by Lynda Renham
‘That’s not strictly true,’ interjects Melanie.
‘And Victoria is so, what’s that word …’
‘Bohemian, unconventional, honest, unpretentious,’ says Brice returning to the table. ’I think those are the right words for my mother.’
‘Yes, all those, she wouldn’t be seen dead wearing that ring apparently, so Harriet if it fits, the ring shall be yours.’
‘Absolutely,’ agrees Sir Sebastian, looking relieved.
I feel like Cinderella, except this is no sodding fairy tale. I’m sitting at a table with a pompous arse named Major Bates and a Sir, who is lovely but has a penchant for shooting his own ducks. A soon-to-be fiancé who wears a skirt and a grandmother who is scarier than all three Jacks put together and that is pretty hard to be let me tell you, not to mention a neurotic soon-to-be mother-in-law and a seriously demented cat. The only consolation is that I have the gorgeous cousin to look at. I smile gratefully.
‘Isn’t that wonderful darling? An heirloom. That makes it special doesn’t it?’ gushes Hamilton.
It also makes it cheap for you I think. What is wrong with me, I am beginning to sound so hateful? Hamilton stands and I attempt my most loving look. I allow him to entwine his hand in mine and kiss me on the lips, except the kiss seems to linger longer than it should.
‘You lingered,’ I whisper.
‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ he says quietly.
Good God, now what’s going on?
‘I don’t want you lingering again,’ I hiss.
‘I won’t’
I feel Brice’s eyes on us and deliberately squeeze Hamilton’s hand before he leaves me to return to his seat.
‘Cedric, the champagne, and we’ll have dessert now,’ Margarita orders.
The Major grunts in appreciation, and sneakily pours more wine into his glass. What a pompous ass, honestly. Hamilton blows me a kiss and I nearly fall off the chair. He’s going a bit over the top isn’t he? I attempt another loving look but the smile is such a strain that I must look like I’ve been freshly botoxed. To make matters worse bloody Diamond is clawing at my new chiffon dress and the temptation to gouge his eyes out is overwhelming.
‘We’ll check the ring first thing tomorrow and I’ll get Jeremy to come on Monday to prepare for the fitting. Now, what about the engagement party? We’ll have the party here, I can’t think of a better place. We have our own staff and …’ she takes a breath.
I look at Hamilton with an open mouth. I can’t stay here for a ring fitting, why doesn’t he say something? Shit, this bleeding cat is driving me bonkers.
‘The thing is …’ I begin
‘Eton Mess madam?’ asks Cedric.
‘Well, I …’
‘Raise your glasses to Harriet and Hamilton,’ announces Sebastian.
‘Harriet and Hamilton,’ they chorus.
I smile and clink glasses.
‘I don’t think Harriet has had Eton Mess before. Isn’t that right Harriet?’ asks Brice.
He is such an arse. His face will be an Eton Mess if he doesn’t shut up, and so will this bloody Diamond’s.
‘Yes I have,’ I say defensively, pulling my dress away from Diamond and hearing a rip.
‘And of course we need to arrange a meeting with Chantell about the dress …’ continues Margarita. ‘When are we going to meet your parents?’
As late as possible, and who the fuck is Chantell?
‘Harriet’s family are currently holidaying on St Martha’s Vineyard. Obviously we’ve yet to tell them the good news. They’ll be thrilled,’ says Hamilton.
What is he saying? The closest my parents have come to a vineyard of any kind is the local offy at the end of their street.
‘Harriet, you and I can go over the arrangements and sort out our diaries for next week. Melanie, I trust you’ll be around to help. You’re not having a facial, manicure or whatever it is you spend your time doing are you?’ barks Margarita.
‘Well, I …’ Melanie stammers.
‘Good. That’s settled then. You can then compare diaries with your mother when she returns Harriet.’
Yeah right, as if. I can just see my mum opening her freebie Good Housekeeping diary to jot down notes. Oh, this is becoming too gruesome for words. I pull faces at Hamilton. Why doesn’t he say something?
‘The thing is Grandmother, we don’t want to rush into …’
Thank God.
