The Road Trip Page 7

  ‘That’s us,’ Leanne said. ‘Are you Alistair, the butler?’

  ‘No, I’m Horace the husband. For my sins,’ he added. ‘Not too fond of these parties, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, this one will be short and sweet,’ Leanne said. ‘Then on to dinner in some other mansion, I heard.’

  ‘Good show. And I won’t be going on to dinner.’ He pointed at his head. ‘Frightful headache, you see.’ He winked. ‘But nobody will miss me. Not really the fashionable type.’

  Maddy laughed. ‘I see what you mean.’ She lifted one of the platters. ‘Does this look okay?’

  Horace glanced at the food. ‘Jolly good. Do a few more, and then take them up to the conservatory. That’s where her ladyship is receiving guests. It’s through the drawing room. Glass dome full of the most horrid plants. You can’t miss it.’ He looked around the kitchen. ‘I hope the mutt’s been locked up? Have you seen her? Small black bundle of trouble.’

  ‘You mean the cute little poodle?’ Leanne asked. ‘Gidget?’

  ‘Cute, my eye,’ Horace said, his voice laced with venom. ‘A nasty little horror. Can’t stand the beast, but Edwina’s promised to keep it for the summer.’

  ‘She’s been locked into the boot room, I think,’ Maddy said.

  ‘Jolly good.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Right-o. Into the fray, then. I’m supposed to greet people at the door. But I’m just going to leave it open and let them all drift in as they arrive. I saw a spiffing red sports car outside. Someone must have just arrived.’

  ‘No, that’s ours,’ Leanne said.

  Horace looked surprised. ‘Really? Catering must be very lucrative these days.’

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Leanne said. ‘Very lucrative.’

  ‘Splendid,’ Horace said. ‘Must go. See you later.’ He clicked his heels, saluted and left.

  Leanne giggled. ‘Jesus, these people are like something from Downton Abbey. Did ya hear the accent? Nice old fella, though.’

  ‘A real dote,’ Maddy agreed. She put on one of the big white aprons she had found in the butler’s pantry and handed the other one to Leanne. ‘Put this on, and when you’re ready, let’s hit the conservatory.’

  Leanne tied her apron. ‘Let’s go. But remember, the first celebrity is mine.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ Maddy muttered, rolling her eyes. Celebrities, how are you. This old fogey party was more likely to be full of other old fogies. But as she entered the conservatory, she stopped and gasped. The cavernous conservatory, its domed ceiling soaring above her, was like a tropical forest full of exotic birds. And bursting with famous people.

  Chapter Ten

  Leanne gasped behind Maddy and would have nearly dropped her tray had a tall man not gripped it and steadied her. ‘Easy,’ he boomed. ‘Don’t let the dogs get all that scrummy food.’

  Maddy knew that deep voice. Could it be…? She turned around and gazed up into the twinkling eyes of… ‘Jeremy Clarkson,’ she whispered. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I haven’t been promoted to God just yet.’

  Maddy felt her face go red. ‘That’s not what I meant.’ She shoved her platter at him. ‘Here, have a bite.’

  He winked and laughed. ‘So very tempting, darling. But I’ll just have a sandwich or two instead.’ He picked up five sandwiches in his big hands and put them in his mouth.

  Leanne shoved her own tray at him. ‘Have one of mine, they’re even better.’

  Jeremy’s laugh boomed louder. ‘How lovely! Two pretty Irish girls offering me delicious food.’

  ‘Hold my tray for a moment, willya,’ Leanne ordered Maddy.

  ‘What?’ Maddy took Leanne’s tray, balancing both awkwardly.

  ‘Let me help you,’ Jeremy said, taking one of the trays.

  ‘Thank you,’ Leanne simpered and hauled her phone out of her back pocket. ‘We just want to take a selfie with you, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said and chortled. ‘But we could make it more interesting if we can get Hugh to pose with us. That should make all your Instagram friends green, won’t it?’

  ‘Hugh – Grant?’ Leanne croaked.

  ‘Is there any other?’ Jeremy waved at a man half-hidden behind a rubber plant. ‘Hey, Hugh,’ he called. ‘Come here and make two Irish cuties happy.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ Hugh Grant said and walked towards them. ‘I love Ireland, just as much as you do, Jeremy, old fruit.’

  ‘Don’t we all? They want a photo for their friends,’ Jeremy replied. ‘But instead of a selfie, maybe we could get someone else to take it? More like a group hug?’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Leanne squeaked.

