A Spanish Affair. Helen Brooks
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he agreed quietly.
‘Good, that’s settled, then,’ Matt said imperturbably. ‘Now, if you’d like to get Georgie to note those few points that need checking on site we’ll be on our way. Have you got any other shoes than those?’ he added, looking at her wafer-thin high heels which she had never worn to the office before but which went perfectly with the charcoal skirt she was wearing. They also showed her legs—which Georgie considered her best feature, hating her small bust and too-slender hips—off to their best advantage, but she’d tried to excuse that thought all morning.
Georgie was still mentally reeling from the confrontation of the last few minutes, and a full ten seconds went by before she could say, her voice suitably cutting, ‘I wasn’t aware I was expected to go on site this morning, if you remember, so, no, I haven’t any other shoes with me.’
‘There’s your wellies in the back of my car,’ Robert put in helpfully. ‘You remember we put all our boots in there when we took the kids down to the river for that walk at the weekend?’
Her brother probably had no idea why she glared at him the way she did, Georgie reflected, as she said, ‘Thank you, Robert,’ in a very flat voice. She was going to look just great, wasn’t she? Expensive silk jade-green blouse, elegant skirt and great hefty black wellington boots. Wonderful. And that…that swine sitting there so complacently with his hateful grey eyes looking her up and down was to blame for this, and he was enjoying every minute of her discomfiture. She didn’t have to look at him to know that; it was radiating out from the lean male figure in waves.
As it happened, by the time Georgie jumped out of Robert’s old car at the site of the proposed new estate she wasn’t thinking about her appearance.
Newbottle Meadow, as the site had always been called by all the children thereabouts, was old farmland and still surrounded by grazing cattle in the far distance. When Georgie had first come to live with her brother and his wife the area had been virtually country, but the swiftly encroaching urban advance had swallowed hundreds of acres and now Newbottle Meadow was on the edge of the town. But as yet it was still unspoilt and beautiful.
Georgie stood gazing at the rolling meadowland filled with pink-topped grasses and buttercups and butterflies and she wanted to cry. According to Robert, Matt de Capistrano had had the foresight to buy the land a decade ago when it had still officially been farmland. After several appeals he had managed to persuade the powers-that-be to grant his application for housing—as he had known would happen eventually—thereby guaranteeing a thousandfold profit as relatively inexpensive agricultural land became prime development ground. And then with the yuppie-style estate he was proposing to build…
Philistine! Georgie gulped in the mild May sunshine which turned the buttercups to luminescent gold and the grasses to pink feathers, and forced back the tears pricking the backs of her eyes. Badgers lived here, along with rabbits and foxes and butterflies galore. She and her friends had spent many happy hours marching out of the town to the meadow where they had camped for days on end and had a whale of a time. And now it was all going to be ripped up—mutilated—for filthy lucre. But it would be the saving of Robert’s firm and ultimately her brother himself. The blow of losing his business as well as his wife would have been horrific.
Georgie bit hard on her lip as she turned to see Matt de Capistrano’s red Lamborghini—obviously the Mercedes and the chauffeur were having a day off!—glide to a silky-smooth stop a few yards away. She had to think of Robert and the children in all of this, she told herself fiercely. Her ideals, the unspoilt meadow and all the wildlife, weren’t as important as David and Annie and Robert.
‘You could turn milk sour with that face.’
‘What?’ She was so startled by the softly drawled insult as Matt reached her side that she literally gaped at him.
‘Forget Mains and Jenson; the decision has been made,’ Matt said quietly, his eyes roaming to Robert, who had joined the other men waiting for them in the middle of the acres of meadowland.
‘I wasn’t thinking about George and Walter,’ she returned without thinking.
‘No?’ He eyed her disbelievingly.
‘No.”
“Then what?’ he asked softly, turning to look into her heart-shaped face. ‘Why the ferocious glare and wishing me six foot under?’
‘I wasn’t—’ She stopped abruptly in the middle of the denial. Maybe she had been at that. But he would never understand in a million years, besides which she would be cutting off her nose—or Robert’s nose—to spite her face if she did or said anything to stop Robert securing this contract. Matt de Capistrano would simply use another builder and the estate would become reality anyway. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she finished weakly.
‘Georgie.’ Before she could object he had turned her round, his hand lifting her chin as he looked down into the green of her eyes. ‘Tell me. I’m a big boy. I can take it.’
It was the mockery that did it. He was laughing at her again and Georgie stiffened, her eyes slanting green fire as she fairly spat, ‘You’re going to spoil this beautiful land, desecrate it, and you just don’t care, do you? You’ve got no soul.’
For a moment he just stared at her in amazement, and she observed—with a shred of satisfaction in all the pain and embarrassment—that she had managed to shock him. ‘What?’ he growled quietly.
‘I used to play here as a child, camp out with my friends and have fun,’ she said tightly. ‘And this land is still one of the few places hereabouts which is truly wild and beautiful. People come here to breathe, don’t you see? And you are going to destroy it, along with all the wildlife and the beauty—’
‘People have been allowed to come here because I didn’t stop them,’ he said impatiently. ‘I could have fenced it off but I didn’t.’
‘Because it was too much trouble,’ she shot back quickly.
‘For crying out loud!’ He stared at her with very real incredulity. ‘Is there no end to my crimes where you are concerned? Don’t you want Robert to build this estate?’
‘Of course I do.’ She stared at him angrily. ‘And I don’t. Of course I don’t! How could I when I look at all this and think that in a few months it will be covered with bulldozers and dirt and pretty little houses for people who think the latest designer label and a Mercedes are all that matters in life? But I don’t want Robert to lose his chance of making good; I love him and he’s worked so hard and been through so much. So of course I want him to have the contract.’
He shut his eyes for a moment in a way that said far more than any words could have done, and she resented him furiously for the unspoken criticism and the guilt it engendered. She was being ridiculous, illogical and totally unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t help it. This meadowland had healed something deep inside her in the terrible aftermath of her parents’ death. The peace, the tranquillity, the overriding continuing of life here had meant so much. And now it was all going to be swept away.
It had welcomed her after the Glen episode in her life too, reaching out to her with comforting fingers as she had walked the childhood paths and let her fingers brush through grasses and wild flowers that had had an endless consistency about them in a world that had suddenly been turned upside down.
‘I’m sorry.’ Suddenly all the anger had seeped away and she felt she had shrunk down to a child again. ‘This isn’t your fault, not altogether.’
He said something in Spanish that she was sure was uncomplimentary, then said in English, ‘Thank you, Georgie. That makes me feel a whole lot better,’ in tones of deep and biting sarcasm.
‘You won’t take the contract from Robert because you are angry with me?’ she asked anxiously.
His mouth tightened still more and now the hand under her chin became a vice as he looked down into the emerald orbs staring up at him. ‘I think I like it better when you are aware you are