The Secret Seaside Escape - Heidi Swain Page 0,102

morning. However, I had heard someone, presumably Charlie given where the snores had emanated from the night before, moving about overheard even earlier and then slamming the outside door. Turning over, I’d disregarded the rumpus because it still felt like the middle of the night but when Bruce came bounding in a little later it was considerably lighter and his exuberance was impossible to ignore.

‘For pity’s sake, Bruce,’ I groaned, trying to push him away, which wasn’t easy because I was bound up in the sleeping bag. ‘Get off.’

The action of giving him a shove only served to further excite him and it wasn’t many seconds before the inevitable happened and his tail brushed the coffee table completely free of the piles of paperwork, folded-up newspapers and remote controls which had been quite happily settled there, completely minding their own business.

‘You,’ I said, as I struggled to sit up, ‘are a total pain in the butt.’

He cocked his head to one side, as if weighing the accusation up, then rushed out of the room again, his claws scrabbling on the tiled floor, before he reappeared with a tea towel which he dropped on my lap.

Clearly, it was time to face the day, but first I had to corral the mess on the floor into a heap so I could put it back on the table – although how long it would stay there with Bruce’s rapidly rotating rudder still in the vicinity was anyone’s guess.

‘Why don’t you go and wag somewhere else?’ I asked him, adding the last of the papers to the pile as the sound of Joe’s voice drifted through from the kitchen.

He didn’t sound particularly happy.

‘So, what you’re telling me,’ I heard him say, ‘is that it could be another week before this is sorted?’

He was quiet for a second and as I didn’t hear an answer, I guessed he was on the phone rather than chatting to an early visitor.

‘Two,’ he almost shouted, ‘you’re kidding?’

I didn’t mean to pry, but my eyes caught the words ‘land sale’ at the top of one of the sheets of paper and I picked it up. I remembered how Joe had mentioned that saving the farm meant selling off some of the land. Having been given the grand tour yesterday, I very much hoped the proposed sale didn’t include the field we had picnicked in. It would be a shame if they lost that magnificent sea view as well as the acreage.

‘Sunny Shores,’ I whispered, spotting the company name.

‘But Sunny Shores were saying last week,’ came Joe’s voice again, his words echoing those printed in front of me, ‘that they wanted to finalize before that.’

Unfortunately, I knew all about Sunny Shores and not because I had had ‘the holiday of a lifetime’ at one of their mammoth developments, as their advertising tagline promised, but because Dad had set up a campaign for them.

They were one of the largest holiday village companies in the country now and Dad’s clever strategy had quelled some of the controversy which followed them taking over an area of land which local residents had hoped would be sold to the Woodland Trust. The campaign had been a success, but it hadn’t completely drowned out the local element. I remembered I had secretly felt rather pleased about that, although it didn’t make any difference to the outcome.

‘Remind me again why I’m paying you such an exorbitant amount?’ Joe demanded. ‘I want it all wrapped up in half that time.’

My eyes quickly scanned the rest of the page. I had always assumed the plan was to sell a field or two to a near neighbour, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If my understanding of the land mass mentioned was right, then Sunny Shores would be taking over a whole lot more than that. Practically the whole farm looked earmarked to be swallowed up by a brand-new holiday village, complete with its own avenue of shops, Sun Splash pool complex and at least three restaurants to cater for all appetites and tastes.

How was it possible that this had all got so far and no one in the village knew about it? Surely there should have been some sort of public consultation by now? Hope and I might have figured out that Joe and Sam were holding something back, but it obviously wasn’t the same thing after all and to think I’d been sucked in by Joe’s suggestions that he still felt a connection to Home Farm, when