‘And?’
‘Well, he dashed straight off, right? So surely he’d have been with her that evening. And if he was, how come he didn’t stop her taking it? Doesn’t make sense.’
‘Perhaps they had a row,’ said Lucy. ‘Perhaps he was working. And why are you so bothered?’
‘I’m not,’ Emma protested. ‘And listen, he doesn’t want anyone to know. Adam’s to think it was work.’
‘I don’t keep any secrets from Adam,’ Lucy said at once. ‘But I’ll tell him to keep quiet about it.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I hope this Judy doesn’t make a habit of taking drugs. If she does, he needs to get out of there quick,’ she muttered.
‘Well,’ Emma said, winking at her. ‘We’ll just have to make sure that he finds someone with far more savvy to hang out with, won’t we?’
‘Emma? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’
‘Me? I’m not saying anything. But watch this space!’
Max Knightley had been discharged from hospital, and he and Sara would be home in a couple of days. George’s father was still in some pain, but the doctors felt that the stress of not knowing what was going on in his beloved home was slowing his recovery.
‘So you see,’ Emma told Luigi, whispering confidentially in order to boost his ego, ‘you can’t leave now. Not after George has sent so many emails to his parents saying how amazing your food is.’
‘He did?’
‘And of course, Mr Knightley is going to need to build up his strength and, to be honest, stodgy food is so not the thing. We really need you, Luigi – he really needs you.’
‘I stay. I make him my special minestrone and perhaps my tagliatelle verde and —’
‘Whatever,’ Emma said hastily. ‘Must dash. Things to do. Ciao, Luigi!
On Monday, the crew from TV Today arrived in Ditchdean, an event that had the whole village in a state of heightened excitement, and Harriet and Lily positively hyperventilating. Emma was pretty fired up too, but in her case it had little to do with the possibility of ten seconds of screen time.
She had been in the conservatory at Donwell measuring up for netting to hold the hundred odd balloons she’d ordered on Freddie’s behalf, when she overheard something that stopped her dead in her tracks.
‘I’ve met this amazing girl.’
Theo was standing outside on the terrace, his phone pressed to his ear.
‘Verity? Oh, forget Verity – she’s history!’ she heard him exclaim.
Emma edged closer thankful for the vast parlour palm in its bronze urn that screened her from view.
‘Anyway, you’ll get to meet her because I’m going to ask her to the Regatta Ball. And I thought we could join your table, yes?’
Emma had to stifle the desire to punch the air in triumph. Another challenge – to get Harriet fit for the social event of the Brighton Marina year. She guessed her friend didn’t know the first thing about sailing, not that ignorance had ever stopped Emma having a great time. All you had to do was drop in a few references to spinnakers and yawing and mainsails, and you were home and dry. But of course, she mused, Harriet doesn’t have my social skills so I’m going to have to get to work fast.
‘OK, see you there then! Great. Bye, Mum!’
Emma did a double take. This was his mother he was talking to! Which, depending how you looked at it, was great news or the worst thing in the world. Great, because if Theo was already at the ‘meet the parents’ stage, things were progressing even better than Emma could have hoped; and worst thing because Theo was hardly likely to snog Harriet senseless in front of his parents, particularly as one was a canon in the Church of England and the other a JP whose frequent letters to the Editor of the Evening Argus were for the most part scathing condemnations of what she called ‘the lack of personal boundaries in society today’.
She slipped quietly out of the conservatory, ran across the hall and out of the door, eager to find Harriet and prime her before Theo got to her.
‘Emma, darling – just the person we need!’ Her father came hurrying across the lawn towards her, clipboard in hand. ‘I’ve got to take Sean – he’s the producer – and the crew round the village so they can sort locations for the opening shots. We’re doing all the pre-recorded stuff this week ready for the live show later, you see.’
‘Fine, but what’s that got to do with me?’
‘I want to get the band into some of the shots,’ he said, dropping his voice as the producer came within earshot. ‘So I thought if you could get them to set up on the lawn, make it look like they’re rehearsing for a gig when we get back, then I can talk about the eco-message behind their music and they’ll see how it fits in with the theme of the show.’
