Chapter 30
William
Iheaded up to the belvedere hoping to find Petey.
I’d gone to the after-party in town with Mum and Bramley, expecting to see him, hoping to put things right.
But he didn’t show, and after a couple of hours, I gave up.
He wasn’t here, either, though. His stuff was gone.
A wet towel in the bathroom was the only sign he’d ever been here.
I’d have sucked his DNA clean out of it if I thought I’d feel closer to him, if I thought it’d fill the hollow in my stomach.
It had been such a stupid little fight. I’d been clumsy in the way I asked him to stay, but I still hoped he’d want to stay.
I didn’t understand why he’d flipped out.
The next morning, I stared at the calendar. I had a hundred and fifty-three days to save the estate, but I was wallowing in bed. Eventually, Bramley appeared—like a judgemental Victorian ghost.
“My lord, I thought you might wish to be informed the production company removal vans are here, and they’re decanting all their props and will soon begin returning all the household chattels.
I’m told the cameras and computer equipment will be uninstalled and collected by a team of specialists next week. ”
“Yes, of course.” Aunty Karma’s voice echoed through my head. “Just make sure they turn all the cameras off, will you?”
“Of course.”
“You didn’t happen to bring breakfast up with you, did you?”
“I’m afraid not, my lord. I wasn’t aware wallowing was especially hungry work.”
We were interrupted by the loud, violent whacking of metal on wood and the whinnying of horses.
“Achilles!” I said, leaping up from the bed and racing downstairs. In the stable yard, Hank—the show’s horse handler—was struggling to load his Cleveland Bay mares into the horse float for their trip home.
“I don’t think he wants us to go,” Hank said, the words like a lance through my chest. I ran towards my faithful stallion.
In the stables, I found Achilles braying and striking the cobbles and his stall walls with his hooves. It took a full ten minutes after Hank’s horse float had disappeared up the drive for Achilles to calm down. I was checking him over for injuries when Mother’s voice echoed through the stables.
“William!”
I stuck my head up to see what she wanted.
“Darling, I’m taking the car into town.”
“That seems a bit irresponsible, as you don’t have a licence,” I said.
“I know, that’s why I’m taking Bramley.”
“You can’t take Bramley. Who’s going to make sure all our shit is put back in the right place?”
“Well, it’s your house, darling. You’re the baron.” Mum turned to walk away, muslin scarf flapping in the breeze behind her.
“Where are you going?”
She didn’t answer.
It was several hours later when I finally made it back up to the folly, smelly, dirty, and still in my boxer shorts. I slumped into my father’s armchair in the study—and noticed the drawer of the desk had been left open. There was a note inside.
Thank you for everything. It’s going to be a hit. I’ll see you in a year. Petey Boy x.
Below that was a PS.
Tackle the hard stuff. I believe in you.
Well, now I was even more confused. What did this mean? Was this an apology? A promise? I didn’t know. All I knew was, it gave me hope. Now I had to make sure there was still a Buckford Hall for him to come back to, and not a tacky hotel.