Running Scarred (8 page)

“It’s filthy down here. Let’s move on shall we?” There was a strange tremble in her tone.

He was silent for a breath longer, then his eyebrows came together in a stiff line.

“Yes let’s.
There are only a couple more rooms to see.” He was marching out of the room even before she could reply.

They clambered over the rotting mattresses and between the old metal bed frames
. Her nose crinkled up at them in disgust. She looked so beautiful, for a moment he lost all concentration. His false leg hit an old bed frame. He stumbled for a second, and she caught his arm before he fell. He shrugged her off angrily, completely bewildered by the emotions running through him, and for a second she cowered back from his furious expression. Instantly he felt appalled. For the first time a reaction from her had wounded him. But it was nothing that she had done. His heart plunged to his stomach. He had frightened her at last, but with his anger not his looks. A terrible guilt consumed him. He tried not to look at her again.

They stumbled back up the stairs, into the light.

Anton was lying along the balustrade, Patrick’s coat bundled up under his head, his eyes closed. He looked comfortable in the sunshine.

Still slightly breathless, Ellen prodded him on the shoulder and his eyes flicked open immediately.

“At last you are ‘ere again, I ‘ad no idea we would be this long. Now can we go?” He was impatient to be gone.

Ellen put a hand on his shoulder stopping him from darting back down the overgrown path to the car.

“Just a moment Anton. I think the Chateau will be perfect for me. It’s a blank canvas. I can do exactly what I need. Have you had any offers for it?” She asked and out of the corner of her eye she saw Patrick’s shoulders slump in defeat.

Anton looked up at the sky and laughed out loud.

“You must be joking. Monsieur Patrick ‘ere, ‘as been the only one near the place for years. As I said before, it is too expensive for most people to renovate, not that it means you can come in with a silly offer if you are truly keen. The Maire needs the money raised for other projects in the area. ‘e won’t let it go for nothing. And ‘e will need to see proof that you have some kind of secured finances, something from the bank perhaps, before ‘e will let the place go. ‘e won’t want you to buy it and then not do anything with it.”

Ellen smiled at him and patted his arm. At least it would be easy to reassure him on that score.

“Let’s go and talk some figures Anton. Perhaps we can come to some agreement. I want to speak to my brother too. He’ll be working on the project with me as soon as he can get here.”

She looked back at Patrick. He was closing the doors and turning the key once again. He handed it to Anton and lugged his coat out from under Anton’s head. His expression was grim. He didn’t look at Ellen.

“I’ll leave the key with you. And if you don’t need me anymore, I’m going to cook my lunch.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but folded up his coat and stamped off towards the forest.

Ellen called after him.

“Thanks for showing me around. I’ll look forward to being your neighbour.”

Patrick spun back to her, his face aghast at the prospect. He couldn’t have her anywhere near him. She was too beautiful and too fragrant and too irrepressible and the hour spent with her in such close proximity had been almost unbearable. He had wanted to kiss her so desperately. His anticipation had been at such a height, he had wanted to do a lot more than kiss her. His passion had been so great, so
hard, that if she had given him the slightest encouragement he would have taken her there and then, ripping his clothes from his body before tearing hers aside and then making love to her on the filthy floor of the cellar.

But he had completely misunderstood her body language. That had been obvious when she had suggested they move on. She was just too polite to tell him outright that his ruined face and body didn’t mean a thing to her. He wanted to kick himself for his
own stupidity. He should have known what she would be like. He’d lived in Colchester for long enough. Her friendly, flirty openness, when she was with him, meant nothing. It was all just an Essex girl’s facade.

His blood pounded, raging through his veins as he glared at her, hating her for making him feel a complete fool. Pain made him snarl the words.

“My neighbour! Not if I have anything to do with it, you won’t. Let’s get one thing straight right now. I bought my place on the understanding that I was going to be left alone. If you think you’re going to turn this place into some fancy hotel, with hundreds of rowdy guests running all over the forest, then I’m sorry, but I will be objecting. There’s a hotel nearby already. If you remember, you stayed there last night. With a bit of luck they won’t want you here either.” And with that he shoved the bushes savagely and disappeared back into the woods.

Chapter Five

It was hers.

She was so excited that she couldn’t not stay there. She spent the first day making one of the downstairs rooms habitable. She swept the floorboards and rigged up some material at the broken windows. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the weather forecast that promised it would be dry for the next week and she threw down her camping gear. Then unable to bear waiting to employ professional gardeners she spent the first backbreaking few days hacking away at the overgrown driveway, keeping a constantly burning bonfire to consume the detritus.

Each night she lit oil lamps around her makeshift bedroom and ate bread and cheese bought at the local market. She washed in bottled water and drank glasses of sparkling wine in the lamp light. Every night she fell exhausted into her sleeping bag and each morning she was out early, dragging the ivy away from the tall avenue of trees and clipping brambles away from the rhododendrons. By the end of the week she had discovered where to find the water main and the next day she rigged up a garden hose in the stable block
. She shrieked and laughed as she took her first freezing cold shower.

