Doubting Abbey (42 page)
Close to Abbey, I stood in the Drake Diner as we ogled the towering Christmas tree. Nothing could be more different from the pop-up white one I’d grown up with. A mixture of decorations hung from its branches – new sets of sparkly red baubles and pimped-up pretend robins. Glittery tinsel filled in the gaps, along with twinkling fairy lights.
I pointed to a small wooden Virgin Mary. ‘Apparently, that one’s been in the Croxley family for almost a hundred years.’
‘Uncle James said they’ve found a lot of old keepsakes since clearing the evacuee dorms out, these last few weeks,’ said Abbey. As a new Christmas song sounded out, she swayed from side to side in her floor-length sequinned chocolate gown. ‘I do so love the festive season—all that decking the halls with holly and listening to cattle low…’
‘Cattle?’ I grinned. ‘No, that’s Charlie Chingo. Mega unenthusiastic, I was, on hearing that his eighties band was reuniting for the party. But Gaynor insisted it would make amazin’ footage for this Christmas Special.’ I shook my head. ‘It was a fab idea of yours to have this festive reunion, but the whole concept’s snowballed. The TV company’s become obsessed with our viewing figures beating
Downton Abbey
’s one-off Christmas episode.’
Abbey smiled. ‘I happen to think Mr Chingo is doing a terrific job.’
We both turned around. At the far side of the Drake Diner, near the kitchens, was a wicked buffet. The Croxleys had hired caterers so that Kathleen could also enjoy the fun. Next to that, near the windows backing onto the garden, stood ‘Sheer Velvet’ with their guitars and mics. The modern romantic band headed by Charlie had reunited following his success presenting
Million Dollar Mansion
.
‘Just look at those tight trousers and that unbuttoned white shirt with its flared cuffs!’ I said to Abbey and giggled. Charlie had as much hair on his chest as his head. Clipboard in her hand, Roxy stood not far away from him, speaking to a cameraman. I waved and she gave me the thumbs-up. In front of the band was the dance floor and, nearer to us, tables and chairs.
‘At least the band has stuck to covering Christmas songs,’ she said and we watched various couples dance. Jean and Mr Thompson, Annabel and Ernest and Reverend White with a woman wearing a multicoloured kntted A-line dress –
Knityourownmansion
, of course! Having had an animated chat with Edward about poetry and booze,
Drunkwriter
and
Cupcakesrock
smooched. Edward was still writing his blog, to keep ‘those jolly decent voters’ up-to-date with how the prize money was being spent.
I waved to a rosy-cheeked Kathleen, dancing with Dennis Smith. Next to them swayed former evacuees Gerry Green and Linda Sloggit. Since the end of filming in September, I’d helped Kathleen turn all the unused rooms off the Long Gallery into more guest accommodation. They’d be useful tonight and from January, when the Applebridge Food Academy became residential. In just three months the number of bookings had soared. Happy bunnies, the Earl and Edward were becoming, about the possible future for their home. Lady C and ‘James’ had even decided to start running bird-watching tours, followed by dinner, in the New Year.
‘Where’s Henrietta?’ I asked Abbey.
She pointed to a distant table to the left.
‘Ah, yes, talking to
Historybuff
.’ I grinned. ‘Or, rather, “Colin” – I’ll never get used to those bloggers’ real names.’
We headed over, just as their converstion finished. Henrietta stood up. Us three girls linked arms and then navigated tables and dancers to finally reach the buffet table. Mmm, turkey tartlets, sage and onion sausages, mini mince pies and sherry trifle… In the old days I would have stuffed myself stupid but, like it or not, I still imagined being monitored by Lady C’s fierce dinner lady stare.
‘Hey, beautiful,’ muttered a voice behind me. ‘Have I told you how much I love those leather trousers and that silk halter top?’
I swung around. Mmm, popping candy sensations as Edward’s teasing eyes gazed into mine. No one compared to my lovemuffin, with his broad shoulders and honey curls, all wrapped up in a Rat Pack cool tux and dickie bow. It had been fab living at Applebridge Hall since the final to help the Croxleys with the Food Academy.
He bent down and kissed me on the cheek. Ooh, I was honoured – a show of emotion in public!
‘Robert and I will commence the charity tombola in a second,’ he said.
Shame, I thought, and glanced towards the windows. Flakes of snow now tumbled from the black sky. A romantic stroll under the moonlight would have been well cool – um, probably literally as well. Perhaps tomorrow I’d wake up to a white Christmas Eve.
‘Mince pie, Edward?’ said Abbey. ‘I hear there’s a, um, booby prize in the tombola. Are you going to draw the tickets soon?’
With a grin he took a plate. ‘Thanks, little sister.’
Their eyes crinkled at each other and, shyly, Abbey punched his arm, ‘Don’t you start – I’ve had that from Rupert ever since he grew taller than me when he hit fourteen.’
Edward’s eyes shone.
All tanned and smiley, Abbey had only been back from Africa for a fortnight but immediately Edward had invited her to stay. More than once they’d chatted long into the night. Then last week Rupert arrived when his autumn uni term came to an end.
‘Right, yes, there, erm, is a booby prize,’ said Edward. ‘I’ll draw that out last. And Richard should pull out the other tickets, seeing as it was his idea to raise money for Zak’s African charity. Where is the old boy?’
‘By the windows,’ said Henrietta, ‘with James and Constance. The last time I walked past, Zak was telling them all about Rwandan birdlife.’
