Cupid's Way (6 page)

She willed him to look at her, desperate to see his jolt of recognition. But then she shook her head at her own stupidity. He wouldn’t be surprised to see her, would he? He knew perfectly well she’d be here this afternoon. She’d told him enough times.

‘DMC,’ she whispered to herself. Was that supposed to stand for Dynamite Construction? ‘But Dynamite isn’t even two words,’ she said out loud.

‘What?’ Mavis whispered. ‘Evie? Are you okay?’

‘Never better.’ Evie clenched her teeth, looking directly at Michael. Michael Andrews, CEO. Of the company that wanted to tear her grandparents’ home down.

Mavis followed Evie’s gaze and grimaced.

‘That Michael Andrews, he’s a real shark by all accounts. One of the women at my WI group said her husband had a brush with him and he’s hard as nails. “If he was a stick of rock and you cut him in half he’d say ambition from top to bottom.” That’s what her husband said about him.’

Evie moved her head slowly from side to side, biting her lip. Why hadn’t he just told her who he was? Sure, it would have been embarrassing, but no more embarrassing than this. And to think, only a couple of hours ago she’d been staring at her phone, wondering if he’d call. Hoping he’d call. When all the time he knew that in a few hours they’d be in this room, together.

She gripped the hem of her skirt and tried to concentrate on what Councillor Martin was saying, but he might as well have been speaking in a foreign language. All Evie could think was: Look at me. Look at me. Look. At. Me.

And finally, he did. As soon as the councillor finished talking, Michael raised his eyes and looked straight at her. As though he already knew she was seated almost directly in front of him. Their eyes met, and Evie was momentarily gratified to see him flush. But his countenance held the same blankness she’d seen that very morning – and there was not the slightest sign of warmth or friendship. Or of apology.

‘You bastard,’ Evie whispered, mouthing the words carefully. Michael nodded once, then looked away. Evie slumped back in her chair, her head spinning.

‘What did you say?’ Mavis turned to look at her again, but Evie shook her head.

‘Nothing. Forget it.’

She tried to remember what she’d told him last night, what drunken confessions she’d spouted, and most importantly whether there was anything that would make her grandparents and the rest of the residents more vulnerable. Her cheeks burned when she thought about how she’d described the situation – cut-throat developer, stomping on the little guys. And he must have known right away, as soon as she mentioned the street by name, that she was talking about his own company.

Or had he known before then? Mavis and Frank Stone would be listed as objectors to the planning proposal, and he knew she was on her way to Bristol for a meeting. In fact, someone as well-connected as the CEO of an national construction company would have the power to do all the digging he liked – he might have known who she was before they were even introduced. Or – she clutched at her stomach as a wave of nausea hit – he might have gone to the conference with the sole purpose of meeting her. Look how he’d sought her out, first at reception and then in the bar after her talk. Look how nice he’d been, how charming, all but forcing her to book a room. Inviting her to dinner. Pumping her for information. Probably he was hoping to find something he could use against Mavis and Frank, some weakness that might cause the Cupid’s Way residents to crumble once the planning process got underway.

But if that was the case, why had he walked out after breakfast? Why not give her a lift to Bristol and have more opportunity to find out what plans they had for their opposition? Even as she allowed her imagination to go wild, Evie knew it was ridiculous. He hadn’t known. Not until the exact moment she’d opened her big mouth and mentioned Cupid’s Way.

‘I hope you’re taking all this in,’ Mavis said, leaning over and putting her mouth to Evie’s ear. ‘It makes no sense to me at all.’

Evie sat up straighter and tried to focus. She’d have to put him out of her mind, that was all. It was unfortunate, it was embarrassing, but she was here to help her grandparents and nothing should get in the way of that. The woman with the lipstick began to talk, and Evie tuned in to her ingratiating voice.

‘I’m on it, Gran,’ she said, reaching into her bag for her notebook.

She’d deal with Michael later. If he ever wanted to get out of this room, he’d have to get past her first. And she had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to say.

*

‘So the plans are here, if you’d all like to come up and have a look at them. Nobody can deny that the new medical centre will be a much needed asset to the area. And the re-homing sites outlined here, and here, together with the purchase package we’ve outlined are, I’m sure you’ll agree, more than generous and eminently suitable for all involved.’

