Page 77 of Cooking Up a Christmas Storm
‘To finally get that obstinate little posh boy off that land, absolutely not.’
Was the obstinate little posh boy actually Lowbridge’s very lovely, rather self-effacing, little posh boy?
‘He needs to understand that whatever he tries to get that place back afloat we will blow out of the water. We will do it better and louder and he will not stand a chance.’
Fiona nodded mutely.
‘Do I make myself clear?’
Another nod.
‘For goodness’ sake woman, use your voice.’
‘I understand.’
‘Good.’ John McKenzie’s expression broke into a smile and he reached a hand over to gently stroke Fiona’s face. ‘I’m sorry. You know how emotional I get.’
‘I know. You’re passionate.’
He smiled indulgently, and glanced over at Jodie. ‘Hit the jackpot with this one, didn’t I?’
Jodie shuddered. She’d seen Fiona’s crush on John from the interview onwards, but she hadn’t been sure, until now, that anything was actually going on between them. ‘Fiona’s great.’
He nodded and curled a tendril of hair behind Fiona’s ear. ‘Especially when she makes an effort.’
As soon as he left the room, Fiona pulled the make-up kit she kept in her top drawer out and checked her mascara, and reapplied her lipstick. ‘A professional appearance is so important to perceptions of the estate,’ she murmured, like a mantra she’d learned by heart.
Jodie’s dislike of John McKenzie hardened a little more. ‘You OK?’ she asked.
‘Absolutely fine.’ Fiona’s professional smile was back in place. ‘Shall we go over our bookings procedures?’
‘Sure.’ Jodie listened – she really tried to listen – as Fiona talked to her about margins on activities booked on their own versus activities as part of a break package with accommodation, and then about direct bookings, and bookings sites, and tour operator bookings, and a thousand and one other ways Fiona worked to maximise what she called the estate’s ‘visibility footprint’ and encouraged ‘user upspending’. This was just the sort of thing that real Gemma would probably have put in place at Lowbridge. Jodie might as well have been listening to the whole speech underwater in a foreign language. ‘That all sounds great,’ she told Fiona.
Her new boss shrugged. ‘All very standard stuff. Anyone could set this up. It’s Mr McKenzie who has the real vision.’
At the end of the day she hurried down the estate access road to her pickup point, out of sight of the main office and visitor centre. Flinty’s Land Rover was sitting at the end of the lane, pulled in close to the trees. Jodie jumped in. ‘Hi!’
‘Good evening, Miss Bryant.’
It wasn’t Flinty behind the wheel. It was Veronica Lowbridge. Jodie fought to stop her smile faltering.
‘Margaret is helping with the cookery school today in your stead, so I said I could come over.’ She turned on the engine and eased the Land Rover onto the road, moving smoothly away and up through the gears.
Jodie frowned. ‘It’s a lot crunchier than that when Flinty drives.’
Veronica’s pursed lips didn’t quite crack into a smile. ‘I wouldn’t let her hear you say that.’
Jodie was happy to let the drive back over the hill and around the headland pass in silence, and for the first part of the journey Veronica seemed to feel the same. As they came into Lowbridge village she broke the silence.
‘So is your investigation bearing fruit?’
Honestly, Jodie was struggling to do very much investigating in amongst trying to keep up with the work Fiona was passing her way. ‘I know that John McKenzie is a dick.’
Veronica’s eyebrow shifted infinitesimally higher. ‘I think we all knew that already.’
‘Yeah. Sorry. I guess I’m still finding my feet. Trying to make sure they trust me.’
‘That’s important in any deception, I imagine,’ Veronica replied.