Buying the Chateau hadn’t been a problem at all. The negotiations over the price had been more
like haggling over a second hand car, than an eighteenth century building. The paperwork was hurried through and the Maire had looked very happy at the bargain.

Clearing the place completely was first on the agenda and then putting in some form of electricity. She watched in satisfaction as the first lorry drove up the newly cleared drive
way and deposited a huge skip. She directed her workmen to the basement first.

The cellar was the least damaged area of the property. The workmen soon removed all the old beds and reeking mattresses before moving on to the upper floor
s while Ellen carried on with the planning of the basement pool and luxury treatment rooms.

She wanted to keep as many of the original features as possible and was pleased that t
he eighteenth century tiling was still in place in many of the rooms. Some of the rooms in the cellar only needed new wiring and then decorating. She tackled the room where Patrick had almost kissed her, herself. After the glazier had replaced the broken window, she brushed the cobwebs from the ceiling and cleared the debris and filth of years from the tiled floor.

She stood and stared out of the now clean window, her heart racing as she thought of how close she and Patrick had been, of how his fingers had touched her face. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine him there with her now. Her breath came in
uneven gasps as the feelings grew in her. Her body began to tremble. A terrible wave of desire swept over her.

She hadn’t seen him since that day. She wanted him with her now.

There was a small cough behind her. Her eyes flew open as she spun towards the sound.

“Patrick! You came back!” Her delighted exclamation
immediately died on her lips as the man standing in the doorframe stepped forwards into the room.

“God Ellen, it’s only been a few weeks. Surely you can’t have forgotten my name already?” Justin stepped over the pile of dirt she had swept and walked across the room.

Ellen stood stiffly, the broom held defensively in front of her, her hands resting on the top of the handle.

“What are you doing here Justin? How did you know where to find me?” Her tone was not welcoming.

Justin flipped dust from the shoulder of his expensively tailored suit.

“You don’t need to sound quite so pleased to see me.” He said sarcastically. “I saw David a couple of weeks ago at an army do. He told me that you had bought this place. It was more difficult to find than I had imagined. It’s not on any of the maps. I had to ask for directions from some sort of hobo who lives in the woods ar
ound here. You should be careful. Horrible character, dangerous looking, nearly as bad as your David, lame and ugly as sin, covered in scars.”

Ellen drew in a furious breath.

“How dare you talk about David and Patrick like that! They can’t help the way they look. And Patrick happens to be a very nice man anyway. He’s not dangerous at all.” She bristled instantly in Patrick’s defence.

Justin threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed wickedly around the room.

“Oh I see, that’s why you called out Patrick when I arrived. You haven’t changed much Ellen, still a sucker for a good sob story. So you’re enjoying a bit of rough are you? Well, I hope he finds you more fun in bed than I did.”

Ellen ignored his remark, not wanting to be reminded that she had slept with Justin for several years. She shivered in self-disgust. She didn’t want to prolong the conversation any more than she had to.

“What do you want here anyway Justin? I have a lot to do as you can see, so unless it’s very important, please don’t waste any more of my time than you have to.” She was as dismissive as possible.

Justin whistled through his teeth as he sauntered further into the room.

“When I saw David he was so over the top about this place. He was full of it. I thought you might need a business manager. You know, someone who really knows how to run things. Someone with plenty of experience.” He was peering up through the window. “Hmm, nice view.” He added sarcastically as he watched a pair of workman’s boots march past.

Ellen’s mouth had fallen open at his arrogance. She closed it quickly.

“And just what sort of experience do you think you’ve got Justin?”

He turned and smiled lazily at her.

“Oh you know. All those places in Spain. I’ve done a fantastic deal on them and sold the lot for twice what we paid.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh really? What I paid you mean. And just how did you manage to sell them when the papers transferring ownership haven’t even been signed off yet? They’re still at my solicitors.” She began walking towards the door wanting to be out of the confined space.

He caught hold of her arm as she passed him. He held it tightly, his thumb digging into her flesh and bruising her skin.

“Well, that’s another of the reasons I came to see you. I couldn’t miss out on the deal and so I signed on your behalf. The only problem is now that you will get half of the money. I was thinking that you would hand that over to me.”

Ellen shook her head in amazement.

“You signed on my behalf? How?” She didn’t wait for a response. “You mean you forged my signature? You fool Justin! Why couldn’t you wait? If I chose to, I could call in the fraud squad and then you wouldn’t get a penny.”

He pulled her arm and dragged her close to him. She could smell his sour, greedy breath.

He leered down at her.

“But you’re not going to do that are you? You’re going to get your
cheque book right now and hand me the money.” His tone was full of menace.

She wrenched her arm away from him
, not caring if she made the bruising worse, and glared up at him.

