Secret Schemes and Daring Dreams (19 page)

She blew a kiss at Emma and almost kicked her out of the door.

* * *

‘Emma! There's no sign of anyone from the firework suppliers,' Freddie declared the moment Emma set foot inside Donwell. ‘Are you sure you got the message right?'

‘Actually, I lied,' she admitted. ‘We've got a surprise for you, at the party, and the phone call was about that, and I had been sworn to secrecy and so — '

Freddie laughed. ‘Wow! What is it? A strippergram? A Morgan convertible? Outsize chocolate fountain?'

‘Wait and see,' Emma, who was no wiser than he was, replied. ‘Now if you don't mind, I've got to find Lily. I'll report back once I've sussed her out on my love-o-meter!'

‘How do you feel about Ravi?'

Emma didn't see any point wasting time in getting to the point.

Lily paused in between slicing carrots.

‘Ravi?' she repeated, blushing slightly. ‘I don't really know him. I mean, we talked at the club that night. Guess what? His mother's sister used to do my mother's hair before we moved house and his brother's girlfriend is the niece of my home ec tutor.'

‘Lily, I'm not interested in his family tree. I want to know if you fancy him.'

‘Well, kind of.'

‘Can you elaborate on “kind of”?' Emma persisted.

‘I've never had a boyfriend.' Lily sighed. ‘Not a proper one. I've been out with a couple of guys but they never hang around long.'

Clearly guys with taste, thought Emma.

‘So, if Ravi asked you out?'

‘Well, I'd go of course,' Lily said. ‘He's really interesting – he wants to go back to Bangladesh and teach music to kids who can't afford lessons or instruments. If the band's CDs make money, he'll set up a charity. He was explaining about —'

‘If you fancy him, come on to him at the party,' Emma ordered. ‘Do something with your hair, get a sexy outfit, pluck your eyebrows and go for it.'

‘But . . .'

‘Lily, apparently he's dead keen on you. Strange, I know, but true. So go for it. You might not get another chance with him.' Maybe, she thought again for the millionth time, she should take Lily in hand. Then again, she'd never manage to cope with her juvenile ways. There were limits, even for her.

Harriet arrived back at Emma's house on a real high, out of all proportion for someone whose father had apparently rented a grotty flat above a fish and chip shop.

‘He's really turned over a new leaf,' Harriet said. ‘He says he's going to get a proper job and never go inside a betting shop again. And I really think he means it this time.'

‘People don't change their personality types,' Emma told her wisely. ‘It's in my
Psychology for the Real World
book. So don't get your hopes up.'

‘Oh come on, you have to hope, don't you?' Harriet insisted. ‘Anyway, I'm too happy to worry about stuff like that. Guess what happened yesterday?'

‘Wouldn't it be quicker for you simply to tell me?' Emma teased.

‘I bumped into Libby and Rob,' she said triumphantly. ‘It was so cool – we went to Caffé Nero and she treated us all to lattes and muffins.'

‘Lovely,' murmured Emma.

‘And Rob said he misses me,' Harriet went on. ‘He misses me so much that, guess what?'

‘Harriet . . .'

‘Sorry,' she said with a laugh. ‘He's going to ask George for a job here!'

Emma's mouth dropped open. ‘He can't do that,' she cried. ‘He's got a job. Of sorts.'

‘Yes, but that's in the daytime,' Harriet said. ‘He thought he might get work in the bar in the evenings and Sundays. And I said that, with the party and all, we could do with more help.' She paused, watching Emma closely. ‘George did say that those evening wedding receptions next week would be a pain without the right staff. It was all right to say that, wasn't it?' she asked anxiously.

‘Well,' Emma said, shrugging. ‘Let's hope Max and Sara think so. I mean, you've put them in a really awkward position, haven't you?'

‘I have? How come?'

‘If they don't think Rob is suitable – and after all, they have very high standards and I doubt he's clued up about silver service – then he's going to feel let down and inadequate, all because of you. Poor guy, his self-esteem would take a real bashing.'

‘Oh no, I never thought of it like that. I'll ring him – I'll say I got it wrong. I'll say there are no vacancies. That should do it.'

‘I think that's very kind,' Emma replied gently. ‘That's the most loving thing you can do.'

CHAPTER 10

Even George's father had brightened considerably by Friday. The arrival of Freddie's guests the previous evening, the sight of Morgans and Porsches and a particularly stylish silver Mercedes coupe parked in his drive and the thwack of croquet mallets on the south lawn, restored his bonhomie and gave him the feeling that Donwell Abbey was what it had once been: one of the true ancestral piles of Old England.

Mrs Knightley, who was more of a realist and had four times as much work to do, just smiled and removed the Glenmorangie to an even safer hiding place.

To begin with, Emma was in her element. At least three times in the preceding week, Freddie had told her she was a genius and, although she knew it was true, it was good to hear the trace of adoration in his voice as she explained how she'd set up venues for quad biking, horse riding, paragliding and skateboarding as well as the archery, golf, fishing, and clay-pigeon shooting on offer in the grounds. On Thursday evening, everyone had
chosen their activity and there had been a lot of ‘oohs' and ‘aahs' over breakfast on Friday when Emma and Harriet dished out the individual picnic hampers stuffed with smoked salmon and cucumber mousse, cold chicken, strawberries and, most importantly, a quarter bottle of champagne.

