Longbow Girl by Linda Davies Page B

Courcys, not to the Owens. They did not get their mitts on the land until Crécy in 1346. So, legally, the book is ours. In which case they cannot sell it to save their farm . . . in which case we can buy the farm when they are forced to sell and we can get back our lands!’ she declared triumphantly.
    â€˜It’s an interesting idea,’ mused his father.
    James’s disbelief turned to outrage.
    â€˜I don’t think it’s that simple,’ came Professor Parks’s voice. ‘Although the book most likely dates from the 1200s, it could have been placed within the burial mound at any time thereafter.’
    â€˜Could doesn’t mean would ,’ his mother was saying. ‘That book belongs to—’
    James had heard enough. He flung open the door and stormed in. ‘Why can’t you leave the Owens alone, Ma?’ he demanded. ‘They have little enough, but what they do have you can’t help wanting to take. Their book. Their home ?’
    His mother opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it and closed it again.
    â€˜The prodigal son returns,’ remarked his father drily, eyeing James up and down. His father was immaculate in one of his tailored tweed suits. James wore sweatpants and a Manchester United hoodie.
    His mother stepped towards James, but then stopped at a look from her husband.
    Professor Parks and Dr Philipps exchanged a look of their own.
    â€˜If you’ll excuse us,’ said Dr Philipps. ‘Time to pack.’
    The two men diplomatically excused themselves, closing the door softly behind them, leaving James alone with his parents.
    â€˜Manchester United. The football club, really ?’ continued his father, voice laced with scorn.
    â€˜Is that all you want to talk about when Merry and her family are facing ruin?’ James demanded, emotions raging inside him.
    â€˜You are my primary concern,’ replied his father. ‘So I ask you again. Manchester United? ’
    â€˜Yes,’ said James, struggling for calm. ‘Manchester United. The Premier League club. Most people’s dream. My dream.’
    â€˜Consorting with that feral, one-eyed girl, leaping to herdefence,’ spluttered the countess. ‘It’s not appropriate, James. She’s a bad influence on you. She’s encouraging you in this football madness, I’m sure!’
    â€˜My friendship with Merry is none of your business,’ replied James through clenched teeth. He glowered at his mother. Much as he loved her, the way she behaved towards the Owens and spoke of Merry filled him with shame, and rage.
    â€˜If I were you, I’d concern yourself less with Merry and her family and the book and more with behaving in a manner befitting the lord and heir of the Black Castle,’ declared his father.
    â€˜That’s the point, isn’t it?’ James said. ‘You’re not me.’
    He turned and made for the door.
    â€˜We’ll have a full and frank discussion about this on holiday in Bali,’ called his father. ‘Don’t think for a second this is over.’
    James walked out before he could say anything he’d regret, hurrying through the hallways, climbing the stairs two at a time, barely glancing at where he was going, as he rushed through the home he felt sure he was going to lose. The threat had hung in the air, underneath his father’s words: the estate or football. He felt an odd lightness steal over him as he made his choice. It was easy for him, he realized with a savage pang. But across the valley, Merry had no choice.
    Upstairs in his room, he called her.
    She picked up almost immediately.
    â€˜Hi, what you up to?’ he asked, trying to push down all his emotions.
    â€˜Not a lot. Waiting for the snow to melt. You back home?’
    He wondered if she knew about her family’s predicament or was just covering it up.
    â€˜Yep,’ he said slowly, blowing