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Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Sasha Morgan
Copyright
Cover
Table of Contents
Start of Content
For Alex, my everything.
Chapter 1
A crowd was starting to gather on Goldgate Square. This leafy quarter of north London, with its artisan shops, deli, wine bar and even barristers’ chambers, was certainly not accustomed to such vulgarities as a ‘demo’. The activists remained huddled together united, brandishing banners of ‘save the earth!’, ‘stop the emissions!’ and ‘tunnel to triumph!’
Interest in the spectacle was quickly building momentum, as news reporters started to land on the scene. A transit van pulled up. Two people scurried out, a man carrying a TV camera, the other a lady holding a furry microphone. They hustled to the centre of the commotion, elbowing their way through, only to come to a sudden stop at a well-dressed man standing confidently in front of the otherwise motley crew of protesters. He was tall, broad-shouldered and had unmistakeable presence. Dark, unruly curls covered his bright blue eyes, which he kept sweeping back as he spoke clearly, eloquently and with passion.
‘These people are defenders of the earth. They are not intent on martyring themselves. Their sole intention is delaying, or even stopping the dual carriageway project.’
‘The Transport Secretary calls them reckless, irresponsible and deeply concerning!’ one reporter called out. To this, the man turned his blazing eyes on the reporter in question.
‘By the government’s own admission, it will be heavily polluting and carbon intensive, while demand for mass transit is falling and home working is the new norm for many people. It simply cannot ignore the climate crisis.’
‘So will you be in the tunnel with them?’ asked the lady with the microphone, shoving it in the man’s face.
‘No,’ he replied calmly, ‘I’ll be in court defending them.’ He pushed his way through the throng of people and, with his head held high, walked calmly into Goldgate Chambers, leaving the reporters all gobsmacked.
He was greeted with cheers and claps by a few barristers, while others kept quiet, exchanging anxious looks between themselves. It was all well and good being the saviour of the earth, but how would this debacle make their chambers look? Goldgate Chambers held an extremely high reputation. It represented the rich and famous, the great and the good (and the not so good). What light would this young maverick of a barrister cast on them?
‘Well said, Rory!’ shouted one. Another slapped him on the back. He took it all in his stride, just nodded his head in acknowledgement, then strode into his office.
Once inside he sat down and buried his head in his hands. Damn. What had he done? Had he sacrificed his entire career, one which he had worked so bloody hard to achieve, for his principals?
For Rory Molloy was indeed a man of principal. He had morals and, up until now, had no problem at all in standing up for them. He had honour, and was ready to fight for it. But had he gone too far this time? Had his mature, more experienced colleagues been right when they’d warned him against representing the activists? At the time he’d laughed it off, claiming he was actually one of them. But he wasn’t laughing now. Far from it.
It had always been this way with Rory. He was impetuous, passionate and a doer. He’d headed the student union at university, his strong, persuasive voice often forcing change where it was needed. He spearheaded rallies and was often seen plastering some flyer or other in public places. Rory knew how to attract interest. His good looks and charismatic personality made him forever popular with the ladies – not that he craved that kind of attention; he simply wanted his voice to be heard. He wanted to make a difference.
He laughed to himself; he was most definitely making a difference today. Who would have expected a well-groomed, well-spoken young barrister to speak up and defend what some would call a bunch of hooligans? And for free, as Rory wasn’t charging the protesters. He was acting for them because he believed in what they stood for. To him they were defenders of the earth. They did have a point – and a very good one at that. So, it wasn’t costing them a penny. But would this cost him? Would his wise, older counterparts be proved right? Had he in fact pushed the boundaries with too much vigour?
‘Typical Rory,’ said Adira, turning the laptop on the breakfast bar to show her fiancé. Jasper bent his head to see for himself. He took in the scene at Goldgate Square and chuckled. ‘He was always one to support the underdog.’ She shook her head. ‘I hope this isn’t his undoing though,’ she added quietly. Adira had worked in Goldgate Chambers as a barrister alongside Rory. They’d hit it off immediately, both being the most down to earth of them all, and Rory had proved to be the biggest friend amongst a nest of vipers when she had had the guts to finally follow her dream and ditch the rat race.
After several years of running the fast-paced legal treadmill, Adira had opted out and taken off in a campervan, making her, if not the most enviable, then the most puzzling of colleagues. She’d received mixed reactions from, ‘Good on you!’, ‘Wish I had the back-bone,’ to ‘Why?’ To some, quitting a high salary, prestigious career and bountiful future was absolutely insane. Wasn’t she now reaping the benefits from those impressive qualifications she’d earned after years of hard work and long hours? They simply didn’t get it. When Adira had tried to explain how she desired time, space and freedom, they’d just looked blankly at her. Yet, for Adira, it had been the best decision of her life and she didn’t regret it. For, on her travels, she’d found love; she’d found Jasper. Glancing at him, she thanked her lucky stars – or rather, her gran for persuading her to buy the campervan. Jasper was the polar opposite to her, but that’s why they worked. He was her rock, her anchor, together with his uncle in whose house, The Laurels, they all lived.
