Chapter 16
Nora
It’s pretty nice to be bombing down to Kent in Theo’s red sports car, instead of having to cadge a lift from the lovebirds.
We’re due for our meeting with Evelyn at eleven, and Waze tells us it should take just over an hour to get there.
It’s a beautiful day, and my little Olive is snoozing in her soft car crate in the back seat. All is good with the world.
Despite extensive online drooling over Sorrel Farm, I’ve never been there.
If Jonathan and I got away together, it was usually in the direction of the Cotswolds.
Maybe I should persuade Elle to do a spa day there with me.
I have a horrible feeling she won’t be on this side of the Atlantic for much longer once they wrap Grosvenor at the end of the summer.
She mentioned at the family lunch that she and Josh will be recording voiceovers for the latest Pixar movie in Hollywood later this year, and I don’t see her coming back.
I send her a message while Theo drives.
Missing you [kiss emoji]. What’s the latest on the pipes?
Ugh me too. Though spending the day fake-fucking Josh so, you know, could be worse. Builders and plumbers going in next week. It’ll be a big job. How’s Terrible Theo treating my girls?
I laugh at that. She is such a lucky cow. I twist in my seat and snap Olive asleep. Not that you can see much through the mesh, but it’ll make Elle happy to see any of her.
All good. TT is taking us to Sorrel Farm. We’re doing a debrief with Evelyn and he wants in on the action. Will take pics of O frolicking in the meadows. Good luck shooting
She replies with a selfie of her and Josh in full costume.
From what I can see, she’s on his lap. His fake sideburn grazes her cheek, and his shirt is billowing open.
No cravat. They must be in a state of undress for shooting.
They’re such a gorgeous couple. I shake my head.
The money I could make from selling this stuff if I wasn’t a good friend.
It doesn’t bear thinking about what TMZ would pay for this.
Give Evelyn my love. And Josh wants to know if TT has defiled you yet.
Josh needs to rediscover 21st century lingo. And no. Legs firmly crossed.
Shame (that’s from me and Josh). Tempted?
I risk a glance at Theo. He has his aviators on and that beautiful blue linen shirt rolled up to just below his elbows.
The forearms lightly gripping the wheel are tanned and muscular, and he’s humming along to his Spotify playlist. He is ridiculously, improbably gorgeous.
Objectively speaking, of course. He senses my gaze and shoots me a trademark grin, casual and mischievous and warm, and a sensation floats over me that gives me pause.
That I’m here in this car with this guy whom I barely knew a few weeks ago, and who is now my fake boyfriend, my host, and, oddest of all, a kind of friend, is beyond surreal.
Last month, I was reluctantly ogling Theo Montague from the comfort of my sofa as he walked around naked and engaged in despicable acts.
Now I’m in a car with him, heading to an idyllic resort where I’ll spend most of the day canoodling with him and pretending to be his girlfriend.
Life is bizarre.
Theo brushes my wrist. ‘You all right, Belle?’
‘Just texting with Elle. You know, while she’s on a break from shooting yet another sex scene with Josh. They were asking if you’ve had your wicked way with me yet. The term the good duke used was “defiled”.’
He shoots me a look, pulling his aviators down briefly, so I catch the flash in his eyes.
‘Tell His Grace I’m working on it.’
Holy shit.
‘Jesus Christ, remind me why I don’t get out of London more often?’
Theo loops a lazy arm around my shoulders, tilts his face to the sky, and takes a giant inhale.
His hand warms my skin even more than the hazy late-morning sun.
I know what he means. Being here is like…
a circuit breaker. We’re only twenty miles from High Street Ken as the crow flies, but this is a world away.
I can imagine finding it very easy to believe that nothing bad is happening in the world right now.
Or if it is, that we’re protected from it as long as we’re here.
I swear I can feel my heart rate lower as we stand with Evelyn, Miles, Saoirse and Saoirse’s boss, event planner extraordinaire, Siobhan Quinn, in the resort’s Walled Garden.
Gnarled fruit trees bursting with new, emerald green leaves flank the ancient walls.
The focal point is a long, slate-lined pool that’s empty save for a couple of swimmers doing leisurely laps, though there are several people enjoying the chunky teak loungers dotted around the pool.
This place is a Pinterest addict’s wet dream, but it’s even more beautiful in the flesh.
There’s a magic in the air here that I can’t put my finger on.
Everything is so… organic. Theo’s flat is stunning, but after its clean lines and minimalism, Sorrel Farm is like a shot of nature’s best adrenalin.
The beauty of the trees and flowers.
The skill with which nature and architecture have been combined here.
And the overwhelming scent of jasmine and lilac and earth.
It’s like crack.
Evelyn laughs at Theo’s question. ‘Tell me about it. I felt the exact same as you when the shit hit the fan in my life and I came down here to escape. It’s like, once you’re here, nothing else matters. The outside world can’t touch you.’
I’ve met Evelyn a couple of times through Elle.
Evelyn and her high-profile, over-achieving friends, Astrid and Honor, kind of adopted Elle when she first got famous, and they’ve been there for her these past few years, helping her navigate the dark side of celebrity.
We see less of Evelyn because she’s no longer London-based.
But even if I didn’t know her, her story is well known.
She used to be married to the very charming celebrity chef, Seb Macleod, until he took the world by surprise and came out as gay to a tabloid.
Evelyn fled down here to lick her wounds—it’s run by some friends of hers—and ended up falling in love and becoming the farm’s Commercial Director.
Her husband runs the working farm here, I believe.
He’s won awards for being a wunderkind in the world of biodynamics.
