‘Do you think it looked sensuous enough?’ I asked airily.
Nick gagged again. ‘Excuse me, Miss Croxley. I’m going to be sick.’
He charged out of the back door. Vomiting noises carried across the still morning air and, for a very short second, I felt a titchy bit of guilt—it didn’t last long. I mopped the kitchen floor and threw out all evidence of the contaminated fruit. Revenge sure was sweet – shame for Nick that the fruit wasn’t. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. In fact, according to a cross Mr Thompson, he’d gone AWOL. Jean muttered something about the gardening assistant ringing in sick. Perhaps he would learn a lesson and treat women better in future.
I spent the afternoon with Lady C and Kathleen, practising the canapés I would make in Wednesday’s cookery lesson, for the evening do. How posh is this: sun-dried tomato bruschetta, herby cheese puffs and garlic mushroom cups – la-di-da! Three local high school kids, in their last year of studying Food Tech GCSE, were going to star in tomorrow’s lesson. Apart from being on the telly, their reward was to serve food at the party and meet Lieutenant Robert Mayhew. Getting school kids involved was my idea, to attract even younger viewers and, hopefully, spread our vote.
As for Edward and Lord Croxley, they spent the afternoon being interviewed by Charlie Chingo. Some of it would be edited into the remaining programmes as snappy soundbites. You know, the kind of
Big Brother
diary room questions like: ‘Why should viewers vote for you?’ and: ‘What would it mean to win the show?’ After such a full-on day, it was great to all meet up in the Parlour that evening and chill.
Nick was still missing, which now made me want to bite my thumbnail. What if I’d poisoned him badly? I shook myself. No. It was just chilli powder and mustard. There must have been another reason to explain his disappearance. Trying to relax, I listened to the others’ chat and thought about my meal out, later on, with Edward.
‘Aren’t goldfinches incredibly beautiful?’ said Lady C to the Earl as they pored over a birdwatching book.
‘The local florist gave me a really good deal on flowers to supplement what I can pick off the estate,’ said Jean to Mr Thompson. ‘They’ve even lent me some vases for all the tables tomorrow night.’
‘Well done,’ he replied gruffly. ‘Miss Hamilton-Brown has also approved the jazz band I told her about, so I’ve booked them.’
‘Och, Miss Hamilton-Brown and her mother are so efficient,’ said Kathleen. ‘They easily found caterers who could help us out at such late notice and have already secured fifty acceptances from the guests they invited. That Lieutenant Mayhew is a popular lad.’
Edward switched on the telly, before pouring out cups of tea. How I longed to give him a hug. Determined to change and make ‘Gemma’ look amazin’, I left before the end of the programme, right after the footage of that morning’s fruit frenzy with Nick, which must have been edited mega fast to have been ready for tonight’s show. As it turned out, no one in the room paid much attention. The footage was dim and everyone was too excited about the upcoming engagement party to give it too much attention. Although Edward muttered something about Nick taking advantage, bringing girlfriends into the kitchen for an extravagant secret breakfast, and determined to deduct the cost of fruit from his wages. Kathleen paid the most attention and muttered that if raiding her fridge had made Nick ill then he’d got all he deserved.
Still wondering what pineapple and mustard tasted like, I crept out of the house about forty minutes later. In my skin-tight jeans, high shoes and low-cut top, I headed to the bottom of the drive, ignoring the autumn chill. Vanity was far more important than comfort—although I’d not put in the chicken fillets.
I tried to remember when I’d first decided my chest needed a boost. Snarky comments from my brothers probably first knocked my confidence. But then, over the years, none of their girlfriends had looked like Katie Price. As for my fake tan, I was beginning to understand what Lady C meant when she said less was more – with minimum foundation, I was less Tango and more healthy glow.
‘Gemma?’ Edward strolled out from the orchards. A happy feeling fizzed up and down my insides as I ran up to him and slipped my arms around his neck. For what seemed like forever, we kissed. Eventually he pulled away and led me by the hand.
‘The Range Rover is parked at the end of the drive. I’ve booked a table at the Amethyst Aubergine, a new French restaurant about half an hour away.’
‘Oh…’
He stopped for a moment. ‘Is that okay? I mean, fussy food isn’t really my favourite, but I wanted to treat you – and me. Since Mother died, I’ve hardly eaten out, our finances being what they are. In any case, Father isn’t a fan of what he calls fancy toy food…’ Edward grinned ‘…you know, perfectly piled up high, just waiting to be toppled over like a tower of building blocks.’
