‘No. Catering college,’ I said, remembering Abbey’s history. ‘But not straight away. I went to finishing school first.’ Eek, please don’t let him ask me exactly where. All I knew was that it was somewhere in Switzerland, where they spoke French. Hence Zak wanting her immediate help in Africa…
‘Really? People still do that? Although, for someone in your position, it’s probably a good idea.’ He looked sideways at me. ‘So what did you learn?’
After Lady C’s training, this was easy to answer.
‘The art of good conversation. Deportment. Etiquette.’
‘You studied in England?’
‘No…’ I cleared my throat. ‘Switzerland. I speak fluent French.’
‘Cool. I’ve been there. Whereabouts?’
Crap. Think hard. The only Swiss city I knew, thanks to a pub quiz, was the capital.
‘Um, Bern,’ I mumbled.
He gazed at me. ‘Ah, you learnt your French there…’
‘Um, oui, bien sur!’ I said quickly and smiled. Good thing I’d done GCSE French. ‘By talking to the locals every day and, um, watching the regional telly, all of us girls soon picked it up.’
He took a moment to reply and then eventually nodded. ‘I never went to college. My dad’s a gardener. I learnt my trade off him. Always fancied myself as a bit of an actor, though,’ he said with a wink. ‘So yeah, I’m up for performing any more classic movie scenes.’
I touched his arm, which felt warm and comfortable, but there wasn’t a hint of the electricity I’d felt with Edward. ‘That’s very decent of you, considering how angry my cousin was.’
‘I don’t scare easily, Miss.’ He jerked his head towards the pond. ‘Fancy keeping me company? Mr Thompson mentioned that the water looked a bit red this morning. I wondered if a fox had killed one of the ducks and left it behind. I’d like to check it before the rain starts. We should just be able to see in this twilight.’
Ahem. It was nothing to do with me. My crimson hair couldn’t have possibly dyed that pond, considering the mega number of shampoo washes it took to finally get that coloured stuff out.
Nick put down his trimmers and, aware of the cameraman setting up behind us for the so-called moody shots, we headed around the side of the house, towards the pond. With all his equipment, the poor guy couldn’t follow quickly and by the time he appeared we were already at the edge of the water, hidden behind the bulrushes and long grass.
The occasional fat drop of rain now fell into the pond. As the waves rippled I recalled my swim from last night, and the water’s fresh silkiness.
‘There’s one classic romance movie scene that I’ll never forget,’ I said with a dreamy sigh.
‘What’s that?’ said Nick and leant forward, presumably looking for dead ducks.
‘Dirty Dancing – the lake scene where they are both in the water and Johnny lifts Baby above his head.’
‘Ah, yes. I’ve watched that with several girlfriends.’
I grinned. ‘What a stir it would cause if we attempted that.’
He pulled a face.
‘What’s the matter? Aren’t you strong enough?’ I teased as rain fell steadily now. A faraway rumble of thunder spurred on my daredevil instinct. ‘It’s not as if anyone would see us clearly in this half-light and we are partially hidden by plants.’ Uh oh. Surge of adrenaline. ‘In fact, the more I think about it, Nick, the less wacky the idea seems.’
‘Are you serious?’ He straightened up. ‘But your clothes…?’
‘This outfit is exceptionally lightweight. Just think of the buzz we’d create on the social media sites. If our tribute to Titanic got people talking, this would take their breath away. The camera’s view won’t be crystal-clear. I’ll simply deny everything.’
‘But how will you get back into the house? Your dripping wet dress might be a giveaway.’
‘I can blame the rain.’ My eyes widened. ‘Do say you’ll be a sport, Nick.’ This might be one of the last chances I had to do something really outrageous, now that Lady C was around.
Nick chuckled and took off his light blue raincoat, which I put on, partly to disguise myself again. He duly stripped off his shirt, his skin surprisingly pale for someone who’d always worked outdoors. My pulse sped as I thought back to Edward’s naked torso…
With a shake, I squinted towards the Hall. The cameraman had set up there and his equipment happened to be pointing right our way. I took a deep breath and, unusually for me, considered how undignified my behaviour might look. After the lawnmower incident, I felt a little uncomfortable doing something else wacky, dressed up as my flatmate.