  Jeremy put the tray on a rusty wrought-iron table. ‘There. You can pick it up later.’

  ‘Here, let’s get rid of this one,’ Hugh Grant said and put Maddy’s tray beside Leanne’s. Then he waved at someone in the crowd. ‘Joanna! We need a hand here.’

  An attractive older woman with short blonde hair approached. ‘Anything for you, Hugh. Within reason, of course.’

  ‘We just want our picture taken with Jeremy and Hugh,’ Leanne said and handed the woman her phone. ‘A couple of them please.’

  Joanna took the phone. ‘Okay. Put your arms around each other and say cheese.’

  ‘No, say sex,’ Jeremy corrected. ‘That gives you a better smile and a light in your eyes. I always say sex in my head when I have my photo taken.’

  Maddy laughed. ‘Never thought of that.’

  ‘But now you’ll never forget it, I bet.’ Hugh put his arm around her and they all lined up in front of Joanna.

  ‘Okay, everyone say sex,’ Joanna called, and clicked the phone three times. She handed the phone back to Leanne. ‘There. Hope it came out okay.’

  Leanne checked her phone. ‘Perfect. Thank you so much.’

  ‘No problem.’ Joanna waved her hand in the air and disappeared into a thicket of bamboo.

  ‘Where did she go?’ Hugh asked. ‘I want to have a chat with her about a part in that Aga saga that’s being made into a movie. Just what I need right now.’

  ‘No idea where she went,’ Jeremy said. ‘Just dive in through the jungle, old boy. I must toddle off, too,’ he added after Hugh had left. ‘Got to have a chat with my producer. Nice to meet you, girls.’ He kissed them both on the cheek and disappeared into the throng around a slowly trickling fountain surrounded by banana plants.

  ‘Aga saga?’ Maddy said when they had retrieved their trays. ‘Was that Joanna Trollope? I thought she looked familiar.’

  Leanne frowned. ‘Shit, we missed her. She should have been in the picture, too.’

  ‘Don’t be greedy.’ Maddy lifted her tray. ‘Come on, let’s get to work. Edwina will have our guts for garters if we don’t do as we’re told. That butler seems a little grim, too,’ she said, looking at a portly man in black and white taking charge of the champagne trays as if he was directing traffic.

  Leanne nodded. ‘Yes,’ she hissed in Maddy’s ear. ‘He said he wanted to speak to us afterwards. Something about a mix-up at the catering firm.’

  ‘Maybe he’s on to us?’ Maddy mumbled. ‘Let’s just get this done and get out of here before he has a chance to ask questions.’

  They pushed through the array of tropical plants and proceeded to offer the delectable canapés around the chatting, laughing, drinking crowd. Edwina seemed to be in her element, knocking back the champagne, not even glancing at either Maddy or Leanne. They went back to the kitchen three times to reload the trays, and when the guests started to take their leave, there was hardly anything left except a few crumbs and some of the decorations.

  When they had rinsed the trays and stacked the boxes in the recycling bin, Leanne threw her apron on the table. ‘Get your bag, and we’ll get out of here before the butler or anyone else gets here.’

  ‘Too late,’ Maddy said, as the door was pushed open. ‘Here he is now.’

  But it wasn’t the butler. It was Horace, his cheeks flus
hed and his bow tie crooked. ‘So you’re off then?’

  ‘Yes… we…’ Maddy started.

  He laughed and winked. ‘Did this for a lark, did you?’

  Leanne smiled. ‘Yeah. Just for the craic, as we say in Ireland.’

  His eyes widened and he looked suddenly nervous. ‘Oh.’

  ‘No, no,’ Leanne exclaimed. ‘We’re not into illegal substances. I meant craic. C-R-A-I-C. Irish for fun.’

  ‘Doing something for the hell of it,’ Maddy filled in.

  Horace exhaled. ‘Thank goodness for that. For a moment, I thought – well, I know that sort of thing goes on here, there and everywhere, especially here. But we don’t mention it.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Leanne said reassuringly. ‘Just like you won’t tell Edwina, I mean Lady Whatsit about—’

  He put his finger to his lips. ‘Won’t tell, promise. You did ever such a good job, in any case. Nobody would have guessed you weren’t professionals.’

  ‘But how did you know?’ Maddy asked.

