then? I assume you have one? Only it’ll be good to know how long you intend on repaying me letting you work here for free by putting food on my table.’
His big plan?
His big plan was genius.
Low risk. High reward.
And had he mentioned genius?
His big plan was to use the professional-quality printer and video editing equipment at Hive @ The Clock House to print out all the photos he’d taken of Knightley Hall as full-colour A3 glossies and then finish up editing the video footage of the Hall before giving the marketing packet to his location scout contact.
His big plan was to get the location scout to fall in love with Knightley Hall and then recommend it to the film production company looking for the next place to shoot Merriweather Mysteries.
The amount of money they’d get for allowing two months of off-season filming a year for six episodes a series for as long as it took for the public to decide they no longer wanted to see their favourite thesps in pension-enhancing hamming-it-up blood-curdling cosy mystery roles set in bucolic Blighty, was a no-brainer.
Phase two of his plan was to present the idea to Jake in such a way that Jake gave the go-ahead and also, possibly, bestowed the word ‘genius’ upon him … so much more preferable than presenting his idea and ending up as inspiration for the next series of Merriweather Mysteries.
But he needed to be patient and do it right this time.
‘You can’t look after us all forever, Jake,’ he said, keeping his voice low and calm. ‘I know you’re the one who we all come to but what if my big plan is for you to get to enjoy this place? What if my big plan is for you to get to enjoy your marriage without money stuff getting in the way?’
Jake did the whole pinching-the-bridge-of-his-nose thing that meant he didn’t know whether to engage full big-brother superiority or show that he was more evolved than that. ‘Seth, it’s not your responsibility to worry about this. Emma and I are just fine.’
‘Are you?’ he cut in, searching his big brother’s face.
‘Of course we are,’ Jake asserted, ‘And now that we’ve set the date—’
‘You mean now Gloria’s set the date?’
He still couldn’t believe she’d succumbed to village pressure. Must be getting soft. But at least she’d actually affected a wedding discussion between Jake and Emma. Although, for arguments sake you should cross out the word discussion and replace it with argument. But if the noises coming out of the opposite wing of the house last night were any indications, they’d definitely made up afterwards, so, ‘Good one, Glor,’ he thought.
‘It will still be our choice,’ Jake said, handily ignoring Gloria’s contribution to their wedding planning. ‘Mine and Emma’s, what we spend on our wedding.’
‘But wouldn’t it be great if you had more choice than you thought? Look,’ he paused, drew in a breath and managed to hold back on the frustration. ‘Just be around tonight – both of you – so that I can run my idea past you. Okay?’
‘Fine.’
Seth didn’t know what Jake saw in his eyes to finally have him backing down, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know if it happened to be desperation, so he turned around and headed back to his room to get dressed, pausing only when Jake said casually, ‘Hey? Return the favour for me and make sure you’re around tomorrow evening?’
‘Tomorrow?’ Seth automatically turned around.
‘For dinner. It’s what I came up to ask you. We’re celebrating.’
‘We are?’
Jake’s grin was ironic. ‘Well, Gloria has now set the date!’
Seth
‘… So looking at the income versus the amount of time the crew would be on-site,’ Seth murmured, sitting on top of the gate and pointing with his imaginary pointer to his imaginary screen.
At the ensuing silence Seth turned back to look out over the paddocks of the last tenanted farm on Knightley Hall land. With not a cloud in the sky and the grass holding onto the last of its green after the spate of hot summer days, it was easier to picture the positive look on Jake’s face when Seth explained why allowing a film company to film at Knightley Hall could only be a good thing.
But then the double-guessing kicked in. ‘Maybe instead of a pie chart, it should be a Gant chart? What do you think, Old Girl?’ he asked, and promptly received a moo back from Gertrude, his favourite Friesian in Felix’s herd. ‘I had you up until “Old Girl”, didn’t I?’ Seth asked with a grin. After moving back to Knightley Hall and bumping into Gertrude it hadn’t taken long to remember the cow had a penchant for wandering around. She was the nosiest resident in Whispers Wood and preferred listening to the problems of humans over the more generalist mooing from her herd.
Looking at him now, she mooed again, clearly calling disdain on his moniker of ‘Old Girl’.
‘Okay,’ Seth said decisively. ‘I’m going to pull the charts from the presentation. Let’s face it Jake isn’t impressed by a chart unless it contains a weather report or the pH levels of the surrounding soil.’
With a glance at his watch and wishing he felt as confident as he sounded, he hopped off the five-bar gate, gave Gertrude a quick pat and a ‘Good chat,’ and vaulted back over the gate to head on over to the clock house.
Ten minutes later he stepped onto the village green. Pulling his messenger bag across his body, he opened the main flap, peered inside and then lifted his head in disappointment. All the chat about pie charts with Gertrude had made him hungry but he’d forgotten to grab some food.
Then, as if his appetite had conjured the perfect amuse-bouche, he spotted her.
Gloria Pavey.
Sitting under his favourite tree.
Well, the tree he’d fallen out of more times than he cared to remember at any rate, mostly after rescuing various kittens, balls, and on one memorable occasion, Crispin Harlow’s wig. Don’t worry, no animals, wigs, or balls (either sort) were harmed during these falls.
He watched as Gloria brought a big, juicy red apple up to her lips and immediately illuminated in his head like one of those de rigueur lit message boxes everyone thought were super-cute but were really just annoying because there was never enough space to write a phrase proper, flashed the words: Behold! Here Lies Pure Tempt—
His stomach rumbled in agreement and he got all confused about the amount of French words he was suddenly using.
He had a feeling Gloria could make grown men speak in tongues, but French?
As he crossed the green towards her, he reminded himself the key to sustaining his friendship with her was to enjoy how their flirtatious personalities butted enticingly up against each other, while taking care not to cross a line she’d be able to tease him about forever.
He glanced at the apple again. Yep, it wasn’t like he’d been christened Adam. He wasn’t doing temptation at the moment. He was only doing friendship.
‘Well don’t you look adorbs sitting under my tree, reading,’ he called out and had to bite his lip to stop the grin from appearing as she fumbled the book she was reading and looked up at him.
Actually glared would be a much more fitting description.
Had