‘Quick,’ I said and waded in, screwing up my nose at the fish tank smell. The sooner this was over, the sooner my doubts would disappear. Nick plunged straight under the water. Seconds later, he came up spluttering.
‘Jeez! That’s freezing!’ he hissed and placed his hands around my hips. ‘Right, here goes, Miss. Jump after three. One, two, three…’
I bent my knees and sprang into the air as high as I could – about ten centimetres, as it turned out. I fell forward onto his chest. We both sunk under the water and came up laughing.
‘I hope that isn’t blood in this water,’ he said and spat out a mouthful. ‘Let’s try again.’ We got into position. ‘Right, again, Miss, one, two, three…’
This time I jumped higher and he managed to hold me above his chest for a few seconds, above the long grass. The rain poured heavier and felt warm, compared to the pond. Rumbles of thunder got louder. Or was that my stomach again?
‘Almost there,’ he gasped. ‘I reckon we’ll get the perfect position this time. It’s our last chance. The sun’s almost gone and then the cameraman might pack up his stuff.’
Blimey. He’d need mega strong biceps. I was no flyweight. Certainly no size eight ‘Baby’ from the original film. One, two, three… I jumped for my life and he lifted me higher than before.
Yay! Like a sequinned dancer on one of those ice-skating shows, I finally stretched out, skirt edging above my thighs, me star-shaped above his head. Talk about fun! However, I did feel kind of clumsy and, in truth, probably looked more like some deranged skydiver. Poor Lady C would have a fit and everything she’d taught me about decorum suddenly pierced my conscience.
At least the deed was done and we could now hurry back to the house. But… aarggh! What was that? A distant deep voice shouted and I fell into the water.
‘Don’t move, you ruffians, or I’ll shoot you to smithereens!’ shouted Mr Thompson.
‘Shit!’ hissed Nick as I surfaced. ‘Excuse my language, Miss, but get the fuck out of this water… Now!’
Nick scrambled onto the bank and held out a hand. Once I was out, we grabbed our shoes and ran as fast as we could around the back of the house.
‘Don’t move!’ hollered Mr Thompson, coming from… I wasn’t quite sure. ‘My finger’s on the trigger.’
Oh, no. What if Mr Thompson caught us? Edward and the Earl would never forgive me. Out of nerves, I gave a low giggle.
‘It’s not funny,’ hissed Nick. ‘One thing that old codger can’t abide is trespassers.’
‘No. Sorry. Of course,’ I said, in between breaths. ‘Why don’t we split up? That might confuse him.’
‘Good idea,’ said Nick. ‘I’ll go to the front of the house and perhaps lead him down the drive, towards the orchards – that way, you can slip in via the back entrance to the kitchens.’
‘Okay. Thank you so much, Nick,’ I said, rain pelting into my face as I spoke. I peeled off Nick’s raincoat and gave it to him before he dashed off. A flash of lightning lit up the grounds and helped me navigate the vegetable garden.
Where should I go until Mr Thompson was well and truly distracted? Of course – the newly trimmed maze. In I hurtled, following the small avenues that twisted and turned. Finally, I sank to the ground. My body trembled. Despite all the running, I felt mega cold now. But I’d had to remove Nick’s coat, which had bits of weed sticking to it �
�� evidence that I’d been up to no good.
I squinted at my watch but it was too dark to make out the time. A twig snapped. What if Nick’s plan of creating a diversion had failed? Thunder rumbled just as a voice – not a mega deep one like Mr Thompson’s – muffled by the weather, said, ‘Who’s there?’
I stood up and tiptoed to the end of the avenue I was in – it was all clear. Slowly, I edged along the hedges, searching for a way out.
‘You can’t hide,’ shouted the voice.
Oh God. Maybe some psycho had stumbled onto the estate or… Thunder clapped. Did vampires really exist? Please, no. Even the human-friendly Twilight hunks might find my sizeable muffin top hard to resist. Deep breaths. Get a grip, girl. Lightning lit up the way for a few seconds and I rushed to and fro, determined to escape. Oh my God! A gunshot fired in the distance. Another twig snapped near me and heavy footsteps plodded my way. I backed into a dead end and screamed. A strong pair of hands had grabbed me from behind.
LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY
Wednesday 5th September
‘Comments’
11.45p.m. A quick goodnight before I change out of soaking clothes. Earlier, Mr Thompson alerted me to the presence of intruders in the gardens. Promptly I joined him in his hunt for the culprits. Take heed, prospective trespassers, his gun is loaded, lethal and lightning-quick. Indeed, tonight, harm was done. A price has been paid for his vigilance.
Chapter 17
‘What an absolute hero – you saved my life last night, Edward,’ I said.
He was pacing up and down in the Parlour, ahead of the Thursday night episode of Million Dollar Mansion.’ From near the front window, Lady C tutted. With the Earl, she’d been admiring an oil painting of a pheasant.
‘Do explain once more, Abbey, how you got lost in the maze, clothes soaking, unprepared, without an umbrella…?’ Cue fierce dinner lady stare.
I’d decided not to tell Lady C any more about my sex-up plan with Nick. It would only stress her out and the less people that knew, the better.
‘The maze has claimed many victims over the years,’ said Edward and smiled. ‘My cousin could have been in there all night – like Mr Barden.’
The old Earl chuckled.
‘He was a business associate of my father,’ continued Edward. ‘After a glass of red wine too many, he wandered into the maze. We didn’t hear his calls for help until after breakfast the following morning.’
‘Indeed, I was a silly sausage, Auntie,’ I said. ‘After an afternoon in the hot kitchen and dusty evacuees’ room upstairs, I needed some fresh air. Once outside, unable to, um, resist a challenge, I entered the maze, convinced I’d find my way out. I should have kept an eye on the approaching inclement weather. Thank goodness Edward found me and led the way out.’
It’s a jolly good thing Mr Thompson didn’t spot you,’ said the Earl as he crossed the room and sat down in his terracotta chair. ‘Nothing or no one gets in his way when he’s tracking intruders with his shotgun.’
‘But he, um, still hasn’t found any, has he?’ I asked as Lady C joined me on the mustard sofa.
The Earl snorted. ‘No. Damn lucky so far, those blighters have been. Mr Thompson’s hearing is super-human. That man could shoot a rabbit dead with both eyes closed, if he had to.’
Lady C looked at ‘James’ and smiled.
‘He swore he almost caught some youngsters by the pond, last night,’ the Earl continued. ‘In fact, he spotted one, hiding behind the fountain. Fortunately for them, his shot just missed. Instead, it hit the water feature, which now has a chunk missing.’
Fortunately for Nick, more like. Relief had surged through my veins this morning when I found out it was the fountain and not Nick that had been damaged.
I cleared my throat. ‘Right, well, we’ve got two hours until the staff join us to watch the programme.’ I bit into a yummy teacake, making sure my chewing was dainty. In between bites, I wiped my fingers on a napkin, before picking up an A4 pad and pen. ‘Please excuse me for eating and writing at the same time… Saturday looms and, as Edward suggested yesterday, now is a good time to take stock of how much progress we have all made in organizing the reunion.’
‘Would you like me to pour, James?’ Lady C said to the Earl and pointed to the teapot.
‘Thank you, Constance,’ he said and her cheeks tinged pink.
Aw – first name terms already. Perhaps Abbey’s aunt and uncle might add a more genuine dimension to the sexing – or at least romancing—up of Applebridge Hall’s footage.
‘Cousin, did you ask Gaynor if the TV company would put on cars to pick up guests?’ I said.
‘Of course. She said “no problem”.’
No surprise there. Her hots for Edward were so steaming, she’d have probably agreed to put on private jets.
‘I also sorted the medical notes and ration books into alphabetical order,’ he said and stood still, for a second, near the fireplace. ‘I came across a diary left behind by a Norman Barker, and a bundle of school reports. With Kathleen’s help, I cleaned the bedroom and the toys. She found sheets to make up the beds, to give viewers a better idea of how it used to look.’
‘What about the other dorms?’ I asked.
‘Not much in them,’ said Edward.