  ‘The catering firm called just after you arrived to say they had a staff problem. Double booked or something, so they couldn’t provide the serving staff we’d ordered. They were frightfully sorry and it won’t happen again. Damn right it won’t. We won’t use them again.’

  Maddy put her apron on the table. ‘Does Edwina – I mean Lady, eh…’

  ‘Huntington-Smith,’ Horace filled in. ‘No. She doesn’t know. I took the call.’

  Maddy nodded. ‘Oh good. Thank you for not telling on us. It was all a mistake, really. We got lost in the rain and called in to ask for the way to Tudor Manor Hotel, where we booked a room. And then—’

  ‘Then Edwina mistook you for serving staff and didn’t give you a chance to explain,’ Horace filled in. ‘But you didn’t mind because it all seemed a bit of fun, and you could get those dreadful selfies to show your Internet friends.’ He grinned. ‘Am I right?’

  ‘Spot on,’ Leanne laughed. She took her phone from the pocket of her jeans. ‘Why don’t we do a selfie with you?’

  Horace laughed. ‘Well, why not? I’ve never been in one. Are you going to post it on the Internet?’

  ‘Only with your permission,’ Maddy said.

  Horace beamed, showing all his crooked teeth. ‘You have it. I could do with fifteen minutes of fame. It’s always all about bloody Edwina and her good works and her hostess-with-the-mostest rubbish.’ He positioned himself between Maddy and Leanne, putting his arms around them both. ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘I take the picture.’ Leanne stretched out her hand with the phone. ‘Everyone, say sex.’

  ‘Sex!’ they all shouted.

  Horace’s laugh boomed around the kitchen. He laughed even louder when Leanne showed him the photo. ‘Excellent. That should make Edwina rather ill, I should think, if she sees it on Facebook.’

  ‘I hope it won’t cause you any trouble,’ Maddy said.

  Horace shrugged. ‘I don’t care. This was such fun, dear girls.’

  Leanne stuffed her phone into her bag. ‘We’ll be off now. Could you just give us directions to Tudor Manor?’

  Horace nodded. ‘Of course. It’s not far. At the other end of the village, a little lane around the corner from The Highwayman pub. Can’t miss it.’ He sighed. ‘Well, good luck, dear girls. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do call in if ever you’re in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘We will.’ Maddy grabbed her bag and her jacket. ‘Bye, Horace, so nice to meet you.’

  ‘And you.’ Horace groped in his breast pocket, pulled out a crumpled card and handed it to Leanne. ‘Here’s the number to the house.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Leanne put the card in her bag.

  Horace slapped his forehead. ‘Nearly forgot. What about your fee? For the work you did tonight, I mean.’

  Leanne shrugged. ‘No need for that. Give it to charity.’ She blew him a kiss. ‘See you around, Horace, baby.’

  ‘I’ll see you out.’

  ‘No need,’ Maddy called over her shoulder as they left. ‘We know the way.’

  As the big entrance door slammed shut behind them, Maddy and Leanne ran through the still teeming rain to the car and drove down the avenue on the tail of the last departing guests.

  ‘Look at all those SUVs. I wonder where they’re going on to,’ Leanne mused.

  Maddy sighed. ‘Who cares? All I want is a long hot bath and dinner.’

  ‘Me too. I’m glad that particular adventure is over.’

  ‘I hope none of those celebs will be annoyed at appearing on the blog,’ Maddy muttered as she drove up the village street on the lookout for The Highwayman pub.

  ‘Sure, they’ll love it,’ Leanne said. ‘Just think of what it’ll do for the blog. And those celebrities adore any kind of exposure. There is no such thing as bad publicity, ya know.’

  ‘Or good,’ Maddy said darkly, still unsure about the whole blog idea. What had she let herself into?

  Chapter Eleven

  The weather improved the following day, and after a full English breakfast at the Tudor Manor Hotel they paid the inflated bill and drove into the Cotswold hills in the morning sunshine.

  ‘Wonderful day,’ Maddy said as green pastures and lovely stone-faced cottages flashed past.

  Leanne fished her sunglasses from her head and put them on her nose. ‘Yeah. A change from yesterday, thank God. Must say that breakfast was pretty filling. Not like a full Irish, though.’

  Maddy sighed and undid the button on her trousers. ‘No, you’re right. There was no black pudding or fried potatoes and only one egg. But it was pretty good all the same. Don’t think I’ll want to eat for at least a week.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll change your mind around dinnertime.’

