Page 6

“Where’s Mum?” I ask, because I know I haven’t seen her today. I haven’t even spoken to her since Kiernan drove me home from the hospital.

Dad shuffles on the spot next to me, his arm brushing mine, which makes me flinch. “She had a case that required her attention. She sends her apologies, but wanted me to ask what your plans are. Are you coming home now that you don’t have a reason to stay here?”

I meet my dad’s eyes, the same dark brown as mine. “What? No.” I shake my head, my fringe falling in front of my eyes. I push it away with the back of my hand. “This is my home. My business is here. My life.”

My dad tsks, and the sound grates on my nerves. I know where his train of thought is going before he’s even opened his mouth.

“You can’t honestly want to stay, Caspian. Come back to London and let us help you get settled there. It’ll be months before the estate is transferred to you and you can sell, but we can support you in the meantime.”

My dad doesn’t know that Pops put it all in my name years ago – the land and everything on it. He’d worried about what would happen to it when he died. If my dad would somehow get his hands on it, leaving me in a long, twisted, legal battle for a piece of the earth only he, my grandmother and I really ever cared about.

“How are you planning to handle it all alone?” My dad continues. “The farm. The bakery. The lighthouse. It was too much for Lionel, and it’ll be too much for you, son.”

I grit my teeth, leaning into Kiernan’s touch when he rests his hand firmly on my lower back. It is hard work. It has been for the last nine years, but my grandfather and I made it work and I’ll continue to do just that.

“I have it all under control.”

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I swallow it down. Dad never wanted me to move here. He said I was making my world too small by choosing to live with my elderly grandparents in a remote part of Scotland. Especially when he had people he could introduce me to. Doors he could open. They never believed I could make something of myself on my own, and I’ve always resented them for that.

“Caspian,” my dad starts.

“No! This is not up for discussion.”

“Caspian,” he says again and I hate the way my name sounds on his lips. Like I’m deliberately being difficult to make his life harder. “Humour me for five minutes. I want you to meet someone.” Dad tips his head, and I sense a presence at my side. Body heat that is unwelcome and too close. I shift my feet, putting space between me and the stranger. He is probably in his early forties, with dark brown hair and even darker eyes. He’s wearing grey suit trousers, a white shirt and there’s a necklace around his neck, from which a small glass bottle of blue sand hangs. He tips his head in greeting, then holds out his hand.

“Eugene Campbell. It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” When I don’t take his hand, he drops it and tucks it into his pocket.

“Eugene is a property developer,” my dad adds. “He’s interested in buying-”

“No,” I interrupt.

“Cas-”

“Absolutely not,” I say bluntly. “Newbridge Farm is mine.”

My dad huffs. “Hear him out, please, Caspian. He’s willing to offer you a great price on the land. He’s even willing to put down a deposit before the estate is transferred. This is a serious offer, son.”

Turning, I face the man directly. There’s a glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine, and even if he wasn’t trying to strip me of my inheritance, I would still dislike him.

“None of my properties are for sale. Please leave.” I turn to my dad. “Pops gave me that land years ago. There is no estate waiting to be transferred. It’s mine and I’m not selling it.”

My dad’s eyes widen, but he cares too much about appearances to let the news rattle him.

“Then it’s an even better time to discuss selling. We could get this settled quickly. It’s just business,” my dad says, fiddling with his jacket button. Eugene grins and a red haze clouds my vision. Once again, my dad is ignoring me, trying to get things done his way, speaking in that tone I’ve heard so many times before. The one that says ‘let the adults handle it’ because you’re just a child, Caspian.

But I’m not. I’m twenty seven fucking years old.

“No, Dad!” I bark. “This is my home. It’s more than just business. Pops hasn’t even been gone a month and you’re already trying to destroy what he built. To what? Build a holiday park?” My voice rises and I am aware of others watching on, but I don’t care. I’m too angry at every fucking thing in my life to give a damn.

“What he built?” My father scoffs. “You have a defunct lighthouse and a smallholding that’s not worth its weight in paper.”

I ball my hands into fists, fingernails digging into my skin. “It is worth everything to me.” I turn my anger on the unwelcome man. “I will never sell it. So you can fuck right off.”

“Son,” my dad says, placing a hand on my shoulder. I shake it off because I can only stand being touched by a select few people and he is not one of them. “Your mum and I just want what’s best for you.”

I shake my head. “What’s best for me is for you to leave. Go back to London.” I take a step away from the two men. “It was nice to see you, Dad. Tell Mum I’m fine.”

With that, I walk out of the village hall. I hear Kiernan call my name, but I ignore him as I cross the gravel path to where my old Ford is parked. I climb in and then drive the short distance over the causeway that links Newbridge Village to Newbridge Cove. By the time my farm is in front of me, my eyes are blurring with unshed tears.