The large Georgian country house sat on an estate in a beautiful, quintessential village, nestled in the Forest of Bowland in Lancashire. When Adira had practically stumbled upon this quaint place, filled with quirky characters, she’d instantly fallen under its spell. Lilacwell had bewitched Adira, and she’d grown to love the place and its inhabitants. She’d grown to love Jasper, too. In turn, Jasper had been smitten by the pretty young woman, with long blonde hair and beguiling smile, who had parked her campervan on his uncle’s land. And now, several months later, here she was, engaged to be married to him.
‘Do you think this could have repercussions?’ asked Jasper, nodding his head at the laptop still showing the mass of activists outside Goldgate.
Adira shrugged. ‘I hope not. But that chambers did have some very unsavoury characters and Rory was never one to keep his opinions to himself.’ She pictured Rory locking horns a few times with one or two of them. Richard, the office manager in particular. Not to mention the Head of Chambers, Nigel Kerfoot, who she had always considered to be a touch creepy.
‘Maybe he’s better off without them then,’ replied Jasper. He remembered first meeting Rory a few months ago when he’d come to their summer party. Rory had expressed how good it was to be back up north, as that’s where he was from.
‘Perhaps he would. Rory refuses to conform, that’s his trouble.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ grinned Jasper, ‘a certain someone seemed very interested in the old rebel.’ He was referring to Cassie, Adira’s friend, who worked at the local pub, the Inn at Lilacwell. They had struck up a bond immediately when Adira worked there temporarily.
Rory had sought Cassie out amongst their party guests and the two had seemed to hit it off. Somehow, though, nothing had materialised. Adira didn’t like to pry, but did think it a little odd that Rory hadn’t pursued her.
Jasper got up from the bar stool and hugged Adira from behind, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
‘He could always buy a campervan and clear off like you did, sweetheart.’
Adira lent back into his chest, loving the secure, warm feeling of his arms wrapped round her.
‘The best decision I ever made.’
‘It most certainly was.’ Jasper nuzzled into her neck and squeezed her.
Chapter 2
Cassie flicked off the TV and took a deep breath. Taking a few moments to steady her
Mentally shaking herself into action, she got up from the sofa and nipped to the bathroom to put on a touch of make-up, where she gazed at the reflection before her. She sighed, noticing how pale she looked, then applied some blusher and lipstick. There, that was better. Then she ran a brush through her pixie cut until the chestnut hair shone. Not bad, she told herself, before making her way downstairs to the bar. She was on lates tonight, so wouldn’t finish her shift until after eleven p.m. As assistant manager of the Inn at Lilacwell, it was up to her to make sure the place was closed securely last thing at night.
At least she didn’t have a journey home to make. Living in the hotel was convenient in many ways, yet inconvenient in others – such as being permanently on call. Not that it bothered Cassie too much, for she loved her job. However sometimes, like now, after seeing Rory on the news, she craved a little piece and quiet, a sanctuary where she could stop and take stock. Had she made the right choice? That low, sick churning sensation began to settle in the pit of her stomach. Again.
Before she had chance to dwell, she switched on her best friendly front-of-house smile and began serving and chatting to the locals. Here was her safe place, comfortable in familiar surroundings doing what she did best – being the hostess with the mostest. Cassie knew every nook and cranny of the Inn and all its punters. It had been her local pub, having been brought up in the village, and after obtaining a degree in hotel management, Cassie couldn’t think of a better place to be than the Inn at Lilacwell. She hadn’t been tempted to stray to the bright lights of a city, it had simply never appealed to her. Cassie was a home bird. Unlike many her age, she totally appreciated her roots and where she came from. Being born in an area of outstanding natural beauty had been a privilege to her and she’d vowed never to leave it, a country girl through and through. She craved the wide, open space of the lush green fields and the trickling of spring water. She loved nature trails with the family labradors, swimming in the babbling brooks and cuddling up to crackling inglenook fires. The whole country life suited her down to the earthy ground she walked on.
Only once had she ventured out and momentarily considered another way of life. But that was history now. Justin was an ex-boyfriend who lived and worked in London, having now made quite a name for himself as a hedge fund manager. He was ambitious and had wanted Cassie to share his lavish lifestyle in the city, with a promise that once he’d made his fortune, they’d settle down in the country. But Cassie realised early on that was never going to happen. Justin was not going to give up his high-flying career, his flat on the Thames, his Porsche or his Champagne Charlie friends, to stay put in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with her. She’d grown tired of the long trips to London, packed on a train filled with commuters, to visit him and she’d grown tired of waiting for him to join her in Lilacwell. In the end she did the sensible thing and called the relationship off. From then on Cassie had made a conscious decision – no more long-distance relationships.
