‘Henry’s a special lady,’ he murmured.
For some reason my stomach went into a Sheepshank—or Overhand Bow (I’d learnt about knots from Dad). Edward was clearly mega fond of her.
‘Look, I’m fine. This week has been stressful, but I’m a fighter,’ I said. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘Then perhaps your aunt has called by because
she’s
worried and doesn’t trust us to look after you.’
‘More likely she doesn’t trust me to do a good job,’ I mumbled.
His brow relaxed. ‘Well, you
do
do – a good job.’
‘Do-bee, do-bee, do,’ I said without thinking.
We exchanged glances and laughed. Fuzzy feeling inside again. Nope. He’s supposed to be my cousin. Musn’t dream of a snog.
‘Edward, don’t you think there’s a chance…I mean surely it’s possible that our fathers will make up? I don’t know the full details of why they haven’t talked for so long, but perhaps me contributing towards this programme, perhaps us pulling together will—’
‘Don’t raise your hopes, Abbey. Father’s feelings were very hurt. The rift… It could have destroyed our family name. Perhaps it’s better things stay as they are.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘You know what happened between them?’
‘I’ve already said too much. Someone’s coming.’ His eyes dulled. In other words, subject closed.
The door creaked open and, as the cameraman entered, we both plugged our mics back in. Extra lighting set up, the room looked twice the size. Just as we were about to start filming, the Earl appeared.
‘Kathleen is sorting out your aunt’s room, Abigail,’ he said. ‘How delightful Lady Constance is. Tomorrow I shall take her on a stroll to spot the birds that frequent our estate.’
‘Good idea, Father,’ said Edward. ‘Although I doubt many wildlife boffins watch
Million Dollar Mansion
.’
‘Pah! I’m not spending every minute of this fortnight doing things to please this blasted show.’
‘Did, um, Roxy fix you up with a mic, Uncle?’ I asked innocently.
He, Edward and I looked at each other and grinned.
The cameraman chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, folks. I’ll get that bit edited out.’
‘I haven’t been in this room for years.’ The Earl sat down on one of the beds and lit his pipe. The cameraman gave us the thumbs-up. While Edward sifted through a cardboard box full of paperwork, I carried on discovering toys.
‘Look at this!’ I held up another knitted toy – aw, what a cute elephant.
‘Damn me, I’d forgotten about Mrs Trimble,’ said the Earl. ‘She’d make us soft toys, using old jumpers for wool, rags for stuffing and mismatched buttons for eyes. Factories only made weapons during the war – anything else had to be made at home.’
‘What about this?’ I said, and with two hands lifted out a clockwork train set.
‘We were lucky to keep that,’ said the Earl. ‘I used to have a big collection of metal soldiers I shared with the boys, but eventually Mama gave them up to be melted down for the war effort. Most of the toys we had were handmade. Our butler, Mr Carter, was a whiz with a saw, chisel and mallet. There should be some wooden zoo animals in there.’ The Earl scratched his beard. ‘And a farm, if I remember rightly.’
After rummaging in the box for a few minutes, sure enough, I pulled out a zebra, penguin and lion. Something clattered in the bottom and I pulled out a handful of marbles.
‘We’d roll them along the Long Gallery. Jolly good fun, it was, although Matron wasn’t impressed. She always said someone would trip over them and break their neck. Gerry Green did sprain his ankle once.’ The Earl chuckled. ‘We had to play covertly, after that.’
‘What about these…?’ I lifted out a folder of paper dolls and a shower of dust fell over my blouse. ‘Plus Snakes & Ladders!’ I pulled out a box.
‘Us boys made our own fun a lot of the time,’ said the Earl,’ like hide and seek in the maze or digging for worms. But my old family games and the ones made by Mr Carter were a godsend during inclement months.’
Digging for worms? Ooh, that brought back memories of me growing up with my brothers. No Barbie dolls for me. Action men were cool, as was our favourite game, ninjas versus aliens.
‘Have you managed to find a register, Edward?’ I said.
A mound of papers now littered the bed.
