Page 22 of Never Gonna Happen

Emily had overseen the delivery of a huge Christmas tree, which was now standing in the entrance hall between the two staircases. Leon had retrieved crates of fairy lights and beautiful glass baubles from the attic and they’d decorated it together, Leon telling her about Christmas traditions in Croatia and Emily wondering whether drinking prosecco in your pyjamas before breakfast counted as a British tradition. At one point Jamie appeared and helped them drape garlands along the gallery and down the bannisters, seemingly in high spirits and keen to get involved. Leon was polite but watchful, as though he resented Jamie interrupting his time with Emily and suspected him of having some kind of ulterior motive. Emily tried to focus on the job in hand, ever aware of Jamie’s proximity despite her best efforts not to look at him.

The drinks reception would be held in the entrance hall, then guests would eat a three-course dinner in the adjacent grand dining room before returning to the hall for dancing. Emily had hired a live band who would play ninety minutes of floor-filling cover versions from the gallery, then a DJ who’d take over until the small hours. Leon had regaled her with many tales from previous years, confirming Emily’s suspicion that the whole thing could get incredibly messy and all the other rooms in the house would need to be sealed off. Apparently last year two people had passed out on the sofas in the kitchen and somebody had been sick in Anna’s knitting basket.

The previous weekend Emily had gone home to Chichester to take her mum shopping for a party outfit. The electric-blue dress Carol chose was eye-wateringly sparkly, but at least it featured considerably more fabric than she would normally consider. Somehow Emily had also ended up buying her shoes and a clutch bag, and a shirt and trousers for Dad, but she’d been so thrilled and it felt nice to be able to treat them both. Emily had also bought a cocktail dress for herself, with capped sleeves, a low back and a skater skirt that skimmed over her hips and fell just above the knee. The bodice was made from thousands of tiny multicoloured sequins, and when she tried it on at Kelly’s, her goddaughter Beth had gasped and said she looked like a magical fish.

It was a week before the party when Adam appeared in the doorway of Emily’s office, only ten minutes after Jamie had popped in to see if his father was around, then hung around making small talk about Emily’s plans for the weekend before drifting off again. She needed to do a sweep of Norwich’s shops to finish her Christmas shopping tomorrow, but if members of the Hunter family didn’t stop bothering her, she was never going to get out of the office. Mr Hunter had gone to the dentist to deal with a raging toothache that had been making him cranky for days, until Emily had lost patience and booked him in with the first local private dentist she could find on Google. He’d bitched and grumbled about it not being his usual dentist in London until Emily had given him her best hard stare and he’d mumbled his assent.

‘All by yourself?’ asked Adam, leaning against the door frame like he was too raffish and sexy to support his own weight. He was wearing dark blue jeans paired with a tailored pink shirt and tan shoes; the whole look screamed ‘BMW city boy wanker’.

‘Not any more,’ she replied, forcing herself to smile even though he made her skin crawl. ‘Can I help?’

‘I wonder if I might borrow your photocopier,’ he said, waving a large brown envelope.

‘Of course,’ said Emily breezily. ‘Would you like me to do it for you?’

‘Nope,’ said Adam, ‘I’m sure I can press the button all by myself.’ He gave her his interpretation of a winning smile, which made him look like a ravenous shark.

‘Just through there,’ she said, gesturing to the windowless room where all the filing cabinets and stationery were kept. ‘Shout if you need anything.’

Adam disappeared, so Emily carried on with her emails as the photocopier hummed and whirred. He returned a minute later, still holding the brown envelope along with some loosely folded sheets of A3. He gave Emily a wink as he headed back into the corridor, calling ‘Have a good one!’ from the doorway without bothering to turn around.

Emily shuddered and carried on working for a few minutes, then headed into the filing room to check a date on a contract in one of the filing cabinets. She spotted the sheets of paper in the photocopier feeder straight away, and quickly checked Adam hadn’t returned before taking a peek. They looked like the plans a land surveyor would create; Emily had handled these kinds of documents all the time at Thompson & Delaney. She lifted the top sheet to look at the one below – they were clearly plans of the Bowford Estate, with certain areas shaded out in pink and blue.

Instinctively she pressed the start button, her heart thumping as she drummed her fingers impatiently on the edge of the machine. The pages whipped through the feeder at high speed as the copies appeared underneath. Emily snatched them off the tray and left the originals exactly where she’d found them, then hurried back to her desk and stuffed the papers into the bottom drawer of her desk. She took a few calming breaths and carried on with her work.

Adam reappeared a couple of minutes later, looking a good deal more flustered than he had before. Emily focused on her computer screen, determined to look like she hadn’t moved an inch and everything was exactly as he’d left it. Adam glared at her suspiciously but said nothing.

‘Is everything OK?’ she enquired, her hands frozen over the keyboard.

‘Yes,’ said Adam, a little defensively. ‘I just left some papers on the photocopier.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Emily, going back to her typing. Adam didn’t move, so she stopped again. ‘Do you want me to fetch them for you?’

Adam softened his glare a little, clearly realising his behaviour probably seemed a bit weird. ‘No, of course not. I can get them myself.’

Emily nodded and returned to her task, ignoring Adam as he went back into the filing room. He stalked back out with the plans and left without saying goodbye.

She breathed out slowly, her heart pounding out of her chest. Espionage was definitely not her strong point, and now she really needed a cup of tea.

Chapter Fourteen

Carol and Martin Wilkinson arrived after lunch on the day of the Christmas party, full of stories of their epic drive and the parlous state of the garage toilets on the A11. Emily was happy to see them and determined to make them feel at home, even if it was just for the weekend. She showed them to the little guest cottage by the pool, which was just as delightful and cosy on the inside. Apparently Anna was too busy to deal with greeting guests as lowly as the Wilkinsons, but that was fine by Emily.

‘This is lovely, Moomin,’ said Martin, opening the cupboards in the tiny kitchen. ‘There’s tea bags and everything.’

‘I put some milk in the fridge for you too,’ said Emily, delighted that they liked it. ‘You can come over to the house for breakfast tomorrow.’

‘Listen to you,’ said Carol, checking out the bathroom. ‘“You can come over to the house,”’ she echoed in a singsong voice. ‘Too posh for the likes of us now.’ She smiled indulgently at Emily, then lifted the lid on the toilet to check it had been properly cleaned. ‘Look at the loo, Martin. You could eat your dinner out of that.’

‘Listen, I know you’ve just arrived,’ said Emily, ‘but if you want to see the kitchens we’ll need to do it now before the caterers take over.’

‘Ooh, yes please,’ said Carol excitedly. ‘I bet it’s just like Downton Abbey.’

Emily laughed, not wanting to ruin her mum’s fantasy of bubbling copper pots and Mrs Patmore yelling at kitchen maids. She’d walk them through the walled garden to show Dad the greenhouses, then round to the yard.

Even though Emily could only show them the kitchen and the entrance hall, her parents were entirely enchanted by Bowford Manor. Martin insisted on doing a full lap of the outside of house, pointing out unusual period features and things that you’d absolutely never get planning permission for these days, while Carol huffed and eye-rolled, clearly itching to pass dinner-lady judgement on the set-up below stairs.

Emily showed them the two hidden staircases in the entrance hall, each leading to a different end of the kitchen. Carol declared this ‘genius’, and also gave her seal of approval to the range cooker, the pantry and the huge granite island with the induction hob. Emily made them both a cup of tea, hoping that Anna wouldn’t turn up and treat them like dog poo, but there was no sign of her.