Doubting Abbey

‘You don’t even know that!’ he spluttered, yet within seconds obviously remembered that we were supposed to promote this cuddly image of a close family. He forced a chuckle. ‘Ah, my scoundrel of a younger brother… Richard was never much of a historian. Yes. His family lived in a small country house on the estate – since knocked down—whilst the architects and builders set to work.’

Footsteps sounded up the stairwell nearest to us. Honey curls appeared.

‘Good day, Abbey,’ Edward said. ‘I trust that, um, your back no longer hurts.’

Blimey. He was making an effort for the cameras. ‘Good afternoon. Yes, tickety-boo now, thank you,’ I replied. It was weird living somewhere so big that a whole day might pass before you bump into the other housemates.

‘Father, the first episode of Million Dollar Mansion: the Final will be on in around an hour,’ said Edward. ‘Members of staff are congregating in the Parlour. I believe Kathleen has prepared tea and your favourite lemon crumb biscuits for everyone. We could all go over the plans for tomorrow before the beginning of the programme.’

‘Aaaaand cut,’ said Gaynor and gave a rusty cough. ‘No problem, darlings. We can continue the tour tomorrow, Lord Croxley – we’ll still have time to edit it for Tuesday’s show. And yes, fab work, everyone—those tales made Applebridge Hall come to life; made the whole place less…grey.’

However, the old man wasn’t listening.

‘Right, young lady…’ he hissed to me and unplugged his mic, before doing the same to mine. ‘Let’s walk back the length of the Gallery and downstairs to the Parlour. On the way, you can explain to me why you know so little about the Croxley ancestors. Let’s hope to God that your cookery knowledge is better than your history.’

Crap. I took off my mic and we handed them to the cameraman. Gaynor and Roxy were still staring up at the ginormous portrait. Edward had disappeared, having muttered something about his blog.

‘It’s as if you’re a complete stranger, Abigail,’ said the Earl and glared. ‘The Richard I used to know loved these old anecdotes. Estrangement or not, I’m sure any daughter of his would be familiar with what her ancestors looked like and, in God’s name, know the origins of how this place was built!’

‘I… Yes… You see…’ I stuttered.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘I’m waiting for what had better be a damn good explanation.’

LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY

Sunday 2nd September

7p.m. Good evening, blog-readers, I trust you will soon settle down to watch this evening’s show. No doubt you shall find footage of yesterday’s events, including dinner, entertaining. Of course, it is somewhat edited, especially during these early days, whilst we get used to the cameras. And not everything is caught on film. As I suggested to you last night, Cousin Abigail is quite the dark horse – for a lady—and even made Father chuckle. Erm, I’ve always thought this, of course