Chapter 22 #2
“You’re welcome to it, actually. It’s incredibly ugly, and it takes a lot of polishing.
Listen, it’s a glorious night. The moon’s out.
The air’s fresh. The frogs are busy banging each other’s brains out, and they’re making the most magnificent cacophony.
It’s like a bloody concert. Shall we go for a walk? ”
He shook his head. “I’ve got work to do. I’ve got an idea for a show I’m trying to knuckle out.”
“That’s wonderful! What’s the—”
“Then I’ve got a couple of ideas to help you bring in some cash.”
“Help me bring in some cash? Petey, that’s not really your responsibility—”
“I know. But why don’t you put the kettle on, wash your feet, and we can have a chat in a bit?”
This was already going off the rails. But this country didn’t become great by chaps giving up at the first hurdle.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t we walk and talk? I can help you hash out your show idea.”
Petey looked up at me. “Actually, I’d appreciate a sounding board.”
“So we’re on?”
“Only if you put some clothes on.”
Ten minutes later, I’d put on my best chinos, a linen shirt, and some loafers.
I’d brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
While I did genuinely want to hear Petey’s show idea and I was deeply touched he’d been thinking of ways to help me raise funds to save the estate, I was definitely leading him down the path by the Long Water with a singular goal in mind.
When we reached the bridge, I was jolly well going to kiss him.
With his consent, obviously. I was following my father’s lead, not my grandfather’s.
“Come on, hit me with it,” I said. “Tell your liege man this big idea of yours.”
His eyes lit up.
“It’s a twist on an idea I pitched to Indira before. A dating show where your friends and family get to choose who you get to date.”
“Sounds horrendous. I wouldn’t let my mother choose who I dated.”
“Exactly. Which is why people will watch it.”
“But how do you encourage your victims to take part?”
“Officially? Finding true love.”
“And unofficially?”
“A free holiday. If they go on a date and like each other enough, we’ll send them to a Greek island for a week together. All of which we film, obviously, to see how they get on.” Petey looked at me hopefully. “What do you think?”
I thought I was grateful it was dark out.
“Look, it’s no Himbos on Horseback—which would obviously rate its socks off—but I think there might be something there.
” I slipped my hand into Petey’s, as smooth as reins sliding through fingers.
His hand felt so right in mine. Part one of Operation Snog was underway.
I felt brave and bold and it gave me such a hot rush, I thought my aorta might burst right out of my chest and splatter the cow parsley with blood.
I looked at Petey, who smiled down at me.
“I’ll keep working on it, then,” he said.
“How’s the other big show going? I had a visit from Jonty today, by the way.”
“We know you did. He’s been warned. Again.”
“You know?” I looked at him. “You don’t seem… angry.”
“To be honest, we were all quite relieved to be shot of him for an hour. He’s been running around with a lit fuse for days now. He’s driving us around the bend.”
So I wasn’t in trouble. That was a relief. I didn’t think an angry Petey would be a kissy Petey.
“But it was a big day today. Double eviction.”
“Not—”
“No, not Jonty and Lola. Kiki Galapagos and Tom the racist closet case from rural Somerset. But, in welcome news, Ridhi and Armando seem to have turned a corner.”
“Bully for them. Three cheers.”
As we reached Lady Caroline’s Bridge—the covered stone Palladian crossing built by Capability Brown—my heart was thumping so loudly it was causing ripples on the water.
Petey sat on the bench looking back along the lake to the house, so I sat down beside him.
His fingers were still intertwined in mine.
The evening was calm, but the frogs were going absolutely hell for leather.
A pair of ducks glided down from the sky and landed on the water in front of us.
“Is that Derek’s duck?” Petey said.
“You know, I think it might be. Looks like he found himself a girlfriend.”
“Good for him.”
We sat there in silence for a minute, me trying to drum up the courage from my loafers, where it was hanging out with my toes.
“All right, your turn,” Petey said. “Shall we compare notes? You go first. What ideas did you come up with for saving the estate today?”
“Ideas?”
“Yeeeessssss…”
“For saving the estate?”
“William, did you not come up with any ideas? What did you do all day?”
How could I tell him I stared out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him? That I pined for him? Imagined kissing him, spending my life with him?
