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‘Baby steps,’ he replies. ‘I’m going to need to book some time off work to sort all of this out, but that shouldn’t be a problem. HR are always on at me for not taking my holiday allowance, so they’ll be delighted. Once I’ve organised that, I’ll contact some of the people your father mentioned and get the ball rolling. Even though nothing has changed yet, I feel so much happier now that I’ve got the beginnings of a plan. In fact, I think we should celebrate!’
‘Oh yes? What did you have in mind?’
‘We could stop and get a bottle of Champagne, and then we could get fish and chips from over the road to go with it.’
I can’t help but laugh. ‘I can see how this isn’t changing you!’ I tell him.
‘Also, I wondered…’
He has suddenly run out of steam and looks uncertain again.
‘What?’
‘Well, I wondered if you might like to stay the night again.’
‘Are you suggesting what I think you are?’ I can feel him blushing furiously, even though it’s dark.
‘Er…’
I turn to him and grin. ‘I’d love to.’
29
Emily and I are on our way back to Devon for the shooting weekend. Normally, this is the point of an event where the adrenaline starts to kick in, because all the planning is going to turn into action and we’ll find out what, if anything, we’ve forgotten and have to fix on the hoof without the client noticing. Today, I just feel low. It’s not because I’m second fiddle on this event; Emily has walked me through it several times and I think she’s done an excellent job. It’s because I’m going to be stuck on the farm for several days. Everything has somehow come together in a perfect storm to trap me. I wanted to bring my car, but Annabel pointed out that it would be Emily’s responsibility to resolve any issues and she might need transport to do it, so we’re bouncing along in her Fiesta. It’s slightly hair-raising, because her attention seems to be focused more on singing along to Ava Max at full volume than it is on the road. We’re not even on the M5 and we’ve already had a number of near misses.
What this means, besides my frazzled nerves, is that I have no means of escape once we get there. I did toy with the idea of bringing my car anyway, but I think Emily would have seen that as a snub to her, and I don’t want to upset her now that we seem to be getting on so well. Even worse, rather than the hotel we stayed in last time, Emily and James have agreed that we’ll stay in a couple of the attic rooms in the main house on the farm.
‘It saves accommodation costs and we’ll be on site twenty-four hours a day to deal with any issues,’ Emily explained. While I can see that her solution is practical, it does mean I’ll be face to face with my old life for five days and, if James continues with his grandstanding, it’s possible I may beat him to death with a shovel.
My mood isn’t helped by the fact that I haven’t seen much of Elliott for the last few weeks. He has taken time off from his job and is busily working with the negotiators on the deal to sell the rights to Nutsy. He’s much happier, there’s no doubt, and I’m pleased for him, but I miss him too. He calls me every day when he’s away, but it’s not the same as having him here. After a shaky start, he’s fitted in well with the Saturday-night gatherings; I was a little reluctant to share him to begin with, but I quickly realised that dropping out of a friendship group because I had a new man was not the right thing to do. What’s particularly galling is that I’m going to be away for the whole weekend when he’s home, and he’ll probably have disappeared again by the time I get back. I unlock my phone and open WhatsApp to send him a message.
Halfway to Devon and missing you like mad. xx
The ticks go blue immediately and his reply comes a few seconds later.
Nearly as much as I’m missing you, then! Hope it goes OK. xx
He did take me to meet his mum last weekend, which was unbelievably awkward to begin with. She was lovely, but kept apologising for the size of her house and insisted on giving me my tea in a tiny china teacup. It turned out that Elliott had told her about meeting my parents and she’d convinced herself I was some sort of princess. When I explained that I actually lived in the flat opposite him and preferred my tea in a mug, things improved dramatically. She’s a lovely woman but she’s definitely no pushover and she’s fiercely protective of her son. She didn’t have a good word to say about Elliott’s ex-wife and I think even he was a little uncomfortable about the strength of some of her views. I liked her enormously, and I hope she approved of me by the end.
I’m pleased to see that the yard is full of removal trucks when we arrive. Men are unloading the furniture we’ve hired and carrying it into the main house. James is also nowhere to be seen, which is a bonus. As Emily is parking, a manoeuvre that seems to take several attempts even though hers is currently the only car in the parking area, another lorry rolls up with the name of a linen company on the side. In spite of everything, my spirits start to lift as my focus kicks in. Leaving our bags in the car, we make a beeline for the main house, and we’re soon engrossed in checking items off the list as they arrive, ensuring that the hired furniture is going to the right places, and counting sheets, duvets, and towels to make sure we have the correct number.
‘I’ve ordered two extra sets of bedlinen and towels,’ Emily tells me as I start to count, ‘in case anyone has an accident.’
‘Good thinking,’ I reply. ‘What about mattresses? If someone gets blind drunk and wets the bed, it might have soaked in by the time anyone realises.’
‘Yes, I ordered two extra mattresses, for exactly that reason. Let’s hope we don’t need them.’
By late afternoon, the house looks incredible. The bedrooms are all made up, with large fluffy towels, bathrobes, and good quality linen on the beds. Each room has a bouquet of flowers, and Emily has got little scent spritzers that activate periodically to provide a pleasant fragrance. Each bathroom has a complete set of toiletries, and we have spares if we need them. The chinaware and cutlery have also arrived, along with enough wine and spirits to ensure even the hardest drinker can’t empty the cellar. There are extra units in the kitchen ready for the chefs who are arriving tomorrow, and temporary fridges and food preparation areas have also been rigged up in a tent attached to the back door. I take pictures of everything and send them to Elliott, and he replies with a series of thumbs-up and heart emojis. We’re just going through the checklist one more time before heading off to the pub for dinner when James strolls in.
‘Evening, ladies. All set for the kick-off?’ he asks.
‘I think so,’ Emily replies. ‘The guests are due to start arriving tomorrow late afternoon, and the house team will be in charge of showing them to their rooms, unpacking, and so on. We’ve got pre-dinner drinks and canapés being served in the drawing room at seven o’clock, followed by dinner at eight. At some point, you’ll give your welcome address where you’ll explain the format of the weekend. Have you decided when that will be?’
‘During the drinks reception,’ James replies. ‘No point in doing it after dinner, none of them will remember it.’
‘Good point,’ Emily refers back to her checklist. ‘We have eighteen guests booked in, of whom nine will be shooting. There are two vegetarians. Dinner tomorrow is poached local trout with a watercress sauce, followed by venison with a selection of vegetables, spotted dick and custard for dessert, with a cheeseboard to finish. The vegetarians will obviously have a different starter and main, but I don’t have the details of that yet.’
‘Spotted dick and custard?’ James questions. ‘That doesn’t sound very upmarket to me.’
