Page 55 of Oz
I stare at him, but he seems obdurate on this so I settle for a quiet okay.
“It’s not just me though,” he says as he navigates the narrow Cornish lanes adeptly, his hands relaxed on the wheel. “There’s all the staff. If I lose the house they’ll lose their home. I couldn’t bear that.”
“What about The National Trust and English Heritage?”
He pulls the car to a stop behind a long line of other cars waiting on the narrow country lane and then shoots me a look. “They’ve come calling but I’m not there yet.” He winces. “Not quite yet.”
I think hard. “Okay, let’s be honest. If you open the house, the money will be good but it’s probably not going to allow you much leeway with bills.” I hesitate. “I have an idea, but I don’t want to tell you. Do you trust me to put some feelers out?”
I know he can’t or won’t be able to. I would find it impossible to put my fate in a stranger’s hands.
“Okay,” he says softly and I jerk.
“Really?”
He laughs. “The incredulity in your voice is worrying, Oz.” He smiles and squeezes my hand on his thigh. “I trust you. You have an air of trustworthiness about you. I know you care aboutChi an Morand the people and I know you won’t jeopardise that.” I open my mouth but before I can speak he exclaims in disgust. “What on earth are these people doing?” He unbuckles his seat belt and opens the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He grins. “We’ll be here forever if we wait for people to sort this out. There’s obviously a bus or a motorhome trying to get through. This lane is notorious for it. If we leave it we’ll still be here at nighttime waiting for someone to have an idea, and we haven’t got time. We’re on a deadline.”
“A deadline. What are we doing?” I ask, but it’s to open air as he ambles round the car and moves over to the vehicles stuck in front of us. He bends down and says something to one of the drivers and the man immediately gets out. I watch them idly as they stand together pointing and talking. Two more men join them and Silas gestures at them and to a field on the left. They nod, listening intently, as I admire the late afternoon sun shining on his hair.
His shoulders are wide in the green shirt and his arse in those old jeans of his that he favours is a thing of beauty. He laughs at something one of the men says and I smile. That wide grin and the lines at the sides of his eyes attract me madly and resonate somewhere inside me deep, like someone is striking a bell in my stomach and chest.
His words ring in my ears about me caring and I shake my head and rub at my eyes. I do care about the people in the house and the beautiful dilapidated building that calls to something in me, but my deepest, most incomprehensible feelings are for him. It scares me, but I know I’ll stay and I will do anything to help him keep his birthright.
I will stay and I will see where this thing leads me. I’ve never shied away from a challenge, but this might be my biggest one yet.
Chapter
Eleven
There’s a theatre right at the edge of England
Oz
For the next five minutes, I watch bemused as he stands in the middle of the road and directs cars left and right into fields, along with a great deal of laughter and that wide, friendly smile on his face. A few times the driver of a vehicle has lowered his window with a frown, but each time Silas smiles and says something and the result is laughter and an easy-going acceptance of his requests.
When he gets back into the car I grin at him. “I really don’t know why I’m here. You’ve got an arsenal of your own with that smile and the understanding that people will just do as they’re told. Why haven’t you pointed it at the house?”
He starts the engine and we move off. “I’m glad I didn’t,” he says. “Look what I got.”
I shake my head. “Where are we going? Your date shouldn’t be kept in the dark unless you’ve blindfolded them.” He shoots me a look and I smile lasciviously. “Not that I’d know anything about that at all.”
He groans and reaches down to rearrange himself. “Thanks for that, Oz.” I laugh. “Anyway, we’re nearly there now so your curiosity will be satisfied.”
I look out of the window as we climb a steep and narrow sloping road and obey the directions of a man in a fluorescent jacket to park the car in a car park with a stunning view of the sea.
I open the door and slide out and immediately walk over to the fence. All I can see is the wide, glittering expanse of the sea. “It’s like we’re at the end of the world,” I exclaim, turning to him as he locks the door and comes towards me.
He slings his rucksack over his shoulder and stands next to me. “Not the end of the world. Just the end of England,” he says quietly. “Land’s End is a few miles over that way.” He grabs my hand. “Come on or we’ll be late.”
I turn to see people getting out of their cars and starting to flock towards an entrance to my left. They’re grabbing bags and even blankets.
“Are we going camping?” I ask doubtfully. He laughs and I turn back. “Not that I’d mind, but the last time I did that I was with Shaun. The tent got flooded and we ended up sleeping in his car on the beach for a week.”
He tugs me after him. “Who’s Shaun?”