After a week without my usual pizzas and burgers, the last thing I wanted was to eat in a place where I’d have to worry which cutlery to use. Aarghh! Just when I wanted a break from all that stuff.
‘That’s mega thoughtful of you, Edward. I really appreciate it…’
‘But?’
I held up my hands. ‘You know what I’d really like? A Doner kebab and a Coke.’
‘Really?’
‘At least I’m a cheap date,’ I said with a chuckle.
He grinned again as we walked on. ‘Guess we’ll have to eat in the car then, if it’s takeaway.’
I squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sure you can find a scenic view. Turn on the radio, dim the lights… It could be the perfect private restaurant.’
‘So tell me – what exactly is in a kebab?’
My mouth fell open. ‘You’ve never had one?’
He shook his head.
‘What about chicken nuggets?’
‘Aren’t they for kids?’ he said.
‘Please tell me you’ve been to McDonald’s.’
‘Never,’ he said and opened the passenger door for me. I was still shaking my head when he got into the driver’s seat and closed the door.
‘What a deprived childhood you’ve had,’ I said. ‘All these years and you’ve never felt a Whopper between your lips or sucked on a thick shake. Never felt the excitement of opening a toy in a Happy Meal.’ I shook my head. ‘We’d better put that right.’
‘Where to, then?’ he said.
‘Let’s just drive and see what takes our fancy. Indian takeaway? How about fish ‘n’ chips eaten out of newspaper?’
‘Ah, now, that I’ve done,’ he said and turned on the ignition. ‘Otherwise, I couldn’t look any Englishman in the eye.’ He switched on the radio. Classical violin music cut through the air. ‘Do feel free to retune the music station,’ he said as I felt a glassy expression fix itself onto my face.
I turned the dial. Yay! It was a week and a half since I’d been able to sing along to a chart-topping song. ‘I love Jessie J.’
‘Jessie James? The cowboy?’
‘No, she’s a pop singer – you know, like Madonna.’
‘What, the Virgin Mary?’
I gasped. ‘Are you for real?’
He chuckled. ‘No, I at least know who Madonna is. But I suspect it’s going to be rather a challenge, teaching me about popular culture. I rarely watch television and only listen to symphonies and operas, the news and horticultural shows. Perhaps if I’d grown up with a sister – or brother – things might have been different.’
I glanced sideways at him. Edward clearly regretted being an only child.
And so our chat went on as we left Applebridge and drove along winding country roads to the nearby town. The nearest I’d come to Beethoven was watching a movie about a St Bernard dog. As for
Gardener’s World
, I wondered if
Hollyoaks
counted.
‘There’s BestBurger,’ I said excitedly, and pointed to a shiny glass-fronted shop, done out in orange and beige. ‘They do an awesome cheese burger with potato wedges on the side.’
‘Why don’t we eat in?’ he said and parked the car in one of the designated bays behind the building. As we walked around to the front he took my hand. He pushed open the glass door and let me in first.
No more than a few steps in, a young woman in shorts with tights and a leather jacket stared hard at Edward and then blushed. ‘You’re that Lord Croxley’s son off
Million Dollar Mansion
, ain’t ya? I love you!’ She ran up and gave him a big hug.
‘Erm, no… You must be mistaken,’ he said and rubbed his neck as he backed away.
She giggled and slapped him on the arm. ‘No need to be shy, mate. Hey, Megan, come over here.’
Reluctantly, a pasty-faced girl in a jogging suit abandoned her burger and headed over. As she spied Edward, she stopped chewing and her eyes bulged. She hopped up and down. ‘We love you, we do,’ she squealed. ‘
Goss
magazine voted you most eligible bachelor of the month!’
‘Prefer that Marwick Castle, meself,’ said a man ahead of us in the queue. He wore a tracksuit and silver necklace. ‘No offence, mate,’ he said to Edward. ‘But that Harry Gainsworth bloke and his dad, the Baron, know how to have a good laugh. Birds and booze in a gaff like that – I’d love me a bit of that.’
A smart young man with a badge saying ‘Manager’ behind the counter nodded.
‘Yep, don’t take it personal, like, sir, but a weekend at that castle would be the business. All those weapons and armoury…’
Yeah, made of plastic and bought off the Internet, I was dying to add.
‘As for those parties and glamorous guests…’ he continued.
