‘No medieval weaver wove that,’ said a familiar quick voice.
I swung around to a flash of red hair and gum-chewing mouth, at the top of a floral green dress. What was Roxy doing here?
‘Um, hi,’ I squeaked, mouth suddenly dry. Would she recognize the shape of my face or eyes? ‘Mega good party, isn’t it? You’re a friend of the Baron’s?’
‘Not really.’ Roxy walked past me and towards the podium. She went up the red-carpeted steps and sat in the throne.
‘Won’t he mind?’ I said, squeak gone, pulse back to its usual rhythm. Phew.
Roxy looked at me and chuckled.
‘No. The Baron’s a cool dude,’ said Roxy. ‘It’s open house as far as he’s concerned.
‘Yeah, he’s a pretty chilled guy,’ I said, ‘and doesn’t hide the fact that most of this stuff hasn’t been in the Castle longer than a few months.’
‘Why should he?’ She shrugged. ‘He’s not born and bred aristocrat or serious renovator or historian. I think that’s why the public warm to him – he doesn’t pretend to be someone he isn’t.’
They wouldn’t warm much to Gemma Goodwin, then.
She stood up and smiled. ‘I’m Roxy. Part of the Million Dollar Mansion crew—the director’s assistant. I mainly work at Applebridge Hall but sometimes assist the team here.’
‘I’m Gemma. Love your dress.’ It was strange to see Roxy out of jeans and a T-shirt, and not carrying a clipboard or running around to fulfil Gaynor’s every need. ‘So, um, aren’t you supposed to remain objective? Should you really be here, out of hours?’
Roxy sat down at the long table and yawned, before speaking at her usual top speed. ‘What, because I’m at one of his parties, the Baron’s my favourite to win? No, I’m here for the free booze and he’s an okay bloke if you can get past his outdated flirting. Harry’s pretty harmless too.’ Roxy offered me some gum and I shook my head. ‘They’re both very confident of their brand and concept,’ she continued.
‘Are they right to feel so optimistic?’
Roxy stopped chewing for a moment. ‘Presumably you’ve seen the show?’
I nodded.
‘Then as a viewer, tell me what you think.’
‘Marwick Castle has…a mega appeal. The fun factor – I’ll give it that. But, like with the hare and tortoise, I reckon Applebridge Hall might overtake them in the popularity stakes over the next week.’
‘You actually believe the Earl is in with a chance?’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Do you?’
Roxy shrugged. ‘On paper, the Baron should win hands down… But…I don’t know. There’s something about the Croxleys… When I visit this castle it feels just like a hotel but at Applebridge Hall, it’s like…I’ve just walked into my parents’ pad. There’s an atmosphere there of… family…care… trust—or something.’ She grinned. ‘Do I sound like a complete wuss?’
A lump swelled in my throat. She’d just put into words exactly how I felt.
Roxy gazed around the room. ‘I guess it all depends on whether that atmosphere transmits itself across to the audience at home.’ She took out her car keys. ‘Right. Time for bed. Busy day tomorrow. You’re friends with Harry?’
‘Not really. I just met him in a pub. What’s, um, Lord Edward Croxley really like, then?’ I asked innocently.
‘Even hotter in the flesh, but impossibly hard to talk to. He doesn’t do chit-chat, rarely smiles, is arrogant, uptight—yet chivalrous and polite.’ She winked. ‘I wonder if he’s such a gentleman between the sheets… Miss Croxley’s nice, though,’ she added.
‘At least her cooking went better yesterday.’ I grinned.
‘She’s a real sport and a lot easier to talk to than her cousin. There’s a Facebook group obsessed with her high-jinks on the lawnmower. Did you see tonight’s show?’ Roxy’s eyes twinkled. ‘I still can’t make up my mind as to whether there’s something going on between her and the gardener or not. Her Facebook fans are convinced they’re the Dirty Dancing intruders.’
Yay! Another mission accomplished. Nick and I would have to plan our next movie tribute, although I already had a thousand things to do tomorrow, and would have to get up mega early to ring those names on my half of Mrs Raynor’s list…
Eek. Better get back and start washing out red hair dye.