Not that you’d ever place Evelyn as working on a farm if you saw her. Today she’s looking as immaculate as ever, her glossy chestnut hair blowdried to perfection. She’s in a white, laser-cut Alaia mini dress that showcases her amazing legs. Definitely the most gorgeous farmer’s wife ever.
As we walk around the Walled Garden, it strikes me what a perfect choice this is for Saoirse to marry in.
The magic I’m feeling must be thanks to the incredible alchemy the team here has created by weaving a chic luxury resort with an abundant biodynamic farm.
It’s positively idyllic. And totally unpretentious, despite operating firmly at the top end of the luxury hotel market.
The kind of place you could walk around barefoot.
The Montague wouldn’t have cut it for Saoirse. This is much more her vibe. The more I see, the more my mind races. I can imagine her marrying Miles in the Walled Garden with wild flowers in her hair. And I wouldn’t put it past her to go barefoot.
‘Where do most of your wedding ceremonies take place?’ I ask Evelyn. ‘Here?’
‘Some of them. Often we erect a marquee on the south field. But because you guys are taking over the whole resort, we can have so much more fun with this. I’d suggest the ceremony and drinks reception in the Walled Garden, if the weather is looking decent, and then dinner and dancing in the Oast House.
We can hopefully have all the doors open, and people can spill out onto the courtyard.
You should see what Siobhan can do with this place. ’
‘I’ve seen!’ Saoirse claps her hands together.
‘She’s shown me so many photos. And obviously we saw her handiwork at the Christmas event, where Miles and I kissed for the first time.
’ She gazes up at her fiancé, whose eyes go practically all pupil.
I assume he’s having some good memories right now.
Theo makes a barfing noise and I prod him in the stomach with my fingers. Rock hard. No surprise there.
‘My first event for the farm was right here.’ Evelyn gestures around the garden.
‘It was the same time of year as your wedding will be—July. And I had Siobhan come down and do it all. It was so gorgeous. We had a huge trestle table along the side of the pool. Tonnes of blue and white delphiniums and hydrangeas. It was perfection.’
‘It was magic,’ Siobhan agrees. ‘We have so many options. The sky’s the limit.
Evelyn gives us the full tour. The kitchen garden, the lavender fields, which will be in full bloom by July, the orangery, with its gorgeous indoor pool and spa, and the massive Oast House, which used to house kilns for drying out hops and which still sports distinctive, conical roofs.
These days, it’s the hub of the resort, a double-height space with an open kitchen and rows of French doors open to the charming courtyard outside.
I could sink into one of those comfy sofas and quite happily spend the day here with a pot of tea and a good book.
‘We’ll book in a time for you to come back down and do a full tasting menu,’ Evelyn tells Miles and Saoirse. ‘You guys know from your stay here that everything comes from the farm and the menus are driven by seasonal produce.’
She takes them over to the kitchen to say hi to Zoe, the chef, and Theo and I wander out into the courtyard.
‘Does your family own any resorts like this?’
‘Nope.’ He stretches. ‘More’s the pity. Metropolitan hotels only.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I think they wanted to forge an area of expertise. And those buildings are high-value assets that work hard. Something like this is a totally different ball game.’
‘But is it attractive to you? As a business, I mean? A resort like this?’
He glances around us. For a weekday lunchtime, the courtyard is busy with ladies who lunch, business meetings and families who are presumably holidaying here.
‘Yeah.’ He nods slowly. ’Seriously interesting.
My family’s trying to fill its city hotels, and places like this are booked up months in advance.
I really think all the travel restrictions over the past couple of years have got people valuing their staycations.
And the super luxury hotel sector in the UK is on fire—prices have skyrocketed. And they’re still fully booked.
‘Also.’ He gestures at some of the people having lunch.
‘I bet most of these guys are members. So you have a recurring revenue base from that, which is exactly what I was trying to sell to my dad for New York. And you heard what Saoirse said about how amazing it is at Christmas. It’s got something for every season.
So, yeah. I think it’s fucking fantastic what they’ve done here. Seriously interesting.’
‘You guys should buy it.’
I’m not sure why I said that. I don’t usually shoot my mouth off without thinking, but seeing Theo fired up about the opportunity put the idea in my head.
I mean, I know he has his heart set on Manhattan.
But there’s something about this place that gets the creative juices flowing.
That inspires the sense of possibility. I feel it, too.
One little tour and I’m bursting with ideas for the wedding.
Theo laughs. ‘Evelyn doesn’t look like someone who needs money to me.’
‘That’s because she and Seb Macleod were minted before she even set foot in this place.
The farm was really struggling before she came on board—it’s run by her oldest friend from school, who’s married to Zoe, the chef they’re chatting to.
Evelyn ended up selling her stake in Seb Macleod Ltd and taking a thirty percent stake in Sorrel Farm instead. ’
Theo looks down at me over his sunglasses. ‘I didn’t know you knew her so well.’
I flush. ‘I don’t. I’ve met her a few times, and let’s just say she intrigued me. So I did some reading up on her.’
‘A Class A stalker, aren’t you?’
‘Shut up. It’s all public knowledge. Anyway. My point is, I don’t think they’ve had any investment since Evelyn got on board, unless she’s pumped more money in. So maybe there’s a window there for some kind of strategic partnership. I dunno. Just thinking out loud.’
‘Never, ever stop thinking, Belle. I’m getting very fond of that brain of yours.’
Theo closes the gap between us and folds me into his arms just as the others emerge into the courtyard. I let my arms go around his waist and clasp my wrists behind his back as I nestle my head under his chin and inhale the scent of sunshine on skin.