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‘Really?’
Millie was gratified to hear the slight wobble in Sven’s high-pitched voice. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could also see beads of sweat gathering along his upper lip as he continued to sidle towards the front door. She had no intention of letting him escape so easily.
‘It’s a shame you weren’t here on Sunday to attend the tree-lighting ceremony.’
‘The tree-lighting ceremony?’
‘Yes, that would be another of your delightful duties as owner of Stonelea Manor. Afterwards, everyone piles back here for a sumptuous buffet and as much mulled wine as you could swim in. There are party games, drinking competitions, Christmas karaoke and at the end of the evening everyone dances the Conga through the house and grounds.’
‘The Conga?’ Sven’s features twisted into a knot of disgust. ‘Oh, well, thanks for the information, Martha. Actually, I’ve just remembered an important—’
‘But you haven’t had a tour of upstairs yet.’
‘No, I’m sure it—’
‘We have guests staying at the moment – I think you met Leo and Mike earlier, just before the explosion – but I’m happy to show you my suite so you can get an idea of the quality of the accommodation.’
Without waiting for his approval, Millie jogged up the stairs and waited for Sven to join her with a beaming smile. She turned the iron key in the lock on her bedroom door and welcomed him into the tropical paradise with a flourish of her hand. It took all her willpower not to laugh out loud as he performed a comedic double-take when his eyes fell on the assortment of snow globes on the mantlepiece – not to mention the exotic birds, flowers and plants depicted on the wallpaper and the soft furnishings. It looked like the tropical birdhouse at a Caribbean zoo, minus the smell.
‘What do you think? Marvellous, isn’t it?’
‘It’s certainly… unique.’
Sven ran his fingers through his bleached blonde spikes and rotated his gaze around the room, taking in the cornucopia of zinging colours and the rainbow of matching accessories, lingering for several minutes on the disaster that was the Christmas tree, entwined with every shade of tinsel available in Gloucestershire. Coupled with the Oriental rug and her discarded clothes, the place was a riot of disorder and as far from the clean lines and minimalist Scandinavian design that Sven preferred as you could get – and Millie loved it.
‘Erm, are all the rooms like this?’
Millie thought of the tastefully decorated suites Claudia had spent a fortune on; in lemon, aquamarine, the palest of lavender, all adorned with beautiful furnishings and designer linen, and she decided to embroider the truth with a little mischief.
‘Oh no.’
‘Thank God!’
‘All the suites have different themes. There’s the Egyptian Suite, with hieroglyphics etched onto the walls and the ceiling and stitched into the soft furnishings. But the crowning glory is the replica of Tutankhamun’s tomb that you walk through to get to the bathroom. It’s fabulous!’
‘Tutankhamun’s tomb?’ Sven spluttered, and to Millie’s amazement he removed a large, monogrammed handkerchief and actually mopped his brow. A spasm of sympathy shot into her chest, and she wondered if she had maybe gone a little bit too far, until he said ‘I had no idea the celebrated Claudia Croft had such diabolical taste in interior design! She’s married to a highly regarded architect, for God’s sake!’
It took every ounce of Millie’s self-control not to bite his head off. How dare he?
‘And why on earth do Claudia and Tim put up with this disgraceful invasion of their home? Do these people have no respect for their privacy? If this was my property, I’d install a state-of-the-art electric gate system, so that visitors would have to announce themselves and I could decide whether I wanted them to grace me with their presence. Tell me, is there just the one access road in, do you know?’
‘There’re several entrances, but I don’t think any of them are electric.’
‘So, no electrified fences either?’
Millie glanced at him sharply, expecting to see the hint of a joke in his vivid blue eyes, but to her amazement it seemed he was being serious. She redoubled her efforts.
‘No, but there’re the tunnels that lead from the cellar to the village pub.’
‘Tunnels?’
‘Really handy for when it’s snowing, or when the manor is cut off during the floods.’
‘The floods? Is the property prone to flooding? Rupert didn’t mention that in his sales pitch. I can’t live somewhere where there’s a risk I could be trapped. I often have important business to attend to….’
Sven met Millie’s eyes and she returned his steady stare, praying that he hadn’t rumbled her attempt to thwart his impression of the manor’s attributes. Fortunately, he showed no inkling of suspecting her of being parsimonious with the truth and she suspected that as far as Sven was concerned, he had long since donated his sense of humour to a worthier cause.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to be in his company for a moment longer and craved the opportunity to mingle with the hordes downstairs, to feel the warmth and companionship of the people who had turned up at Stonelea Manor to offer their help. She couldn’t get out of her bedroom fast enough.
