quite right too. Nothing worse than a protestor who packs up his placards and heads for his car the minute the skies open.’
‘I can’t tell when you’re joking,’ Rose said, pausing to look at him.
‘Oh, I’m very serious about being here indeed. Make no mistake about that,’ Art said softly.
‘And how long do you plan on staying?’ She began walking again and he fell in beside her.
‘I reckon at least a few days, maybe longer. Perhaps a week or two.’
‘Getting first-hand experience of putting your money where your mouth is.’ Rose smiled. ‘I commend that. The camp’s just up ahead. We’ve managed to get running water and electricity going. It’s been a nightmare but where there’s a will there’s a way and, like I said, there are a lot of people with a lot of talent who have been keen to help us out.’
Art was looking at a collection of makeshift dwellings. Tents rubbed shoulders with slightly more solid constructions. There was an elaborate portable toilet. People were milling around. Children were playing. It was, he had to concede, a wonderful campsite, dissected by a clear, bubbling stream and surrounded by trees and flowers. It was, however, a campsite on his land.
Clearly much loved and admired, the second they were spotted, Rose was surrounded by people, young and old alike. She was part and parcel of the community and Art could see the warmth of the supporters surround her like a blanket, seemingly reaffirming her belief in what they were doing—saving the land for the locals. Several dragged her along to have a look at some new ideas for placards. One old guy involved her in an elaborate discussion about some legal technicality, which she handled with aplomb and a great show of interest, even though he could somehow tell that she was answering his questions automatically.
No one paid the slightest bit of attention to him.
He was introduced, of course, and he, likewise, was shown yet more placards to add to the already healthy supply in evidence.
‘Very artistic,’ he contributed to one of the middle-aged women who had carted him off to one side. ‘I like the...er...’
‘Drawings?’ She delightedly pointed to the illustration of stick figures holding placards showing stick figures holding placards. ‘I’m trying to convey the idea that all of this is a never-ending problem which will just keep recurring until everyone feels as passionately about the countryside as we do.’
‘Very imaginative.’
‘I guess you’ll be helping? Rose says you’re interested in what’s taking place in this little pocket of the world.’
‘Very interested,’ Art said with heartfelt honesty, relieved to be dragged away before he could be quizzed further. The woman struck him as the sort who took no prisoners.
Overhead, the sun continued to beat down with ferocity. He felt hot and sweaty and in need of just a handful of those minor luxuries he took for granted. A nice cool shower, for one thing.
He’d brought the minimum of clothes, stuffed into a holdall which he’d left in the Land Rover. They nestled on top of his computer, because there was no way he intended to be completely out of reach. That would have been unthinkable.
‘So,’ Rose said brightly when she was back at his side, having done the rounds, including squatting on the ground to talk to some of the children, ‘I notice that you didn’t think to bring a tent.’
‘Come again?’
‘I’m getting ahead of myself.’ She drew him to one side. ‘You said that you planned on staying for a few days and you don’t have a tent, but I think it might be possible for you to share one. I know Rob over there has a tent that’s as big as a house and I’m sure he’d be delighted to share his space with a fellow protestor.’
Art tried not to recoil with horror. ‘That,’ he all but choked, ‘won’t do.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I have some savings and I will dip into them to stay somewhere...er...locally...’
‘But why? Honestly, the site is really very comfortable. Everyone enjoys staying there.’
‘And I applaud them, but that’s not for me.’
‘It’s stupid to use your savings to rent somewhere for a week. Or however long you plan on staying. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, this is an extremely touristy part of the country. Dead in winter but the hotels around here are expensive and almost all of them will be fully booked in summer.’ She stood back and looked at him narrowly.
‘I believe you when you say that you don’t have criminal tendencies.’ She folded her arms and inclined her head to one side.
‘I’m breathing a sigh of relief as I stand here.’
‘And I think it’s ridiculous for you to waste your money trying to find somewhere around here to rent. You’ll be broke by the end of a week. Trust me.’ She said nothing for a few minutes, giving him ample time to try to figure out where this was heading.
But she didn’t expand, instead choosing to begin walking back to the Land Rover, which was a longwinded exercise because she was stopped by someone every couple of steps. On the way she collected an offering of several files, which she promised to look at later.
‘Nothing to do with the land,’ she confided to Art when they were finally back in the muddy four-wheel drive and she was swinging away from the land, back out to the open road. ‘George is having issues with one of his employees. Wants some advice. Normally it’s the other way round for me, but I promised I’d have a look at the file.’
‘Generous of you. I can see how popular you are with everyone there.’
Rose laughed, a musical sound of amusement that did the same thing to Art as her smile did, rousing him in ways that were unexpected and surprisingly intense.
He did know that there were pertinent questions he should be asking to further his understanding of how he could win this war without losing the battle but he couldn’t seem to get his head in the right place to ask the right questions. Instead, he found himself staring at her from under his lashes, vaguely wondering what it was about her that was so compelling.
‘Now that you’ve turned down my dinner invitation,’ he drawled, ‘perhaps you could drive me to the nearest, cheapest B&B. I’m touched at your concern for the level of my savings, but I’ll manage.’
‘There’s no reason why you can’t stay at my place.’
‘Your place?’
Rose laughed, caught his eye sideways and forced a grin out of him. ‘It’s big and you can pay your way doing things around the house while you’re there. Two of the rooms need painting, which is a job I never seem to get round to doing, and there’s a stubborn leak in the tap. A constant drip, drip, drip.’
‘You want me to fix leaks and paint your house?’ DIY and Art had never crossed paths. Paint a room? Fix a leak? He couldn’t have flung himself further out of his comfort zone if he’d tried.
‘In