‘You know what, Dad? Sometimes you’re quite on the ball!’ Emma teased. ‘OK I’ll sort it. By the way have you seen Harriet?’
‘She’s over in one of the lodges, getting autographs from the guys.’ Tarquin laughed. ‘She’ll do you good, you know, Emma.’
‘Her do me good? How do you work that one out?’
‘She’s very ecologically minded,’ her father explained. ‘She knew all about sheep’s fleece insulation and photovoltaic panels.’
‘They’ll make good chat-up lines, then, won’t they?’ Emma replied.
‘What? You think Harriet’s keen on one of the guys in the band?’ her father asked.
She’d better not be, thought Emma. Not now that Theo is about to get his act together and declare undying love. But just in case . . .
‘Got to dash, Dad. See you!’
‘So – now do you believe me? I mean, what guy takes a girl to the Regatta Ball if he’s not keen?’
Emma smiled smugly at Harriet who had reverted back to her ‘surprised goldfish’ expression.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Harriet gasped. ‘I mean, are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ Emma said, laughing. ‘I heard it with my own ears. Now, it’s not long till the ball so we need to go shopping for something sexy enough to turn Theo on, but subtle enough to keep the parents happy. Then your hair. I thought —’
‘Hang on,’ Harriet said, smiling. ‘If you’re right, and Theo really does like me – well, he likes me as I am. There’s no need to go overboard.’
‘Harriet,’ Emma replied as calmly as she could. ‘When it comes to guys, you should leave nothing to chance. Trust me, I know.’
It was late on Tuesday morning when Emma, bursting into the office at Donwell, saw the final proof that her scheme had worked.
Harriet was sitting in front of the computer, and Theo was standing at her side, his arm resting lightly on the back of the chair. On the screen was a whole collage of photographs. And Harriet was in every one.
‘That’s stunning,’ Emma exclaimed, as Theo clicked on the mouse and ran through the pages of the website. Each set of photographs were accompanied by music – chamber music, Music for the Royal Fireworks, ‘In an English Country Garden’ – all suited to the individual photos. ‘Those club shots are brilliant! Getting one of George looking relaxed was a triumph!’
‘We’re just choosing which ones of Harriet I should print off and get framed,’ Theo explained.
‘Great idea,’ Emma said, over the moon at such a romantic gesture. ‘Adam’s grandmother has some really great frames down at the gallery. Why don’t you —?’
She was interrupted by an impatient shrilling of the reception desk bell.
‘What now?’ she muttered. Since George was at the airport meeting his parents and Lily was doing something creative in the kitchen for the TV crew’s lunch, Emma reluctantly stuck her head around the office door.
Standing impatiently, tapping his fingers on the desk and looking distinctly harassed, was Freddie Churchill.
‘Oh good, it’s you,’ he said, grinning. ‘I need to talk to you. It’s about the band.’
He paused and stepped back as the office door opened and Theo emerged, followed by a very excited looking Harriet.
‘But I’ll be back in time for the TV people’s suppers, I promise,’ Harriet added.
‘Has he asked you about the ball?’ Emma silently mouthed the words at Harriet, who shook her head. Clearly, she thought, this was going to be the moment. He’d ask her on the way to the gallery. She winked at her friend.
‘Have fun,’ she said. ‘Oh, and by the way, this is Freddie. Freddie, this is Theo Elton, and that’s Harriet.’
Theo glanced at him, said a brief ‘Hi there,’ and turned to Harriet who had turned bright pink.
‘So are you coming or not? I haven’t got all day,’ Theo demanded, cutting into her stammered greeting.
OK, so his delivery could do with a little refining, thought Emma, but he’s clearly just desperate to get her on her own.
‘Sorry,’ Harriet said meekly.
Emma turned to Freddie who was fingering the pile of What’s On in Sussex leaflets on the desk. ‘What was it you wanted? And have you told Adam you’re around?’