‘But they’ve got no class,’ said the woman in shorts. ‘And you don’t get more glamorous than Lieutenant Robert Mayhew. I can’t wait to see his engagement party on Thursday night’s show.’ Totally ignoring me, she leant forward to Edward. ‘Got any inside gossip? If you want any hot girls to doll up the house, me and my friends are free tomorrow night.’
Edward smiled. ‘That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the kind offer.’
‘Come on,’ I hissed as the cashier in the next queue along became available, and dragged him over to the counter.
‘Oh my God!’ the girl in the beige and orange uniform gasped. ‘You’re Edward Wotsit from Applebridge! It’s a right honour to have you in here, My Lord.’ She curtsied, as if he was the heir to the throne. ‘My mum thinks your show is the biz and Gran hasn’t stopped talking about that reunion dinner. Took her right back, it did, to the time she was evacuated.’
Edward smiled sheepishly around the room.
‘This is amazin’,’ I mumbled, looking around at all the star-struck girls.
‘It hadn’t sunk in just how popular the programme is, until now,’ he said. ‘Since we started filming the final I’ve been so busy I’ve only gone out to the village, and everyone already knows me there.’
‘Here,’ said the Megan girl, burger forgotten…’ She unzipped her jogging suit top to reveal a generous cleavage. She thrust a pen in his hand. ‘Please… Sign your name here. I’ll get it tattooed on tomorrow.’
‘I couldn’t possibly,’ he said, cheeks purple.
Her mouth drooped.
‘I wouldn’t want a charming young lady like you to do anything you might later regret,’ he said and smiled warmly. ‘Although I’d be more than happy to sign, erm, let’s see, what about a napkin?’ He pulled one out of the dispenser on the counter, put it down on the flat surface and started to write. He handed it to her a minute later, with the pen. She read it out loud.
‘“To delightful Megan, with kind regards from Lord Edward”.’ Eyes watering, she clasped it to her chest.
‘Two cheeseburgers with potato wedges, two Cokes and toffee ice cream swirls, please,’ I muttered to the transfixed cashier.
While she put together our order, Edward shuffled his feet as everyone in the restaurant stared. I handed over the money.
‘Let me,’ said Edward and took out his wallet.
I shook my head. ‘My treat. Come on, let’s eat in the car.’
He grabbed the brown paper bag and, with a small bow to everyone, Edward followed me outside. As soon as we reached the car, I burst out laughing. Edward shook his head as he opened the passenger door for me and then got in the other side.
‘Blood and sand!’ I said as we shut the doors and put on our safety belts. ‘Talk about celebrity status.’
‘Jolly hard work it would be, living under the scrutiny of everyone you met.’ Edward drove onto the main road and waved to Megan and her friend, who’d just left the restaurant.
‘I don’t think you’d find it hard,’ I said softly, ‘because you are such a gent. You could have easily ignored those people or asked to be left alone, but you were great. That Megan girl looked made up.’
Edward shrugged. ‘Despite the responsibilities of being a Croxley, I can’t complain, in view of the wider scheme of things. Other people don’t have such fortunate lives; if anything I can do gives them pleasure, so be it.’
We left the town and headed along a dirt track towards the top of a big hill. There were no street lamps and when we reached the top there was just a small dusty area for a couple of cars to park. Edward stopped the Range Rover.
‘Wow. Mega view,’ I said as we looked down onto the twinkling lights of the town. I passed him his burger, wedges and Coke. He gazed at his meal, brow furrowed.
‘Allow me,’ I said and opened up his burger box. I tipped the wedges into the empty lid.
‘Knives and forks?’ he said.
I caught his eye and chuckled. ‘I’ll teach you the etiquette.’ Well, anything Lady C could do….! I picked up a wedge with my fingers, dipped it in some barbecue sauce and tossed it into my mouth.
Edward’s eyes shone as he did the same. Then he took a big bite of burger and I passed him a napkin as cheese dripped onto his chin.
‘Good?’ I asked ten minutes later.
‘Mmm.’ He swallowed the last mouthful. ‘It was, erm, mega.’
I punched his arm, cheeks hurting, as I’d smiled non-stop since getting in his car – in between yummy mouthfuls, of course.
‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘this takeaway food tastes quite delicious – it lacks a little in texture, but the flavours give instant satisfaction.’
I passed him an ice cream and he prised off the lid.
‘What would the Earl say if he could see you right now?’
‘“Damn it, boy, what’s all this nonsense?” probably. Father is quite particular about eating out. Solid British fare, that’s what he likes. As a family, we’ve never even eaten Indian or Chinese food.’