‘Like I have all the time in the world? You’d begrudge your dying grandmother this last pleasure,’ she says placing her champagne glass down with a thud. Good job it’s decent crystal.
‘The thing is …’ I begin.
‘Do you know what is in it exactly?’ asks Brice.
What the hell.
‘What,’ I snap.
‘Eton Mess, do you know what’s in it?’
I fiddle with my napkin and Diamond dives for it. I give him a little kick and he hisses.
‘Oh good heavens, is that Diamond?’ says Melanie alarmed.
‘Diamond darling, come to Mummy,’ calls Margarita.
I lean down and grab the satanic feline by the collar and discreetly throw him towards his mistress.
‘Oh dear,’ I say sympathetically, ‘I think he tangled himself in my bag strap. He looks fine though.’
That’s more than can be said for my dress.
‘Well?’ asks Brice.
I grit my teeth.
‘Yes, well of course I do. Everyone knows what Eton Mess is …’
He waits expectantly and it is all I can do not to slap his face.
‘It’s a mess of different things isn’t it?’
I feel my face turn red.
‘Quite right madam, I couldn’t have described it better myself,’ says Cedric, placing a dish in front of me. ‘A nice mess of whipped cream, strawberries and meringue,’ he smiles.
I give Brice the finger under the table. That’s one up for me.
‘The problem is I have to leave on Sunday evening. I‘ve got so much work on.’
Well that’s not exactly a lie is it? I have to be back to the laundrette on Monday. Margarita stops with her spoon poised by her mouth. That obviously didn’t go down very well.
‘Well, that’s pretty awful Harriet, if your PA can’t cover things for a few days,’ says Melanie. ‘No wonder you look so drawn and tired.’
I do? I’m not sure if that is a back-bloody-handed compliment or not.
‘Tell her to come up for a few days. We’ve plenty of room. Right that’s settled, you can work from here. After all, what is more important than your wedding?’ Margarita says firmly her eyes daring me to argue with her.
I scoop a spoon of Eton Mess into my mouth and Cedric winks at me. God, he’s on the ball isn’t he? He knows I’m a fraud and he loves it. That’s two allies.
‘Quite right old girl,’ says Brice to his grandmother. I nearly choke on my Eton Mess. He calls her old girl?
‘Besides we all need to get to know you better. I for one would love to hear about your business and your philanthropy, and what you like to do in your spare time, aside from your Oxfam connection of course.’
He smiles. I give him an evil stare. It is amazing how quickly you can go off people. The Eton Mess comforts me and I eye up Cedric for a bit more. What the hell am I going to do? I now have to explain to the laundrette why I won’t be in for half the week and somehow conjure up a PA.
‘Now, do you have your diary, or do you use one of those silly Bluebell things?’
‘Shall we do this over coffee?’ suggests Hamilton.
Before either of us can reply Cedric interjects,
‘So sorry to interrupt madam but Miss Lawson’s PA is on the phone and she says it is urgent.’
Talk of the devil. But, oh shit, this can only mean bad news.
‘Excuse me,’ I say as I wobble clumsily from the dining room.
Chapter Fourteen
If the only mess I had in my life was Eton Mess I’d be a happy bunny. I can’t b
elieve this is happening. One minute I am swanning off to a posh wedding and the next I am in the middle of a remake of The Godfather film, with offers I daren’t, let alone can’t, refuse. Fiona is in a state, gulping and sobbing so much it is near impossible to hear what she is raving about.
‘So what happened?’ I ask, not wanting to know.
‘It’s really bad Harry, I mean these guys aren’t messing.’
That reminds me of the Eton Mess. I know I shouldn’t dwell on it but I wonder if I can ring a bell or something to get Cedric to bring me seconds.
‘What do you mean and can you calm down?’
‘Well I’m bloody premenstrual,’ she screams, ‘so don’t tell me to calm down. There’s no buggery chocolate in the place either. Why is there never chocolate this time of the month, you would think by now I’d be better prepared …’
‘So what happened Fi?’ I probe gently.
‘I sent Alistair out to get some.’