Freddie laughed. ‘Sure, I phoned him,’ he said. ‘He was in the middle of five aside football. Not best pleased —’
‘He’d have been even less pleased if you’d done a runner again,’ Emma assured him. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve only got about an hour – we’re doing a photo shoot at Beachy Head later,’ he said. ‘Apparently the windswept look is in!’ He took a deep breath. ‘But I wondered if any of the guys from the band were around? You said they were staying here.’
‘Not here,’ Emma corrected him. ‘Next door at my place. Come on, I’ll take you over. Always assuming they’re not too caught up in their moment of fame and glory.’
‘What?’
Emma explained about Going Green and her father’s determination to get Split Bamboo on screen.
‘And they’re filming now? Shit! That’s all I need. When does the show go out?’
Emma frowned. ‘Not for ages. They’ve got the programme proper to do yet. Anyway, what’s the problem?’
‘What? Oh, no problem. I’m just pushed for time and if they’re busy —’
‘Doesn’t look like it!’ Emma laughed as they reached the top of the Hartfield drive and saw the four guys lying on their backs, bare-chested, sunning themselves on the lawn.
‘Hi guys!’ she called. ‘Number One Fan approaching!’
Ravi and Jake propped themselves up on their elbows and squinted in the bright sunlight.
‘Freddie?’ Jake sprang to his feet. ‘This is great!’ He paused. ‘I mean, it is Freddie Churchill, right?’ he queried, glancing at Emma. ‘Thought I recognised you.’
‘Yes, it’s me,’ Freddie replied. ‘Look, can we go somewhere and sort stuff out?’
‘Sure,’ Jake said. ‘Come over to the lodge.’ He turned to the others. ‘You guys don’t need to come. Just be ready if the TV crew return and give me a shout, yeah?’
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Emma said reluctantly. ‘But we need time, too, Freddie – there’s still loads of things to sort out.’
‘No probs,’ Freddie said, ‘I’ll give you a call. Ciao!’
And with that he and Jake disappeared towards the lodge.
The Knightleys arrived back at Donwell late on Tuesday afternoon. Mrs Knightley, looking stunning as usual in white trousers and a cerise silk kaftan, admitted that they had timed their arrival to coincide with the quiet part of the week, and was a little perturbed to find the TV Today people milling about. Certainly Max’s pale face and slightly laboured breathing suggested that the last thing he needed was to be forced to make cheerful small talk; while George’s mother was desperate to catch up on everything that had been going on since they left, all her husband wanted was to sit in the conservatory with his beloved dogs and a large whisky. It wasn’t until she had made sure that he was comfortable and had quietly removed the bottle of Glenmorangie to a safe hiding place, that she sank down at the kitchen table beside George and gratefully took the mug of tea that Emma had made for her.
‘I just don’t know what we would have done without you two,’ she said, smiling wearily at them. ‘You’re a star, Emma, to rally round.’
‘It wasn’t just me,’ Emma admitted. ‘Harriet, and Lily —’
‘Oh yes, and Theo.’ Sara nodded. ‘Well, I’ve been thinking. I’m afraid we’re going to need all the help we can get for a bit longer. This nasty business has really taken the wind out of Max’s sails.’ For a moment, her eyes filled with tears, and George leaned over and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s this big party that worries me,’ his mother continued. ‘I know it’s just what we need, but all that planning . . .’
‘Don’t you give it a thought,’ Emma told her. ‘It’s all under control. Luigi and Mrs P have actually stopped arguing and decided to share the menu – he’s doing canapés and something very inventive with wild duck and venison, and Mrs P is making a meringue pyramid and every recipe out of her Sussex Puddings Through the Ages book!’
Mrs Knightley looked relieved. ‘And you’ll deal with everything?’
‘Of course,’ Emma assured her. ‘Hey, you know what? I reckon you and Max need a bit of down time on your own, right?’
‘Well, it would be —’
‘So how about tomorrow night, we all clear off and leave you in peace?’
‘Emma,’ George protested. ‘There’s the TV crew to deal with.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ she said. ‘Dad told me just now that they reckon they’ll have all the shots in the bag by tomorrow evening and they’re all eating out at some place the producer likes in Kemp Town. Which means we’re free to . . . which means your mum and dad can have peace and quiet.’
