Page 27 of Never Gonna Happen

‘Ah, fuck you,’ laughed Emily. ‘Do these animals go any faster?’

‘Oh, thank God, I thought you’d never ask. Ready to learn to trot?’

Emily returned from the ride feeling happy and exhilarated, having quickly got the hang of rising out of the saddle in rhythm with Rupert’s trot. It had forced her to focus and use her strong legs and core, with the added bonus of shaking off the remains of her hangover. Her backside was going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but hopefully in a good way.

When they got back to the yard, Jamie took the opportunity to give Emily a lesson in untacking a horse. She enjoyed the methodical logic of it, the removing and cleaning and learning of names of different parts. Once everything was back in its allocated space in the tack room they moved on to grooming, washing and brushing Rupert to get rid of all the mud and sweat. Even though she was cold and tired and hungry, it felt good to be working rather than just handing Rupert over to one of the grooms and expecting them to do the hard bit.

She hadn’t even begun to get her head around Jamie’s revelation that he was now single and was interested in her; that seemed like something from last night’s dream. Somehow knowing that he had feelings for her was enough to put her on cloud nine even if she was resolute about not getting involved. Spending time with him at weekends, learning to ride and look after the horses, being friends while she lived and worked at Bowford Manor – that would have to be enough.

‘I’m starving,’ she said, fishing her phone out of her jacket pocket and taking a selfie with Rupert, his face hanging over the door of his stable with a blue blanket over his glossy back. She uploaded it to WhatsApp and sent it to Kelly so she could meet the new love of her life.

‘Me too,’ said Jamie. ‘What do you fancy?’

‘A bacon and egg sandwich and a mug of tea.’

‘That sounds perfect,’ laughed Jamie, joining Emily on the other side of Rupert so she could take a selfie of all three of them. ‘There’s absolutely nothing in my fridge, so let’s try the kitchen.’

They left the stables and crossed the road towards the delivery yard, but it was impossible to miss the huge black limo parked at the front of the house. Leon was unloading Louis Vuitton luggage from the boot with his face set into a thunderous scowl, watched dispassionately by a chauffeur in an immaculate grey uniform who was checking his manicure.

‘Oh crap,’ said Jamie, making an emergency stop. ‘My mother and sister are here.’

‘What should I do?’ asked Emily. ‘Offer to help, or hide?’

‘Definitely hide,’ replied Jamie. ‘Sneak in the back and keep your head down.’

‘OK,’ she said, peeling off towards the delivery yard. ‘Thanks for the ride.’

‘Come and say goodbye before you disappear for Christmas.’

Emily turned and nodded, giving him a smile that she hoped communicated a million unsaid things.

Chapter Sixteen

By Thursday Emily had managed to avoid any direct contact with Tanya and Catherine Hunter, mostly by starting work early and staying holed up in her little office as much as possible. There was plenty still to do – Mr Hunter was leaving with the family for a ten-day trip to Switzerland tomorrow and was determined to put work aside until the new year so that Emily could do the same.

But even though Emily hadn’t physically met the Hunter women, she could hear them bellowing through the house – both Tanya and Catherine had those mid-Atlantic accents that wavered between upper-class British and Hollywood starlet, depending on who they were talking to and how demanding they were being.

After work she walked over to the pool for a swim, thinking this would probably be her last one before she went home for Christmas. She mentally ticked off her to-do list for tomorrow on the way, starting with a final call to the charter flight company at Norwich Airport to check everything was on schedule, before hustling the family out of the house in three executive cars that would collect them and all their luggage. It was a whole new world to Emily, and she had checked the details a hundred times to make sure nothing had been missed.

Mr Hunter was happy to fly commercial airlines for most of his trips, but for a family holiday of nine people including Adam’s two children and their nanny, it was far easier and less stressful to charter a private jet. One of Tanya Hunter’s most vocal complaints this week had been that Mr Hunter didn’t own his own plane so she and Catherine could fly back and forth to LA without using Virgin Atlantic, which had apparently been ‘unacceptably busy, even in first class’. Listening in the safety of her office, Emily’s eyes had rolled so far back into her head she’d wondered if they might get stuck there for ever.

She’d also booked two helicopters to transfer the Hunters from Sion airport in Switzerland to Verbier, which would apparently take about fifteen minutes. Jamie was on the list for both the charter plane and the helicopter, so it looked like Mr Hunter had persuaded him to join the family for the festive break. She’d found pictures of the family chalet in Verbier online; Mr Hunter rented it out for a breathtaking weekly fee whenever the family weren’t using it. It was ridiculously swank – an eight-bedroomed wood-clad Alpine palace with a sauna, Jacuzzi and log fires everywhere. Emily thought of her tiny bedroom in Grove Street, her mum’s Iceland turkey for Christmas dinner and the fake plastic Christmas tree with decades of homemade decorations. She couldn’t wait to get home.

The pool was quiet and empty as usual, so Emily left her clothes on the bench and slid into the warm water. She tucked her hair into a red silicone hat and adjusted her goggles, making an early New Year’s resolution to make time every weekend to drive to the beach for a swim. The pool was great, but it was no substitute for freezing cold salt water and a biting January wind. Swimming in the sea in summer was fine, but winter was only for the hardcore, and you were much more likely to have the beach to yourself.

She emptied her mind and focused on the rhythm of her front crawl, turning her head to breathe every other stroke. She was twenty lengths in when she heard the echo of voices and realised she was no longer alone. When she finished her length she took a break, lifting her goggles up on to her forehead so she could see who’d arrived.

‘Who are you?’ asked a tall, thin woman in a gold velour tracksuit, her hair wrapped in some kind of turban. She was followed by a carbon copy who only appeared to be a few years younger, which was clearly testament to the talents of Tanya Hunter’s plastic surgeon.

‘I’m Emily, Mr Hunter’s assistant.’

‘Ah, the famous secretary!’ trilled Tanya, putting her enormous handbag on the bench. ‘We’ve heard SO much about you. Sorry to cut your swim short.’

Emily said nothing, realising she was being dismissed. The pool was eight metres wide and plenty big enough for three, but apparently sharing the water with staff wasn’t acceptable. She hoisted herself out of the pool and grabbed her towel, feeling humiliated and furious.

‘Are you, like, busy right now?’ asked Catherine Hunter in a breathy, singsong voice. ‘I’m, like, SO behind with my packing. There’s literally a mountain of clothes on the floor of my room – could you be a sweetheart and pack them for me?’ She looked at Emily expectantly, with the same grey eyes and square face as Jamie and Mr Hunter. Adam had Tanya’s heart-shaped features, although Tanya’s nose had definitely been upgraded at some point.

Emily gave a short nod. She pulled on her clothes as quickly as her wet skin would allow, desperate to get away from these two women as soon as possible.