Page 103 of Never Gonna Happen

Anna stared at her for a moment. ‘I’m not going to ask what Mr Hunter is doing,’ she said quietly. ‘I know better than that. But tell me one thing – is it going to make Adam miserable?’

Emily paused for a second, then nodded.

‘Good,’ said Anna, with a smile of grim satisfaction.

Mr Hunter summoned Jamie and Adam into the office at 5 p.m., along with a woman called Moira, who was one of Mr Hunter’s many lawyers. She’d travelled back from Swindon with him and Jamie, and when Emily took in a tray of tea she was sitting at Mr Hunter’s desk making brisk notes on a sheaf of paperwork. Mr Hunter leaned against the front edge of the desk, his arms folded, whilst Jamie and Adam sat on the sofa, as far away from each other as possible. Catherine was on speaker phone from LA, no doubt with her mother close by.

‘Thank you, Emily,’ said Mr Hunter. ‘Perhaps you could close the door.’

Emily nodded and scuttled back to her office, closing the door quietly behind her. It was their secret code, giving her permission to listen in on this momentous family conversation if she wanted to. Somehow this made her feel quite emotional, like it was a sign of how much Mr Hunter trusted and valued her.

She sat at her desk and rubbed her wrist absently. It wasn’t bruised, but she could still feel Adam’s fingers on her skin. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Jamie or Mr Hunter yet, but she would. The verbal abuse was one thing, but putting his hands on her for doing her job was something else entirely.

‘A decision has been taken,’ said Mr Hunter on the other side of the door. ‘About the future of Bowford Manor.’

Nobody said anything, so he continued.

‘It’s now been passed into the ownership of the National Trust; they will take responsibility for it in perpetuity. It’s no longer owned by the Hunter family.’

Emily wished she could see Adam’s face right now; presumably he was opening and closing his mouth like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Catherine’s face would no doubt look the same as it always did, because it no longer had the capacity for expression.

‘Adam, I’m inviting you to make a choice. Moira has redrafted my will, leaving you the London house and the chalet in Verbier. There is a condition, that after today you never set foot on the Bowford Estate again until the day I die. If I hear that you’ve so much as eaten a scone in the National Trust café or put a sticker on your car, you will forfeit everything.’

‘What about him?’ bleated Adam. ‘What does he get?’ Presumably he was talking about Jamie.

‘James will inherit what’s left of this estate and the Mauritius house, and Catherine will receive the New York penthouse and the apartment in LA. All of you will receive a great deal of money, and there is a substantial trust for your sons and any other Hunter children that may arrive before I die.’

‘My God,’ said Adam. ‘I can’t believe you’d break a four-hundred-year tradition out of spite.’

‘Out of respect for this house and our family’s hard work,’ bellowed Mr Hunter. ‘You conspired with a property company to turn this estate into a holiday village – don’t you dare deny it.’

Adam said nothing.

‘How could you think I wouldn’t find out?’ said Mr Hunter. ‘Are you really that stupid? People talk, Adam. People always talk.’

Emily breathed out. Adam didn’t know about the photocopied plans, and now he probably never would.

‘What if . . .?’ Adam began.

‘No,’ said Mr Hunter firmly. ‘The deal is done, and it can’t be undone by anyone. I’ve made absolutely sure of that. Your choice is either to accept the terms of my will and get out of my sight, or kick up a legal fuss and lose everything. It’s up to you.’

Emily locked her notebook in her desk and picked up the bag Jamie had given her for her birthday. She knew what Adam’s decision would be, just as Mr Hunter did. A line had been drawn under four hundred years of Bowford Manor’s history, and tomorrow the next four hundred years would begin. She left quietly through the door from the tiny kitchen to the corridor and headed up the back stairs to her room. She needed a cup of tea and a KitKat; maybe she’d have them both in the bath.

When she opened the door to her bedroom, there was a small blue cake tin on her bed. Inside was a batch of homemade chocolate biscuits and a note that read Andrea would have been exceptionally proud of you today, and so am I. Give yourself a night off, tomorrow is a new day. Anna.

Chapter Forty-Nine

‘How are you feeling, Emily?’ asked Mr Hunter, his face filled with concern. It had been a week since the ugly showdown with Adam, and she had hoped it was now behind them. Apparently Mr Hunter was still worried.

‘I’m fine,’ she said breezily. ‘Really.’

‘With everything that’s happened, I would completely understand if you wanted to leave us.’

Emily’s heart sank. She’d wondered if this conversation might happen at some point – encouraging her to leave so he didn’t have to make her redundant. Just when everything was looking so great, too.

‘Mr Hunter, I totally understand if you need to let me go. I won’t make a fuss, it’s just how it goes sometimes.’

‘Sorry, what?’ said Mr Hunter. ‘You think I want you to leave?’