Doubting Abbey (8 page)

On closer inspection, I could see that the rugs were worn and wall carvings chipped. Plus the tiled floor was cracked, the tapestries faded and one corner of the ceiling showed signs of damp. It was like stepping back in time, what with no telly or computer and no comfy bean bag or gaming chair to chill out on.

‘This used to be where the Croxleys received run-of-the-mill guests,’ he said. ‘VIPs were received upstairs, in the High Drawing Room.’

‘Like who?’ I said.

‘Depends on the era— military men, politicians, foreign statesmen, people from the world of entertainment… Noel Coward, the playwright, visited my great-grandparents – like him, they adored jazz.’

We left the room and made our way down a dark mahogany-panelled corridor, eventually coming to another door, on the right.

‘That leads to the library,’ said Edward, ‘which is opposite…’ we entered a room on the left ‘…the Drake Diner.’

Wow. It stretched across the back of the house, with patio doors opening onto the cute courtyard. I gawped at the oak panelling all the way up to the ornate ceiling and admired the family coat of arms and gold-framed landscapes… I’d never been in a place like this without a ticket and tour guide. Feeling as out of place as a pop star at the Proms, I fiddled with my watch. Edward glanced sideways.

‘You look, um, quite satisfactory, Cousin,’ he said. ‘Come on—let me introduce you to our friends.’

Jeez, Edward was in no danger of overdoing the compliments! But I was beginning to realize that, with him, less was more. And at least he was no different with anyone else. This included the gushing Mrs Viscount – yes, I really did call her that – well, I’d never come across the word, apart from when Dad used to buy these wrapped minty chocolate biscuits. How was I supposed to know it was ‘Viscount
ess
’? Edward announced that her brooch was ‘an interesting size’ and then commented on the Viscount’s ‘unusual’ tie. Yet a large dollop of charm did appear when he talked to their sophisticated daughter, the Honourable Henrietta Hamilton-Brown. Edward admired her brunette hair, swept up into a high bun. He said it looked ‘delightful’—then ruined it by chatting to her about the state of the Euro. Borrrrrring.

‘It’s super to meet some of your wider family, James,’ said the Viscountess to the Earl as we sat at the long dining table in padded tapestry chairs.

I squished back comfortably and did my best not to stare at the big fluffy mic the sound guy had just manoeuvred over our heads. ‘James’ sat at one end of the table, in between the Viscount – Ernest, as he insisted I call him – and his wife, Annabel. Next to her was Henrietta, with me and Edward opposite. My Uncle Pete would have loved this table for pasting his wallpaper on. It must have seated, ooh… at least twenty toffs.

I tipped my chair back (a habit I’ve always had) and smiled across at Annabel. Right, time to have a crack at conversation. I didn’t fancy politics or the recession. That left personal stuff and the weather.

‘Have you had to travel far this evening?’ I asked.

‘Only for an hour,’ she said. ‘The last half of the journey was through such heavenly countryside.’

‘We adore visiting here,’ said Henrietta and beamed at Edward. ‘Tell me, what’s the state of apple prices this year? Are they still in the doldrums because of the economic downturn?’

I did my best to look brainy as they discussed, in great detail, when it would be best to bring contract workers into the orchards. Henrietta’s comments sounded so eloquent. How delicately she sipped her wine. He even let her straighten his tie. Jeez, she was like some automated Stepford wife!

‘And how’s the car boot business?’ she said.

‘Not bad,’ said Edward. He caught my eye. ‘I rent out the acres of land that stretch to the left, behind the maze.’

‘Ah, for that summer rock festival?’ I said.

‘Yes. Plus several funfairs that tour through here each year.’

‘And a bloomin’ mess they make as well,’ interrupted the Earl, a grimace contorting his jowls.

Edward sighed. ‘But needs must, Father. Along with renting out the land for car boot sales, it brings in something of a steady income.’

‘Sounds like a lot of work to organise,’ I said.

‘When it comes to this estate, Edward is terribly industrious.’ Henrietta smiled. ‘When he inherits, there’s no doubt in my mind that he will do his ancestors and the Croxley tradition proud.’

You’d think such a compliment would bring a smile to his face. Instead, Edward loosened his tie and bit his lip, his eyes dulling for a second. However, the moment soon passed and, as the two friends chatted, my ears perked up at the mention of a Lieutenant Robert Mayhew.

‘Is that
the
Lieutenant Robert Mayhew?’ I said, interrupting their conversation – soz, Lady C, but I couldn’t contain my interest. ‘My, um… flatmate Gemma calls him “the Forces Pin-up”. Didn’t he make it back from Afghanistan, despite gun wounds and second degree burns?’

