Doubting Abbey (18 page)
‘Evening, Bill,’ said a man in his, ooh, early sixties. He carried a bright-eyed Jack Russell.
‘Todd. How’s the accountancy business these days?’ Bill shook his hand. ‘This is Gemma. She’s helping out at Applebridge Hall. Pull over your chair, son. Gemma, this is Todd Raynor. He works with Miss Diamond, Lord Croxley’s accountant, who—’
‘I know who she is,’ I said and tried hard not to pull a face.
Bill chuckled. ‘A tad abrupt, isn’t she?’
Todd sat in between me and Bill, the Jack Russell – unimaginatively called Jack – on his lap.
‘We were just discussing the war years,’ said Bill. ‘Your mum taught the evacuees, didn’t she?’ He turned to me. ‘Todd’s mum lives in Wisteria Cottage—you might have seen it next to the post office. She’s won awards for her gardens. Pushing ninety she is, but still as quick-witted as ever.’
Todd tickled Jack’s ears. ‘She taught them English and Maths. Several are still in touch with her, after all these years’
‘Really?’ Bill leant forward and, despite Jack’s growl, he placed a hand on Todd’s arm. ‘How come I never knew that? Is she in contact with Jonny Jackson?’
My eyes went all tingly. The memories clearly meant so much to Bill. Right—Mrs Raynor. Wisteria Cottage. I would have to visit her tomorrow and somehow convince her to give me her list of contacts.
Drinks finished, we said our goodbyes and I walked – okay, ran, heart racing, back to Applebridge Hall which, in the dark, looked mega spooky. Todd had offered to walk me home, but I insisted I’d be okay. I couldn’t risk Jack barking and waking everyone up.
All the lights were out and, without the familiar orange city glow, I had only the moon and the fountain’s tinkle to guide me to the front entrance. By the time I reached the end of the drive, my chest heaved and I was perspiring like one of those unfit middle-aged dads you see out running, thinking they look cool in their designer trainers.
Talking of feet, my little toes cramped in agony and I slipped out of my mega impractical high heels. A random noise caught my attention from the pond on the right— aw, a croaking frog. Hoping I wouldn’t trip over some unseen molehill or rock, I stole over to the water and sat down by the edge. I gazed around the estate, just able to pick out the forest and orchards. Even though the Indian summer temperature had dipped today, it was still warm and I had a sudden urge for a swim.
No one would know – only the little tiddlers darting around on the bottom. Stupid idea, I know, but uh oh, adrenaline rush, and, before I realized it, mega fast I’d stripped down to my bra and knickers. I pulled out my chicken fillets and slid them into my high heeled shoes. Slowly, I entered the water. Wow. Talk about refreshing.
Weed tickled my feet as I pushed forward and water rose up over my thighs, my waist, then my boobs… Mmm. This was lush, despite the smell of dirty fishtanks. I tied up my hair with my headband. The last thing I wanted was to tint the pond with red dye. A random cloud covered the moon for a moment, and for, ooh, it must have been twenty minutes, I floated. Bliss.
Urgh! Was that a rustling behind me? I jerked my head up.
‘Who’s there?’ I hissed and swam into the bulrushes. Crap!
LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY
Tuesday 4
th
September
‘Comments’
11.30p.m.
Just bobbed back to say that
a
fter two hours in the library in the company of Ernest Hemingway, my problems are almost back in perspective. Like one of my mother’s favourite white wines from more affluent times, I feel pleasantly chilled—nay, nearly fully revived. Enough to return to this e-diary and properly consider your many reactions to tonight’s show, which seems to have been a source of immense amusement.
Tiarablogger
, if that, um, was my cousin, then I agree, perhaps she failed to learn about lawnmowers at finishing school.
Jobsworth
, welcome to my blog and yes, we have taken out all the insurance policies we need to.
EtonMess
, how, erm, supportive to say you’d eat anything Abigail cooked as long as she wore high heeled shoes. Oh, and
Knityourownmansion
, that was quick work: today my father received the knitted mohair pipe in the post. I’m sure he’s very grateful. Glittery pink was, erm, an inspiring colour to choose.
But… Wait a minute… What’s that? Out of the library’s side window I can see… Surely not? Excuse me, blog-readers, I must investigate – it would seem someone is bathing in our pond…
Phew! The dark must have spooked me. No one was there. Still, I couldn’t enjoy my swim and after ten more minutes was about to get out, when… Oh, crap! Now I heard heavy breathing. Again, I darted into the bulrushes.
