‘Mrs Hurley made pork and apple medallions the other night with cream and cider,’ Brianna Jade said. ‘Oh my God, that was so good!’
Though I didn’t have the cream, just a tiny smear off Edmund’s plate, because of fitting into my wedding dress, she remembered gloomily. How I wish everyone was like Abel and thought I was skinny already.
‘There you go!’ Abel said, grinning. ‘I can see that you grew up round farm animals, miss. We breed ’em to eat ’em, and that’s the truth.’
‘They have great lives here, I can see that,’ Brianna Jade said sincerely. ‘And I really love pork! We ate so much of it back home. Our big fair’s called Kewanee Hog Days, and you should see the barbecue pits they have there – oh my God, the ribs are incredible. When I won the Pork Queen pageant, we all had to make a pork dish as part of the competition, and I made this Tater Tots casserole. I don’t suppose you can even get Tater Tots over here?’
‘Never even heard of ’em,’ Abel said cheerfully.
‘They’re way yummy,’ Brianna Jade said wistfully, quite forgetting her British language lessons. ‘They’re sorta like hash browns in little crunchy bites – you buy them frozen in big bags.’
‘Ooh-arr – like potato crunchies from Iceland!’ Abel said, nodding vigorously again. The straw was chewed down now: he spat out the end lustily and it shot over the sow’s back and onto the ground.
‘You get potatoes all the way from Iceland?’ Brianna Jade was really confused. ‘Don’t you, like, grow them here?’
Abel threw back his head and laughed, a deep rumbling noise like the Jolly Green Giant, a huge bellow that literally did sound like ‘Ho ho ho!’ Even the pig looked up briefly before lowering her snout once more and recommencing her feed. He was laughing at what she’d said, Brianna Jade knew, but she didn’t feel at all offended: there was no mockery behind it.
‘Iceland’s the name of a supermarket,’ Abel explained, turning fully to face her, rocking back on his heels, his hands in the pockets of his dungarees. ‘Most of the food’s in freezers, so that’s why they called it—’
‘Iceland! I get it!’
They grinned at each other in complete amity, and then Brianna Jade jumped as if she’d been electrocuted. Suddenly she realized that her Lycra exercise clothes were clammy with sweat, her stomach rumbling with hunger, she was thirsty and she needed to stretch: hanging out with Abel and the pig had completely distracted her from anything else. But that wasn’t the source of her real discomfort. She had been so relaxed in this conversation, more relaxed than she had been during her entire stay at Stanclere Hall, that she had not only slipped back into Americanisms that she was trying to eliminate: much worse, she had let slip the information about being Pork Queen of Kewanee, something that Tamra had banned her pretty much on pain of death from ever repeating.
‘What is it?’ Abel said, frowning deeply, his thick eyebrows drawing together. ‘You look like you seen a ghost!’
‘My mom – I’m not supposed to—’ Brianna Jade took in a deep breath. ‘What I said about being Pork Queen – I’m not supposed to tell anyone! It’s not what the Earl of Respers wants people saying about his wife, you know?’ She looked up at him, and an even scarier thought struck her. ‘You know who I am, right? Oh boy, I didn’t even think of that!’
Now Abel was laughing again.
‘Who else would I think you were, miss? We’ve never seen anything like you round these parts. Running round like you’re always in a hurry. I saw you with the Old Spots many a time, but I thought it wasn’t my place to talk to you, seeing as you’re going to marry Mr Edmund. But then you came over here to see the Empress, and we got chatting away, all easy-like, just like I might with Mr Edmund. I wouldn’t repeat a word that you told me, miss, if you’d rather not. Not to a living soul.’
‘Thank you,’ Brianna Jade said with huge relief, sensing without a shred of doubt that he was telling the truth.
‘But I would like to tell my gran what you put in that casserole, though,’ he said, and he winked at her.
She giggled, turning to leave.
‘You take cream, cheddar cheese, eggs,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘All beaten up together. You cook pork sausage and slice it in and then bake it with the Tater Tots on top. I used to spike the cream with a little bit of Tabasco.’
Abel nodded. ‘I’ll tell Gran,’ he said.