‘Not the bloody chocolate! What happened with the Jacks?’
‘They said they needed a little holiday.’
Oh good, hopefully they’ll get a one way ticket to Timbuktu.
‘And Scotland seemed as good a place as any,’ she sobs.
‘Scotland?’ I cry. ‘How do they know I’m in Scotland?
‘I kind of let it slip.’
‘What the …’ I groan.
How could she let something like that slip?
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she adds quickly. ‘They were going on about their monkey …’
Shame they don’t want a cat.
‘And how Jules is going to have to suffer some pain for your oversight. What if they have Julian, we don’t know do we? Then he said, “she’s not ‘aving a nice ‘oliday in Scotland by any chance, is she?” That’s how he speaks.’
‘I do know how he speaks Fi.’
‘And before I knew it, I’d said “but she couldn’t help it” and …’
‘Oh shit Fiona, why didn’t you just take out an ad in The Times.’
After all, that’s what everyone else seems to do. Now I’m right up the creek without a paddle.
‘Don’t have a go at me, it’s not my fault you got involved with East End thugs is it?’
‘I didn’t, Julian did.’
I stare out of the window at the loch that is shimmering under the light of the moon and curse under my breath. Even a nice long hot bath doesn’t feel very appealing unless I can drown in it.
‘Okay, tell me everything, slowly and calmly, and please don’t speak like the Jacks, it unnerves me.’
She takes a breath and says,
‘Okay, so I slipped up and said it wasn’t your fault you were in Scotland and that you were keen, I said very keen in fact, to arrange the meet and give them their money. Jack Diamond said “Well I don’t trust anyone who hops it off to bleeding Scotland when they owes me money”. He said you were taking a diabolical liberty, and then he said “me and the lads ain’t” …’
I sigh.
‘Sorry, haven’t had a holiday in yonks. They think it’s time they did and Scotland is as good a place as any. He said they have friends they can pop and see. I think by friends they meant you. It was sarcasm or something.’
‘I know that. Christ, this couldn’t get any worse if it tried. I think I need to go to the mattresses.’
‘Where’s that?’
The only thing I do know about The Godfather and no one else does. Yes, well that figures. I exhale.
‘Why is it when I need one of those emails from someone in Kenya who has millions to give away, I don’t get one?’
‘I never get those,’ says Fiona thoughtfully. ‘I just get the ones offering me a larger penis. Sometimes I do wonder what it would be like having a larger one. I’ve never measured Alistair’s but I imagine it’s standard size.’
What is she on about?
‘Fiona, they’re not offering you a penis. It’s for men, to help make their penises bigger.’
God, how did I get into this?
‘Oh, that makes more sense,’ she says.
How she ever got to be an accountant I’ll never know.
‘The thing is I’ve got to stay here for a few more days …’ I say changing the subject.
‘What, but you can’t …’
‘I’ve got to plan the wedding with the grandmother. I’m going to try and talk to Hamilton tomorrow, meanwhile I need you to phone the laundrette, I’ll have to pull a sickie, tell them I’ve gone down with shingles or something.’
‘But you said it was only going to be a weekend. I don’t want to be here on my own next week. Alistair is going away on business.’
I don’t think Alistair would be much use. It would take him half an hour to say what emergency services he needed.
‘You have to go down with shingles too,’ I say quickly.
There is silence and after a few seconds she whispers.
‘No Harry.’
‘I need a PA and you’re the only person I can think of although so far I think your PA skills stink.’
But at least she is with Vodafone. I pull the curtains. Christ the Jacks might be out there. Didn’t they shoot through the bedroom window in Godfather two, or was it Godfather three?
‘But, I’ll bugger it up.’
Yes most likely.
‘You’ll be safe though. With all these people here the Jacks wouldn’t dare do anything, and you can go riding. You can borrow my riding outfit.’
I can practically hear her brain whirring as she considers it.
‘Okay, but how do I get there? And I’m doing this under sufferance. I want you to know that.’
I feel better already. I just need a glass of champagne and a bowl of Eton Mess and I might actually be able to sleep.