“Well, I…”
“William, you have a hundred and sixty-five days to save the estate. You need twenty-six thousand pounds every single day or you’ll lose everything.
” Petey stood, his hand leaving mine. He pointed back towards the house.
“If I were you, I’d be unable to think about anything else.
Have you done anything to find that cash today? ”
I felt so ashamed, but I couldn’t admit I hadn’t. I opted for a tiny white lie.
“I thought we could sell the Holbeins. They’ll leave sodding great gaps on the wall of the Long Gallery, but that portrait of Queen Elizabeth is the stuff of childhood nightmares.
No wonder she died a virgin. I won’t miss it.
I’m sure we’ll be able to fill the spots with something. There’s an IKEA up near Nottingham.”
Petey’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, and to be honest, this ain’t the time for jokes. You need to get serious or you’re gonna lose everything.”
I hated that he was right. But I felt so daunted by the size of the task in front of me. It was crippling.
“I have absolutely no idea where to start.”
Petey’s eyes softened. He sat back down beside me, weaving his fingers into mine again.
“A kilo of carrots is approximately eight to ten carrots,” he said.
“Have you had a seizure?”
“When I was a kid, my gran would sell a kilo of carrots for eighty pence. The profit margin was ten per cent.”
“If you’re suggesting I sell Achilles’s carrots out from underneath him, he’ll riot.”
“Eight pence profit isn’t a lot, but sell enough every day, every week, and at the end of the year you’ve made about four hundred quid—on carrots alone. Then there’s potatoes, beans, tomatoes…”
Petey looked at me earnestly, like he’d made a deeply profound point that would set me on the path to financial freedom.
“You think I should grow carrots?”
Petey’s head was in his hands.
“Don’t think of it as one lump sum,” he said. “Every little bit of cash you can bring in chips away at the total. Every penny you get is a penny you don’t have to find. You need to raise cash now, then you need to find long-term diversified revenue streams.”
That made sense.
“I do have a couple of ideas for you,” Petey continued. “You don’t have to agree, but I think you should.”
“Spoken like a TV producer.”
“You remember I said Chatsworth House cancelled on my father’s car club? Well, the club is still looking for somewhere to go. They were going to pay Chatsworth two thousand pounds. That could be two thousand pounds in your pocket.”
“It’s not a lot of cash, though, is it.”
“It’s a shitload of carrots, William.”
He looked impatient. My panicked brain caught up with his reasoning.
“Would it be OK, though? I mean, you don’t like your father.”
“Why would I care? I won’t be here. It’s after the show wraps. I’ll be back in London.”
My chest tightened, like a fist had gripped my heart.
Of course Petey would be back in London by then—and beyond my reach.
He didn’t live here. He had his own life.
But… I didn’t want him to leave. Jonty had been right—our time here together was short and precious.
I had to do it. I had to kiss him now. He needed to know how I felt about him.
I stood, grabbing his hand, ready to pounce.
“Petey, I—”
A loud, insistent chorus of quacks split the night air. I looked around to see Derek’s duck shagging his girlfriend. I dropped Petey’s hand and let my shoulders fall. This was not going to be the moment I had hoped it would be.
“What were you going to say?” Petey asked when the feathered fornication had finished.
“Nothing. I suppose Bramley could do the tea.”
“If you have a different car club come every weekend, that’s one hundred and four thousand pounds a year—all money for doing basically sod all.”
“And I love earning money for doing sod all,” I said, choosing enthusiasm. “Petey, this is genius. Get the telephone book. How many car clubs are there in England?”
“Telephone book? Listen, can we head back? I’ve got one more idea I want to put to you, and I really need to get back to my pitch.”
I felt completely deflated. I’d failed to kiss him.
Failed to achieve what my father had achieved with my mother on this very spot.
Which was starting to feel like the story of my life.
But I had gained something else: an understanding that this financial mess wasn’t going to go away unless I fixed it.
Thanks to Petey, I felt for the first time like perhaps I could actually fix it. At least I had to try.
“What’s this other idea?” I said as we shuffled down the stone steps to the path that would take us home to the folly.
“How do you feel about weddings?” he said.