‘Wait, what did you call the pig?’ Brianna Jade pivoted back on the rubber heel of her running shoe, just catching up to something he had said.
He winked again.
‘She’s called Empress of Stanclere,’ he told her. ‘So that makes one empress and one queen right here, doesn’t it?’
Brianna Jade flinched, and he made a swift, reassuring gesture, a wave of his hand that said she had nothing to be concerned about.
‘Don’t worry, miss. It’s our secret.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again, and paused. ‘You’re Abel, aren’t you? Edmund told me a while back.’
He nodded. ‘Abel Wellbeloved, at your service.’
He reached up and tugged at the front of his hair, like pulling a forelock, a gesture that Brianna didn’t understand.
‘And I’m Brianna Jade,’ she said. ‘I mean, you probably know that. Call me that, please, not “miss”. It’s been so nice hanging out with you just now. I’d like someone here to call me by my name.’
‘I could give it a try,’ he said doubtfully.
She flashed him a gorgeous pageant smile that rocked him right back on his heels.
‘Thanks, Abel!’ she called over her shoulder.
It was only as she was rounding the lake that it occurred to her that of course she had someone at Stanclere Hall who already called her by her name: her fiancé.
But that’s the thing – Edmund’s my fiancé, and Abel’s like – well, almost like a friend. A fellow pig-loving friend. Who I can see most days when I visit the pigs. And talk to about pigs, and Tater Tot casseroles, and life back home in Kewanee . . .
Brianna Jade felt a huge, happy smile spread across her face as she jogged back to the Hall. Despite the fact that Abel was one of her fiancé’s employees, and a lowly one at that, she’d felt more relaxed, more normal in that conversation than she had with anyone since she’d come to live at Stanclere Hall.
Even with Edmund, a little voice said to her disloyally. You don’t chatter away as easily with Edmund as you just did with that pig farmer.
Well, that makes sense! she told herself firmly. There’s no pressure on you and Abel to fall in love, is there? He’s probably married already with tons of kids. Country people get hitched young. I’d be married with kids too if I’d stayed back home in Kewanee.
And to her horror, a wave of nostalgia hit her hard, harder than she could possibly have expected. Memories of running round barefoot, the soles of her feet like leather, chasing the landlords’ chickens and piglets: the Lutzes had always been nice about keeping an eye on Brianna Jade while Tamra worked all the hours God sent at the feed store and then put in a shift at the local bar at Hogs and Cobs.
Tamra had been so proud of the house she’d rented for her and BJ, a rickety old two-bed one-storey behind the Lutzes’ place which Dieter Lutz had jerry-rigged with a totally illegal electric cable running perilously from theirs. But it had a proper porch, with a rusty old swing on it to boot, even if they were too scared to both sit on the swing together in case it broke. Plus, the main thing, it wasn’t a trailer. No one would ever say that she had raised her daughter in a trailer park, Tamra had always said, her jaw set, her beautiful lips pressed tightly together: she’d work three jobs before she ever let herself and Brianna Jade end up there. To be honest, living in a trailer wasn’t the stigma people familiar with the cliché might think: there were some pretty nice trailer courts in the area, not cheap by any means. They were a lot cleaner and neater than the tumbledown shack the Lutzes charged Tamra peanuts to rent. But it was a house, and to Tamra that meant the world.
And it had been a wonderful childhood for Brianna Jade. Kids didn’t care about rickety floorboards, pipes you had to bang with a hammer to get the water to flow, the crawl space below the house being a squirrel colony: what Brianna Jade remembered was the long summer days spent entirely outdoors, playing with the Lutzes’ cats, learning where each hen liked to lay her eggs, helping feed the turkey being fattened up for Thanksgiving and the pigs for Christmas. She and Dorothy Lutz had cried and hugged each other and been very sad to say goodbye when, after Brianna Jade won Pork Queen, Tamra packed up her and her daughter’s scanty possessions and took them on the pageant circuit.
