Page 21 of Never Gonna Happen

‘It’s quiet, I guess,’ he said. ‘There’s a different pace of life in Norfolk, nobody ever seems to be in a hurry.’

Emily swallowed the sandwich and washed it down with a gulp of cider. ‘I really like it,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think I would. The countryside feels quite different; I’m used to the Downs and everything being more hilly, but Norwich is actually a lot like Chichester.’ She realised she sounded incredibly naive and unworldly, and hoped he wasn’t judging her.

‘It’s a beautiful county – the beaches on the north coast are stunning. You should get out and explore.’

Emily thought momentarily of Leon, then repressed a guilty thought about whether Jamie might also offer to be her tour guide. But he finished his sandwich and stood up, brushing the crumbs off his jacket on to the grass.

‘Right, Miss Wilkinson,’ he said officiously. ‘Time for you to learn how to get on a horse the proper way.’

Leon was buffing a battered Land Rover as Emily did a bow-legged walk out of the stable yard, his face set into a mask of bleak judgement. She briefly considered just going back to the house and having a bath before her saddle-sore thighs seized up entirely, but this issue wasn’t going to go away, so she might as well deal with it.

‘How was your ride?’ Leon asked as she approached the car, rubbing the door so hard he was at risk of removing the paintwork.

‘It was nice, thank you,’ said Emily. ‘My first time on a horse – Jamie kindly offered to teach me.’

‘I’m sure he did,’ said Leon through gritted teeth, now down to the bare metal.

‘Look, Leon,’ Emily said gently, turning her palms upwards in a gesture of openness. ‘I’m sorry about today, but I need to be honest with you.’

Leon stopped buffing and looked at her, his face more hangdog than ever.

Emily took a deep breath. ‘I feel like maybe you want to be more than just friends. Am I right?’

Leon looked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘I think you are very beautiful,’ he mumbled.

‘I’m really flattered,’ said Emily, ‘but I’ve just come out of a relationship and it was very difficult. Taking this job was a way of focusing on myself for a while.’

Leon lifted his head a little, eyeing her doubtfully.

‘I’m not interested in a relationship with anyone,’ said Emily. ‘I just want to do a good job here.’

Leon gave her a watery smile. ‘Is OK, I understand.’

‘Can we still be friends?’ she asked.

Leon shrugged. ‘Of course.’ He stood up straight, his pride temporarily restored now he knew he hadn’t been usurped by Jamie. ‘You should wash. You smell of horses.’

Emily punched him playfully on the shoulder and headed into the house for a bath, wondering if she’d have said the same thing to Jamie if he’d just told her he thought she was beautiful. Absolutely she would. Definitely.

Chapter Thirteen

Jamie’s girlfriend Louisa arrived two days later, and as expected she was tall, thin and flame-haired, like a human matchstick. She had shiny white teeth, a tinkly laugh and the breezy confidence of someone who’d sailed through life on a superyacht of privilege, but Emily had to grudgingly admit that she and Jamie made a ridiculously gorgeous couple. Louisa was inclined to walks in the grounds layered against the cold in cashmere wraps and fur scarves, but always with her long hair flowing in the breeze like Rupert’s tail; in less charitable moments Emily watched her from her office window and hoped her ears were cold. When Jamie was with her, Louisa gripped his hand like he was a toddler who might run off at any moment. Emily wondered why she didn’t go the whole hog and put some reins on him; there were plenty in the tack room.

Louisa left the estate after only a few days, which left Jamie mooching around with a doleful face, like a hungry basset hound. Emily had only seen him a handful of times since her arrival at Bowford Manor, but now he seemed to pop up everywhere, hanging out with Sam in the kitchen at lunchtime, or loitering around Mr Hunter’s office for no particular reason. She assumed he must be at a loose end if he was offering to help her wrap festive food hampers for the tenants or put Mr Hunter’s Christmas cards in envelopes, but she was too busy to let herself get distracted by him. He was undeniably handsome, but even if he hadn’t been her boss’s son and dating someone else, she was resolute in being off men right now. That said, it was nice to have company and somebody to pass her bits of sticky tape.

Adam’s family had also returned to London after a long weekend at Wedmore Cottage, without Emily ever having seen Victoria Hunter up close. She definitely heard the children, however; mostly being told off by Anna for running in the hallways, climbing on the furniture or tormenting the dogs. Under different circumstances Emily might have offered to help, but Anna was sour-faced and disapproving about everything Emily did, so she decided to leave her to it. It was easier to stay in her office and let chaos reign in the corridors.

Even though his family had gone, Adam was still holed up in Wedmore Cottage two weeks later. Emily occasionally saw him driving around the estate, but otherwise had become very adept at dodging him. She familiarised herself with all the side corridors and deep doorways in the house where she could duck out of sight if she heard him coming – he had a tendency to clear his throat loudly and repeatedly, which was both irritating and extremely useful. Occasionally he’d pop in to see his father and make a great deal of theatre out of closing the door to Emily’s side office, as though whatever he had to say wasn’t for her untrustworthy ears. Not only did she not give a shit, but it didn’t make any difference – the partition wall was wafer-thin and she could hear every word of Adam’s entitled whining.

She’d mentioned it to Mr Hunter during her first week, not comfortable with eavesdropping without his knowledge. It turned out that he was well aware, to the extent that he and Andrea had devised a secret code. ‘Can you pull the door to’ was an instruction to actively listen in and take notes, whereas ‘can you close the door’ meant that it was fine to listen in, but not essential if she was busy with other things. Finally, ‘can you close both doors’ meant it was private and could she please leave her office and take a break.

So far the final option had never been requested, which meant she had the joy of listening to Adam’s bleating. The theme was always the same – he wanted money for some ‘dead cert’ business opportunity, and Mr Hunter didn’t want to give it to him. She had to admire Adam’s persistence; he definitely didn’t have any other redeeming features.

On one occasion Emily went to the pool for a swim after work and found Adam ploughing up and down in mini flippers and webbed gloves, like a pale toad in turquoise Speedos. The idea of sharing a body of water with him filled her with horror, never mind doing it in a swimsuit that showed her nipples in the cold air. So she immediately about-turned and ate a bag of Wotsits in the bath instead.

Luckily Emily didn’t have much time to brood about Adam or Jamie or anyone else, because her weekends had been consumed by Christmas shopping for her family, and her working hours were tied up with planning the Bowford Estate Christmas party. It was scheduled for the following weekend with over a hundred guests confirmed, including all the staff and tenants and their families. The party was a Bowford tradition that went back a hundred and fifty years, and Emily didn’t want to be the first person to mess it up.

The good news was that Andrea had left a folder stuffed with detailed plans and checklists and contact details from previous years, and Anna had spent nearly thirty years being in charge of the food. This party was on too big a scale for Sam the chef, so instead they hired a local catering firm who would prepare all the food in the Bowford kitchens, then bus in a team of staff to serve at the tables.