Henrietta smiled. ‘Edward went to school with Robert. They are the best of friends.’

‘Such a courageous—’ read that as gorgeous ‘—person,’ I said, ‘returning to that burning vehicle.’

Edward smiled. ‘Only a madman like Rob would go back in when he was drenched in fuel. Apart from his helmet, Rob’s uniform was in ashes by the time he’d hauled everyone else out.’

‘Terribly modest about it all, wasn’t he?’ I said.

Edward shrugged. ‘He says, just like thousands of other troops, he was simply doing his job.’

‘He’s organized a big charity ball next month,’ said Henrietta, ‘to raise money for injured soldiers. He’ll be pleased to see you there, Edward.’

‘It should be a wonderful evening,’ said Annabel.

‘Damn brave lad,’ said the Earl. Ernest grunted his agreement.

‘I remember the first time I met him,’ said Henrietta. ‘It was at your twenty-first birthday party, Edward; do you remember?’

‘Rob was home on leave and danced with anything in a skirt. Even Dundee Douglas, who’d put on his kilt.’

‘Your mother always thought him a decent chap,’ said the Earl to Edward, ‘even when he led you astray at school by suggesting you skip school for the cinema. Rosemary wouldn’t hear a bad word against him.’

Henrietta put her hand on Edward’s. A display of emotion like that, in public, must have meant they were really good friends, or even…? For some reason, an uncomfortable twinge niggled my stomach.

‘Poor you, Edward,’ she said. ‘Those afternoons at the pictures couldn’t have possibly been your idea.’

‘Son?’ The Earl raised his eyebrows. ‘All these years poor Robert took the blame?’

Edward grinned and rubbed the back of his neck.

My stomach tingled. A smile on Edward’s lips was a rare thing and, for a few seconds, made him look a decade younger. Just then, in tailcoats and a butler’s jacket, Nick entered through a door from the left hand side and the pantry, cellars and kitchens. He’d combed his hair over into a greased-down side-parting and winked at me as if to say: ‘this geeky look is deliberate’. His hand brushed against mine as he poured my wine. Clearly, he took my Plan Sex-up seriously. Edward stared at me, only turning away when the starter arrived. I swallowed. This was going to be hard – clinically putting on a show, pretending not to care what other people thought about my actions or about me.

‘Asparagus?’ Henrietta put her napkin on her lap. ‘My favourite. Kathleen really is a treasure. I assume she froze these, freshly picked from your garden. What a joy to eat them out of season.’

Phew! Good thing Lady C had taught me how to eat these green monstrosities that looked like witch’s fingers. They lay on a bed of lettuce and were sprinkled with chopped red stuff. I picked one up. Euw. There was only meant to be sauce on the ends but these were slippery all over and had obviously been…’

‘Marinated,’ said Henrietta, daintily cutting them up with a knife and fork. ‘Quite lovely.’

‘Have you been away on holiday this year, Annabel?’ I said, hoping no one saw me quickly wipe my fingers on a napkin.

While she described her mega Caribbean cruise, I dug into my starter, suddenly starving, doing my best to chew with my mouth closed and not talk with it full. My only faux pas (impressive, eh? Lady C even taught me French) was eating the bed of lettuce. Well, how was I to know it was a garnish? Perhaps the rabbit dish would be easier. Certainly it smelt yummy, with gravy-covered chunks of meat, served with mushrooms, roasted cherry tomatoes and baby onions.

‘No haggis tonight, then? That’s a change,’ said Annabel. Eyes twinkling, she glanced at me. ‘Kathleen is fiercely proud of her Scottish roots.’

‘She is making a special effort to cook English meals for the cameras,’ said the Earl. ‘No doubt in two weeks it will be back to normal.’

‘Whatever that will be,’ muttered Edward. He cleared his throat. ‘So, tell me, Henrietta, all about this local animal charity you have recently become patron of.’

Carefully I chewed each morsel and, without dribbling, managed to chat to the Viscountess (Mrs Minty Chocolate Biscuit). We swapped opinions about the Royals (K-Mid of course and the awesome Diamond Jubilee celebrations). It couldn’t have gone better until I plunged my fork into one of the tiny onions.

I caught its side and the shiny ball flew into the air, at speed, across the table. Shiiit. It landed right on top of Henrietta’s head and, like an egg in a nest, settled in her bun. The camera zoomed in. Eerily, everyone stayed silent. No one swore or shrieked. Clearly, they knew Lady C’s rule about staying as cool as a cucumber. I glanced at the Earl, who had put down his pipe.

