As Father Matthew Mackie slips in at the back of the lounge, a large man in a West Ham shirt is shouting about Tony Blair. There is a big turnout, as he had hoped. That’s useful, plenty of objections to the Woodlands development. There had been no buffet service on the train from Bexhill, and so he is glad to see there are biscuits.
He grabs a handful when no one is looking, takes a blue plastic seat in the back row and settles himself in. The man in the tightly fitting football top is running out of steam now and, as he sits down, other hands go up. Hopefully this was a wasted trip, but it is far better to be safe than sorry. Father Mackie is aware that he is nervous. He adjusts his dog collar, runs a hand through his shock of snowy-white hair and dips into his pocket for a shortbread finger. If someone doesn’t ask about the cemetery, perhaps he should. Just be brave. Remember he has a job to do.
How peculiar to be in this room! He shivers. Probably just the cold.
8
The consultation over, Ron is sitting with Joyce beside the bowling green, cold beers glinting in the sunshine. He is currently being distracted by a retired, one-armed jeweller from Ruskin Court, called Dennis Edmonds.
Dennis, to whom Ron has never spoken before, wants to congratulate Ron on the very salient points he made during the consultation meeting. ‘Thought-provoking, Ron, thought-provoking. Plenty to chew on there.’
Ron thanks Dennis for his kind words, and waits for the move that he knows is coming. The move that always comes.
‘And this must be your son?’ says Dennis, turning towards Jason Ritchie, also cradling a beer. ‘The champ!’
Jason smiles and nods, as polite as always. Dennis extends his arm. ‘Dennis. I’m a friend of your dad’s.’
Jason shakes the man’s hand. ‘Jason. How do you do, Dennis.’
Dennis stares for a beat, waiting for Jason to start a conversation, then nods enthusiastically. ‘Well, a pleasure to meet you, I’m a huge fan, seen all your fights. We’ll see you soon again, I hope?’
Jason nods politely again and Dennis ambles off, forgetting even to pretend to say goodbye to Ron. Father and son, well used to these interruptions, resume their conversation with Joyce.
‘Yeah, it’s called Famous Family Trees,’ says Jason. ‘They’ve researched the family history and they want to take me round various places, tell me a bit about, you know, family history. Great-granny’s a prostitute and all that.’
‘I ain’t seen it,’ says Ron. ‘What is it, BBC?’
‘It’s ITV; it’s really very good, Ron,’ says Joyce. ‘I saw one recently, did you see it Jason, with the actor? He’s the doctor from Holby City, but I’ve also seen him in a Poirot.’
‘I didn’t see it, Joyce,’ says Jason.
‘It was very interesting. His grandfather, it turns out, had murdered his lover. A gay lover as well. His face was a picture. Oh, you should do it, Jason.’ Joyce claps. ‘Imagine if Ron had a gay granddad. I’d enjoy that.’
Jason nods. ‘They’d want to talk to you too, Dad. On camera. They asked if you’d be up for it, and I told them good luck shutting you up.’
Ron laughs. ‘But are you really doing that Celebrity Ice Dance thing as well?’
‘I thought it might be fun.’
‘Oh, I agree,’ says Joyce, finishing her beer and reaching for another.
‘You’re doing a lot at the moment, Son,’ says Ron. ‘Joyce says she saw you on MasterChef.’
Jason shrugs. ‘You’re right, Dad. I should go back to boxing.’
‘I can’t believe you’d never made a macaroon before, Jason,’ says Joyce.
Ron knocks back some of his beer, then motions over to his left with the bottle.
‘Over by the BMW, Jase – don’t look now – that’s Ventham, the one I was telling you about. I ran rings around him, didn’t I, Joyce?’
‘He didn’t know if he was coming or going, Ron,’ agrees Joyce.
Jason leans back and stretches, a casual look to his left as he does so. Joyce moves her chair to get a better view.
‘Yeah, nice and subtle, Joyce,’ says Ron. ‘That’s Curran with him, Jase, the builder. You ever come across him in town?’
‘Once or twice,’ says Jason.
Ron looks over again. The conversation between the men looks tense. Talking fast and low, hands aggressive and defensive, but contained.
‘They having a little barney, you think?’ he asks.
Jason sips his beer and scans across to the car park again, taking the men in.
‘They’re like a couple out on a date, pretending they’re not having an argument,’ says Joyce. ‘In a Pizza Express.’
‘You’ve nailed it there, Joyce,’ agrees Jason, turning back to his dad and finishing his beer.
‘Game of snooker this afternoon, Son?’ says Ron. ‘Or are you shooting off?’
‘Love to, Dad, but I’ve got a little errand.’
‘Anything I can help with?’
Jason shakes his head. ‘Boring one, won’t take long.’ He stands and stretches. ‘You haven’t had any journalists ringing you up today, have you?’
‘Should I have?’ asks Ron. ‘Something up?’
‘Nah, you know journalists. But no calls, no mail or anything?’
‘I had a catalogue for walk-in baths,’ says Ron. ‘You want to tell me why you’re asking?’
‘You know me, Dad, they’re always after something.’
‘How exciting!’ says Joyce.
‘See you both,’ says Jason. ‘Don’t get drunk and smash the place up.’
Jason leaves. Joyce turns her face up to the sun and closes her eyes. ‘Well, isn’t this lovely, Ron? I never knew I liked beer. Imagine if I’d died at seventy? I never would have known.’
‘Cheers to that, Joyce,’ says Ron, and polishes off his drink. ‘What do you reckon’s up with Jason?’
‘Probably a woman,’ says Joyce. ‘You know what we’re like.’
Ron nods. ‘Probably, yeah.’
He watches his son depart into the distance. He’s worried. But then there’s never been a day with Jason, whether in the ring, or out, when Ron hasn’t worried.
9
The consultation went well. Ian Ventham is no longer worried about The Woodlands; it’s a done deal. The loud guy from the meeting? He’d met his type before. Let him blow himself out. He’d also seen a priest at the back of the room. What was that? The cemetery, he guessed, but it was all above board, he had all the permits. Let them try and stop him.
And sacking Tony Curran? Well, he hadn’t been happy, but he hadn’t killed him either. Advantage Ian.
So, Ian Ventham is already thinking ahead. After The Woodlands is up and running there will be another, final phase of the development, Hillcrest. He has driven the five minutes up a rough track from Coopers Chase and is now sitting in the country kitchen of Karen Playfair. Her father, Gordon, owns the farmland at the top of the hill, adjoining Coopers Chase, and he seems in no mood to sell. No matter, Ian has his ways.