Jeez, BJ, you’re remembering Kewanee like it was paradise, and that’s crazy! she told herself firmly as she crested the rise and the glorious spectacle of Stanclere Hall, bathed in soft September sunshine, came into view, breathtaking as always. Look where you ended up! You’re not missing the freezing winters when it was colder in the house than outside, or those Converse sneakers Mom bought for you at Goodwill which were so torn up it was easier to go barefoot and pretend you preferred it. You’re not missing that part at all. You just loved the farm life, the livestock, how simple it all was.
Even jogging along, she heaved a sigh. I do miss not worrying about what I wear, or how much make-up I have on, or how much I weigh. But actually, I still have to worry about all that, and I suppose I always will as the Countess of Respers.
She had to stop this line of thought. It wasn’t remotely helpful. Brianna Jade was going to be Countess of Respers, which was her mom’s dream, but after her marriage she’d take things in a different direction than her mom might anticipate. Tamra was hoping that Brianna Jade would be a high-society Countess, moving in the best circles, throwing fabulous house parties, skiing in the winter, summering in Antibes in luxury villas. Brianna Jade, however, was envisaging a much more rural existence. Breeding dogs, learning to ride well enough to join the local hunt, visiting the pigs and the Empress of Stanclere on a daily basis; she was figuring out ways to fit into Edmund’s farming life, and thought that her plans were going to work out pretty well.
’Cause after I get married, Mom’s going to realize that I’m not going to want to do as many photo shoots for glossy magazines as she’d like. Of course, I’ll go along with some to keep her happy, but I refuse to spend the rest of my life dolling myself up and watching my weight. I’ve been doing that since I was fifteen, and I’m really looking forward to being able to hang up my curling irons, spend whole days without a lick of make-up, and eat as much cream sauce with Mrs Hurley’s pork medallions as I want.
The last image, in particular, cheered Brianna Jade up so much that as she slowed to a walk for her post-run cooldown, she was smiling again. Ready for a long drink of water, and for lunch in a couple of hours, if her rumbling stomach could wait that long; but she had sugar-free gum in her room, that old pageant trick to make you feel like you were eating when you weren’t, and hopefully it’d keep her going until the cold roast beef and salad Mrs Hurley was making her for lunch.
‘Miss Brianna! There she is. Miss Brianna, there’s a phone message for you.’
It was Mrs Hurley herself, craning out of the kitchen door to catch Brianna Jade on her way back into the Hall.
‘Really?’
Brianna Jade turned towards Mrs Hurley, her perfectly shaped eyebrows rising a little in surprise. She had her own mobile, which no one else would have dreamt of answering; it was unprecedented for anyone to ring her on the main Stanclere Hall phone line, which was used mainly by Mrs Hurley for placing orders and communicating with tradespeople.
‘Yes, miss! I made a note of the name, but she said she’d ring back in half an hour, and it must be around that by now. You’ve been at your running longer than usual, haven’t you? Let me see . . .’
Mrs Hurley rummaged in the pocket of her apron and fished out a piece of paper.
‘Very odd name it was. I had to get her to spell it out to me. Here you go—’
Brianna Jade took the paper from Mrs Hurley’s hand, and caught her breath at the sight of the name.
‘Norkus? Did I get that right? She said you’d know it, but I must say, it seemed funny to me . . .’ Mrs Hurley was saying, but just then the sound of the house phone could be heard ringing, and Brianna Jade, muttering a ‘Thank you,’ dashed back to the side door and down the hall to Edmund’s office, which was the closest extension where she could take the call in privacy; the phone in the main hall was nearer, but there everyone wandering by – builders, newly hired maids and kitchen staff – would be able to overhear the conversation she was about to have.
God, I wish Mom were here! she thought, sprinting into the office, shutting the heavy door and lunging across the desk to grab the receiver. Why on earth is Barb getting in touch after all these years? No way is she making a pricy international call just to congratulate me on being engaged. Jeez, no way can she come to the wedding, if that’s what she’s after! Mom’d bust a gut at the mere idea!
‘Hello?’ she said cautiously into the receiver, settling herself into the huge, ancient leather wing chair that had probably been in the Respers family for generations, and which Edmund really should replace with a posturally supportive desk chair. ‘This is Brianna Jade Maloney speaking.’
