Page 4 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

The door swung shut but two female voices carried through the baize.

‘Can’t have amateurs in the kitchen while we’re busy, can we, Val?’

Another woman – presumably Val – replied. ‘There was no need for her. I offered to help.’

‘You’re my assistant Val, not Magnus’s.’

Smiling to herself, Sammy headed back towards the gardens.

Outside, the afternoon air felt stifling after the cool of the north facing corridors. Guests drifted across the lawn with champagne glasses in hand; a catchy jazz tune floated above the snatches of conversation.

To Sammy’s surprise, she enjoyed the work.

Several people stopped to congratulate her on capturing the dog. A very tall man in a clerical collar stepped into her path, smiling kindly down at her.

‘You handled that animal remarkably well,’ he said. ‘Are you a professional dog trainer?’

Beside him was a woman in cream silk and pearls, who, despite being tall herself, looked short next to the vicar. Looped around her wrist was a green slip lead, the other end secured to the culprit itself. Stop It stared fixedly at Sammy’s tray.

‘No, sir,’ Sammy replied. ‘I just like animals.’

‘Do you work with them?’ the woman asked.

Before Sammy could answer, the woman selected a goat’s cheese tartlet, broke it neatly in half and dropped one piece straight into the waiting dog’s jaws.

‘None of my jobs involve dogs,’ Sammy admitted.

The woman’s gaze sharpened with interest. ‘Is this what you do for a living?’

‘Oh no. I’m standing in for my friend . . . she’s poorly today.’

‘What do you do?’ asked the woman.

Sammy listed her current roles: helping in the kitchen at a school, cleaning for a care home, and privately for a busy professional couple. The woman tilted her head slightly, studying Sammy attentively before bending to select another canapé. Over the woman’s silk clad back, Sammy spotted Mr Magnus circulating with a bottle of champagne in one hand, a jug of Pimm’s in the other. Catching her eye, he gave the smallest tilt of his head towards the waiting guests and then the tray in her hands. Message received.

‘Sorry,’ Sammy said. ‘I’d better get these handed round before they wilt in the heat.’

But Stop It’s handler wasn’t finished. ‘Just a moment. Presumably you had to go through extensive background checks before being allowed to work with children?’

‘Yes. Sorry but I’d really better get on. I don’t want to upset the butler.’

The woman’s eyes remained on her longer than seemed necessary.

‘No.’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want you upsetting Magnus.’

The afternoon softened as the sun slipped behind the topiary. Cars rolled down the drive, engines fading. The garden slumped in their wake, plates and glasses abandoned, napkins scrunched and left where they fell.

Sammy gathered what others had left behind. She stacked glasses onto a large tray, followed by some plates. Her feet ached, her shoulders felt stiff, but in a good way; before leaving, guests had thanked the hosts and then thanked Magnus, and her too, for looking after them.

Nearby, the bull terrier snuffled into the grass – secured to a cast iron boot scraper by his thick green lead – methodically hoovering up the final canapés with the air of someone performing essential clean-up duties.

Magnus moved confidently, collecting plates and glasses.

Sammy wiped her hands on the side of her skirt. ‘I’ve enjoyed today, but I’ve got a drive ahead of me,’ she said.

‘Before you go. Madam has approached me about you. Subject to a confirmatory interview, she wants to . . . offer you a position.’ Magnus said. Though his expression remained perfectly composed, the pause before the word ‘offer’ betrayed that had the decision been his, this conversation wouldn’t be happening.

Sammy’s first thought was that Chloe would be thrilled; today did lead to more work.