Chapter 5
‘You enjoyed the food?’ Jonathan asked. They were in back in the Chrysler heading off in an easterly direction.
‘Yes, it was good. I enjoyed it all the more because you were paying,’ she admitted.
She would pay later because she could barely move with the amount she’d stuffed in. If the car went any quicker, she was likely to lose it all over the leather upholstery.
‘You must be a breath of fresh air to the world of celebrity, Freya. Tell me, do you still raid the discounted items at the grocery stores?’
‘Sometimes, but more often than not, I buy double what I need and drop into a soup kitchen on the way home. And I don’t do that for the publicity; I do that because I can. And I have to tell you, it gives me more satisfaction to see an old man with holes in his clothes and nothing on his feet eating a good meal in a warm place than it does to eat an expensive Italian meal.’
‘I heard you talk on Atlantic FM about the homeless. I found it very moving,’ Jonathan admitted.
‘The homeless are a project of mine at the moment. I’m in the process of setting up a centre to provide accommodation and food. It sort of started out as a vision for a hostel and then it turned into something bigger than that. I want somewhere that provides counselling and advice, skills to get people jobs and support for when they can leave the centre and get a place of their own.’
She felt more passionately about the homeless shelter project than she did about anything else in her life. There was something about giving people with nothing help to start over again that struck a chord with her.
‘It sounds like it’s something close to your heart.’
‘Nick took me to where he used to live when he was struggling to raise his brother. The number of homeless people there is well above the national average and these people are of all ages and backgrounds and some are children. I was appalled and I said we had to do something about it. So, to start with, I bought out the stock in two clothes stores and we handed it all out. Then we decided, to make a real difference, it would take more than just a handout. That’s when I decided to set up the Every Day project,’ she explained.
‘I know.’
‘What? What d’you mean you know?’
The Every Day project was new, very new. Only their closest advisors knew of their plans. Nothing had even been drafted for the release to the press yet.
‘I know about your charity, the Every Day project. I made a bid for the same piece of land your first centre is going to be built on,’ he told her.
‘That was all done anonymously and no one knew what that was for. How?’
‘I know a lot of people.’
‘So, what happened? You couldn’t outbid me? That I don’t believe.’
She was angry again. What was it with this man? Why was he back poking his nose into her life? What did he want? There had to be something.
‘Oh, I could have outbid you but I took the time and trouble to investigate that fake name you used. I wanted to find out who I was really up against. When I found out, I decided you were too formidable a force.’ He smiled.
‘Conscience get the better of you?’
‘Something like that. I admire your selflessness, Freya. I really do.’ There was sincerity in his expression.
‘Don’t admire me. There isn’t anything special about what I’m doing. I’m just making the most of what I have by spreading it around a bit,’ she told him.
‘Do you not think you could have done that if you’d stayed with your family? Taken your trust fund at eighteen and given it to Save the Whale or something?’
‘My father would never have given me anything unless I changed how I felt about his world. I couldn’t do that, not even for pretence. I’m a black-and-white person, Jonny; you know that. There are no grey areas with me.’ She pulled her head up to meet his eyes and jutted her chin out. She hoped it spelt out her determination.
‘I guess not. Well, here we are,’ he announced as the car came to a halt at the edge of a minor road.
He got out and walked around to open her door.
‘Here we are? We’re in Gatebrook, near Covenant Bridge. There’s nothing here but the river, the bridge and the old church. No one lives here,’ Freya said. She stepped out of the car, the biting wind chilling her to the bone. She wished she’d brought a jacket.
‘No one lives here at the moment. But they could do, in a year or so,’ he said. He walked off the road and onto the grassland.
‘I’m not with you.’
‘This land belongs to me,’ he announced. He spread his arms wide and let out a satisfied laugh.
‘You bought the field? Isn’t it a little out of the way for a Recuperation Inn? The nearest petrol station is at least three miles away,’ Freya commented.
‘I bought the town of Gatebrook, from boundary to boundary. Isn’t it great? I own the church, the bridge and all this grass.’ He was really going for it with the laughter now. It was like J. R. Ewing nailing an important oil deal.
‘You own one of the Christian Fathers bridges? But they’re protected, aren’t they?’
The thought of him taking a wrecking ball to one of her much-loved sites would be the final nail in their relationship. She might even have to vomit up the lunch if that’s what he was telling her.
‘Everyone has a price, Freya,’ he answered.
‘God, now you’re starting to sound like my father.’
‘So, what do you think?’ He turned to her, loosened his tie a little. He looked like he was waiting for her to answer favourably.
‘I think if you’re considering building one of those hotel monstrosities on this land then you’re going to have a lot of local opposition. In fact, I will start the protest.’
She’d heard enough and her stomach was protesting. She began to walk back to the car.
‘And what if I was going to create a purpose-built village with houses for the homeless, shops and businesses to create jobs for them and a school for their children?’ he called.
That got her attention. She turned back around to face him. She saw his expression was serious, not a hint of humour on his face.
‘I think your cause is really something the government should be providing. But, seeing as there’s a void there, I think your charity is exactly what’s needed. I like the idea of satisfying a need and providing opportunities. It’s caring coupled with self-improvement and I think it will work,’ he finished.
‘Be careful, Jonny. Your mask of ruthlessness is slipping.’
‘This isn’t business. This is giving something back. Giving something back to you,’ he stated.
‘You don’t owe me anything. I kept the Argos ring. It’s mounted,’ she replied quickly.
‘I’m serious, Freya. I really want to do this and I am doing this, whether you want me to or not.’
‘What’s the catch? There has to be one.’
‘No catch.’
‘No catch?’ Freya queried.
‘Well, I would like you to take some photographs for the Recuperation Inns, but it isn’t a deal breaker. Whatever you say to that, I’ll still go ahead with the Every Day project,’ he assured her.
She looked at him. Jonny Sanders. Who was this man stood before her? He’d let her down before. Could she trust him with a project that meant so much?
‘Freya, I mean what I say. No hidden agendas,’ he reiterated.
She nodded. ‘Well then, I think it’s an amazing idea. I mean, here would be a perfect location and…’
‘Can we be friends?’ he interrupted.
‘Look, this is all very weird, Jonny. It’s been so many years and I’ve tried so hard to put that life behind me, I don’t…’ she started.
‘It would mean a lot to me. I know what I did was wrong and I can only put it down to being a stupid teenage… “dirtbag” I think is the term over here,’ he spoke.
He looked sorry. He looked genuine. What he was offering was more than she dared to believe.
‘How much is all this going to cost your company?’ she asked.
‘I have no idea and… who cares?’ He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
‘Come here then, friend. Have a hug.’ She opened her arms to him.
He put his arms around her and held her tightly against him.
‘This hug feels good,’ he admitted.
‘Yes, it does.’
It also felt truly awkward and was bringing back so many memories of the past. She let him go and stepped away, straightening her top. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to stave off the winter wind.
‘Well, let’s head back to Exposure and we can make an appointment for you to start photographing the Recuperations,’ he suggested.
‘I haven’t agreed to that yet. And as far as I can remember, most of the buildings are really ugly,’ Freya said, screwing up her face.
‘Cost was taken into account when they were designed but we do offer you a choice from ten different textures of pillows,’ Jonathan reminded her.
‘And five different coloured bath robes,’ Freya added.
‘You really have stayed in one.’
‘We were very desperate at the time, but I do still have the red bathrobe.’
‘The red ones are in short supply. A popular colour with the clients that want to take a souvenir home with them,’ he teased.
‘What are you insinuating?’
‘Absolutely nothing. I wouldn’t dare.’