‘That would be lovely,’ George’s mother admitted. ‘Besides, you all deserve to have a bit of fun after your hard work.’
‘Brilliant! I’ll tell Freddie,’ Emma announced.
‘What’s he got to do with it?’ George muttered.
‘He texted me,’ Emma said. ‘He’s got this great idea – Split Bamboo have got a warm-up slot tomorrow night for Shellshocked’s Gig on the Beach, right? So we’re all going there early on.’
‘All?’
‘Adam, Lucy, Theo and Harriet, I guess, me, you . . .’
‘Count me out,’ George said. ‘I’ve heard the band once and they’re not that amazing.’
‘Oh George, don’t be such a party pooper,’ Emma pleaded. ‘Loads of the gang from Deepdale Hall will be there.’
‘And that’s meant to be an incentive?’ George said, joking.
‘After the gig, Freddie wants to do the silly scene – you know, slot machines on the pier, helter-skelter, icecream sundaes,’ Emma enthused. ‘It’ll be a laugh. Go on.’
‘Well, if you insist.’ George grinned.
‘I do,’ Emma retorted with a smile. ‘I’ll even buy you candy floss.’
‘So where’s Theo? Did he ask you?’ Emma pounced on Harriet when she returned to Hartfield later that afternoon.
‘No,’ Harriet said. ‘He came and saw Mum with me for a bit.’
‘You went to see your mother?’ Emma exclaimed. As romantic venues went, she put this on a par with shopping at Tesco.
‘Yes, and then he left – said he had to go shopping – and he picked me up later, and we came home. But he did talk about the ball.’
‘And?’ Emma pressed her eagerly.
‘He said when it was on, and he said he was a hopeless dancer.’
‘That’s true!’
‘And then he said, did I think a girl would mind going to a ball with someone who had two left feet? And I said, of course they wouldn’t mind but then . . .’
‘What?’
‘Then he stopped talking about it.’
‘Oh. You shouldn’t have let him.’
‘I had no choice. He shut up because he got stopped for speeding.’
The whole stretch of beach between Brighton’s Palace Pier and the stark silhoue
tte of the burned-out remnants of the West Pier was heaving with people by the time the gang finally got there. Theo had refused to drive, glaring at his car as though it was to blame for his speeding ticket and no one else wanted to miss out on the cocktails, so they’d piled into a couple of taxis and spent half an hour in a traffic jam.
‘Freddie’s here somewhere,’ Adam said, scanning the crowds. ‘He came early – said he’d save us a space near the band.’
‘Like he’s going to be able to do that,’ muttered George.
‘There he is!’ Lucy cried, pointing to the long stone breakwater stretching into the sea.
Freddie was standing on the breakwater, waving both arms in the air to attract their attention and gesturing wildly that they should join him.
‘If that’s Freddie Churchill,’ said George, ‘then he’s a total idiot.’
His words had no effect on Adam and Lucy as they headed off to the promenade end of the seaweed-strewn breakwater and began scrambling on to the top, closely followed by Harriet and Lily, the latter giggling like a school kid. Emma spotted Serena and Chelsea hovering nearby, gazing up at Freddie.
‘There’s no way they’ll be allowed to stay up there,’ Theo said. ‘They’ll get sent off before the band’s even started.’ He turned to Emma. ‘Why don’t we go over to the Seaview Hotel, go up to the roof garden, buy a drink and watch it all from there?’
Emma shook her head. ‘We’ve got passes to the stage side and, besides, the roof garden will be full of private parties,’ she said, slightly perturbed that he wasn’t rushing after Harriet, who had already lost a sandal on the shingle below and was scrabbling along the breakwater in a most uncoordinated manner. ‘Very exclusive – bit like the Regatta Ball, I guess.’ No harm getting his mind back on track, she thought.
He swung round and looked at her, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. ‘Are you going to that?’ he stammered.
‘No, but it’s meant to be a really good night, and there’s loads on, I mean – casino, silent auction – you don’t have to even be a good dancer and —’
‘AARGH!’
Even above the noise of the gathering crowd, Harriet’s shriek could be clearly heard.
Secret Schemes and Daring Dreams Page 10
