He hugged her tightly. ‘Lasagne, did you say?’
‘Not any more. It’s burned to a crisp. You said you wanted to have dinner, just the two of us.’
‘Don’t worry, love. Doesn’t matter.’ David was already moving past her, towards his study. ‘I’ll just have a Scotch and a packet of crisps. I need to get to work anyway. I want to do some research tonight on this Yank woman Eddie’s bringing over. See what dirt my news desk can dig up.’
Louise Carlyle stood and watched as her husband walked into his study, closing the door behind him. He hadn’t kissed her. Hadn’t asked about her day. Hadn’t apologized for being late or ruining the meal that she’d prepared for them.
He wasn’t always like this, she reminded herself. He’s a good man, really.
Louise had loved David for all her adult life, and a good few years before that, and she knew a side to him that few people got to see. Her David was romantic and passionate. He was funny and loyal and kind, forever doing little things for her, like leaving a sugar mouse on her pillow every time he went away on a trip, because Louise had mentioned on an early date how much she loved them as a child. Yes, he was ambitious and he worked hard. Louise suspected he was tough as a boss and she knew many of his staff disliked him. But it was only because his standards were high. David wanted a better life, for both of them. Becoming the prime minister’s spin doctor had been a dream come true, but it wasn’t some sort of gift. It was a dream he had worked for and felt he deserved. When Eddie Wellesley took that away from him, he took more than just a job. Other people saw David’s anger. But Louise saw his pain. It was awful and it had changed him profoundly. After that there were no more sugar mice, no more thoughtful gestures. It was as if there was no room for anything but David’s raging resentment, his need to exact vengeance. He’d made plenty of enemies in the course of his professional life, but with Eddie Wellesley it was different. Personal. Louise didn’t hate Eddie Wellesley, but she did wish he would go away, far away, and never come back.
She gazed sadly at David’s closed study door.
One day, when he finally got over this vendetta with Eddie Wellesley, things would go back to the way they used to be.
One day.
Laura stood outside the gates of St Hilda’s Primary School, waiting for the bell to ring. Hugh had started nursery a few weeks earlier, and now toddled off to school three afternoons a week. The sight of him setting off from the farm with his pirate backpack, puffing his little chest out with pride, made Laura preposterously happy. What a magical place this was to grow up! Hugh and Luca had no idea how lucky they were, she thought, looking down at Luca asleep in his pushchair as a bee buzzed lazily past.
A group of mothers stood off to one side, chatting and occasionally shooting glances in Laura’s direction. Hostile glances? Or was she imagining things? I mustn’t be paranoid. Ever since Laura had sold Valley Farm to Channel 5, and word had got out in the village about the impending filming at Wraggsbottom, local feeling had been running high. It didn’t help that the new vicar, desperate to curry favour with his parishioners, and still smarting from Gabe’s rant about the Right-to-Roamers, had decided to stir up trouble, whipping up what would have been a few disgruntled murmurs into full-on war. Only yesterday, the notice that Laura had put up in the village stores, advertising for extras for the first day’s filming, had been angrily torn down and replaced with a ‘Save Our Village’ poster. As if the village were under threat! Despite Call-me-Bill’s efforts, however, Laura had faith it would all work out. No one loved the village and the valley more than she and Gabe. That was the truth, and one of the main reasons they’d wanted to make the show in the first place. With so many rich second homers, and farming in a terminal decline, Fittlescombe was in danger of becoming a ghost village, a theme park for wealthy Londoners that only came to life at weekends and holidays. Numbers at the village school were already dwindling. Without new jobs, they would only fall further. Valley Farm could provide those jobs, both directly on set and indirectly through increased tourism and interest in the Swell Valley. Plus, once people saw how nice and respectful Laura’s production team were, and how true the show was to the spirit of the valley and the people who lived and worked there, she was sure they would come round.
Besides, Eddie had promised to go door to door and turn on the legendary Wellesley charm once Macy Johanssen and the camera crew actually arrived in the village. If anybody could love-bomb Fittlescombe’s naysayers into submission, it was Eddie. He and Laura had already become fast friends. Whenever she felt overwhelmed (producing a television show, taking care of two small boys and running the farm with Gabe all at the same time was no mean feat), Eddie somehow managed to calm her down. More than that, his belief in Valley Farm as a concept was so passionate and profound, so utterly unwavering, he boosted Laura’s confidence simply by being in the same room. Thank God Gabe had had the balls to suggest approaching him.
One of the older children ran out into the playground, ringing the hand bell that signalled the end of the day. Moments later the children began to file out, youngest first. Laura waited to see Hugh’s happy, excited little face running to greet her. But instead he emerged blotchy and red-faced. He’d clearly been crying.
‘Darling!’ Laura swept him up into her arms. ‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’
‘Dickon said I can’t go to his party any more.’
‘Dickon Groves?’
Hugh nodded. ‘Ev’un else can go. Only not me.’ His lower lip wobbled pathetically. ‘He’s having a bouncy castle.’
‘I’m sure that can’t be right,’ said Laura. ‘Would you like me to go and talk to Dickon’s mummy?’
Hugh looked doubtful. ‘You stay here with Luca,’ said Laura, setting him down on the grass. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
She walked over to where Sarah Groves was talking to some other mothers.
‘Sorry to butt in,’ she began with a smile, ‘but I think Hugh’s got the wrong end of the stick. He thinks Dickon doesn’t want him to come to his birthday party any more.’
Sarah’s face hardened. ‘That’s right.’
Laura felt a knot form in her stomach. Sarah Groves wasn’t a friend, as such, but they’d always been on good terms. No more, evidently. The other mothers had lined up behind her, arms folded in a distinctly hostile manner. Laura felt as if she were at school, being cornered by the bullies.
‘But … why? Has something happened?’
Sarah scoffed. ‘Yes, something’s happened. You and your husband have run roughshod over all of us. That’s what’s happened.’
‘Now, hold on—’ Laura began.
‘No one wants this TV show, you know. No one. But you don’t care, do you? As long as you’re making a few quid.’
Laura was so shocked, for a moment she didn’t know what to say. Then she looked across at her son standing by his brother’s pushchair, his little shoulders slumped in disappointment and felt a surge of anger rush through her.
‘My God. So you’re taking out your petty grievances on an innocent four-year-old boy? How truly pathetic.’
Now it was Sarah’s turn to look shocked. Her mouth dropped open with indignation. ‘Petty grievances? How dare you! Who the hell do you think you