‘Are you travelling back to the village?’ I asked. ‘Is there any chance you could drop me off? I’m not in the party mood any more…’
‘Sure thing – but have you had a look around?’
I shook my head.
‘Gemma, this is too good an opportunity to miss. The Baron won’t mind – let me give you a quick tour!’
I followed her out of the Throne Room and through the Chophouse (what an awesome indoor barbecue and chocolate fountain). We passed along a corridor, with doors opening to various bedrooms. The majority were unlocked as most of the corporate guests had left. We peeked in a couple. Sheets were strewn everywhere. There was a lot of work to be done before the weekend party guests arrived tomorrow night. Each was identically kitted out with crossed swords (plastic, no doubt) above the headboards and tapestries of unicorns. Then we came to a door with a dagger mounted in the middle.
‘This is the Baron’s,’ said Roxy.
We pushed open the heavy door and went in. Sure enough, above the bed was the huge mirror he’d boasted about. The bed sheets were gold and folded down over a burgundy blanket which matched lush pillows. Ornamental black iron light fittings were decked around the room and opposite the bed was a huge wall hanging of soldiers on horseback. Two animal skins lay on the wooden floor.
‘Even I know that zebras and lions didn’t roam Medieval England,’ I said and giggled.
‘Fancy a quick scoot up one of the towers?’ said Roxy.
‘You bet!’
I followed her along to the end of the corridor, past two more bedrooms, and she pulled open an oak door to the left. Wow. The tower was bigger than I expected, with stone stairs going up in circles, the small windows simply paned. Out of breath, we climbed past a door opening onto the first floor until we were right at the top and came out into the night air. I ran across to look out through one of the turrets at the back of the castle.
‘Is that a digger?’ I said and squinted, through the darkness, at a vehicle at the foot of the hill.
‘Sure is. The Baron didn’t have enough of the twenty-five grand left to finish the job – he’s hoping to build a go-karting track.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’
We returned to the courtyard and picked our way across, avoiding drunken guests crashed out on the floor. The Baron stood at the bar. Harry gyrated across to us.
‘Surely you ain’t leaving already, girls?’
‘I, um, have got to get up early for work,’ I said, ‘but thanks for the invitation.’
‘So, babe, have we won you over? Can I count on your vote?’
‘Let’s see what next week brings,’ I said.
Harry smirked. ‘I can tell you there’ll be no surprises from Applebridge Hall, just more of the same: like apples, old-fashioned tweed clothes and wacky relatives on lawnmowers; like moody Lords who think they are better than everyone else; like estate managers in stupid hats and cooks with the weirdest accent.’
‘Ciao, Harry,’ said Roxy brightly, while I took some deep breaths. ‘Good luck with the party on Saturday.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘Cheers, doll – no luck needed, though. Not with my new celebrity mates. Just hope you don’t die of boredom at that war fogies’ reunion thing.’ He gave us the thumbs-up and headed back to a brunette who was calling his name.
‘Arsehole,’ I muttered under my breath as we crossed the drawbridge and headed for the road leading to the double garage.
Roxy chuckled. We got into her red Mini and chatted about other reality shows all the way back to Applebridge.
‘Where would you like me to drop you?’ asked Roxy as we eventually drove into the village. We’d jus
t finished a heated discussion about whether Channel Five had done a good job of reinventing Big Brother.
‘By The Green Acorn is great, ta,’ I said.
Roxy pulled up. ‘You’re sure I can’t take you to your front door? It’s two o’clock in the morning.’
‘This is Applebridge,’ I said and smiled. ‘Not inner city London.’
She yawned. ‘Point taken. Okay. Wicked meeting you. Hope you enjoy the rest of the series.’
I closed the car door behind me and waved as she drove off.
Ten minutes later, I entered through the Hall’s gates. An autumn chill now hung in the air and I buttoned up my denim coat. Spooked by the hoot of an owl, I looked over my shoulder, convinced footsteps were following me across the grass. A blister nagged my heel as I passed the orchards. Near one of the trees, I bent over to take off my stilettos. As I straightened up a click sounded behind my back.
‘Don’t move or I’ll shoot,’ bellowed a deep voice.
