Doubting Abbey

‘Pity Abbey couldn’t drop by to see me off,’ I said. ‘She wouldn’t believe what I look like now.’

‘Yes, it’s unfortunate she had to take her parents to the airport this morning.’

‘At least we spoke on the phone briefly last night. She couldn’t stop talking about her trip.’ I glanced sideways at Lady C. ‘In fact, I didn’t have time to ask her what she said to you on the phone, when we were in the park – about a school. Seeing as you can’t remember.’

Lady C blushed. ‘Oh, er, never mind. Right, let’s see… If you are expected to help in say a coffee shop,’ she said, changing the subject, ‘don’t hesitate to contact me if you’re expected to bake. I have files of recipes.’

I opened the flat’s front door. Roses in her cheeks, Lady C gave me a quick hug.

‘The best of British, dear. Now remember, most importantly…’

‘The three Ms: Modesty, Manners and no Men.’ For some reason my eyes tingled. ‘Do you, um, think we’ve done enough? In such a short time?’

‘Hard work can achieve great things, Gemma, and I’ve been incredibly impressed by your commitment. As long as you don’t dunk your bread in soup or chew your hair or—’

‘Interrupt people?’ I, um, interrupted.

We both smiled and I made my way to the lift.

Right. Get into character, Gemma. This could, in the words of Abbey, be super fun! Little old me was going to see how the other half lived. I’d ring bells for coffee, eat off silver and servants would have to avoid eye contact and bow. For two whole weeks I wouldn’t have to clean or iron. At the most I’d serve cream teas to the The Little People (previously me!) who, in awe of the Croxley name, would hang on my every word. Although Lady C kept hinting that I might be expected to bake, I was sure the local shops would sell scones and the like – I could just raid their supplies.

As the lift approached the ground floor, I chuckled at the idea of me ordering people around. What was I like? Living like that would be the pits. Hopefully the servants (just saying that word felt wrong) would be like family and I could still make myself Cup-a-Soups and Pot Noodles. The real challenge would be resisting the temptation to tell them who I really was. I took a deep breath. Stiff upper lip, as Lady C would say.

As for servants and bells… well, from what the Earl had told Abbey’s dad, Applebridge Hall had suffered from years of financial problems. Entering this competition was a last drastic measure. For getting to the final, the Earl had already won twenty-five thousand pounds, to put into motion plans for how the place would eventually start earning its own keep. I’d said that was a mega amount of money. Abbey soon put me right.

‘Oh, no, Gemma,’ she’d insisted. ‘That’s nothing, in terms of running a mansion. Maintenance costs for one year would see that gone – and that’s without repairing the roof or completing the rewiring. Then there’s damp, rising gardening costs and, as for the internal renovations… Tapestries and ceilings need refreshing and apparently Uncle’s desperate to reupholster much of the furniture. Metres and metres of brickwork should be re-pointed…’

Still, I couldn’t wait to see the place and strode out into the sunshine.

‘Yoo-hoo!’ called a voice. ‘Abigail Croxley?’

I looked at my watch again.

‘Miss Croxley?’

Eek! That was me. I shook myself to attention and looked up. A skinny woman with red hair, carrying a clipboard, waved from next to a big shiny black car, parked up by the side of the road. Chin not too high or low, shoulders back, I strolled over.

‘How do you do?’ I said in a controlled voice, and held out my hand.

‘Oh, erm, good, thanks.’ She grinned and grasped my fingers, pumping them up and down. ‘I’m Roxy—the production assistant. We spoke on the phone yesterday.’

Stomach twisting, I nodded. What if, face-to-face, my pretend accent sounded weird? But then, after all this time living with Abbey, I stood as good a chance as anyone of mimicking a posh voice.

‘We’d better get a move on,’ she continued, speaking at top-speed. ‘The TV crews at Applebridge Hall are on standby. My boss, Gaynor, the director, hates it if people are late. Footage of your arrival will have to be edited, ready for screening on tomorrow’s Sunday night show.’ She grinned. ‘Welcome aboard the roller coaster that is Million Dollar Mansion!’

She lugged my case over to the car boot. I’d never met anyone who spoke so fast. A chauffeur in a smart cap and suit got out and opened the door for me. The only time I’d seen anyone dressed like that was at a mate’s hen night, but trusted (nay, prayed!) this old codger wouldn’t perform a striptease.

