Chapter 9

Another eventful couple of days in Debbie's life

Colin made it back to the hotel in time for breakfast. He looked crap, it had to be said, or perhaps dead would have been more accurate. Actually, watching him queasily square up to a plate of scrambled eggs – a very brain-like comestible, it occurred to me – I found my thoughts drawn to images of zombies from the horror films Phil had so loved. Admittedly, in his present state Colin would hardly have represented the more threatening variety of flesh eating undead, but you could definitely see the similarity. I almost felt sorry for him.

I, on the other hand, felt really rather well. Kath had left early, rescuing the Landrover and and heading off for a change and a shower before school. I'd had a long shower of – and, sadly, on – my own, phoned Dave (and got his voice mail, so probably on the tube) and then ate a hearty breakfast, disturbed only by the arrival of the shambling mess that used to be my architect. Ah well, I thought ... all wounds entirely self inflicted – well, more or less – so no real cause for sympathy.

In fact, part of me was aware of a nagging sense of apprehension, a sort of desire to unpick my behaviour the previous evening and obsess on the likely impact of my – umm – wanton behaviour on my local reputation and, indeed, the future development of the company. Which was interesting, a larger part of me observed, analytically, almost like watching the old Debbie – neurotic and obsessively eager to please – doing her stuff like ... like a fly trapped on a spiders web, the spiders web apparently being the new me ... or maybe the endorphic after effects of the night before. OK, I thought with a grin, the metaphor could do with some work ... but maybe not now. I had things to do.

Obviously, the first task was to find something useful for Colin to do with the day – we were paying him for all of this, after all – and the options looked fairly limited. Sadly, the previous plan – sending him back to the odious Andy to finalise arrangements for our temporary accommodation – was clearly out of the question, so I decided he could have a day with his CAD packages and begin to draft some plans and drawings and all that stuff that architects do while I ... went back to the timeshare place. Rank has its privileges and all that.

Decision made, I gave Colin his instructions – he looked relieved, though I did wonder just how steady his drawing would be with his hands shaking like that – and I went off to try phoning Dave again ... and change. The shift dress I'd thrown on to see Kath out – yes, an actual frock as Phil would have put it – would clearly not do. In fact, I was thinking more along the lines of a burka, given my previous experience, but in the end settled for jeans, an absolutely not figure hugging jumper and ... boots. Just in case kicking someone became necessary ... or desirable.

Before confronting the beast, though, I got through to Dave, catching him on his mobile just as he was picking up the mail in the office, apparently. We talked for about a quarter of an hour ... the news of Carla's difficulties was not good, really, even from the entirely selfish perspective of its likely impact on us – god alone knew what Carla and her partner must be going through – but there was something about Dave that reassured me. Previously when we'd had problems with the development I'd sensed a weakness in him, a tendency to despondency and pessimistic prognostication which was rarely helpful when decisions needed to be taken, but this time he seemed considerably more determined ... steely, even.

Better yet, we came up with a plan, of sorts, particularly after I'd reminded him – as I'd had to remind Colin – that we had legally binding contracts with quite a lot of people and that PCW would at least have a lot of paperwork to contend with if they tried to simply shut us down. Not that that would worry them if it all came to a crux, but it would give them something to think about in the meantime. After all, we agreed, we still had a business plan which fairly convincingly showed that we could make a very large amounts of money and – at present – all they had was a sort of corporate sense of unease about the way we were going about things. Admittedly, the things we'd been going about had also involved very large amounts of money, but I felt that we could stave off a crisis for a while yet. So we agreed that Dave would talk to the team and make sure they were on board, in the loop, all that sort of stuff – I knew he was good at enthusing and motivating people – while I would press ahead with things up here, putting a few more 'obstacles' in place, if you like, while also trying to get some soundings from people I knew in PCW about just what they were thinking with regard to this project.