‘Who, um, is there?’ I said once more.
‘Shouldn’t I be asking who
you
are?’ replied a familiar voice. The silhouette of a head covered in curls came into view. ‘Trespassing is a crime,’ said Edward, and caught his breath. ‘This isn’t a municipal swimming pool.’
As if they were curtains, I pulled the bulrushes apart.
‘Isn’t it cold in there?’ he asked.
‘How long have you been perving?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ he scoffed, ever the charmer. ‘I’ve just this minute arrived – having been in the library.’
As I swam out into the open water, he sat down, next to my pile of clothes.
‘Look, um, I got lost and ended up on your estate. It was so hot and the pond looked mega inviting,’ I said. ‘Just let me get out and I’ll be gone.’
Edward stared at me through the darkness and I turned away. Thank God I’d not gone underwater as my false eyelashes and make-up would have come off. The moon shone more brightly as the cloud moved and I couldn’t resist squinting back up at him.
‘Why are you here, really?’ he asked. ‘No one just stumbles their way onto this estate.’
I bit my lip. ‘Um… Look… If you must know, I’m a fan of
Million Dollar Mansion
and wanted to see the place for myself.’
Edward snorted. ‘You’ve only got to read the papers to know that we’re hardly the favourite. A real fan of the show would break into Marwick Castle.’
Urgh, this was what was so attractively infuriating about my supposed cousin! He was intelligent, difficult to fool and, for a la-di-da toff, refreshingly outspoken.
‘What about, um, your fans on the blog?’ I said. ‘I bet they’d like to see the place in person.’
‘But you aren’t one of them, right?’ He stood up. ‘I’m calling the police. You’ve clearly got some agenda.’
‘No! All right… Look…I’m Gemma.’ Phew. There, I’d said it. And it was great to be honest.
He shrugged.
‘Abbey’s lodger. I saw tonight’s show and knew she’d be upset. I, um, got my brother, Tom, to drop me off on his motorbike.’ Okay, some white lies were necessary. ‘I only live forty minutes away. He’s picking me up at, er, one a.m.’
‘Gemma? My cousin has mentioned you. So, she’s still here?’ Through the shadows, his face kind of brightened and my chest glowed. Perhaps, after all, he didn’t think me as Abbey was a joke.
‘The last time we spoke, she announced her departure.’ His mouth drooped at the corners and… Oh my God. I had this sudden urge to kiss it hard! The sudden flashes of his vulnerable side were…were… My pulse raced. Hot, hot, hot!
‘Abbey’s got sticking power all right,’ I said. Although I wasn’t going to let him off the hook completely—let him stew for a while and actually think about what a tough week Abbey, in other words
I
, had suffered.
‘She’s mortified about the cookery lesson—and dog tired,’ I continued airily. ‘It’s been a
knackering
week for her. If it was me, I’d jack the whole thing in. She was falling asleep when I left, so I decided to look around.’
Edward grunted as a shiver ran down my spine.
‘Urgh! Must swim, otherwise I’ll freeze my tits off.’
His mouth upturned.
‘Why don’t you come on in?’ I said – as a joke. I mean,
as if
. The words spontaneous and Edward didn’t go together.
‘Are you mad?’ he replied.
‘It’s only a bit of fun.’
His shrugged. ‘According to Abbey, I don’t know what that is.’
‘Then prove her wrong.’ I splashed his trousers. Yay, this was great, not having to be on my best behaviour.
He gasped. ‘We’re not at nursery school. Look. Don’t you think you should get dry?’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s already gone midnight.’
I soaked him again.
‘Now look here, young lady…’
‘Whoa!’ I said. ‘Less of the young. Who are you, my dad? Or perhaps you’re just scared of the titchy tiddlers swimming around?’
He folded his arms.
‘You’ll get just as wet standing on the bank,’ I said and hit the water with my palm, to increase the splash.
He stared at me for a moment, studying my features… I swallowed hard. Would he accept that I wasn’t the same person as his supposed mad cousin who’d sailed down a hill on a lawnmower?
Clearly, yes, because, seconds later, he pulled his shirt over his head. Mmm. Broad smooth chest… Nicely toned tum… I cleared my throat and tried to look interested in some weed floating on the pond’s surface, dying to look again as the thumpety-thump of my heart sped up. It was like that famous
Pride and Prejudice
scene played backwards, him walking
into
the water. Phew! Get a grip, Gemma.
