Doubting Abbey

I squished back comfortably and did my best not to stare at the big fluffy mic the sound guy had just manoeuvred over our heads. ‘James’ sat at one end of the table, in between the Viscount – Ernest, as he insisted I call him – and his wife, Annabel. Next to her was Henrietta, with me and Edward opposite. My Uncle Pete would have loved this table for pasting his wallpaper on. It must have seated, ooh… at least twenty toffs.

I tipped my chair back (a habit I’ve always had) and smiled across at Annabel. Right, time to have a crack at conversation. I didn’t fancy politics or the recession. That left personal stuff and the weather.

‘Have you had to travel far this evening?’ I asked.

‘Only for an hour,’ she said. ‘The last half of the journey was through such heavenly countryside.’

‘We adore visiting here,’ said Henrietta and beamed at Edward. ‘Tell me, what’s the state of apple prices this year? Are they still in the doldrums because of the economic downturn?’

I did my best to look brainy as they discussed, in great detail, when it would be best to bring contract workers into the orchards. Henrietta’s comments sounded so eloquent. How delicately she sipped her wine. He even let her straighten his tie. Jeez, she was like some automated Stepford wife!

‘And how’s the car boot business?’ she said.

‘Not bad,’ said Edward. He caught my eye. ‘I rent out the acres of land that stretch to the left, behind the maze.’

‘Ah, for that summer rock festival?’ I said.

‘Yes. Plus several funfairs that tour through here each year.’

‘And a bloomin’ mess they make as well,’ interrupted the Earl, a grimace contorting his jowls.

Edward sighed. ‘But needs must, Father. Along with renting out the land for car boot sales, it brings in something of a steady income.’

‘Sounds like a lot of work to organise,’ I said.

‘When it comes to this estate, Edward is terribly industrious.’ Henrietta smiled. ‘When he inherits, there’s no doubt in my mind that he will do his ancestors and the Croxley tradition proud.’

You’d think such a compliment would bring a smile to his face. Instead, Edward loosened his tie and bit his lip, his eyes dulling for a second. However, the moment soon passed and, as the two friends chatted, my ears perked up at the mention of a Lieutenant Robert Mayhew.

‘Is that the Lieutenant Robert Mayhew?’ I said, interrupting their conversation – soz, Lady C, but I couldn’t contain my interest. ‘My, um… flatmate Gemma calls him “the Forces Pin-up”. Didn’t he make it back from Afghanistan, despite gun wounds and second degree burns?’

Henrietta smiled. ‘Edward went to school with Robert. They are the best of friends.’

‘Such a courageous—’ read that as gorgeous ‘—person,’ I said, ‘returning to that burning vehicle.’

Edward smiled. ‘Only a madman like Rob would go back in when he was drenched in fuel. Apart from his helmet, Rob’s uniform was in ashes by the time he’d hauled everyone else out.’

‘Terribly modest about it all, wasn’t he?’ I said.

Edward shrugged. ‘He says, just like thousands of other troops, he was simply doing his job.’

‘He’s organized a big charity ball next month,’ said Henrietta, ‘to raise money for injured soldiers. He’ll be pleased to see you there, Edward.’

‘It should be a wonderful evening,’ said Annabel.

‘Damn brave lad,’ said the Earl. Ernest grunted his agreement.

‘I remember the first time I met him,’ said Henrietta. ‘It was at your twenty-first birthday party, Edward; do you remember?’

‘Rob was home on leave and danced with anything in a skirt. Even Dundee Douglas, who’d put on his kilt.’

‘Your mother always thought him a decent chap,’ said the Earl to Edward, ‘even when he led you astray at school by suggesting you skip school for the cinema. Rosemary wouldn’t hear a bad word against him.’

Henrietta put her hand on Edward’s. A display of emotion like that, in public, must have meant they were really good friends, or even…? For some reason, an uncomfortable twinge niggled my stomach.

‘Poor you, Edward,’ she said. ‘Those afternoons at the pictures couldn’t have possibly been your idea.’

‘Son?’ The Earl raised his eyebrows. ‘All these years poor Robert took the blame?’

Edward grinned and rubbed the back of his neck.