‘I’ll speak to Hamilton and get you here by private helicopter. You said you fancied that?’
‘I also fancy Johnny Depp, but I don’t expect him to come knocking at the door whereas Jack Diamond, I do.’
I spend five minutes calming her down until Alistair returns with the chocolate. I flop onto my bed and plump the pillows behind my head and exhale loudly. My body begins to relax slowly and I feel the tension ebb away. I need to spend a few minutes going through my folder. I peek through the curtains and look wistfully at the stars. What was I thinking? I should have known this wouldn’t go to plan. I must look on the bright side. I’m getting out of debt. My hair is in the best condition ever and it didn’t cost me a penny. I’m getting some decent slap-up meals and free Clinique face treatments. I yawn and pull back the satin covered duvet. Oh yes, this is the life. If only I could marry Hamilton. That lingering kiss wasn’t so bad, maybe I could grow to love him and perhaps this will turn out to be a fairy tale. There is a light tap at the door and I freeze.
‘It’s Cedric, Miss Harriet. Lady Lancaster sent you up a nightcap.’
I open the door to see him holding a silver tray with a large brandy and a bowl of Eton Mess.
‘I hope you don’t mind madam, I thought you would like a little dessert before bed.’
This guy is good, he can read my mind. I open the door for him to enter.
‘Mr Hamilton said he will see you at breakfast at ten o’clock sharp to discuss things with you, and wishes you a pleasant night.’
‘Thank you Cedric,’ I say, putting out my hand for the tray.
‘May I suggest Miss Harriet that you get out of the habit of helping the staff?’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean …’
God, I’ve offended the bloody domestics now.
‘It’s fine madam, it’s just others may notice. Mr Brice for example might think it odd behaviour for a lady of your means.’
He winks and places the tray by the bed.
‘Sleep well Miss Harriet.’
I settle myself back on the bed with the brandy in one hand and spoon Eton Mess into my mouth with the other. I need to get my strength up for tomorrow’s shenanigans and I need to yank these stupid
nails off.
Chapter Fifteen
I open my bleary eyes and groan. My head feels like Jack Diamond had slipped into my room in the middle of the night and walloped it with a hammer. I attempt to sit up and feel so nauseous that I fall back onto the pillows. Obviously I’m not used to the rich life. All that gin, champagne and brandy, mixed with a large portion of Eton Mess has turned my brain into jelly. I lean gingerly across to the bedside table and pour the contents of an Evian bottle down my throat. My mobile says six a.m. and the room is stiflingly hot. I peel off the satin duvet which is stuck to my sweaty body and fall out of the bed. Why do they have the heating on so high? It’s like an oven in here.
‘Oh God,’ I groan as I crawl to the bathroom and lean my head over the toilet. Fresh air, that’s what I need. I step into the shower and stand under the water while it stings my tender body. Finally, I squeeze into my jeans, grab my chunky Aran jumper and scarf, and quietly open my door. Everywhere is still and silent and the only sound is the ticking grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs. I tiptoe down them, ignoring the snooty portraits, and feeling my head thump with every step. There is clattering emanating from the kitchen. I hesitantly open the door to see the cook kneading bread and Cedric sitting on a rocking chair reading the newspaper. They gape at me and I remember I have damp hair and am wearing no make-up. I must look like I’ve just escaped from Shaun of the Dead.
‘Good morning Miss Harriet,’ says Cedric, jumping up. ‘Shall we bring you breakfast into the dining room?’
Just the word breakfast makes my stomach gurgle and I fight back a gag.
‘Is anyone else up?’ I ask in a croaky voice.
The cook looks at Cedric and smiles.
‘No Miss, no one will be up until well gone ten.’
I look longingly at her steaming mug and sniff at the coffee aroma before moving towards the kettle.
‘I’ll just make myself a coffee and take it out. I need fresh air,’ I say weakly.
I pick up the kettle and cook utters a little cry.
‘Cedric,’ she says sharply.
‘Miss Harriet, you must let us make you coffee. Where would you like it?’
Honestly, can’t these toffs make a simple cup of coffee for themselves?