Doubting Abbey (23 page)
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 5
th
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.
‘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.
‘Good Lord, that brings back memories,’ said the Earl. ‘Named after the Minister for Food, wasn’t it? Our cook could work miracles with Potato Pete and Doctor Carrot.’
Lady C let out a girlish giggle. ‘I haven’t heard those terms for years.’
‘So what’s in this pie?’ I asked.
‘Vegetables,’ said Lady C, ‘and a gravy made from Marmite and rolled oats. The pastry lid is made from potato and, if you were particularly lucky, one would grate cheese on top.’
Ick. What a shame I’d probably be joining the guests for lunch.
‘And dessert?’ I asked.
‘Apple jelly, followed by eggless jam sponge with the coffee.’
Even worse! It was hardly chocolate brownies with ice cream and fudge sauce.
I drained my cup of tea and reached for the phone on the low coffee table. It was one of those old-fashioned ones where the receiver was horizontal and it had a rotary dial instead of touch buttons.
‘Shall I start to work my way through this list, then?’ I said, once again looking at the floral sheet of paper.
‘Give me half of the names,’ said Edward. ‘I’ll phone from the library. The sooner we can contact these people, the better. And we’ve a bit of extra time now, before we watch tonight’s show, as it’s been moved to a later slot at nine o’clock.’
I raised my eyebrows as I folded the sheet of paper and tore it neatly in half.
‘There’s been several complaints about the content of the Marwick Castle footage, so the programme had to move to after the watershed.’ Edward shrugged and took his half of the list from me. ‘Gaynor’s pretty happy as they’ll now be able to broadcast any unsuitable scenes that were previously edited out—starting tonight. She said something about nudity at the Castle, and a drunken brawl.’
‘How terrible,’ I muttered.
‘Indeed, Abbey,’ said Lady C. ‘It’s disgraceful, putting viewing figures before moral standards.’
‘No, I mean how terrible for us,’ I said. ‘Reality show viewers love those risqué scenes. The Baron and his estate will be more popular than ever because of this.’
