The Road Trip Read online

  ‘In the coffee pot over there.’

  Leanne poured coffee into a cup, added sugar, broke a roll in two and slathered it with butter and honey. She took a big bite, looking thoughtfully at Maddy while she ate. She swallowed, took a swig of coffee and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin by her plate. ‘Right, let’s discuss this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. That was really stupid of me. But here’s the deal…okay, so it was something I agreed to over a few drinks, and I shouldn’t have said yes straight away. But, when I thought it over, I told myself it would be a great way to earn some extra cash as we go along and that maybe we could turn the whole thing into a book or something when all this is over.’

  ‘We don’t need extra cash. We have two hundred thousand each. Should last a little while, even with your shopaholic tendencies.’

  ‘Yeah, but a little extra wouldn’t hurt, would it? If we decided to stay on somewhere? Or maybe even…’ Leanne paused.

  ‘Even what?’

  ‘Well, maybe we’ll decide not to come back at all?’ Leanne looked wistfully at Maddy. ‘You never know.’

  Maddy stared at Leanne. ‘Never come back? What do you mean? That might apply to you, but I have a house and children and a job and – as far as I know – a husband.’

  ‘Your kids have grown up and left home. And you mentioned your husband last.’ Leanne took another swig of coffee, looking at Maddy over the rim of her cup. ‘Maybe, if he sees how much fun you’re having, he might realise golf isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’

  ‘He won’t see it. He doesn’t read Women Now. Or visit websites for women.’

  ‘But others might and tell him. How about his sister? She looked like she’d read stuff like that.’

  ‘Probably. That doesn’t make me want her to see a blow-by-blow account of our comings and goings on the Internet.’

  ‘Well, you can’t stop me doing it, can you? Legally, I mean,’ Leanne added defiantly.

  ‘Suppose not.’ Maddy stared into her teacup. Their lovely escape didn’t seem so lovely any more. ‘How did you explain about the money? You know I don’t want anyone to know about it. Least of all Tom or any of his family.’

  ‘I said I had a bit of luck at the races.’

  ‘Good story. I’m glad you didn’t spill the beans about the lottery. At least that was a good thing. But count me out of any of this. I’d appreciate it if you could get my name out of that hashtag too.’

  ‘Ah, come on, Mads,’ Leanne pleaded. ‘Don’t be such a holy Mary. It’d be fun. A finger to all those boring people out there. A “Hey, look at us, we’re doing it and you’re not”. They’ – Leanne swept her teaspoon at the window – ‘have to go to boring jobs and look at boring people across their desks. They can’t drive through Paris in a sports car. But we can.’

  ‘Like in the song? “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan”?’

  ‘Yes. I heard Marianne Faithfull sing it just before we won that money. It made me cry. It made me realise that life was passing me by. That I was stuck with my mother in a crappy house in a crappy suburb and that if I didn’t get out now I never would. I get what you’re saying about the blog and the exposure, but I think it could cheer a lot of women up. Let them experience the adventure vicariously through us. Could be women who’re sick or poor or desperate. It’d be like reading a great novel, only it doesn’t end. It goes on and on through the summer. We could inspire them. Give them something to look forward to each day.’

  Taken aback by the passion in Leanne’s voice and the glimmer of tears in her eyes, Maddy softened. Then she thought about the women who were like she had been only a few years earlier: stuck at home, struggling with children, day care, a job and a house to run without much fun in between. ‘When you put it like that, it looks a little different. And that was me, minus the kids, just a few days ago. So, okay. God help me, we’ll do it. For them out there. All the sad and lonely and desperate women. All the hard-working mums, the women stuck in boring jobs, those who can’t afford a proper holiday, all the—’

  ‘Jaysus, will you stop.’ Leanne started to laugh. ‘You’ll have me in tears. We’re not solving a humanitarian crisis or anything.’

  ‘Humanitarian.’ Maddy sat up. ‘Oh my God! That’s it! Brilliant!’

  Leanne looked confused. ‘What is?’

  ‘The idea I just had.’ Maddy beamed. ‘We’ll give the money we earn from the blog to charity. We’ll pick something like Doctors Without Borders, or Oxfam or any of those organisations and maybe do a different one every so often. Plus, we’ll mention it on the blog to get others to donate something, too.’