The trouble was, all the locals were spoken for. Every farmer had a wife it seemed. So, when a certain tall dark stranger approached her at Adira and Jasper’s party, Cassie thought her luck was changing. He had an easy confidence, not in an arrogant way, but more natural and charming. He made her laugh and she was genuinely interested in his job as a barrister. Then came the bombshell – he lived in London. She’d blinked when he’d told her. He had a northern accent, so she’d assumed he was a friend of Jasper’s from Cumbria. When Rory explained he was in fact Adira’s friend and they’d worked together in Goldgate Chambers, Cassie’s heart sank. Not again. From that moment her defences came up and she found herself suddenly inventing a boyfriend – using Justin’s details, because the best lies are grounded in truth, right? – who couldn’t make it to the party. A prickle of guilt stung her at the disappointment on Rory’s face, but he seemed to take the hint and soon made his excuses to move on.
Throughout the night they’d catch each other’s eyes every now and then, but neither made the effort to talk again.
Convincing herself she’d done the right thing still hadn’t stopped her from looking him up on the Goldgate Chambers’ website though. There he was looking devilishly handsome, complete with a mischievous grin, making his cheeks dimple. Apparently he specialised in human rights and had a long list of letters after his name. Cassie had been quite surprised because he most definitely had not come across as pretentious, which many would if they had similar qualifications. All this had truly piqued her curiosity; Rory Molloy intrigued her and the more she researched him the more interested she became. Often, she would go on the chambers’ blog and follow what he was up to – a lot, it appeared. Rory was forever fighting one cause after another and his latest had caught the attention of the national press, and now hers.
After a long, hard but enjoyable night, Cassie eventually turned the lock on the hotel front door and heaved a sigh of relief. Her feet, back and shoulders ached. She was desperate to relax in a hot, deep bubble bath. The added bonus of living in a hotel was the luxury of a huge roll-top bath with Molton Brown toiletries. Tonight, Cassie decided to have a drink of wine to accompany her soak. After an hour of utter indulgence, she wrapped herself up in a fluffy bathrobe and sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes homed in on the laptop sitting on the bedside cabinet. Unable to stop herself, she reached out and opened it up. Clicking on the BBC news page she searched for the report on the Goldgate Square activists and there Rory was once more. She played the footage and heard his voice.
‘These people are defenders of the earth…’
Cassie stared, taking every detail of him in. The way he swept back his hair, as he spoke so valiantly, a real hero. That wretched pain came back, twisting her insides. A dull realisation ate away at her. She’d messed up.
Chapter 3
Fletcher Hendricks eased into his favourite chair. He was in the drawing room sat by the open fire, enjoying its warmth as he gazed into the dancing flames. He found it therapeutic. He could hear his housekeeper, Lilly, in the kitchen with Classic FM playing gently in the background. Soon she’d be joining him for a mid-morning coffee. Simple pleasures, he smiled to himself, but weren’t the best things in life free? For him that was certainly the case – all Fletcher had to do was compare this time last year to be reminded.
Lilly had been the one to alert his nephew to the startling state of affairs; at eighty-five, Fletcher was struggling to manage The Laurels and its estate. Although Jasper had practically been raised there, and as the closest relation to him would inherit the lot, he had been living in Dubai for a few years and hadn’t realised the extent of his uncle’s decline. On returning to Lancashire, he saw for himself just how much he was needed there on the estate, so set about plans to move back to Lilacwell. Of course, this all coincided perfectly with his new-found love, Adira.
Together they had transformed the beautiful, yet rundown country house, giving it a new lease of life. Jasper, having a good, sensible business head had whipped the estate into shape too. Fields were now harvesting, orchards producing fruit, tenants paying rent and together with Adira, they had set up The Laurels Hideaway, a glamping site on their most picturesque field by the river. Adira’s campervan took pride of place, as a flagship to illustrate how the venture originated.
Fletcher would be eternally grateful for Lilly’s intervention. Often he would consider how things may have panned out, had she not. He shuddered at the thought of him being a lonely old man, left to cope alone in a huge empty house. While he loved The Laurels – of course he did, it was the family home, passed on from generation to generation – it also meant inheriting its problems and the astronomical cost to upkeep it. As the years had tumbled on, so had Fletcher’s health until he was riddled with arthritis and his bones didn’t half bloody ache. Whereas once he’d enjoyed surveying his land, chatting to tenant farmers and discussing matters with his estate manager, it all became such hard, hard work. He still took pleasure in his blessed vegetable garden, but even that had taken its toll; all that bending and digging had left him in pain and useless for anything else. In a nutshell, it had been well and truly time to pass on the baton – and who better than Jasper to take over.