Call finished – we'd talk again through the week, we agreed – I went back down to the hotel lobby, where Colin was draining yet another glass of orange juice, and agreed to meet him around lunch time – he might be able to organise a rescue party if I didn't make it back, I thought – before setting off over the back path to Church Gate ... and the Timeshare complex.

Which, when I arrived, was conspicuously deserted ... a couple of guests' cars in the car park – French and German plates a bit of a give away – but nothing else. Conspicuously, no sign of Andy the Arsehole's huge Chelsea Tractor ... which presumably meant he wasn't in ... or maybe had gone out specially. Either way, this was not a good sign ... god knows I'd have preferred to do business with pretty much anyone else but what was on offer here was so much better than any viable alternative – basically either staying in London for a few months more or scattering the team in a variety of holiday cottages across the length and breadth of the valley – that it would be a major piss off if the whole thing fell through. Especially, I thought, if it fell through just because the jerk had had his pride wounded by a woman in a pub.

My musings, however – and my kicking of the occasional pebble – were interrupted by the arrival of a small Citroen van which swung in from the road and pulled up just beside me. Inside, a small red headed woman killed the engine and, freeing herself from her seatbelt, clambered out with a big smile.

"Ms Jenner?" she said. I nodded. "Sorry I'm late, Mr Lomax – Andy, the owner – has had to go into town for something urgent. He asked me to come along and meet you in his place. I'm Linda – Linda Whittaker – and I'm sort of his PA / dogsbody ... but hopefully I can help, anyway."

I was amused by the self-deprecation in the way she put that, and liked what I saw, too ... she had a refreshingly genuine smile, seemed eager to please ... well, working for Andy must be quite a challenge, I'd have thought ... especially for a woman who was both pretty and pretty young ... probably not yet twenty, at a guess. And, of course, the surname, the red hair.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Jane Whittaker, by any chance?", I asked, "Biology teacher at the college in Bowmere?"

"Oh yes, she's my aunt ... my dad's baby sister. She told me she thought you were really nice, by the way," she said, blushing as she realised her indiscretion.

"Yes, well, I thought she was pretty wonderful, too, so no worries. And I'm sure that we'll be able to sort out everything we need to this morning ... so shall we start with a quick look round the property?"

In fact, we got everything sorted very quickly ... they'd already ordered new furniture for the flats we'd all be living in for a few months – not ideal, perhaps, but one less thing to worry about – and redecoration / refurbishment was in hand so all we really had to do was finalise arrangements for the office space ... which it turned out would be handled by their in-house electrician so, again, not really a problem. I wondered why Colin hadn't managed to sort all this out the day before but then realised that he'd been dealing with Mr Lomax himself ... which would have complicated things.

My face must have darkened at the thought of her boss because suddenly Linda was looking worried, obviously concerned that she'd somehow done something wrong ... and probably used to being torn to shreds by the bastard for minor errors, I thought. So I gave her my best reassuring smile, told her that she'd been a pleasure to work with and thanked her sincerely for her time.

She blushed, again, and asked if I'd like to have a look round the rest of the complex, seeing as how we were finished early and I agreed ... mainly because I was enjoying her company. That said, though, I was reluctantly impressed with the place – there was a decent sized indoor swimming pool, a sauna, some squash courts – all of which we were free to use, apparently – and, basically, rather more, and better, facilities than I would have imagined friend Andy capable of. I said something of the sort to Linda – carefully not impugning her employer with my question – but she picked up on the inference anyway, noticeably taking a quick look around before replying with relieved honesty.

"Oh, no ... all this was put together by old Mr Lomax – Andy's father. He ran the place for years, then got himself killed in an accident up on Honcliffe Pass – car came off the road on some ice, apparently. To be honest, the place hasn't been the same since ... maintenance not being done, that sort of thing ... and ... well, I'd be quite careful about who's around before you use the swimming pool, if I were you..."

I nodded, understanding all too clearly what – and who – she meant, asked why on earth she was working here.