The Earl sucked on an empty pipe. ‘Mr Thompson drove me to see Bill Cochrane this morning and the two of us called on Mrs Raynor. Jolly thrilled she was, with the whole idea.’ He leant down, opened a leather briefcase and slid out a sheet of floral paper. ‘Here is a list Mrs Raynor made, of people she is still in contact with. She didn’t think they’d mind her passing on their details to our family. Apparently, despite the war, they still remember Applebridge warmly. The list used to be much longer but, due to one reason or another, has diminished over the years. Her writing’s a bit spidery now, but still legible.’
I took it from him. Wow. Twenty or so names… ‘Wiiiiiiicked!’
Lady C glared at me.
‘I mean… Weeeee could start ringing them straight away.’
‘What success have you had?’ said Edward and smiled. Just lately, I’d noticed what nice teeth he had. And, although his clothes were far from trendy, I was coming around to the idea that he could slip into a potato sack and make it look, well…kind of…lush. I shook myself. As if he’d be interested in the real me, without a posh accent and titled background—Gemma Goodwin was no Henrietta Hamilton-Brown.
‘Any luck tracking down people on the Internet?’ Edward asked.
I nodded. ‘Linda Sloggit was easy to find because of her unusual surname. Of course, the fact that she’s never got married helped tremendously. I searched on Facebook and found a woman in her twenties with an aunt called that, who used to be a midwife. It had to be her.’
‘Good Lord,’ muttered the Earl.
‘The niece got back to me more or less straight away and said she’d just spoken to her aunt and passed the message on.’ I beamed. ‘Believe it or not, she is the first of three guests to have already confirmed.
‘Excellent,’ said the Earl, hanging on my every word.
‘On the phone, Linda sounds like a lovely lady,’ I said. ‘Despite the late notice, she’s canceling her bowling and declared she couldn’t wait to see Applebridge Hall once more. As regards timings, I took an executive decision and asked her to arrive at twelve on Saturday. That gives people the whole morning to get here, if they’re close enough to travel on the day. Others will probably stay somewhere nearby, the night before. They could all have drinks whilst looking at items we found in the dorm, before a lateish lunch.’
‘That sounds like a decent plan,’ said Edward.
‘Linda rang again, having contacted two other evacuees she’d corresponded with over the years—her good friend Cynthia Williams. plus her young brother, Albert. Apparently, they were due to lunch with relatives on Saturday, but have been watching Million Dollar Mansion and said they wouldn’t miss a reunion for the world.’
‘Bertie Williams,�
� muttered the Earl and shook his head. ‘I’d forgotten him. He taught me how to head a football. What about Jonny Jackson?’
‘Well, Uncle, I tried Facebook and a corporate networking website without success, but it doesn’t matter as I’ve just noticed his number’s on Mrs Raynor’s list. And there’s hopeful news about Gerry Green…’
‘The old rascal’s still around?’ The Earl sat more upright.
‘Absolutely. He’s still doing the routine he was quite well-known for in the sixties and seventies—now in British Legion and Conservative clubs. It’s called the Gerry Green Gag Show. I found an advertisement for one of his shows in North London at the end of this month. So I rang the premises – they were awfully helpful and promised to pass my message and phone number onto him right away.’
‘He always did like to keep busy,’ muttered the Earl, whose cup of tea hadn’t been touched.
I turned to Lady C. ‘Auntie? I believe you and Kathleen looked into the possibility of a Second World War themed lunch?’
‘Yes, dear—after James took me on a delightful walk around the estate with a pair of binoculars, once he’d returned from seeing Mrs Raynor. We were lucky enough to spot woodpeckers, warblers and a jay in the forest. As for the Mandarin Ducks by the pond…’
Enthusiastically, I nodded as if this all made complete sense. Mandarin Duck? Perhaps Satsuma Seahorses and Tangerine Toads existed as well.
‘Constance insisted we hurry back to the house, though,’ said the Earl gruffly. ‘To help with the weekend plans. It is very decent of your aunt to help out, considering she is our guest.’
‘It’s the least I can do,’ she said, ‘and Kathleen came up with some excellent ideas. We thought lentil soup to start…’
The Earl pulled a face. ‘I’d never eaten lentils before the war and haven’t since.’
‘… and then the famous Woolton Pie for the main,’ said Lady C.
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