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Turning off Foxbrooke High Street, James followed a battered Vauxhall Corsa down Church Lane towards Saint Saviour’s and Foxbrooke Manor. He didn’t know who was in the car in front, but was grateful they were also driving ten miles an hour over the speed limit.
The Corsa accelerated through the stone pillars that marked the entrance to the manor, along the drive, then squealed to an emergency stop right outside the front doors. The passenger door opened and Estelle dashed out.
James slammed his car to a halt and followed her.
‘Did you know about this?’ she snapped at him over her shoulder.
‘A couple of hours ago,’ he replied, moving forward to open the door for her.
She shouldered past him into the house. ‘And why didn’t you stop it?’
‘I tried. But I was in London.’
Stopping, she stared at him, a look of disbelief then contempt flashing across her features. ‘Doing what?’
‘Trying to think of a way to save the festival.’
‘And you had to go to London to do that?’
He shrugged, then his gaze left her flushed face and travelled down her body. It looked like she’d fallen off a horse into a muddy ditch.
‘I sent you an email,’ he said, trying to keep his tone even. ‘I would have called, but you refuse to give me your number.’
She opened her mouth, then shut it again.
‘Could I ask you for five minutes of privacy?’
Her eyes widened. ‘For what?’
‘I don’t want you to meet my parents.’ He hesitated. What lie could he tell her? ‘They’re not like me. They’re extremely quiet and reserved. Can you wait somewhere else, anywhere else, while I remove them from your family home?’
Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline.
‘Please?’
‘Er, okay. I’ll—’
‘Estelle!’
James turned to see Henry rushing along the corridor towards them. As he approached, he slowed, his posture rigid.
James widened his stance and lifted his chin.
Estelle stepped between them. ‘Henry, James was just about to collect his parents.’
Henry’s forehead creased. ‘But they’ve only just got here.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ James replied.
‘Okay. But, er, do you think they’ll want to leave?’
‘I don’t care. I just need to get them out of here.’
James’s house of cards was tumbling down. He’d kept his family away from every other aspect of his life for over two decades and now Henry Foxbrooke, the man he’d despised for so many years, knew who they were. James tensed, his hands forming into fists, waiting for Henry to make the slightest joke at their expense.
‘Henry,’ Estelle said. ‘I said I would wait in the kitchen whilst James took his parents home. Why don’t you join me?’
‘Why?’