My stomach tingled. A smile on Edward’s lips was a rare thing and, for a few seconds, made him look a decade younger. Just then, in tailcoats and a butler’s jacket, Nick entered through a door from the left hand side and the pantry, cellars and kitchens. He’d combed his hair over into a greased-down side-parting and winked at me as if to say: ‘this geeky look is deliberate’. His hand brushed against mine as he poured my wine. Clearly, he took my Plan Sex-up seriously. Edward stared at me, only turning away when the starter arrived. I swallowed. This was going to be hard – clinically putting on a show, pretending not to care what other people thought about my actions or about me.

‘Asparagus?’ Henrietta put her napkin on her lap. ‘My favourite. Kathleen really is a treasure. I assume she froze these, freshly picked from your garden. What a joy to eat them out of season.’

Phew! Good thing Lady C had taught me how to eat these green monstrosities that looked like witch’s fingers. They lay on a bed of lettuce and were sprinkled with chopped red stuff. I picked one up. Euw. There was only meant to be sauce on the ends but these were slippery all over and had obviously been…’

‘Marinated,’ said Henrietta, daintily cutting them up with a knife and fork. ‘Quite lovely.’

‘Have you been away on holiday this year, Annabel?’ I said, hoping no one saw me quickly wipe my fingers on a napkin.

While she described her mega Caribbean cruise, I dug into my starter, suddenly starving, doing my best to chew with my mouth closed and not talk with it full. My only faux pas (impressive, eh? Lady C even taught me French) was eating the bed of lettuce. Well, how was I to know it was a garnish? Perhaps the rabbit dish would be easier. Certainly it smelt yummy, with gravy-covered chunks of meat, served with mushrooms, roasted cherry tomatoes and baby onions.

‘No haggis tonight, then? That’s a change,’ said Annabel. Eyes twinkling, she glanced at me. ‘Kathleen is fiercely proud of her Scottish roots.’

‘She is making a special effort to cook English meals for the cameras,’ said the Earl. ‘No doubt in two weeks it will be back to normal.’

‘Whatever that will be,’ muttered Edward. He cleared his throat. ‘So, tell me, Henrietta, all about this local animal charity you have recently become patron of.’

Carefully I chewed each morsel and, without dribbling, managed to chat to the Viscountess (Mrs Minty Chocolate Biscuit). We swapped opinions about the Royals (K-Mid of course and the awesome Diamond Jubilee celebrations). It couldn’t have gone better until I plunged my fork into one of the tiny onions.

I caught its side and the shiny ball flew into the air, at speed, across the table. Shiiit. It landed right on top of Henrietta’s head and, like an egg in a nest, settled in her bun. The camera zoomed in. Eerily, everyone stayed silent. No one swore or shrieked. Clearly, they knew Lady C’s rule about staying as cool as a cucumber. I glanced at the Earl, who had put down his pipe.

It was no good. If I suppressed the gigantic giggle inside me any longer I’d spontaneously explode. Oh, God… Here it came… A snort escaped my lips. Then, nearby, Nick cracked and that really set me off as I spied his crinkly, watering-with-laughter eyes. For several seconds we were the only ones laughing, until Henrietta’s face scrunched up to release a high-pitched giggle. Next, Ernest and Annabel crumbled. Even Edward’s face broke into a grin. He removed the onion while Henrietta whispered something to him about not making a fuss. The Earl shook his head.

‘I can’t apologize enough,’ I stuttered. Must control myself in front of the camera.

‘Do you play golf, Abigail?’ said the Earl. ‘Because I suspect you’d be a whizz at landing a hole-in-one.’ For the first time since my arrival he smiled at me properly, eyes all shiny.

Nick cleared away the plates and announced pudding would be simple apple pie – cue a massive sigh of relief from me. However, the Hamilton-Browns teased me relentlessly and ducked for cover when I reached for coffee sugar lumps. Even Henrietta kept giving me grins, so perhaps I could forgive her for being perfect and not spilling a drop of gravy on her silk blouse.

‘How wonderful that you are heading up the Applebridge Food Academy, Abigail,’ said Annabel as she unwrapped an after-dinner mint.

‘Please – call me Abbey.’ I tipped my chair backwards. ‘Yes, it’s, um, a challenge, no doubt about that.’ One that I’d rather block out, for the moment. Otherwise, the temptation to go on the run would win.

‘Our last chance, that’s what it is,’ muttered the Earl and puffed on his pipe. ‘A great deal is hanging on Abigail’s expertise.’

No pressure, then.