After breakfast, Freddie instigated the singing of ‘For She's a Jolly Good Fellow' in praise of Mrs P's kedgeree, which he declared was the best this side of the Indian Ocean and as result Mrs P was now putty in his hands and determined to provide the best afternoon tea that Donwell had ever seen.

It was as everyone was piling into the mini jeeps that George had hired on Freddie's instructions that Emma saw something that threatened to ruin her entire day: Theo Elton was strolling up the drive, hand in hand with Miranda, the reporter from
Cheerio!

‘What the hell is he doing here?' she hissed at George. ‘He's only invited to the party.'

‘Ah,' murmured George.

‘What's “Ah” supposed to mean?' demanded Emma.

‘Theo phoned and asked for Freddie's mobile number . . .'

‘And you gave it to him? How stupid can you get?' Emma exploded. ‘Anyway, that doesn't answer my question.'

‘He was just ringing to ask whether he could bring his new girlfriend.'

‘
Girlfriend?
' Emma spluttered. ‘They only met a few days ago and besides it was me he was in love with!'

‘You didn't want him,' George pointed out.

‘That's not the point,' Emma snapped. ‘How do you think Harriet is going to feel?' She glanced over her
shoulder, grateful that Harriet and Lily were fully occupied in the kitchen. ‘You should never have let Freddie agree to them coming.'

‘Oh, Emma, come off it,' George protested. ‘What was I supposed to do? I'm not the one footing the bill. Anyway, when he heard what Theo had to say, he couldn't get him over here quickly enough. And I must admit I was pretty keen myself.'

Emma frowned. Freddie hadn't mentioned any new developments to her and she was, after all, the party planner. Besides, George hated Freddie.

‘So what was the big attraction?' she demanded.

‘Miranda,' George said with a wry grin. ‘She's offered to do a big piece on the band —'

‘I know that, Dad told me,' Emma interrupted. ‘Doesn't mean she has to be here now.'

‘Oh yes, she does,' George corrected her. ‘The magazine want the whole country house party thing – there's a photographer coming too. It'll be a huge spread, loads of pictures of the house and gardens, masses about our activities – and we won't have to pay a penny.'

‘Oh.' Much as the sight of Theo Elton made her want to vomit, she had to admit that the Knightleys were hardly in a position to pass up on an opportunity like that.

‘Emma, someone's left their picnic in the dining room!' Harriet ran into the hall, waving a hamper. ‘I think it's —' She stopped dead and stared out of the open front door. ‘That's Theo.' She stood open-mouthed, like a rabbit caught in headlights. And then
before Emma could stop her, she was out of the front door and heading towards him.

‘Now look what you've done!' Emma hissed at George. ‘This is going to traumatise her big time. I hope you're satisfied.'

‘Emma, do you always have to be such a drama queen?' George sighed. ‘If anyone is to blame, it's you because —'

‘What are you two rabbiting on about?' Freddie said as he strolled towards them. He glanced at his watch. ‘George, your clay-pigeon shooting party is champing at the bit, so you'd better get over there.'

He turned to Emma. ‘Are you sure you won't join us?' he asked, tipping his finger under her chin so that shivers of anticipation rippled down her spine. ‘Jake and the guys are doing quad biking and I said I'd tag along for a laugh.'

‘Between you and me,' George murmured, ‘I can't see Emma wanting to spend her day knee deep in mud!'

‘It would have been fun,' she lied, watching with increasing anxiety as Harriet tried to chat to Theo, ‘but I've loads to do for the party. By the way, what are Theo and Miranda doing?'

‘Horse riding,' Freddie replied.

‘Let's hope he falls off,' Emma muttered under her breath. ‘Preferably head first into a cow pat.'

The more Emma saw of Miranda, the more she loathed her. She was into everything, shoving her little Dictaphone under people's noses, laughing too loudly and prefacing every remark with, ‘When I interviewed . . .'
and then mentioning some C-list celebrity as though speaking to them had been the journalistic coup of the year. She kept ordering Liam, the somewhat weedy and acne-ridden photographer, about and would insist on calling Emma ‘Em' to which, needless to say, she refused to respond. The girl was the pits. Luckily, it seemed that Freddie wasn't particularly impressed with her either.

‘I know it's great for the guys to get this publicity,' he complained to Emma on Friday evening while everyone was lounging around on the lawn drinking Pimms or setting up an impromptu game of cricket, ‘but she's so in your face. And very common.'

Emma glanced over to where Miranda was chatting to Dylan and Nick; he had a point. Which made it even more strange that Theo was taking an interest in her.

‘So,' she said, touching Freddie's arm lightly, ‘how's it going so far? How do I rate as a party planner?'

‘Top of the range,' Freddie replied.

‘And,' Emma said, seductively running her tongue along her lower lip and edging closer to Freddie, ‘how do I rate in other ways?'

She held her breath. Had she said too much? She could see several pairs of eyes on them. Now was not the time to get the brush off.

She exhaled in relief as Freddie cupped her face in his hands. ‘You're – lovely,' he murmured, glancing over his shoulder. ‘There's so much I want to say to you, but not here. Later – why don't we . . .?'

‘Freddie! Over here!' Jake shouted from the other side of the lawn. ‘Miranda wants to get a shot of me and the rest of the band!'

Damn Miranda, thought Emma as Freddie dropped his hands to his side. But I've got him.

‘Catch you later,' he whispered, winking at her. ‘OK?'

‘Absolutely,' Emma said with a smile. ‘I'll be waiting.'