Crap. I swung around and stared down the barrel of a shotgun. As fast as I could, I ran away. A gunshot rang out. With a scream, I fell to the ground.
LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY
Friday 7th September
Awfully early in the morning. In fact, it’s around 2.15a.m. I’m absolutely done in, having spent time in the old evacuees’ dorm once more, up in the Long Gallery. Cousin Abbey was too tired to help, but is getting up early to continue our efforts. Now I must retire to my room, so do forgive this very short post.
Lovehotnoble, you gave an interesting reply to the poser question. I’m not sure the kind of ‘improvement’ Lady Constance had in mind involved breast implants and your lips being injected with fat from your, erm, posterior.
Excuse me a minute… What was that…? I’ve just heard something that sounds remarkably like a gunshot.
Chapter 20
Like a gun dog proud of its catch, Mr Thompson hovered by my side. Eventually running footsteps approached. Ouch. My leg hurt. Maybe trying to escape had been a mega bad idea but, out of my Abbey disguise, I had no power over the estate manager. Plus I didn’t really think he’d shoot me down like a rabbit or pheasant.
‘Don’t move,’ he ordered, voice deeper than ever.
‘I can’t help shaking,’ I said and spat out crumbs of soil.
‘Thompson! What on earth were you thinking?’ Within seconds, Edward was on the ground by my side. Gently, he turned me over. I sat up and rubbed my knee.
‘I’m okay…’ I muttered. ‘It’s just a graze. I tripped over a stone. The bullet missed.’
Edward helped me to my feet and I slipped my stilettos back on. He tilted my chin to the moonlight, eyes full of concern.
‘Are you sure, Gemma?’ he asked. ‘You aren’t hurt anywhere else?’ He brushed some soil off my cheek.
‘You know this…this juvenile?’ stuttered Mr Thompson. He squinted through the darkness and lowered his gun.
‘This woman is a friend of my cousin’s,’ Edward said, eyes ablaze. ‘But good God, man, even if she was built like a bodybuilder and carrying a swag bag, you should never have aimed and fired.’
‘Especially as my back was turned,’ I muttered. ‘How cowardly is that?’
Mr Thompson shuffled his feet. ‘I only shot into the air. Sick of these intruders, I am, My Lord. They’re taking us for mugs.’
Edward shook his head. ‘Go to bed and leave this to me—and count your blessings this didn’t end more badly. You could have ended up in jail.’
Lips pursed, Mr Thompson slung his gun over his shoulder and headed up the drive to Applebridge Hall.
‘He won’t mention me to anyone, will he?’ I said. Lady C would go mad if she thought I’d risked blowing my cover. ‘Abbey’s, um, got enough on her plate without worrying about me getting shot at.’
‘I’ll have a word with him in the morning.’ Edward stared at my knee. ‘You’re trembling. That gunshot must have been quite a shock. Come inside for a drink. It’ll calm you down.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said, but Edward already had an arm around my shoulder and started guiding me back to the house, as I limped.
‘Everyone else is in bed,’ he said. ‘It’s gone two a.m. What are you doing out here at this time?’
‘Um… My brother was passing this way again tonight. He got a two-week night-shift contract stacking shelves in a supermarket a few miles on from here. Tom offered to drop me off if I wanted to see Abbey once more, and pick me up on his way back, at sunrise. So I, um, texted her to see if she’d like me to visit. I’ve been helping her ring some of the evacuees on that list. Then she was tired so we hit the sack, but I couldn’t sleep. I just fancied a walk and then…’
‘Won’t you be tired for work tomorrow?’
‘I’ve recently lost my job,’ I said, glad not to be lying for once.
He squeezed my shoulder and warmth surged through my veins. ‘Come on. A hot chocolate will restore your spirits.’
‘Could I meet you by that bench at the pond?’ I said. ‘It’s a beautiful night. I could do with a bit of peace – my ears are still ringing, thanks to that bullet.’
‘Okay. Somewhere Kathleen’s got a flask…’
‘Mr Thompson’s gone in, right? Or do I need to carry a white flag?’
Edward smiled. ‘He’s not a bad man – just a creature of routine. All the filming… it’s stressed him out.’