  Leanne looked dazzled. ‘Oh my God, yes! That’s fabulous!’ She jumped up and hugged Maddy. ‘Now we can have fun without the guilt. You’re a fecking genius, my friend.’

  ‘I know,’ Maddy said with fake modesty. ‘But there’s one thing we absolutely must do before we start, and that is, secure our rights. Copyright, I mean,’ she explained when Leanne looked confused. ‘I gather you haven’t signed a contract with them, so right now they could grab the copyright to anything we write on their blog. They could nick and use it, and anyone could write a book based on what we post. We need a solicitor to draw up some kind of agreement before we get started.’

  ‘Shit, that’ll cost a lot of money,’ Leanne grumbled.

  ‘Nah, it won’t. My dad’s a solicitor. He’s retired now, but he used to do litigations and stuff like that. He’ll draw up a brief agreement and email it to me.’

  Leanne nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll call Brenda and explain what’s going on.’

  ‘Tell her we won’t write a word on that blog until we have the signed contract. Please explain why I hung up on her, too. I was in a state of shock.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Leanne mumbled through her second bread roll. ‘My fault.’

  Maddy fixed her with a stern look. ‘No more surprises, please. And you’ll keep your mouth shut about anything private, okay?’

  ‘I will, yeah.’

  Which, Maddy realised with a sinking feeling, was Dublin-speak for the exact opposite.

  Chapter Eight

  When the car had been delivered by a dripping-wet valet, generously tipped by Maddy despite Leanne’s dirty looks, they drove off into the sheeting rain, Maddy at the wheel.

  Leanne picked up her phone. ‘No need to give him that much,’ she muttered, scrolling through her newsfeed on Facebook.

  ‘He was sopping wet and still delivered the car. I think he deserved that fiver and more.’

  ‘Yeah, but those were pounds not euros, remember.’

  ‘The pound has gone down since the Brexit vote,’ Maddy remarked, slowing down at the exit. ‘And we must be generous to those a lot less fortunate than us. Especially young guys with jobs like that. Now, pay attention and tell me how to get to the M4.’

  ‘Turn on the GPS,’ Leanne muttered, her eyes on the screen of her phone.

  ‘Okay.’ Maddy found the switch and turned on the GPS. A tinny voice told her to turn right and keep going. ‘What did the woman say? Brenda whatshername?’

  ‘McIntosh. She was a little pissed off but had to agree when I said the deal was off if there was no contract. She cheered up when she heard that the contract would be with her by courier this afternoon and that we’d have ours signed by the time we left the UK. If we find a place with a printer, that is.’

  ‘We’ll be stopping for lunch at Windsor, rain or no rain. I’m sure we can find a hotel or a post office with a printer there.’

  ‘Windsor?’ Leanne squealed. ‘Can we go and see the castle?’

  ‘We might manage a quick look,’ Maddy grunted as she turned into a narrow street. ‘Why does that thing tell me to go here? I’m sure it isn’t the right way to the main road.’

  ‘They get it wrong sometimes.’

  Maddy turned off the GPS and pulled up. She turned to Leanne. ‘Get the map out. We don’t have the time to get lost. You’ll have to navigate.’

  Leanne kept her eyes on the scr
een of her phone. ‘Yeah, but I was just about to get the score to this thing. Ninety-seven percent of people don’t know half the answers to this test, but I think I just cracked it.’

  Maddy rolled her eyes. ‘Those stupid tests are just a ploy to get into your Facebook profile data. They’ll get to your friends list, your contact details, your address and your bra size, and then they’ll use it to manipulate you with ads and worse.’

  ‘You made that up. About the bra size.’ Leanne sighed, put the phone in her bag and got the map out from the glove compartment. ‘Okay, I’m on the job. Where are we?’

  ‘That’s what you should be telling me. We’re still in Pembroke in a one-way street. We need to get to the main road that will take us to the M4.’

  The rain drummed on the roof of the car while Leanne scanned the map. ‘Ah, okay,’ she said finally. ‘I know where we are. You need to reverse out of here and then go left. The main road is very close. I don’t think the GPS knows anything about one-way traffic.’