‘No, I would not agree,’ Frank growled. Evie was holding his arm, practically restraining him. To her left Mavis sat with a puzzled expression on her face, still pleating her trousers with worried fingers. She turned to Evie and shook her head.

‘Evie? What does it mean?’

‘Re-homing package indeed,’ Frank said. ‘Like we’re unwanted pets or something.’

‘Unwanted, certainly.’ Evie was still reeling from the information she’d absorbed. On top of the shock of seeing Michael up front and centre, she wasn’t sure she could process anything else. But her gran’s eyes were wide and bewildered, and Evie knew it was her job to try and explain it as best she could. And to try and soften the blow.

‘Gran, they want to build a new medical centre to serve the surrounding areas and take the pressure off the old doctor’s surgery and the main hospital. They’ve built so many new houses, you see, that there are more people trying to access services and there’s nowhere for them to go.’

‘They should knock those houses down, then. That would solve the problem.’

‘Gramps? You’re not helping.’

Frank huffed and got to his feet. ‘I’m going to give someone a piece of my mind.’

‘Just don’t …’ Evie didn’t get to finish; Frank had already weaved his way into the crowd and disappeared. Michael was nowhere to be seen either, which left Evie feeling conflicted. On the one hand she wasn’t sure she could bear to face him after what she’d just heard; on the other hand, she was determined that he shouldn’t get away without facing her. If he’d sloped off to avoid a confrontation with her – or with any of the other residents – he was far less of a man than Evie had believed. She turned back to her gran and held onto her hand.

‘And the new medical centre,’ Mavis said, her voice shaking, ‘they want to build it in Cupid’s Way, is that right? Is that what they’re saying?’

Evie nodded. ‘Not
in
Cupid’s Way, Gran – on it. Or at least, on the land.’

‘But what will happen to us? Where will we live?’

‘They’ve identified housing for all the current residents. New homes in the local area.’ To sweeten the package, Councillor Martin had outlined a market-value figure to be paid to each resident, along with the new housing and all legal and removal costs. It was generous alright, but it was this very generosity that had Evie’s head reeling. It didn’t make any sense.

‘They can’t make us go, though. Can they, Evie?’

‘Ah, Gran. There’s this thing called a compulsory purchase order. It’s rarely used, but in certain cases … well, the long and short of it is that they can. If they decide it’s for the benefit of the community and if no one is being unfairly treated, and if the compensation is adequate.’

Dynamite Construction must be paying a fortune to make it more than adequate, Evie thought, looking around the room for Michael again. She spotted her granddad in heated conversation with Councillor Martin, but the Dynamite CEO was nowhere to be seen. Mavis leaned against her, suddenly limp. Evie put her arm around her gran and looked at her in alarm.

‘Gran? Are you okay?’

‘I can’t move away, Evie. I just can’t.’ The older woman’s voice was faint, and her face frighteningly pale.

‘Granddad!’ Evie stood up, still holding onto her gran. As she waved with her free hand, catching Frank’s attention, she spotted Michael on the other side of the room. He was a head taller than the crowd gathered around him, which consisted of most of the Peacock clan as far as Evie could tell.

‘You need to look after Gran,’ she said when Frank reached her side. ‘And we need to get her home as soon as possible. This has all been too much for her.’

‘Where are you going?’ Frank hoisted Mavis off her chair and she clung to his side, still looking completely dazed.

‘There’s something I have to do. I won’t be long.’

Evie marched across the room, elbowing a gaggle of businessmen out of her way and nearly knocking the woman councillor off her high-heeled feet. She reached Michael and tapped him on the shoulder, hard.

‘I’d like a word with you, Mr Andrews.’

He stopped speaking, but didn’t turn around straight away. She tapped him again. His back was tense, but when he turned to her his face held a relaxed expression. He did, at least, have the decency to look contrite.

‘Hello, Phoebe Sloan,’ he said, his voice as soft as a pillow. Evie wanted to slap him.

‘Don’t Phoebe Sloan me, you underhanded, lying, despicable man. How could you do this? What kind of a person are you?’

