Page 4 of Moonlight Kisses at Willow Tree Hall

Good thing he had his luxurious company car to use. But the thought gave him no pleasure. He drew his gaze back indoors to the executive meeting room and the row of men seated opposite him. All were dressed in sharp designer suits like him, but Jack knew that they would never give up their beloved BMWs and Mercedes for a Ducati motorbike like his. After all, that was what they bragged about most of the time anyway – who had the quickest 0–60mph times and all that.

Despite its being off the road for the time being, he liked to think that owning the motorbike kept him apart from the pack. That he still wasn’t one of them.

He glanced across at Richard, his colleague, who was still speaking. Jack knew the type of man Richard was. A silver spoon in his mouth at birth, he had gone to the best schools and been afforded every opportunity in life. Meanwhile, Jack had fought and scrapped for everything.

Boys like Richard had once looked down on Jack. But he was having the last laugh now.

As the best salesman on the team, Jack had the biggest Rolex, the most expensive company car and the largest bonus each and every Christmas.

He had a lot to be grateful to Eric Thatcher for. Jack looked at the grey-haired man at the head of the glass table they were seated around. Eric had started with nothing, or so he claimed.

‘We’re alike, you and me,’ he said all the time.

Jack had outwardly agreed with his boss, but, inwardly, he knew that Eric was wrong. Eric had rich parents who had given him everything, including the money to start up his now legendary hotel chain. First, he had conquered the world and now he wanted a Thatcher’s hotel in every county across England. They were expensive, classy places to stay in the countryside for people with large amounts of money who expected the very best.

Jack always thought it ironic that his job involved dealing with such elegant places when his own upbringing had been anything but. Eric knew a little of the story – just as much as Jack would let on. Hardly anyone knew about the hard beginning he had been afforded in life.

Only his adoptive parents knew the whole sad tale. He frowned to himself as he realised the date. When had he last seen them? Had it been Father’s Day, he wondered. A brief visit, as always, out of duty, having just returned from abroad after a long absence. A nondescript card handed over, followed by a cup of tea quickly gulped down before he rushed off.

He had barely had time to see them since arriving home three months previously. He spent much of his time going around the country and staying in Thatcher’s hotels, which suited him just fine. The house he had built himself on the outskirts of his home village lay vacant most of the time. As well as the motorbike lying idle in the garage.

He fiddled with the gold signet ring on his little finger. What would his birth father make of it all if he could see his son now? Jack’s eyes hardened as he stared across the table at the blank wall. He would probably just want money. Certainly not a relationship. Nor would he be likely to display any kind of pride in what his son had achieved from his lowly beginnings.

But Jack didn’t care. Why try and have a relationship with the birth parents who’d abandoned him at such a young age? He had spent most of his childhood being shunted from foster home to foster home, being dismissed as worthless, useless or dangerous. But he had proved them all wrong, hadn’t he? In retaliation, he got his thrills by making more money than he had ever dreamed of. Each year he wanted more and more, determined to make his own destiny – to hell with everyone else.

If they could see him now, all those people who had looked down on him in the past, they would be amazed. He was an accomplished salesman in high demand. He was mortgage-free. He would never be homeless or hungry ever again. He belonged to nobody and no one.

On top of this, Eric had had to give him a vast pay rise just to lure him back from the Middle East earlier that year.

Yet, deep down, he frequently felt frustrated. He felt stifled and bored. Really and truly bored, each and every day.

‘So, Jack, I think this should be your baby.’

Jack blinked back to life on hearing his name and found everyone turning to look at him.

‘Sure,’ he said, nodding along as if he had understood every word.

Actually, it wasn’t that hard to work out. Eric Thatcher bought run-down large properties for dirt-cheap prices and then renovated them, turning them into his chain of hotels. It was probably just another large house for Jack to buy, making a deal with some poor owner who had got themselves in too deep with a hefty mortgage, as usual.

‘It’ll be perfect for us,’ Eric carried on. ‘I mean, look at it! It’s an absolute beauty.’

Jack looked at the photo on the screen at the end of the room. It was a large, elegant mansion that stirred some distant memory inside his brain.

‘Nice,’ he said, with an approving nod.

‘What about the bypass?’ asked Richard, looking down at his notes. ‘It’s been flagged up on the initial searches.’

Eric waved away his concern. ‘My contact on the council says the route will be signed off later this year. One of the proposed directions was quite near to the place but my friend assures me that it won’t happen.’ Eric laughed. ‘It’ll cost me, mind you!’

Eric had quite a few dubious friends in high places, which always worked to the company’s advantage.

‘How do you know the owners will sell?’ asked Jack.

It was always the biggest problem that they had to contend with.

Eric was still smiling. ‘I pulled a few strings with my contacts at the bank. Apparently, the family are only just keeping their heads above water.’

‘I’m not surprised, if it’s privately owned,’ said Jack, looking at the photo once more. ‘The overheads must be huge to run a place like that.’ But the familiarity of the place was still nudging his brain. ‘What’s it called?’ he asked.