  ‘Obviously.’ Maddy started the engine and reversed, doing a U-turn as soon as the street widened. Only minutes later, they were on the main road and Maddy began to enjoy driving the amazing car. Despite the bad weather, its smooth gears and fast acceleration were a true joy. ‘Gosh, this is fabulous,’ she said to Leanne. There was no reply. Leanne had fallen asleep, and the map was slipping off her knees. No matter. They would soon be on the motorway, and then there would be a few hours’ drive to their next fabulous hotel: that Tudor manor in the Cotswolds. Maddy smiled and told herself to loosen up a little. What harm could the blog do? They would be living the dream of so many women and perhaps light up their dreary lives for just a moment each day. An act of charity while having fun. Maddy laughed out loud and revved the engine, overtaking a truck. A champagne lifestyle for charity. What a hoot.

  * * *

  The rain was still teeming down when they reached the small village of Maidenhurst, right in the middle of the Cotswolds.

  ‘Lovely place,’ Maddy said as they drove up the village street lined with old houses in mellow Cotswold stone.

  ‘Very cute.’ Leanne stretched and yawned. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Five o’clock. Just in time for tea. Should have been here earlier, but the rain and the traffic jam at the exit of the motorway held us up.’

  ‘Let’s just find the hotel and settle in. I could do with some scones and tea.’

  ‘The big gates, there at the end of the street, must be the entrance,’ Maddy said.

  ‘There are no hotel signs,’ Leanne remarked.

  ‘Probably very discreet. This is a seriously posh area.’

  They drove through the gates and up an avenue lined with beeches, their branches swaying in the strong wind. Leanne leant forward and peered through the rain. ‘You’d think it was January instead of June. It’s only five and it’s nearly pitch black out there.’

  ‘Spooky.’ Maddy pulled up at the front steps of a big house.

  Leanne looked at the Cotswold-stone façade. ‘This doesn’t look very Tudor to me.’

  ‘That’s because it isn’t. It’s early Victorian. It’s not a hotel at all, either, by the looks of it.’

  ‘But there are lights in some of the windows. Why don’t we go in and ask if they can tell us where the hotel is? Maybe they’ll give us a cup of tea?’

  ‘Okay. I’ll just park the car away from the steps.’ Maddy turned the wheel and drove slowly to the side of the house and parked between a battered Land Rover and a vintage Jaguar. She grabbed her bag and opened her door. ‘Let’s make a run for it.’

  In the teeming rain, they sprinted across the gravel, up the wide steps and came to a stop at a massive oak door under an imposing pillared portico. Leanne grabbed the enormous knocker and hammered the door a few times, the blows echoing inside.

  There was a long pause while they waited, shivering in the chilly wind. Then the door swung open. A tall elderly blonde in a Liberty-print dress and three rows of pearls stared at them.

  ‘You’re late,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come in. Don’t stand there letting in the cold.’

  Chapter Nine

  Speechless, Maddy and Leanne walked into a vast entrance hall with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Huge logs blazed in a big fireplace, beside which two Great Danes snoozed without bothering to open their eyes.

  The blonde woman heaved the door shut with a loud bang. ‘You have to get started straight away. Fortnum’s delivered the canapés an hour ago, and everyone will be here in about twenty minutes. It’s a drinks party, and then we’ll go on to dinner at another house. You can change into your uniforms in the staff room beside the kitchen. It’s this way.’ She clattered across the marble floor on her kitten heels, shooting an impatient look over her shoulder. ‘Come along, gals, there’s no time to lose.’

  ‘Feck, she thinks we’re some kind of catering staff,’ Maddy whispered as they followed the woman. ‘We have to tell her.’

  ‘No,’ Leanne hissed. ‘Let’s pretend we are. She’s throwing some kind of posh party. This’ll be great for the blog.’

  ‘Are you nuts?’ Maddy pushed Leanne aside and touched the woman’s arm. ‘Listen, there must be some kind of mistake. We don’t—’

  ‘What?’ The woman pulled open a door that led to stairs going down into a basement.

  ‘We don’t have uniforms,’ Leanne said, shooting a warning glance at Maddy.

  ‘Oh,’ the blonde said as she picked her way down the stairs. ‘Okay. No problem. I have some big white aprons. You can put those on, and we’ll pretend this is the new look for serving staff. It might catch on in a big way.’

