The Five-Year Baby Secret

Only the boundless optimism of youth had convinced her and Matt that they could finally reunite the families, heal a hundred and seventy years of discord with the power of their love.

Unfortunately, her mother and his father had been way ahead of them.

‘I do see that to the outsider it must seem a bit like a cross between the plot of a Catherine Cookson saga and a James Bond movie,’ Fleur said, rather fearing that, instead of involving the woman with company history, she’d just made things worse.

‘Yes. Well, family feuds are no concern of mine. Your business account is another matter. Given the fact that you’ve been trading, in one way or another, for a hundred and seventy-five years, you’ve had more than enough time to get it right. The Hanovers, despite the distractions, appear to have managed their affairs somewhat more successfully.’

On safer ground, Fleur said, ‘The Hanovers gave up plant production six years ago when Phillip Hanover died. They leave other people to take the risks these days.’

‘Maybe you should consider following their example.’

‘I doubt there’s room for two gardening hypermarkets in Longbourne. Besides, if everyone did that, there would be no plants for Hanovers to sell. And fewer jobs to help support the local economy.’

Ms Johnson gave a shrug, apparently prepared to admit that she might have a point—albeit a very small one. Encouraged, Fleur went on, ‘Any business that is at the mercy of weather and fashion is never going to be a smooth ride. In that we’re no different from the High Street chain stores.’

‘There are fashions in plants?’

‘Television make-over programmes have raised the profile of gardening, but they do need a continuous supply of something new to offer the viewer. It takes the novel, the unexpected, to make an impact.’ It was Fleur’s turn to give a little shrug, implying that a woman with her finger on the pulse of business would know all about that. ‘Unfortunately, breeding plants is a bit like steering one of those supertankers—it takes a long time before anything happens. It’s just as well that plant breeders are a passionate bunch.’

‘Sustaining a feud for the best part of two centuries would seem to require a certain amount of passion,’ Ms Johnson agreed drily.

Refusing to rise to this, Fleur said, ‘I had in mind the men and women who strive for years, generations, centuries to produce the impossible. The perfect black tulip, true blue rose, red daffodil.’

‘Are you going to make my day and tell me you’re planning to exhibit one of those at Chelsea this year?’

‘No, but then, as you already know, we grow fuchsias.’

‘So you do. And what is the Grail of the fuchsia grower?’

‘A full double in buttercup-yellow.’ She shrugged. ‘A bit blowsy for the purists, but it would make the cover of all the gardening magazines.’

‘Really. Wouldn’t it be simpler, if you want bright yellow, to plant buttercups?’

‘We’re talking about the rare, Ms Johnson. Not garden weeds.’

Unperturbed, she responded, ‘Is that what your father is spending his time working on?’

‘He’s been working on it all his life.’

‘May I suggest that he’d be more productively occupied searching for a way to reduce your overdraft?’ She sat back in her chair. ‘My predecessor held you on a very loose rein, but I’m going to be frank with you, Miss Gilbert. I cannot allow the present situation to continue.’

Fleur’s stomach clenched. ‘The overdraft is secured on our land,’ she said, praying that the internal wobbles hadn’t migrated to her voice. ‘The risk, surely, is all ours?’

‘It’s agricultural land and the equity is becoming perilously small, which is why I’ve instructed a surveyor to carry out a current valuation. He’ll be getting in touch with you some time this week to arrange a convenient time.’

‘And no doubt you’ll be adding his fees to our overdraft?’ Fleur did her best to stifle her outrage, but it was beyond disguising. ‘That’s no way to reduce it.’

‘My duty is to protect the bank,’ Delia Johnson said, getting to her feet, signalling that the meeting was at an end.

‘We need two months,’ Fleur said, not moving. She hadn’t been given a chance to make her pitch. ‘We need Chelsea to showcase our new varieties.’

‘Isn’t that a massive expense?’

‘The RHS does not charge for space, but of course there are costs. Transport, accommodation, the catalogue. You’ll find them itemised in the folder I’ve given you. It’s a very small outlay in return for the publicity on the television, radio, in the print media. For the sales we’ll make from the stand.’

‘Right now the only plans I’m interested in concern the reduction of your overdraft.’ She crossed to the door and opened it. ‘I need something on my desk a week from today. When I’ve had time to look at it I’ll come out to the nursery and talk to your father.’

Fleur considered standing her ground, insisting on making her pitch. Realising it would be to deaf ears, she saved her breath, picked up her briefcase and headed for the door. This was no longer a request for backing until May, it was a fight to stay in business.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE should have held out for the diamonds, Fleur thought as she climbed aboard the Land Rover. They’d have come in handy right now.

She reached up and took the tiny jewels from her ears that Matt had given her, cupping them in the palm of her hand. When he’d given them to her they’d seemed the most precious things in the world, but they were no more than pretty trinkets, worth as little as the till-death-us-do-part promise that went with them.

She tightened her hand around them, held them for a moment before dropping them in her pocket beside the letter from his mother.

They’d be in good company, she thought, reaching forward to turn the key in the ignition, before slumping back in the seat as the sting of tears caught her out.

She closed her eyes to trap them, refusing to let them fall. There wasn’t a Hanover in the world worth a single one of her tears. If she needed reminding of that, she need look no further than the latest diatribe from Katherine Hanover.

She took out the crumpled envelope, determined to rip it in two, but as she grasped it, something, no more than a prickle of unease, stopped her.

Maybe it was the fact that it was addressed to her, maybe it was the wake-up call from the bank, but some basic instinct warned her not to ignore this letter. That somehow it was different. And pushing her thumb beneath the flap, she tore it open.

The note inside was short.

Fleur, she read.

She almost laughed at that. If there was one thing to admire about Katherine Hanover, it was her total lack of hypocrisy. No mushy, insincere ‘Dear’ for her. And the formality of ‘Miss Gilbert’ would have given her too much importance.

As she began to read, however, all inclination to smile left her.

As a matter of courtesy I’m writing to let you know that I will be instructing my solicitor to apply to the Family Court for a blood test in order to establish that I am the father of Thomas Gilbert. Should you choose to fight me, despite the fact that simple arithmetic would seem to make the outcome a foregone conclusion, you will be held responsible for all the costs involved.

Once paternity has been established, be assured that I will vigorously pursue a claim for custody of my son.

Matt

For a split second the name overrode every other emotion.

Matt?

Matt was home?

There was a moment of confused hope before reality brought her crashing back to earth.

The Family Court. Blood tests. Custody…