It was no good. If I suppressed the gigantic giggle inside me any longer I’d spontaneously explode. Oh, God… Here it came… A snort escaped my lips. Then, nearby, Nick cracked and that really set me off as I spied his crinkly, watering-with-laughter eyes. For several seconds we were the only ones laughing, until Henrietta’s face scrunched up to release a high-pitched giggle. Next, Ernest and Annabel crumbled. Even Edward’s face broke into a grin. He removed the onion while Henrietta whispered something to him about not making a fuss. The Earl shook his head.

‘I can’t apologize enough,’ I stuttered. Must control myself in front of the camera.

‘Do you play golf, Abigail?’ said the Earl. ‘Because I suspect you’d be a whizz at landing a hole-in-one.’ For the first time since my arrival he smiled at me properly, eyes all shiny.

Nick cleared away the plates and announced pudding would be simple apple pie – cue a massive sigh of relief from me. However, the Hamilton-Browns teased me relentlessly and ducked for cover when I reached for coffee sugar lumps. Even Henrietta kept giving me grins, so perhaps I could forgive her for being perfect and not spilling a drop of gravy on her silk blouse.

‘How wonderful that you are heading up the Applebridge Food Academy, Abigail,’ said Annabel as she unwrapped an after-dinner mint.

‘Please – call me Abbey.’ I tipped my chair backwards. ‘Yes, it’s, um, a challenge, no doubt about that.’ One that I’d rather block out, for the moment. Otherwise, the temptation to go on the run would win.

‘Our last chance, that’s what it is,’ muttered the Earl and puffed on his pipe. ‘A great deal is hanging on Abigail’s expertise.’

No pressure, then.

‘Reverend White is attending Monday’s first course, as well as a teacher from the high school in town,’ continued the Earl. ‘Also, my accountant—an enthusiastic woman… We thought just three students was a sensible number for starters.’

Roxy walked past in the background and stopped chewing sweets long enough to pull a face. She was right. I needed to focus. Catapulted onions were hardly sexy. The camera crew had gone into the kitchens to film the staff. This was my chance to find Nick, get him on camera next to me and instigate Plan Sex-up. Deep in thought, I tipped back on my chair again.

There was an ear-splitting crack as the wooden legs collapsed. Ankles over head, I crashed onto my back. Fuck! I must have flashed my sequinned scarlet thong, having refused, point blank, to borrow Abbey’s big pants. This was more Porno than Sex-up.

‘Are you all right, Abbey?’ asked Henrietta, on her feet. ‘Poor you – I bet that hurt. At least the cameras have gone.’

Edward reached my side quicker than a bullet out of Mr Thompson’s gun. Gently he sat me up and made sure no bones were broken. Then, straight away, cheeks flushed, he backed off and examined the chair. Nick helped me to my feet.

‘The two back legs are completely ruined,’ Edward announced after a quick glance at me rubbing my back. ‘It’s a shame. This is a matching antique set.’

For some reason, my eyes felt all watery. I couldn’t help thinking he was more worried about permanent damage to the furniture than me.

‘I’m okay,’ I mumbled to everyone else. Lady C hadn’t prepared me for such a situation and I’d never seen Abbey spreadeagle her legs in the air.

Edward didn’t look at me again, cos I was probably some mega embarrassment – one that felt about as small as the flying onion.

‘Although my back is, um, a tad sore,’ I said, annoyed at the wobble in my voice.

‘You’ve probably bruised it,’ said Henrietta, voice still full of concern.

‘Do we keep painkillers in the house, Uncle?’ My cheeks burnt. I had to get out of here. This bonkers pretence was over. It would be best to quit before I let Abbey down any more. I couldn’t even behave like a lady for the length of one fancy dinner.

‘Kathleen has a supply in the kitchen,’ he said and nodded in that direction. ‘Shall I ring for a couple?’

‘No, I’ll, um, stretch my back and walk the long way around, through the front of the house. Please, everyone, do excuse me. Apologies, once again, for the disturbance.’

Still rubbing my back, I left the dining room and headed along the dark corridor, back past the Low Drawing room. With a groan, I slumped at the bottom of the staircase. Aarghh! That could not have been more humiliating. Actually, it could – thank God I’d not gone commando to avoid visible panty lines. But then maybe that would have got some reaction out of those po-faced Croxley men. So much for Edward being a knight in shining armour.

With a sigh, I stood up and walked to the other side of the building, past another winding staircase. Edward had told me that here was the newly converted kitchen area installed for the Food Academy and, curiously, I went in. Talk about fancy.