“When the money arrives in my account I will deduct any expenses you may have incurred on my behalf and then I’ll give the difference to charity. You can keep your half and I won’t get the police involved. How about that for a bargain? Now get out!” She stood by the door, quivering with rage.

She turned her face away as Justin crowded in on her, breathing heavily over her.

“You bitch! I’ll leave when I’m ready. And I’m not ready yet. If you’re not willing to give me my money, perhaps you’d be willing to give me something else.
Something a little more personal. You like it rough, so how about a little rough with me, here, right now. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it and at least I don’t look like I’ve been through a mincing machine.” He reached out and was about to pull her back towards him when she spun away from his grasp. Her plaited hair flew round her face and her diamond clip caught him on his chin.

He gasped in pain and put the back of his hand against his face. His hand came away smeared with blood. He glared at her furiously, dangerously.

“That bloody hair clip! You wear the damned thing all the time. You’re a multi-millionaire and you can’t even be bothered to go and buy something half decent. You’re a sentimental fool and only wear it to keep that cripple of a brother on your side. I don’t know why you bother, he’s as useless as that clip.”

Ellen took a deep breath. She was furious but she was also afraid as she watched a drop of blood
ooze from the cut and run down his chin.

“I’m sorry Justin. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Maybe I will reconsider the money, but I really can’t do anything about it until I receive my share.
Nearly everything I have is tied up here. Even you must see that. Now I really would like you to leave. I am very busy.” She hoped to placate him long enough for her to get out of the cellar.  

For a moment he looked as though he was going to argue, but just then limping, uneven footsteps could be heard echoing along the corridor.

“Ellen?” The voice came from nearby. “Ellen? Are you here? Did he find you?”

Ellen felt her breath rush from her body.

“Patrick! Yes, I’m fine. Justin was just leaving.” The relief was audible in her tone.

Justin looked out into the corridor and came face to face with a glaring Patrick. He mumbled a few words about feeling claustrophobic and then pushed past. His feet could be heard clattering up the steps of the cellar.

Ellen stumbled towards Patrick. She was about to throw her arms around him when she stopped suddenly. He was glaring down at her now, his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth set in a grim line.

“He asked me the way. I didn’t know if he had found you. The workmen told me you were down here…” He was silent for a second.

Ellen gulped back tears of relief.

“Patrick! Thank God you came. He was…” She didn’t finish. Her breath was coming in panicked gasps.

Patrick glowered down at her still, his dark blue eyes glittering in anger.

“You never said that you were engaged.” His voice was accusing.

She blinked in shock and stepped back.

“I didn’t think I had to say. I never got the chance. You stormed off the last time I saw you. And anyway, I’m not
eng…” She didn’t have the opportunity to finish.

He flung up a hand, waving her words away.

“I don’t want to know. I only came to make sure your fiancé had found his way.” He interrupted bitterly and turned quickly not wanting to see her face properly.

“Patrick! He’s not my…” But he was already making for the stairs. “Oh what’s the point, if you’re not going to listen
anyway.” She finished lamely and she turned back to the room and continued with the sweeping.

The clearing took over two weeks, skips arrived empty and were taken away overflowing with rotting debris. Then scaffolding went up, cloaking the beautiful building in a web of grey steel. Another month was spent stripping the place down and conserving anything that could be saved. A specialist team came in to flood the walls and the remaining wood with rot and insect treatment and Ellen worked for days with an architect, putting down all her ideas on paper and letting him turn them into fabulously detailed drawings. She sent another team of workers to the stable block and riding school to start renovations there.

She poured over the French permit forms, asking the local workmen for advice when she didn’t understand a question, while she wished she had taken more notice of her French teacher at school. Construction certificates were at last written up and lorry loads of wood and tiles arrived daily.

The roofers came in to replace the missing turrets and tilers began on the slates. The Chateau rang with the sound of hard work.

Ellen didn’t see Patrick again.

She knew he was about, she could smell his wood fire every morning and she sometimes thought she caught sight of him prowling through the undergrowth. Several times she tried to call on him, wanting to keep him appraised of her plans, her heart pounding as she made her way to his door, but he was either out or ignoring her because he didn’t respond to her knocking. Each time she trudged miserably back to the Chateau, the ache in her chest thudding dully.

She tried to put all her thoughts of him to the back of her mind. She couldn’t become so involved or so distracted. It was obvious he wasn’t interested. She felt awful at upsetting his peace and quiet, but there was no other way to proceed. If he was going to avoid all contact with her, there wasn’t a lot she could do. It wasn’t as though she could go barging into his house unasked, although she very much wanted to.

Her next big hurdle was the permission for a change of use to a hotel. There had been several objections to her proposal, although nobody had seen her final plans, and because they could affect the town considerably, a meeting had been arranged in the town hall. Anton had told her that there would be a lot of interest from many townsfolk. On her side, the Maire was all for anything that would bring the prospect of more jobs and visitors to the area, but many were against the whole idea, preferring the peace and quiet to which the town was accustomed.