  Maddy checked her watch. ‘It’s only ten o’clock. We’ll have time to visit Oxford.’

  Leanne’s shoulders sank. ‘Oookayyy. Let’s do that, then, since you’re so hooked on culture and learning.’

  ‘Thanks. Sounds like you’re making some kind of sacrifice. Must say I’m confused. I mean you have a science degree from Trinity. Must have taken a little learning.’

  ‘Learning, yes. But science needs a different kind of mind. It’s technical and very specific. Far from the arty-farty realm of literature and art.’

  Maddy considered this for a moment. ‘Oh. Yes. I suppose you’re right. Never thought of it like that.’

  ‘I love science, especially chemistry. But literature and art leave me cold. Give me mountains to climb, oceans to swim in, snow to ski on and things to smell and feel, and I’m happy.’

  ‘I had no idea we were so different,’ Maddy exclaimed.

  ‘You live in your mind, I live in my senses. But we’re still on the same wavelength about everything else, I feel. Don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I do,’ Maddy agreed with a surge of warmth towards Leanne. She had never had a friend with this depth of understanding. Maybe this was how it felt to have a sister?

  They travelled in silence for a while, the only sound the soft purring of the engine and the distant swish of the traffic outside until Leanne let out a laugh. ‘So, what about your man, then? Sir Horace? Isn’t he a dote?’

  ‘Oh yes. I loved him. I could adopt him as my uncle and take him home.’

  ‘Me too.’ Leanne looked thoughtful as she drove. ‘I kind of recognise that name. Huntington-Smith. It reminds me of something… Edwina Huntington-Smith, especially. It has a Hello magazine ring to it somehow.’

  ‘Not to me,’ Maddy argued. ‘I never read those magazines.’

  ‘Not even at the hairdresser’s?’

  ‘No. I usually do my emails on my phone and glance through Vogue.’

  Leanne sighed. ‘You’re so not clued in. Are you even on Facebook?’

  ‘Of course. Isn’t everybody? But okay, I only have fifteen friends,’ Maddy admitted, feeling stupid. ‘And I hardly log in at all.’

  ‘But don’t you think it’s a great way to keep in touch w
ith friends?’

  ‘Not really. In any case, I don’t have many,’ Maddy confessed. ‘I went to a boarding school in Kilkenny. Most of the girls were from all over the country, some of them lived abroad. We all seemed to scatter after graduation, and then I went to France, came back and got married. I didn’t really have much time to hang out with friends. And when my mother died, I found that I couldn’t connect with people my own age. I became a bit of a hermit in a way.’

  ‘Oh. I had no idea. Must have been lonely sometimes.’

  Maddy shrugged. ‘I’m an only child, so I wasn’t used to a lot of people my age around me. My mum was my best friend, in a way. She was my rock, you know?’

  ‘Really?’ Leanne glanced at Maddy. ‘I’m so sorry. I never had that kind of thing with my mam. You must miss her a lot.’

  Maddy sighed. ‘I never stop missing her. It’s not that I don’t have friends these days, but those I have prefer to meet up for coffee, not chat on Facebook.’

  ‘I see. Good for you. But what about Twitter?’

  ‘God forbid.’

  ‘How about Instagram?’

  Maddy laughed. ‘Yes, a bit. I put up holiday snaps and such things just so the kids can see what we’re up to. And I can keep an eye on them too. But not that often.’

  ‘Typical. You need to catch up, my friend. This will be a learning curve for you. A chance to join the twenty-first century.’

  Maddy laughed. ‘Yeah, that’s a thought.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Leanne continued, ‘do us a favour, willya? Google your woman. I want to find out who she is.’

  Maddy picked up her phone. ‘Okay. Try to slow down a bit.’ Maddy quickly typed Edwina’s name into the search box on Google.

  ‘What’s coming up?’ Leanne asked, her eyes on the road. ‘Tell me quickly, before we get to the motorway.’

  ‘Lots of things. Photos in Hello, Tatler and the Sunday Times, where there’s an article about their house. Did you know it’s called Toadhead Manor? It’s an old name. The original house was built in Tudor times by Sir Horace’s ancestors but was burnt down at the end of the eighteenth century. The present house was built on the foundations of the old house by John Nash in the early nineteenth century. That’s interesting. Edwin Nash, who was a distant relation, built a lot of the protestant churches in Ireland. Did you know that?’