"Because its a job ... and there aren't a lot of those around here. Anyway, I'm only doing it to get some cash together before I go to university, so I just make sure not to expose too much flesh, get on with my work and ... well, grin and bear it, basically." She paused, then said with a sly smile, "Mind you, having an Aunt who's friends with Rosie in the village does help quite a lot..."

OK, I thought, that mysterious Hold once again. I was going to ask her about it directly but realised that this was neither the time nor the place, so I asked if she had time for a coffee instead ... perhaps in the café in the village? She positively leapt at the suggestion, heading directly back to her van, driving the few hundred metres into town without further comment.

I wasn't remotely surprised to find Rosie herself serving in the café, nor that Linda and I were her only customers ... or that Rosie brought us three cups of coffee and sat down with us, companionably. Which seemed to me about the best opportunity I was going to get to ask my question, so I asked it.

Surprisingly, I saw my two companions exchange a quick glance before Rosie nodded decisively and answered me.

"Andy the arsehole ... is an arsehole. Well, no surprises there, of course, but we happen to know he's a much deeper arsehole than you might have gathered ... courtesy of an incident a couple of years ago."

She paused and I waited patiently. In fact it was Linda who took up the story.

"It was while I was still at college. He started hanging around the place a lot. At first ... well, we didn't think much of it ... you'd be surprised – or maybe not – how many weird middle aged men you see loitering around schools, so we – the students – just kind of ignored him. Until it became apparent that he wasn't just hanging around ... in fact he was paying a lot of attention to one girl in particular ... who was all of thirteen. Once we'd picked up on that, we took it to my aunt Jane and she took it to Ms Braithwaite – Rosie's sister, Kath – who happened to be the kid's form tutor." She paused, and Rosie took up the tale.

"Problem was that whatever it looked like, he hadn't actually done anything, at that point, so Kath didn't really have enough to go to the parents, let alone the police. Obviously, she talked to the child and after a bit got her to tell her what had happened ... and to tell her if anything else happened subsequently." She paused. "Which, unfortunately, it did ... a couple of weeks afterwards another teacher – all the staff knew, by this point – saw a bright yellow 4*4 stop to give a lift to a youngster and recognised both parties ... Andy and the child, obviously ... so he followed, phoning Kath as he did so ... who phoned me."

She shrugged. "Cut a long story short, we found the pair of them parked up in a copse just off the valley road as the car had "broken down". Again, the problem was that we had nothing we could officially do ... there was nothing wrong with the car, obviously, but nothing actually illegal had taken place and the kid was so frightened by the situation she found herself in that she just wanted it all to go away. But we took some photos at the scene – and Kath let the child protection people know, too, of course, not that there was anything they could do – and Andy knows that we know what we know. And we keep an eye on him. That's it, really."

I looked at them both, understanding, and then asked Linda, "And, knowing all that, you still work for the wanker?"

She smiled, slightly. "Like I said, its a job. Then again, it is a family resort ... so its nice to have someone watching from inside, too."

Lunch was an anticlimax, after that. When I got back to the hotel I found that Colin was actually on site – the lack of mobile coverage could be a real pain, I felt – and when I got back there I found him deep in conversation with a man in boots and a hi-vis vest, who turned out to be from the Environment Agency, here to talk about the flood remediation works. Which turned out to be more interesting than you might expect – even if my job was just to nod and agree to pay for most of the work – but I'd have to admit that I wasn't entirely disappointed to notice another vehicle pull into the small car park on site.

Which turned out to be a minibus, a school minibus, in fact, driven by none other than Auntie Jane the biology teacher and carrying three or four studious looking teenagers. Jane waved when she saw me, came over with a friendly smile as her students began unloading quadrats and nets, jars and folders.

"Hi," she said, "Hope you don't mind us pitching up with no warning but we got the bus at short notice, so I thought I'd bring up an advanced party, get the kids out in the fresh air and doing something useful."