‘I have found something out,’ I confessed. ‘Let’s go down to the beach and I’ll tell you.’
Hope had thought my cloak-and-dagger suggestion was excessive, but as I explained what I had seen and overheard, her steps faltered and her eyes grew wider and wider.
‘And you’re absolutely sure?’ she asked, as we sat on the sand out of earshot of the few visitors to the beach.
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘One hundred per cent.’
‘The paperwork was definitely current?’
‘Yes,’ I reiterated, ‘dated this summer, and there was no doubting the phone call. He was standing practically right next to me, so I didn’t mishear any of that.’
We looked behind us to where the land in question sat atop the cliffs, currently undisturbed. I tried to imagine how the view would change when it was covered in rows and rows of caravans and the local roads were choked with cars trying to get to them.
‘But this could ruin everything,’ said Hope, sounding tearful.
‘I know it’s not ideal,’ I said, trying to help her see it from Joe’s point of view, ‘but having listened to Joe talk about falling yields and failing crops, especially after that storm, I can understand why he’s doing it.’
Sophie looked at me as if I’d gone mad and I began to think I’d made a mistake in telling her.
‘And at least now we know his secret has nothing to do with the crash,’ I pointed out, trying to paint a silver lining. ‘Getting him and Sam back on proper speaking terms might be easier to achieve than we first thought.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding?’ Hope laughed. ‘Can you not imagine how Sam’s going to react when I tell him about this?’
‘Do you have to tell him?’ I asked. I could feel my face beginning to burn in spite of the fact that the sun was still hidden. ‘I only told you because—’
‘Of course, I have to tell him,’ she interrupted. ‘I do understand why you are sympathetic to Joe’s cause, Tess, because he’s talked to me about how difficult it all is, so to a certain extent I get it too, but the implications of what he’s proposing are going to be felt a whole lot further than the Upton farm boundary.’
‘Why don’t you talk to Joe before you tell Sam?’ I suggested.
‘What and drop you in it?’ She frowned. ‘If I talk to him, then he’ll know you were snooping.’
‘I wasn’t exactly snooping,’ I reminded her. ‘It was all right there.’
‘Even so.’
‘All right,’ I said, changing track. ‘How about I talk to him? I’ll explain about Bruce knocking off the papers and how I heard his side of the phone call and maybe he’ll tell me the rest.’
Hope didn’t look convinced.
‘It might not be as bad as we think it is,’ I pleaded.
Having seen the marked-out boundaries on the map, I knew that it was, but I had to try and do something to stop the flood I had just unleashed. Even if I could plug the dam long enough to give Joe a heads up, that would be something.
‘Please,’ I said, ‘before you tell Sam, or anyone else, let me talk to Joe.’
*
Hope headed back to the café, having reluctantly agreed not to say anything to Sam, and I went back to the cottage. I knew that time was of the essence and wanted to get to Home Farm and talk to the Upton brothers before she had a change of heart. Hope was the sort of woman who wore her heart on her sleeve and I knew it wouldn’t take much prompting if someone picked up on her preoccupied mood for her to tell all.
It hadn’t entered my head before but having always worked the farm I now considered that Charlie might not be in favour of selling it and, if Joe’s deal hadn’t progressed too far, then we might be able to persuade him to change his mind. Surely, while Charlie was the manager, Joe couldn’t just sell it all out from under him?
Unfortunately, my plan fell at the first hurdle, as I discovered a note from Joe on the cottage doormat, explaining that he was leaving again. Only temporarily, but most likely long enough to unsettle Hope and have her telling everyone what he had in the pipeline. I supposed I could drive out and talk to Charlie on his own, but it wasn’t an ideal compromise.
I sat on the sofa, with my head in my hands, wishing I’d stuck to sorting out my own dramas rather than getting drawn into everyone else’s and wondering what on earth I was going to do. Why hadn’t I stuck to being a holidaymaker, someone keen to unwind and de-stress, rather than turning into someone intent on becoming embroiled in the minutiae of local Wynmouth life?
Just as I was set to sink even deeper into the murky depths of the ‘one is fun’ pity party of my own making, a heavy knock at the door pulled me back into the cottage.
‘This was delivered to the pub earlier,’ said Sam gruffly, handing over a package and walking in. ‘You weren’t in and it had to be signed for.’
‘Come in, why don’t you?’ I frowned, wondering what on earth it could be. Certainly not the phone I had ordered because that would have been super-fast, even for express delivery. ‘Thanks.’
‘But never mind that,’ he said, pulling it out of my hands and dumping it on the sofa.
‘Hey,’ I objected.
‘You can look at it later,’ he said dismissively, ‘right now I’m more concerned about what you saw and heard at Home Farm.’
‘What?’
Surely Hope couldn’t have cracked already.
‘I’ve had Hope in tears at the pub.’
Or perhaps she had.
‘I thought the two of you weren’t talking,’ I tersely reminded him.
‘We weren’t,’ he said. ‘We are now.’
As loath as I was to offload, I couldn’t help thinking that if I didn’t fill Sam in then he was likely to go out to Home Farm and tackle Charlie himself and that was the last thing I wanted.
‘Thanks for that,’ he said, once I had finished explaining what I had discovered.
His expression was unfathomable, but I had the feeling that Joe’s Sunny Shores project wasn’t going to be under wraps for much longer.
‘I’ll see myself out,’ said Sam.
I didn’t dare ask what he intended to do with the information I had supplied him with and, as the door shut behind him, I turned my attention back to the package. I could hardly believe my eyes and took a moment to let my galloping heart settle before looking at it again. My eyes weren’t deceiving me, the label was definitely written in my father’s hand.
*
My initial reaction to the missive had been to throw it in the wood burner – had it been lit – but then I was seized with a desire to open it and find out my fate. Was it a heartfelt plea for my return to the fold, or a court summons demanding I appeared and explained the reasons behind my desertion from the family firm?
Befuddled and dazed, I didn’t know what to do with it so, unopened, I set it aside. I had no idea how my father had tracked me down, but I knew I couldn’t stay in Wynmouth now. I felt truly sorry to be leaving so many loose ends in my wake, but the shocking sight of Dad’s handwriting was enough to tell me that I still wasn’t ready to face up to everything and therefore I had to go. If he’d put a package in the post, he could just as easily turn up on the doorstep and that was the last thing I wanted.