While Roxy got in around the other side, I concentrated hard to get into the car just right. The rules were… legs first, knees closed at all times… Phew. Job done. No knickers flashed.

The door closed behind me. I looked to my left and smiled at Roxy. She ended a phone call as the chauffeur loaded my luggage, got in and we pulled away.

‘When was the last time you visited Applebridge Hall?’ she asked warmly, while scribbling notes.

‘Only last year,’ I said, chest feeling all tight. I wasn’t used to telling such bare-faced lies and in my mind frantically went over what Lady C called my ‘remit’ – a mega fancy word for the task I’ve been given, namely pretending to be one of a happy Croxley clan. In an email to Abbey, Lord Edward said she should act as if the family often met up. All members of staff would play along, as the future of Applebridge Hall – and their jobs – depended on it.

‘Recently, I’ve been terribly busy in catering and am so looking forward to taking time out to visit my uncle again. I’d be interested to know the arrangements for when I arrive,’ I continued, articulating every word as if I was the Speaking Clock.

‘Quite a, erm, character, isn’t he, the Earl?’ she said and glanced sideways at me.

Really? I was dying to probe her further but another of Lady C’s rules was never to appear over-familiar.

‘Although Lord Edward’s not half-bad.’ She winked. ‘Definite eye-candy for the girls.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ I said stiffly. Uncomfortable as it was, good old English reserve was useful if stuck for words.

Roxy rummaged in her jeans pocket and pulled out some fruit pastilles. She held out the packet. ‘I never have time to eat these days – fancy sharing my breakfast?’

‘That’s very kind, but no, thank you,’ I said, remembering what Lady C said about never eating on the go. On the other hand, I didn’t want to offend her…

‘What a, um, charming bracelet,’ I said and pointed to her wrist.

‘Oh, ta.’ She grinned. ‘My fiancé gave it to me.’

‘Fiancé? Oh, of course, I didn’t see the ring.’ It was no Elizabeth Taylor rock, but, nevertheless, a mega diamond to me. ‘Amaaaaazin’,’ I cooed. Oops. I caught Roxy’s eye. Her lip twitched. We giggled and then quickly I recovered my stuffy act. ‘My flatmate… that’s um, one of her words,’ I said. ‘Occasionally, I pick up these things.’

Roxy examined her wedding finger. ‘My boyfriend proposed in New York. Although I don’t suppose this compares to the huge pendants and tiaras you’ve grown up with.’

‘The, um, setting is utterly exquisite,’ I said. ‘It’s a ring I’d be proud to wear.’

Roxy eyes crinkled at the corners. She held up her clipboard and flicked through the paperwork quick-smart. ‘The arrangements, let’s see… Late morning arrival – greetings with family and staff. Then you’ll have a little private time before, at one o’clock, your uncle and cousin make a special announcement.’

‘What about?’ I said.

‘The business idea they’ve come up with, to save Applebridge Hall. Lord Edward has been hinting about it on his blog.’ She grinned. ‘Gaynor had to work on him for ages before he’d agree to spill his thoughts and feelings on-line. But, to be fair, he’s gone for it with gusto and is determined it’ll attract more fans and contribute to Applebridge Hall’s success.’

Ah, yes – Edward’s E-diary. Last night Lady C and I had taken a peek. His tone sounded a bit old-fashioned but, to my surprise, he seemed mega friendly towards the blog-readers.

‘And this announcement…?’ I said airily.

Roxy’s eyes twinkled. ‘Don’t you know anything about it?’

‘No. Cousin Edward, he, um, wanted it to be a surprise.’ Better not mention the coffee shop, seeing as other people didn’t know yet.

She shrugged. ‘Even the crew and I don’t know for sure. We’ve only just returned to the properties, since the preliminary rounds.’ Roxy consulted her clipboard again. ‘Tonight, at seven, you’ll be having dinner…’ She shot me a look. ‘Look, can I give you a tip, Abigail? Woman to woman?’

‘Do call me Abbey,’ I said and squished back into the comfy seat. Thank God these media types didn’t stand on ceremony. In fact, so far, so bloomin’ good. My false accent hadn’t been rumbled. This speaking malarkey was manageable as long as I gave it more Toff than TOWIE.

‘Abbey—you seem pretty down-to-earth. If you really want your family to win…’ She threw her hands into the air. ‘For God’s sake, sex things up!’