Page 16 of Never Gonna Happen

Other than updating her parents on her first week and reassuring them that she hadn’t been abused, trafficked or otherwise violated, the main reason she was calling was to invite them to the Bowford Estate Christmas party in a few weeks. Emily had been in two minds about whether she wanted her two worlds to collide under the influence of free prosecco and mulled wine, but then reminded herself that her mum and dad rarely got to do anything really fancy, and they’d probably be over the moon about it.

‘We’re invited?’ asked Carol incredulously.

‘You are. It’s a party for all the estate workers and their families. Mr Hunter has invited you to stay so you can get ready here and go home on Sunday.’

‘Blimey. Will all the family be there? Is it going to be really posh?’

‘No and no. Mr Hunter will be there, but not the rest of the family. And it’s not formal, so just a shirt for Dad and a dress for you. Nothing too glitzy.’ Her mum’s party outfits had a tendency towards short, tight and heavy on sequins, like she was about to do a cha-cha with Anton Du Beke on the Strictly dance floor, but on this occasion Emily was hoping for something a bit more low-key.

‘I can’t wait. The girls at Aqua Zumba are going to be so jealous. I might have to get my nails done.’

‘Go for it, Mum,’ said Emily with a smile, inspecting her own hands and wondering if there was a walk-in nail bar in Norwich.

‘Look at us, staying in a fancy house and going to a party,’ said Carol dreamily.

‘I’m not sure you’ll be staying in the house itself,’ said Emily quickly. ‘You might be somewhere else on the estate.’

‘Still, nicer than we’re used to. I’ll speak to your dad about a new frock.’

Emily wrapped up the conversation with a promise to take her mum shopping when she was home in a couple of weeks, knowing full well that she’d end up paying for the dress and probably some matching shoes, and really not minding at all.

Emily’s plan for her first Saturday in Norfolk was to drive to Norwich, get her nails done, top up her store of in-room snacks and maybe buy some running shoes that were designed for off-road. None of this was urgent, but she was itching for a mooch around the shops and maybe some lunch in a nice café.

But when she left the house via the back door into the delivery yard, her car wasn’t in its usual space next to the wheelie bins. She scratched her head for a moment, trying to remember if she’d actually parked it somewhere else, but it had definitely been there when she went to bed last night. Then she remembered that Leon had the spare key, so perhaps he’d moved it for some reason. She wandered over to the garage, which was part of the same complex of old buildings as the stables, but there was no sign of Leon or her car.

Feeling a little perplexed, Emily walked back round to the yard, thinking maybe she’d do some laundry then look for Leon and her car again in an hour. She didn’t immediately register the man smoking a cigarette and watching her from outside the delivery door until she was a few metres away. She stopped and eyed him nervously, wondering if he knew anything about her car. Then she realised who he was. Adam Hunter.

‘About bloody time,’ he snapped. ‘I was starting to wonder if anyone lived here. Nobody ever answers the fucking phone. Where’s Anna?’

Emily supposed Adam was quite handsome in a square-jawed, thin-lipped kind of way, although his eyes were definitely piggy and his attempt at a winning smile was more of a sneer. He was a slighter, more angular version of Jamie, and she felt compelled to take a step back to avoid getting any closer than was absolutely necessary.

‘It’s the weekend,’ she said, holding her head up and keeping her voice strong. ‘Anna doesn’t work weekends.’

Adam made a huffing noise as he threw his cigarette end into a puddle. ‘I’m aware of that,’ he drawled lazily, ‘but she also knew we were coming so the least she could have done is check in. Never mind, you’ll do. Are you new?’

‘I’m sorry?’ said Emily.

‘Are. You. New. Here,’ he said, enunciating the words loudly and slowly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you before, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember.’ He looked Emily up and down appreciatively, making her shudder.

‘I’m Emily Wilkinson, Mr Hunter’s assistant.’ She didn’t offer a handshake, deciding she’d rather not touch him.

‘Aha, the new Andrea,’ he replied with what he clearly thought was boyish charm. ‘Quite the upgrade on the old model, I must say. I’m Adam Hunter, I’m sure the old man has told you all about me.’

Emily held his gaze but said nothing, wondering how this repellent man could possibly be related to Jamie and Mr Hunter.

Adam looked away, clearly already bored of this conversation. ‘I need some things bringing over to Wedmore Cottage,’ he said, inspecting his fingernails. ‘Food, mostly, but also some spare sheets, Hugo has wet the bed.’

‘Right, well, I’m actually on my way out,’ said Emily. Another PA trick – never apologise for something you’re not remotely sorry for.

‘Jesus,’ said Adam, plucking a pack of Marlboro Gold out of his shirt pocket and hanging one out of the side of his mouth as if he was James Dean. ‘Do any of the fucking staff in this house do any work?’

Emily folded her arms. ‘I work for Mr Hunter from Monday to Friday,’ she said coolly. ‘But not at weekends.’

‘I understand that,’ he said, a steely edge creeping into his voice. ‘But I’m also Mr Hunter, and I’m asking for your help.’

‘I’m sure Anna won’t mind if you help yourself to food,’ she said with the least fake smile she could muster. ‘And there are loads of spare sheets in the linen room.’

Adam lit the cigarette and observed her through narrowed eyes. ‘You’re quite a piece of work, aren’t you? I can’t say I appreciate your tone.’