Point Of No Return. Carole Mortimer

      Point of No Return

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘IT’s no good, Megan, I have to go.’

      Megan tucked the bedclothes more firmly about her mother. ‘You aren’t going anywhere, not with a cold like that.’

      ‘But I have to,’ her mother insisted nasally. ‘We need the money, you know that.’

      Oh yes, she knew they needed the money. She had heard of nothing but how badly they needed money since her return yesterday. But she would not sell her share of the farm, not for any amount Jerome Towers cared to offer. This farm could be made to work for them if they tried hard enough, and now that she had been dismissed from the hospital she could help her brother Brian with some of the work. Finch Farm wouldn’t even be noticed in the amount of land the Towers estate already had, but to them it meant a livelihood. At least it would, when they could make it work.

      ‘They won’t miss you up at the house for one morning,’ she told her mother firmly. ‘Besides, we wouldn’t want the new owner to catch your cold from you, now would we? With all that wheeling and dealing he does each day he needs all his strength.’

      ‘He doesn’t wheel and deal, dear,’ Emily Finch collapsed back on the pillows, her face pale. ‘He’s a business man.’

      ‘And he makes a huge profit doing it, which means someone else suffers for his gain. Look how much his lawyer offered us for this place—peanuts!’ Megan dismissed disgustedly. ‘And all the time you’re working in his house as a kitchenmaid!’

      ‘It isn’t as bad as it sounds, Megan. The housekeeper, Mrs Reece, is a very nice woman, and as for Freda, the cook.…!’ She gave a husky laugh, unwittingly increasing the irritation in her throat and sending her into a spasm of coughing. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed, ‘I really don’t feel very well.’

      ‘Of course you don’t, Megan said impatiently. ‘Now you just lie there and I’ll get you a nice cup of tea.’

      ‘But what about my work at The Towers?’ her mother frowned worriedly.

      ‘What about it? Let someone else peel the man’s potatoes for lunch,’ said Megan almost angrily.

      ‘There isn’t anyone else—and he doesn’t eat potatoes.’ Her mother gave a wan smile.

      ‘Trying not to get a middle-aged paunch, I suppose,’ Megan muttered on her way out of the bedroom.

      ‘What did you say, dear?’ her mother called after her.

      She appeared back at the bedroom doorway. ‘Nothing of importance. Now just try and get some rest.’

      Her mother frowned. ‘But what about Brian’s breakfast? And feeding the hens? And then there’s Bertha to see to.’

      ‘Bertha?’ Megan cut in with a laugh. ‘I’d forgotten we still have old Bertha.’

      ‘Of course we have,’ her mother said indignantly. ‘She’s in the nature of a family pet.’

      ‘A cow, a family pet?’ Megan teased.

      ‘She isn’t just any cow, Megan. She was the first one we were able to buy when we moved here ten years ago. When your father died last year we sold the rest of the herd—we had to—but I refused to part with Bertha. She’s more like a friend.’

      Megan shook her head. ‘I never thought of you as a sentimentalist, Mum.’ But she was secretly glad that Bertha was still with them, she was a favourite with her too, although she wasn’t going to admit it.

      ‘I’m not a sentimentalist,’ her mother said sharply. ‘I’ve never had to be, with the burden of this farm around our necks. But that cow is just something special.’

      ‘Okay, Mum,’ Megan grinned. ‘I’ll see to Bertha and the hens, and then I’ll cook Brian’s breakfast.’

      ‘And The Towers?’ her mother still persisted.

      Megan frowned. ‘You aren’t expecting me to do that too?’

      ‘Well, if you don’t I shall have to get up and do it. If I don’t work I don’t get paid. And at the moment, with you out of work, we need that money badly.’

      She knew her mother’s words weren’t intended as a rebuke, nevertheless she knew she had put an added burden on her mother and brother. Until she had left the hospital she had sent money home every month, but now that she was out of a job, things were going to be even more strained monetarily.

      ‘All right, Mum,’ she sighed, ‘I’ll do that too.’

      Her mother’s worried frown disappeared. ‘Oh, thank you, love! I usually start at ten o’clock.’

      ‘Yes, Mum. But it’s only eight o’clock at the moment. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down and be late. I have plenty of time to do all those little jobs you consider essential before going to The Towers.’

      ‘I should get Brian’s breakfast first,’ her mother advised sleepily. ‘He’ll be in in a minute.’

      Megan yawned. ‘What time did he leave?’

      ‘Five-thirty, as usual.’

      ‘My God!’ she groaned. ‘And I thought getting up at seven o’clock at the hospital was bad enough. How does he do it?’ The thought of getting out of bed at that unearthly hour horrified her.

      ‘Because he has to.’ Her mother lay back with her eyes closed. ‘He works much too hard for a boy of twenty-two.’

      Megan had noticed last night how tired her brother was looking—and no wonder, if he was getting up at that time of morning. ‘Does he need to do so much?’

      ‘Well, there’s no one else to do it. We’re just starting to get back on our feet, just starting to make the land pay for itself. It wasn’t easy to turn from a livestock farm to growing vegetables, but as you know, we couldn’t afford to restock.’ They heard the back door slam. ‘That will be Brian now.’

      ‘Then I’d better get a move on. I’ll bring your cup of tea to you in a minute.’

      Brian still looked tired. Three years older than herself, he bore the worry of the farm without complaint. He was no more eager to sell his share of the farm than Megan was, but their mother was all for getting rid of it.

      Their father had died of an incurable disease the year before, and during the last months of his life he had run up many debts because of his inability to do the necessary work about the farm. Brian had managed as best he