I knew that, really. Despite his gruff manner and this evening’s murder attempt, the estate manager had grown on me.
‘See you there in ten minutes, then,’ said Edward. ‘I’ll bring something to clean up that knee.’
‘Don’t worry—I’ll just wash it in the pond.’
He looked at me for a second, as if I were a puppy that had just performed the cutest trick. Then he disappeared inside the main entrance. Still limping a little, I reached the bulrushes, bent over and splashed water onto my knee. Graze cleaned, I pushed through the longer grass to the bench and sat down. Mmm. Quiet. What a difference to the hustle and bustle of the Castle. I breathed in the woody smells with a tinge of fish tank pond – much nicer than the whiff of vomit at the Baron’s place.
‘I wondered if I might find you swimming again.’ A grin on his face, Edward appeared by my side. He passed me a thick anorak. ‘Take this. Autumn is well and truly on its way.’ He sat down and poured two cups of hot chocolate out of a flask and then unwrapped slices of Kathleen’s Dundee Cake. In silence we watched the occasional frog jump as moonlight caught the surface of the pond.
‘That was good,’ I said and swallowed the last mouthful, wiping my mouth on the borrowed coat’s sleeve. ‘That Kathleen’s a mega cook.’
‘Abbey’s pretty decent in the kitchen as well.’
Good thing I’d swallowed my cake, otherwise I might have choked at that compliment!
‘What will you do once she’s left?’ I asked. ‘Who will take over the Applebridge Food Academy if you win?’
Edward threw some crumbs into the pond and tiddlers bobbed up to the surface for a midnight feast.
‘I think that’s what you’d call the Elephant in the Room…’ He sighed. ‘It’s jolly hard discussing these things with Father. With a million dollars, we’d be able to hire a top calibre chef who’d be happy to take the job on once we’d finished the refurbishment of the guest bedrooms, properly kitted out the kitchen and added more work-stations. But he still loathes the idea of strangers living in our home.’ Edward drained his cup.
‘With all that dosh, you wouldn’t have to make the decision straight away,’ I said.
‘True—we could postpone it for a while, but I have to think long-term. I don’t want Applebridge Hall to be in the same precarious position ten or twenty years from now. When Father inevitably passes on there will be death duties to pay and… Well… A million dollars must be invested very wisely. I don’t want to pass the responsibility I carry down to another generation…’ For a second deep lines cut across his forehead. ‘We also want to employ m
ore locals from the village again, like in the old days. There’s a lot to think about.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s a pity Abbey never mentions staying, to work here in some capacity.’
‘Really?’ My mouth fell open. ‘I mean…You get on that well?’
He glanced sideways at me. ‘As far as I’m concerned, yes. And she’s had some great ideas. It’s… It’s tremendous having my cousin around, after all this time. Even if we don’t win, she’d be an asset. I’m afraid the stiff upper lip faltered tonight and I wrote on my blog about…feelings… and praised Abigail.’
Wow. I must take a gander.
His cheeks flushed. ‘There’s something about the virtual world that makes it somehow easier to offload…’ He grinned. ‘And being around you, Gemma. That’s what I like – your honesty. Forthrightness.’
I grinned back. ‘You’re pretty forthright yourself, from what Abbey says.’
The humour dropped from his face. ‘Oh, Gemma… If only you knew… Sometimes I wish I could be a lot more upfront…’
Huh? What did he mean by that? I linked my free arm though his. ‘Abbey, um, talks mega fondly of you, too,’ I said. ‘It’s just… About the future…Your two families don’t exactly get on well.’
‘We’re all so stubborn, that’s the problem.’ He smiled. ‘Abbey included—she’s a Croxley woman, all right. Absolutely determined, yet with that feminine edge that stops her just short of behaving like… Well, like trigger-happy Thompson.’
‘I’m glad you find it funny – he nearly killed me!’ My heart raced. Edward liked me – well, in my disguise as Abbey. I’d done it—passed the test. Edward believed I was a true member of his aristocratic family.
‘Anything I can do to help tonight?’ I said. ‘My brother won’t be here for a couple of hours. Abbey mentioned some ration books and toys… Do you need help sorting stuff out?’
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