‘Yes – although if we’re really holding this lunch on Saturday, it won’t give us much time to trace the girls who’ve married and changed their surnames. There’s a tremendous amount to look through – medical papers and school work…
‘Roxy must be used to doing research,’ I said. ‘No doubt she could help.’ The knitted elephant lay on its back amongst the paper dolls and seemed to stare at me. How many homesick children had clutched that to their chest at night, all those years ago? I shook myself. Edward wouldn’t approve of soppiness.
The Earl moved to the wall behind the headboards of the beds.
‘They’re still there,’ he muttered.
‘What’s that?’ I got up and gave a loud sneeze, from all the dust.
‘See these marks. Some of the children used to scratch the number of days they stayed here into the wall.’
I went over. My eyes tingled. At the end of one huge set of scratches was a big smiley face and the words ‘Going Home’.
I opened up another box to find a pile of ration books and gas masks.
‘Once we know who is coming—’ if anyone, fingers crossed ‘—we could present them with all their paperwork. I’ll clean up these toys,’ I said.
The Earl nodded and picked up a yo-yo that I’d put on a bed.
‘I could never master this,’ he said. ‘Jonny Jackson showed me again and again.’ He gazed at it for a few moments before giving it an unsuccessful go.
‘Let’s get cracking, then,’ said Edward and unplugged his mic. The Earl and I did the same, as the cameraman put down his equipment.
‘I, um, just need some fresh air,’ I said, wondering if Nick was still trimming the maze. ‘Then I’ll check on my aunt before going online to search for names. Shall I use the computer in the cellar whilst you use the laptop, Edward?’
‘Whatever you prefer, Cousin,’ he said.
‘I’ll visit Bill in the morning,’ said the Earl.
‘Let’s meet tomorrow, a couple of hours before the next episode of
Million Dollar Mansion
, to see how far we’ve all got,’ suggested Edward. ‘I’ll pick Roxy’s brains and see if she can speed up the research process.’
‘Super idea,’ I said.
With a swing in my step, I headed downstairs. This was wicked! Although there was no point getting carried away—we still had one more week, after the reunion, to go. Things might fall flat, so, despite Lady C’s disapproval, I had to find a way for me and Nick to give the cameras a bit more reality show gold.
I legged it out of the main entrance and immediately my skin came up in goose bumps. It was mega cool now. I looked at my watch. It had already gone nine o’clock. In the dusk, by the fountain, Roxy chewed gum and talked non-stop with Gaynor, at her usual breakneck speed.
‘Get the cameraman,’ said the director, fag hanging out of her mouth. ‘This brewing storm could provide some excellent moody shots. They’ll make the perfect backdrop to edit in if any dramas take place. Take some of the pond first, and then the cemetery, plus a panoramic view from the back of the house.’
They stopped chatting as I walked past. Slowing my pace, I made sure they saw me primp my loose hair as if I wanted to look my best. Then I headed around to the back and Nick, who stood next to a wheelbarrow.
‘You’ve done a splendid job on the maze,’ I said. ‘But it’s almost dark. Don’t you think you should stop? What about dinner?’
On cue, my stomach grumbled and we laughed.
‘Um, Nick… after the lawnmower debacle…’
‘Have you been on the Internet? Seen the fallout on Facebook? How have the family reacted?’ Nick’s top lip curled. ‘I didn’t want to leave you alone with your cousin last night.’
I smiled. ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle. Naturally, I’ve played down our, um, relationship. Still, it’s perfectly understandable if you don’t wish to—’
‘Bring it on!’ Then he stared at me for quite a long moment.
‘Anything, um wrong, Nick? Have I smudged my mascara?’
‘Sorry! It’s just… You’re not at all what I’d expect of a lady – no offence. You’re so easy to talk to, whereas your cousin…’
‘He’s under a lot of pressure at the moment,’ I said with a shrug.
‘Sure. But with him I’m always very aware that I live in a one-bedroom flat and he owns a mansion. You could be the girl next door.’ He grinned. ‘Well, almost—bet you’ve been to university and…’
‘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.’