‘If we’ve crushed any of your crops I will pay for any damage, of course,’ said Rob.
‘… bloody think so too,’ he mumbled after Rob disappeared to make some calls. The woman was much more welcoming however, plying Emma with sweet tea laced with brandy. Rob reappeared.
‘Turns out Babington House is about twenty miles away. They said they can arrange for a car to pick us up.’
‘What about the helicopter?’ asked Emma.
‘I want to get it checked out before I even think about flying it anywhere.’
He turned to the farmer and his wife.
‘I’m going to move it out of your field as soon as I can. As I said I’ll happily paid for any inconvenience.’
Joan pressed a mug into Rob’s hand.
‘Hot cider,’ she smiled. ‘You must need it. Now did I hear you’re thinking of going over to Frome? We won’t hear of it, will we, Alan? Not in this weather. See that barn you walked past on the way in? Well, we use it as a B&B in the summer. It’ll do you just right. No charge, not after what you two have just been through.’
Emma caught Rob’s eye and managed a smile. ‘I don’t mind if you don’t,’ he shrugged.
Joan tightened the belt of her dressing-gown further around her ample waist.
‘That’s settled then. Let me go and make the bed up.’
Bed singular. Emma felt another rush of panic – just what she needed.
The B&B was surprisingly cosy. Just one room with a tiny en suite, containing some simple furniture and an ir
on bed covered in a vast patchwork quilt, but the carpet was thick underfoot and the wooden shutters blocked out the hostile weather. Joan lit the fire and left them with a terracotta pot of hot cider. Emma gratefully took off her wet shoes and sat on the bed, trying to rub the dirt off with some tissues sitting on the bedside table. She dared not look up at Rob in this confined space and emotionally charged atmosphere. Or is it all in my head? she wondered.
‘Well, you can’t say I don’t know how to show a girl a good time,’ said Rob. ‘Believe me, I’m usually better than this on a first date.’
‘First date?’ replied Emma, feeling a chug of butterflies.
‘To think I brought you here to help you de-stress out,’ he said, avoiding her question.
‘We’re in one piece,’ smiled Emma. ‘Plus I’ve been to the famous Camel Studios. All in all, a good day.’
Rob sat on a threadbare chaise longue in the corner, looking drained.
‘Ste loves you, you know,’ said Emma, putting down her shoe.
Rob smiled.
‘He’ll be one of the world’s biggest stars within the next three years if the drugs don’t kill him.’
‘He seemed OK today.’
‘Hmm. For now.’
‘Why did you come all the way from New York to meet a band you’d only ever heard on MySpace?’
‘Is that what he told you?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘He also told me that he won’t move record labels while you’re still in charge.’
‘He told you that?’ said Rob, looking brighter. ‘I wish all my artists would share his point of view.’
‘Are you having problems?’ said Emma gently. If she recognized anything, it was the voice of an anxious senior executive. Rob shrugged.