  They entered a big bright kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances and two huge fridges humming discreetly at the far wall. The vast table was covered in an array of large cardboard boxes with the Fortnum & Mason logo and stacks of silver platters and dishes. An open door led to what looked like a butler’s pantry lined with cupboards, with a small table and two easy chairs by an empty fireplace.

  Their hostess was about to say something when the mobile she was carrying trilled. ‘Just a minute,’ she said and answered. ‘Lady Huntington-Smith. Yes, that’s right, it’s me. Edwina. The party is tonight, darling. You can’t come? Why not? I know the weather is filthy, but—’ She listened while the caller chatted at the other end. ‘You’re stuck in London with the Beckhams? That’s such bad luck. For me, I mean,’ she added with a laugh. ‘Right, darling, see you soon. Hugs and kisses.’ She hung up. ‘Kate,’ she said. ‘Can’t come. Bloody rude to call at the last minute, I have to say.’

  ‘Appalling,’ Maddy agreed.

  ‘But we must carry on.’ Edwina made a sweeping gesture at the butler’s pantry. ‘You’ll find the aprons and napkins in the cupboards in there. All you have to do is arrange the canapés on the silver platters and then start serving as soon as Alistair, my butler, gives you the signal. He and his team will serve the champagne. Horace, my husband, will open the door and welcome the guests. Is that all clear?’

  Leanne nodded. ‘Okay. Shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. We’ll manage.’

  Edwina peered at her. ‘Strange accent. Are you Polish?’

  Leanne grinned. ‘No, we’re Irish.’

  ‘Oh.’ Edwina stepped back. ‘We haven’t had Irish staff for simply yahs.’

  ‘Well, we’re coming back,’ Maddy said, enjoying the confusion on the woman’s face. ‘Because of Brexit, you see.’

  ‘Ah. Of course. That’s it. Brexit. Things will be like they were before—’

  ‘—before the war,’ Leanne filled in, her face bland but her eyes dancing.

  ‘Splendid,’ Edwina said, looking a little confused. ‘But, where were we? Oh yes, the champagne, Horace at the door, the food. Champagne. So, all is taken care of.’

  She was interrupted by a whining at the door. It was pushed open, and a small black bundle, which proved on closer inspection to be a miniature poodle, trotted in.

  Maddy was imm
ediately entranced. ‘What a cute little doggie,’ she cooed and crouched down, putting her hand out. ‘Come here, sweetie.’

  The little dog sniffed at Maddy’s hand and wagged its short woolly tail.

  ‘This is Gidget.’ Edwina swept the dog up in her arms. ‘She’s not mine. I’m minding her for a friend for the summer. Sweet, isn’t she?’

  ‘She’s divine.’ Maddy stroked the soft curly fur. Gidget licked her hand. ‘Isn’t she beautiful, Leanne?’

  ‘Adorable,’ Leanne agreed.

  ‘Yes, but naughty,’ Edwina said. ‘Horace is very cross with her. She keeps getting into his study and chews on the rugs there. Must be some kind of smell she likes. I have to keep her out of his way while she’s here. And now, darlings, I have to lock her up so she doesn’t get trampled on by any of the guests. She’s inclined to nip if pushed. See you upstairs in a little while. Toodle-oo.’

  ‘Toodle-oo,’ Leanne mimicked, waggling her fingers as the door closed behind Edwina.

  When they were alone, Maddy faced Leanne across the canapés. ‘I don’t know how you talked me into this mess, but let’s do our best, serve the food and get out of here fast.’

  ‘It’s a deal.’ Leanne proceeded to open the boxes. ‘Wow, this is what I call finger food.’ She stuffed two tiny sandwiches into her mouth. ‘Mm, lobster.’

  ‘Stop eating the party food.’ Maddy delved into another box and started to arrange the tiny open sandwiches on the platters.

  Leanne took a bite of a smoked salmon sandwich. ‘Just one more. I’m starving. And in any case, I doubt if the women guests will eat much of it. Those celebs are always on a diet.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Maddy slipped a cracker topped with foie gras into her mouth and had to agree it was divine. Another with shrimp went the same way, followed by a caviar canapé. She nearly choked as the door opened to admit a tall man with a tuft of white hair on top of an otherwise bald head. His kindly eyes twinkled behind gold-framed glasses.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘You’re the Irish girls Edwina told me about?’