‘It’s a good twenty years since I’ve swum in here,’ he said, head now bobbing next to mine. His eyes narrowed. ‘Cousin Abbey was right.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘She said people think you two look alike…’ He squinted in the dark. ‘There’s a definite similarity.’ With that, he swam to the other side.
Phew. So far so good – ta very much, dim moonlight. He came back my way and gave a big splash.
‘Think I owe you that,’ he said.
‘I stuck out my tongue and we floated in silence for a moment.
‘It’s awesome here,’ I said softly, as an owl hooted from the forest. ‘All this space… green…quiet…’
Edward continued floating on his back.
‘Did you hear me?’ I asked.
By way of an answer, he lurched and grabbed my leg.
‘Aarghh! What are you doing?’ I said, in between gasps of laughter.
‘That got you. Who’s scared now?’
With a giggle, I pulled away and crawled out onto the bank, goose bumps pricking up on my skin – my cue to try and act sensible and get dressed again. About to ask him to avert his eyes, I noticed that he’d already turned away. Quickly I stuffed my chicken fillets into my bra, pulled on my skirt and top and picked up my bag and high heels.
‘Beat you to the top of the hill behind the house, by those gravestones,’ I said.
‘That’s one long run,’ he said. ‘And I need to get my clothes on first.’
‘My legs are shorter than yours. It’s only fair that I have a few seconds’ advantage. Come on! It’ll be a mega way to get dry.’
I started running, past Applebridge Hall and the vegetable garden at the back. By the time I reached the maze I was exhausted, but God, this was good. I felt as free as one of those birds the Earl spied on through binoculars, even though my thighs killed as the hill got steeper.
‘Here I come,’ said a deep voice behind me. ‘Give up; you don’t stand a chance.’
‘Not on your life,’ I hollered but he passed me, glancing sideways with a grin, shirt unbuttoned. As he reached the cemetery first, Edward punched the air and collapsed to the ground. Blimey. He almost looked human! Seconds later, I lay down next to him on the grass.
‘I don’t know how…but…you must have…cheated…’ I gasped, spreadeagled on my back.
He chuckled. ‘Aw – no one likes a sore loser.’
A few minutes later we both sat up and he pulled a green blob of weed out of my hair.
‘Warm enough?’ he asked. ‘Borrow my shirt to cover up. You might get cold on the way home.’
What a considerate offer. It made me feel all fuzzy inside. ‘‘S okay—but thanks, all the same,’ I nodded towards the cemetery. ‘So… All the Croxleys are buried there?’
He rubbed the back of his neck, his hair in tight wet curls. ‘Yes. My mother most recently.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to… Abbey mentioned that you’d lost your mum a couple of years ago. That can’t have been easy.’
Edward picked a handful of grass and let the blades tumble back to the ground.
‘I miss mine,’ I mumbled.
‘How long…?’
‘She died when I was little, but I still have vague memories. Her perfume. Her bonkers laugh.’
‘And there’s me feeling sorry for myself when I knew mine for almost thirty years.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s just different, I guess. I don’t have constant memories to bring back the pain, like watching her fave TV show without her, or cooking one of her meals. Although, now and then I do something and get a sixth sense that she would approve.’
‘Like what?’
‘Usually something wild and wacky.’ That
Titanic
episode, for example. ‘Dad’s pet name for her used to be flibbertigibbet. She was nothing like him – a huge fan of seafood —exotic for Dad means trying a different brand of sausage. She was also into amateur dramatics. Dad’s mega proud of photos of her in costume.’ I bit my thumbnail. ‘According to Dad, she used to call me her little Gem… What was, um, your mum like?’
‘Patient,’ he said. ‘The best listener. And…’
‘What?’
‘Nothing – just being sentimental.’
‘Promise I won’t tell anyone,’ I murmured.
Through the darkness, he stared at me for a moment. ‘She gave tremendous hugs. Even when I’d grown up, she always sensed when things weren’t going well. With her arms around me, I felt invincible, as if any problem could be solved.’ He shrugged.
‘She sounds like a wonderful woman.’ Wow. Was this really the same strait-laced, po-faced guy I’d argued with a few hours ago? I slipped my arm around his shoulder and squeezed tight. A bolt of electricity went through me and I pursed my lips together to contain a gasp. I hadn’t felt that physical reaction with a guy for… for… Perhaps never.