‘Well, get you with your fancy accent!’ snapped the unmistakable tones of Barb Norkus, who had been runner-up to Brianna Jade in the Kewanee Pork Queen pageant and had never forgiven her rival; in fact, Barb had surreptitiously tried to push Brianna Jade off the tractor trailer as it carried her and the two runners-up on their triumphal procession down Main Street. ‘I bet you think you’re way better than all of us now, Brianna Jade Krantz! Marrying an Earl, like something out of a movie!’
Brianna Jade was actually relieved, sort of, that Barb was being all snarky and mean from the get-go. Barb on the attack was something Brianna Jade recognized and was used to: Barb pretending to be nice and friendly, sucking up to her ex-rival, would have made Brianna Jade even more nervous.
‘Not exactly better,’ she answered warily. ‘But, uh, different, I suppose.’
‘You sound all British and stuck up!’ Barb said angrily, her Kewanee accent so strong and familiar to Brianna Jade that the nostalgia washed over her again, even in these very unpleasant circumstances.
‘Well I was doing pageants for years, Barb,’ Brianna Jade said carefully. ‘I had to smooth out my accent for those too.’
‘I’m sitting here looking at you on the CelebrityPics site!’ Barb broke in, her voice as nasal as ever.
Brianna Jade had forgotten how some American girls’ voices sounded, as if they had had clothes pegs clipped onto the bridges of their noses at birth to train them to speak in the highest register possible; there was a babylike inflection that went along with the squeaky voice, as if they were trying to sound like nine-year-olds. She had realized, almost as soon as she and Tamra moved to London, that she was going to have to work on her vocal range, lower it considerably, and she’d been surprised how easy it had been. Just because she’d got used to speaking in a certain way that people in the States liked to hear women talk, it didn’t mean that it was her natural voice; she’d been taken aback to find out that she’d been, as it were, faking it for all those years.
‘You’re posing in this stone thing with pillars in a pink frilly dress by Versayce,’ Barb said even more angrily, as if Brianna Jade had set up the photo shoot as a deliberate insult aimed directly at Barb. ‘With your fiancé next to you, all lovey-dovey, and your hand on his shoulder showing off your gigantic ring to make the rest of us feel like shit.’
Brianna Jade couldn’t really argue with that. Naturally, she hadn’t posed with Edmund to make Barb specifically, or anyone in general, feel awful, but she did know what Barb meant; when you weren’t feeling great about your own life, those perfect, airbrushed, Photoshopped images of people with more money and beauty and fame than you would ever possess could make you want to go shove your head in a septi
c tank.
‘I’m sorry it made you feel bad, Barb,’ she said empathetically. ‘That sucks.’
‘Fuck you!’ Barb screeched: clearly, empathy had not been the best tack to take. ‘Fuck you, Blow Job! That’s how you got that Earl, I bet! Down on your knees sucking cock! As well as the money your mom got on her knees sucking nasty old-man cock!’
Brianna Jade promptly hung up. She didn’t have to sit there and listen to Barb insult her and, much more importantly, her mother; Brianna Jade could have cared less what Barb said about her, but Tamra was totally out of bounds. Plus, Barb had dragged in Ken Maloney, who was also out of bounds; he’d been nothing but lovely to his young wife and her daughter. And, frankly, Brianna Jade had spent a great deal of time during Tamra’s marriage trying very hard not to think about what Tamra was doing with Ken in return for his money and social position. It had utterly and completely grossed her out, and even now she was feeling a bit like throwing up in her mouth at Barb’s unpleasantly vivid image . . .
The phone rang again. Brianna Jade snatched up the handset, and without thinking that it might be a tradesperson, said furiously: ‘Barb Norkus, I’m telling you right now that if you say one word about my mom I’m hanging up on you and blocking this number and reporting you to the British police, and since I’m engaged to be married to an Earl, I just bet that they’ll take it seriously and tell the Kewanee cops that you’re making harassing phone calls to me!’
‘Ah, don’t get your panties in a twist,’ Barb said with an unpleasant sneer that Brianna Jade could visualize perfectly; she knew that look of Barb’s all too well, having seen it very many times behind the backs of teachers or random adults when Barb, having finished kissing their asses, relieved her feelings by reverting to her true expression.
Bad Brides Page 20
