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blokes driving around in fast cars informed him as well.  It
may have been vanity, but he didn’t want to be laughed at by younger men who
saw him behind the wheel of something shiny, red and sporty.
    So at forty-seven, he’d taken the plunge.  His hair was
only just starting to show signs of grey, and you had to look closely to see
it.  Which wasn’t likely to happen while you were travelling at fifty
miles per hour and more.  A few more years, though, and it would be too
late.  In his eyes at least.
    Funnily enough, that had been around the time he’d met
Tanya.  He’d only had the car a couple of months when she came into his
life.  Not that the car had influenced her – at the outset, at
least.  She hadn’t known he’d got it the first few times they met.
    It had been a good time.  Business was booming, he was
starting to claim some time for himself – holidays, weekend breaks, trying out
new sports – and he was enjoying the life of a bachelor after seventeen years
of marriage.  The divorce had been messy, but he’d managed not to give too
much away.  Financially, anyway.  The kids were a different
matter.  They hated him even now, and had made it clear that they wanted
nothing to do with him.  He hadn’t been a good father, and he knew
it.  That didn’t make their reaction any easier to bear, but he could
understand it.  Fortunately, work kept him distracted most of the time.
    And Tanya had certainly helped to keep him distracted when
he wasn’t at work.  She was nineteen years younger than him, but he hadn’t
seen that as an obstacle, and she gave no indication that it bothered
her.  The constraints of family life had meant that passion and excitement
had been in short supply for most of his marriage.  With Tanya, rationing
wasn’t an option.  He was bewitched.  Still was, even though things
had changed.
    The Porsche had gone, replaced with a Land Rover. 
Olive green with a long wheelbase, it was ideal for the farm and for country
living generally.  If the truth be known, having passed into his fifties,
and aware that the amount of grey was beginning to outstrip the brown hair, he
also felt it was a more appropriate vehicle to be seen in.  Not that Tanya
had viewed it that way.  She liked the sports cars, and refused to give up
her Merc .  He hadn’t pushed that.  Frankly,
he had just been grateful that she’d given in and agreed to the move north.
    There were plenty of other changes too.  Tanya’s
attitude towards him in recent months was a worry.  In the grand scheme of
things, he knew that was probably his biggest concern.  But the more
pressing issue at present was keeping their finances afloat.
    When they moved up here, the move into property development
had seemed an ideal opportunity.  Property prices had been rising rapidly
for a few years.  His own house on the Woodstock Road had doubled in value
in just three years.  With prices being significantly higher in the south,
he could get a lot more for his money if he came north.  An old friend
from university had let him know about Forest Farm.  He worked for the
local council planning department and had been aware of several proposals being
bandied about for change of use.  It seemed the Sullivans had sold most of the agricultural land off, and were getting desperate to sell
the rest.  Mark had known Ian was looking to get out of his own business
and thought this might be just what he was looking for.
    “Property’s going up and up, the banks and building
societies can’t lend money fast enough, and I’m on the inside to help you get
the planning permission through.  What can go wrong?”
    Good question.  And the answer, as it turned out, was
“quite a lot”.  Mark had been offered a better job with a different
council, so Ian’s inside man had gone.  To be fair to him, Mark had still
given Ian advice on how to get his applications through successfully. 
Nevertheless, the process had taken a lot