It was then I heard someone shout, ‘Frank Baxter is here.’
Blood drained from my face and my bowels loosened. Oh God, was this true? It couldn’t be true. Maybe there was someone in Harp Brook who was a convincing lookalike?
‘Frank Baxter,’ said someone else. ‘He looks angry.’
I felt sick. The room began to sway. Was Frank back from Malibu? His house was full of people, the west wing was open, his bedroom stunk of dog wee and the trouser leg on one of his suits was ripped, plus one pair of his expensive leather shoes had not survived being submerged in cola.
The urge to run and throw up was strong. ‘It can’t be true,’ I said and raced through throngs of people.
In the reception hallway I came face to face with Frank. ‘Oh God,’ I muttered as he stared at me with cold, narrowing eyes. Behind him was his chauffeur who had a sweaty pink face.
‘We had to ditch the Merc because of the snow and walk up the driveway,’ puffed the chauffeur. ‘I had to carry the bags through all the snow.’
Frank turned to his chauffeur. ‘Have you quite finished?’ He turned back to me. ‘Why is my house full of locals, Rachel?’
I looked behind him and the chauffeur. ‘Where’s Maddie?’
He let out an angry snort. ‘Why are you asking a stupid question when you know full well that she’s with you? Where is she?’
‘What?’
He let out a sarcastic laugh. ‘She came home two days ago. You know this.’
‘Two days ago?’
He ran a tanned hand through his grey hair. ‘We had some problems in the States. Where is she? And why has she agreed to this… circus?’
‘Frank, I haven’t seen Maddie,’ I cried. ‘Where the hell is she?’
He studied my face. ‘She called me saying she was home.’
‘You must believe me. Maddie is not here.’
He took out a phone from inside his ski jacket. He pressed it to his ear. There was no answer. ‘She’s not picking up.’
‘Look at what the cat has dragged in,’ said a familiar voice from behind me. I spun around to see Vanessa glaring at Frank.
‘What the hell is she doing here?’ he cried. ‘Have you lost your mind, Rachel?’
‘There was a power cut and I made everyone Christmas lunch,’ I said, quietly.
Vanessa barrelled past me. ‘Why are you here, Frank?’
‘Not now, Vanessa,’ he pleaded, scrolling through his phone. ‘I need to find my wife.’ He pushed past us, strode into the centre of the reception hall and began clapping his hands. Everyone’s attention turned to him and within a few seconds the sea of festive smiles was washed away by a tide of scowls and dirty looks. The atmosphere inside the manor house became charged. ‘Please can you all leave my house! Thank you.’
The young man who had complained about the wifi shouted, ‘I haven’t had my pudding yet, mate.’
Frank shook his head and pointed at the young man. ‘Get out. The party is over.’
People began filing out. As they passed me everyone said, ‘Lovely food, thanks,’ and, ‘You saved Christmas Day, Rachel.’ Some hugged and kissed me on the cheek.
An old lady in the west wing living room was struggling to stand as her walking stick had fallen by the side of the sofa. I expected Frank to rush and help her. Instead, he stood at the doorway and clapped his hands. ‘Get out or I am calling the police.’
Instinctively I barged past him and ran to help her. She gave me a warm smile and squeezed by hand. ‘Thank you, my dear.’ I guided her past Frank and to the door.
To my surprise Vanessa took hold of the lady’s other arm and smiled at me. ‘I’ll help Joan back through the snow.’
Frank scowled and looked away.
