Evie sighed and slumped lower in her chair. It was useless trying to reason with her now. But she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was a tiny bit conflicted. While she would certainly fight to preserve the history of this little slice of Victoriana, she wasn’t convinced that all of Michael’s arguments were flawed. Frank and Mavis might well be better off moving, in more ways than one. The rights and wrongs of it aside, she was worried about them.

‘I’m going back to bed,’ she said. She stood up and reached for her cup on the worktop. Mavis grabbed her wrist and held it in her freezing hands.

‘Evie, I’m sorry for what I said. I know you’re on our side. But whatever you’re thinking about your granddad and me, just remember this. If I move away from this house it will kill me. It’s as simple as that.’

*

The light didn’t fully penetrate Cupid’s Way until past ten o’clock, when the overcast clouds began to dissipate and a weak sun shone through. Evie had gone back to bed after finding her gran in the kitchen, but had been unable to sleep. She’d waited until she heard Frank get up – Mavis hadn’t come back upstairs at all – then she’d waited for the water to heat up and had gone in the shower to chase away the chill.

Downstairs, she found Sarah Lowry and her gran sitting on the sofa comparing letters.

‘They came this morning,’ Mavis explained. ‘Everyone’s got one.’

‘Except the renters,’ Sarah said. ‘Morning, Evie. How are you?’

Evie said she was fine and reached out to take the offered letter from her gran. She read it quickly, then handed it back. Its contents weren’t a huge surprise.

‘It’s a good offer,’ she said. ‘I’d say that’s at least five grand more than they’re actually worth.’

There it was again, that nagging question at the back of her mind. Why were Dynamite willing to pay over the odds for the houses? What was in it for them? Already she was thinking of Michael and Dynamite Construction as two separate entities, although she still held him entirely responsible for their actions. He was the face of the company, he was its voice.

‘What’s all the fuss about?’ Frank came in the back door and stood in the entrance to the living room, his head nearly touching the top of the frame. His hands were filthy and he had coal smudged on his nose. Mavis started fussing around him with a tea towel.

‘You’ve all had letters,’ Evie told him. ‘From the council.’

He swore and batted Mavis’s hands away. ‘What do the bloody leeches want now? Will you stop it, woman? I’m not a child.’

Sarah held out her letter but Frank didn’t take it. She said, ‘It just goes over what was said at the meeting on Friday. And it sets out the official offer from Dynamite Construction.’

‘Which is very generous,’ Evie put in. Mavis glared, and flicked her with the tea towel.

‘It doesn’t matter if they offer us the crown jewels,’ she said. ‘We’re not selling. Are we, Frank?’

‘No, we are not. It’s the principle of it,’ he said to Sarah, as though he cared mostly what she thought of him.

Sarah threw Evie a questioning look. Evie shook her head.

‘It’s okay, Sarah. I’ve told them that I went to see Mr Andrews on Saturday.’

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