If fact I only had time for two small sausages before the tombola got underway. The cameras didn’t take long to get into position; Roxy stopped the band and Gaynor cleared the dance floor.
‘Thank you, friends – and family,’ said Edward, for joining us to celebrate a new era for Applebridge Hall. Everyone here played an important part in supporting our quest to win
Million Dollar Mansion
.’ His voice wavered. ‘I like to think our ancestors are watching over these proceedings and believe we’ve all done them proud. Remember—you are welcome to return any time…’ He smiled. ‘But please, give us due warning, as Mr Thompson doesn’t take kindly to potential intruders…’
A chuckle reverberated around the room and the estate manager – who’d actually taken off his Sherlock Holmes hat—gave a gruff smile.
Richard patted Edward’s arm. ‘Shall we get this show on the road, son?’
Edward nodded and glanced at the Earl, who grinned and came forward to roll the tombola barrel.
‘Right, third prize…a limited edition set of knitted Croxley family members goes to…’ Richard pulled out a ticket.
Blushing,
Knityourownmansion
straightened. Her website had really taken off and Edward and I agreed the set of figures was a brill fun prize.
‘Irene Cooper,’ said Richard.
Oh my God – the evacuee who used to take the little knitted elephant to bed every night, during the war. She beamed as she collected the figures, holding them tight as if they were made from spun gold.
‘Second prize – a popular one with the ladies,’ said Richard. ‘Lunch out in the company of Lieutenant Robert Mayhew…’
I caught Henrietta’s eye and she grinned, having convinced her fiancé to put himself forward.’
‘And the winner is… Miss Diamond.’
Oh, dear. Poor Robert! But then, if anyone could bring out the accountant’s human side it was a dashing war hero!
‘And first prize…’ Richard smiled towards the buffet table at Kathleen ‘… was put together by the wonderful Croxley cook. A hamper of festive Scottish delights—all home-made, of course – plus a bottle of the finest champagne from my brother’s wine cellar.’
Everyone held their breath as the ticket was pulled.
‘And the winner is…Dennis Smith!’
Applause wafted around the room. Dennis shook hands with Richard, a mega big smile on his face. Only recently we’d found out he was divorced. Lots in common with the Croxley’s cook, he had—like yummy nosh, Elvis and being outspoken. Naughty Kathleen – I suspected a wee romance! There were almost ten years between me and Edward, but Dennis Smith was practically old enough to be my Scottish pal’s dad!
Charlie’s band started up again, the tombola barrel was moved and the lights dimmed. Fairly lights from the tree gave a magical touch to the party. Robert strode onto the dance floor with Henrietta, a scarf of red tinsel around his neck. The smell of mulled wine wafted past.
Suddenly feeling hot in the stuffy room, wearing my leather trousers, I headed away from the cameras, for the patio doors. Thank goodness they were unlocked. A moment under tumbling flakes of ice would soon stop me feeling flushed. Once outside, I stared left at the maze and into the darkness, up the hill.
Playing hide-and-seek with Edward… Drying off up there, after our swim – what mint memories. And nowadays Edward looked truly content. Since no longer being in line to inherit the estate, his commitment somehow appeared stronger than ever—except minus the dull eyes and sagging shoulders. In fact belly laughs and non-stop chat had filled the library yesterday, when he and Rupert mulled over long-term plans for the family pad.
I sighed. The last three months had also been wicked cos I’d learnt loads from Kathleen and Dennis Smith’s granddaughter who had, after all, been called in to help.
‘Running Granddad’s restaurant in the South of France was a dream come true,’ she’d recently said. ‘Honestly, Gemma – you should go travelling like I did. Taste dishes where they originated from. Learn your cooking skills from locals. Then there’s college to train you further, if needs be, when you get home.’ She’d shrugged. ‘I’ve loads of contacts abroad who’d be happy to put you up. You could work your way from country to country, washing up in kitchens and serving in bars.’
As the patio doors creaked behind me, I realized more than ever that cookery was my future. Lady C always said goals were important and, thanks to
Million Dollar Mansion
, I’d discovered my aspirations.
I turned around. ‘Edward!’
He smiled, leaned forward and kissed me tenderly on the lips. When he stood back, snowflakes glistened in his hair. He pulled a Christmas-wrapped object from his pocket.
‘You won the booby prize, Gemma,’ he said, mouth upturned, eyes dancing with humour as he put it into my hands.
Just my luck! ‘That sounds like a fix to me.’ I grinned. ‘Is Abbey in on this?’
He smiled and held his breath whilst I tore off the sparkly paper to reveal…a small red box.
Brow furrowed, I prised open the lid. Oh my God – there was the most exquisite diamond ring, even better than the ones on the shopping channel.
‘It’s been handed down through the generations,’ said Edward softly. ‘The last Croxley woman to wear it was my mother.’
‘Wow.’ My heart thumped. ‘That’s the most mega…awesome gem I’ve ever seen.’
Edward brushed a snowflake from my nose. ‘No – you’re the most precious Gem that ever existed.’
Thoughts whizzed around my head, banging into each other like fairground bumper cars. I looked up.
‘Marry me, dearest Gemma,’ he said. ‘Say yes and I’ll be the happiest man in the world…’
CARINA™
ISBN: 978 1 472 07377 8
DOUBTING ABBEY
Copyright © Samantha Tonge 2013
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