‘Evie, I’m sorry. I should have said something, you’re right.’ He pursed his lips and gave the smallest shake of his head. ‘It was such a shock when I realised you were talking about this actual project. I guess I figured you wouldn’t want much to do with me when you realised who I was. I didn’t know what to say.’

Evie could feel the blood pounding in her head. Her field of vision had narrowed so there was only her and him, only his face, which had seemed so handsome such a short time ago but which now mocked her with its dimples and twinkling eyes.

‘You’re right about that much,’ she told him, shaking. ‘I wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like you.’

‘But Evie, you must be able to understand. I panicked, I didn’t know what to do for the best. I shouldn’t have just walked away, but I knew I’d be seeing you again really soon. And even though it’s not under the best circumstances,’ he added, lowering his voice, ‘I’m still really happy to see you.’

‘You think I’m this pissed off because you ran out on me?’ Evie was incredulous. She heard a high-pitched laugh, almost a whinny, before she realised it was her making the noise. ‘You’re right – it was the wrong thing to do. You should have fessed up and told me right there and then who you were. But this,’ she waved her hand, taking in the community centre, where people were starting to quieten down now and listen, and the table where Michael had been sitting with the council members. ‘This is what makes you truly disgusting. How could you do it? How could you be part of a plan to force people out of their homes?’

She waited, realising suddenly that she really wanted to hear his answer. Maybe he would have a reason, a good reason. Maybe she was missing something, some key fact that made it okay. Like Cupid’s Way was built on a unexploded bomb and the only way to save the lives of the residents was to move them out post-haste. Or radiation had been discovered in the water, or a meteor was about to land in the communal gardens, or …

Bob Peacock was peering around Michael’s back, his face bright with interest. ‘Hasn’t got much to say for himself now, has he?’ Bob sneered.

Evie looked at Michael and was astonished to see that he looked completely mystified. He said, ‘But, Evie, we’re going to buy their houses off them. We’re talking about a lot of money – we’ll give them a great price, which is probably above the market value, to be honest. And we’re giving them all, every one of them, a new home close by. A brand new home, better and more efficient and cheaper to heat and maintain. Why, people are desperate to get their hands on these new homes. The residents, they’ll be much happier and better off.’

Evie’s mouth dropped open. She could see by his expression that he really believed this. He was genuine, and he was genuinely thrilled for them. It was incredible.

‘Michael,’ she said, for a moment forgetting how angry she was, ‘they don’t want to move. They don’t want to upgrade, improve, get more efficient. They’re happy as they are.’

A tiny crease appeared between his eyes. ‘Evie, I think you’ll find that some of them are actually really–’

‘Evie? Are you coming?’

Mavis and Frank stood behind her, looking totally frayed. Evie nodded, then turned back to Michael. ‘There’s something wrong with this,’ she told him. ‘Something doesn’t add up. But I’m telling you now, Cupid’s Way is not for sale. Not at any price.’

She stalked away across the community centre, slightly hampered in her progress by Frank’s insistence on turning around every few steps to shout abuse at the councillors, and by Mavis’s staggering gait. But all the way she could feel Michael’s brown eyes following her, still twinkling with the remnants of a bewildered amusement.

He absolutely didn’t have a clue.

‘Thanks for trying, Evie,’ Mavis said when they got outside. ‘It was brave of you to just go up to him and tear a strip off him like that. Him being a bigwig and all.’ She tipped her face up to the late afternoon sun, and Evie was relieved to see some of her colour return. It was only a few minutes’ walk back to Cupid’s Way, and they set off arm in arm with Frank trailing behind, muttering to himself.

‘Actually, Gran, it wasn’t exactly like that. Michael Andrews, well, he was … he is … Remember earlier I told you about that man I met at the conference?’

Mavis nodded, picking her way along the cracked pavement that led to the north entrance to Cupid’s Way. ‘I remember. Wasn’t he called Michael too?’

She stopped and whirled around to face Evie. ‘Oh, no.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Evie pulled a face. ‘I had no idea, Gran. I didn’t know who he worked for until he walked into the meeting.’

Mavis’s shoulders started to shake, and Evie put her arm around her. ‘I’m sorry. I feel just terrible. I spent an entire evening drinking cocktails with the bloody man. Talk about consorting with the enemy.’