Chapter 47
Petey
Iwoke to an empty bed and a madhouse. The kitchen had been turned into a makeshift cafeteria for the solstice revellers, most of whom were still encamped on the Great Lawn. Bunny was ladling out soup into cups for grateful pagans. Spotting me, she waved me over.
“Peter, darling, would you like vegetable broth or miso?” she said as Karma shoved a recyclable heat-proof cup into one of my hands and a bread roll into the other. “They’re exactly the same, but with the miso you’ve got a one-in-fifty chance of scoring a tiny piece of tofu.”
I wasn’t awake enough for this. I opted for the miso.
Mine was tofu-free. No favouritism here.
Then I spied my gran making tea. She was in her eighties, had been up since before dawn, had climbed a hill to watch the sun rise, and now she was doling out cups of tea and chattering away to the punters like she’d spent her life running a greasy spoon.
Where did she find the energy? I kissed her on the cheek, and she introduced me to a couple of pagans.
“This is my grandson. He’s going to be a duchess.”
The women giggled, and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s off her meds.”
“You cheeky bugger!”
I had to get on. It was going to be a big day—and the filming wasn’t the only reason. William was going to meet my parents. Dread dragged through my guts like an anchor.
“Careful you don’t wear yourself out, Gran. You’re not as young as you used to be.”
“Don’t you worry about me. I’d much rather be doing this than rotting in front of a telly in prison.” The other women’s eyeballs boggled. “Besides, Bunny says she knows the perfect way for us all to unwind once we’re done.”
Why did that make me nervous?
I headed for the Old Coach House, where Haruto and Thandiwe were waiting for me.
I’d asked them to stay an extra day to help me on this shoot.
I was paying them cash in hand. They were both heading back to London and unemployment until their next gig came up, so they’d jumped at it.
I was very grateful. The carriage court was filled with Range Rovers, trucks, and horse floats.
In the stable yard, dozens of people were grooming horses, preparing them for the day’s big re-enactment.
Some of the people were already wearing their Tudor-style liveries.
I searched for William but couldn’t find him.
“If you’re looking for your fella,” a stranger called out, “he’s setting up tents in the field.”
I waved a bread roll at him in thanks and dashed back to the Old Coach House as quickly as I could without spilling my soup. As I marched through the door, two faces turned to look at me. Haruto and Thandiwe already had their cameras in hand, going through their checks.
“We need to start filming, guys,” I said. “It’s bonkers out there.”
“I know,” Thandiwe said. “Have you seen the Great Lawn?”
I hadn’t.
Haruto was shaking his head. “They’re literally dancing around maypoles.”
I felt a buzz of electricity in my gut. My producer’s instinct was telling me we had something very special on our hands.
“Film it,” I said. “Film it all. Whatever happens today, I want everything on tape. We need to be everywhere.”
A couple of hours later, I had cleared the last of the horse floats out of the carriage court to make way for the arrival of my parents and the North London Jaguar Car Club.
I had also set up my camera on a tripod, framing the shot to capture the convoy’s arrival. I pressed the button on my headset.
“Haruto, is the drone up?”
“Affirmative.”
A glint of something sparkled on the horizon, catching my eye. I looked up to see the first of the Jags coming down the drive. My father’s Jag. My stomach was churning like my nerves were holding a rave. I thought I might barf. I hit record right as someone slapped my arse.
“You’re so sexy in that headset.”
I turned to see William. He winked. He was wearing a green tweed suit, hair neatly combed down into place under a matching flat cap, looking every bit the lord of the manor. I’d never seen him look so… aristocratic. I laughed. He frowned.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“We’re putting on a show, aren’t we?”
“You’re going to be in a suit of armour later. How many ridiculous outfits have you got planned for this video?”
“I meant a show for your parents. This is what they’re expecting, isn’t it?”
I looked at him. “Oh my God, you’re nervous.”
“Of course I’m nervous, they’re your parents.” At least we were in this together.
“So, you’ve dressed up like Toad of Toad Hall to impress them? What’s next? Are you planning to lend my father your best driving goggles? Have you hired a Labrador for the occasion?”
Bramley emerged from the house dressed in full Buckford livery, carrying a tray of sherry glasses to offer around.
I couldn’t contain my laughter.
“Stop it,” William said. “I’m trying to make a good impression, all right?”
“You look like a walking advertisement for the Tory party.” I kissed him on the cheek.
The convoy was nearly at the carriage court, and I could hear the drone buzzing overhead.
My hands were shaking now. I really hoped Haruto and Thandiwe were getting all this.
“You better take your place, my lord. You don’t need to impress them, you numpty.
They were already fawning over you before they met you.
I’m the one who’s meant to be impressing them today, remember? ”
There was a cackle of laughter from high above the carriage court, and I looked up to see Gran and Bunny leaning out a second-storey gabled window, still dressed like aged nymphs, waving down at us. William waved back.
“You say that,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “But at some point, quite soon, your parents are going to realise my mother and my godmother have got your grandmother royally stoned.”
“What?”
“And it might take all the tweedy respectability we can muster to get ourselves out of that one.”
William took his place on Buckford Hall’s steps and—head reeling, at a loss what else to do—I turned my camera around to capture him waving and smiling as the cars parked up.
My parents climbed out of my father’s 1967 Series 1 E-Type roadster. They, too, were in tweed. “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I muttered. My father took off his leather driving gloves and strode over to meet William. Mother came around the car and joined him. They bowed and curtsied.
“No, please, don’t do that,” I heard William say. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
I couldn’t see their faces, but I could imagine my parents’ horror.
Ceremony was what they were all about. “You’re practically family,” William added—and my parents’ backs straightened.
Well played, my lord. My parents hadn’t even spotted me.
My whole body was tingling with nerves. I shoved my hands in my pockets to still them, but they were shaking so bad I looked like I was having a wank, so I removed them again.
“How was the drive up, Sir Edward?”
“Good clear run. Noticed the handbrake’s a bit dicky again when we stopped at the Northampton services, but nothing material.”
“Yoooooohooooooo, Edwaaaaard!”
Everyone looked up to see Gran hanging out the window. My father waved up to her uncomfortably.
“I hope my mother hasn’t been too much trouble,” I heard him say.
“Not at all! We’ve loved having her here. Peggy fits right in. She and my mother are thick as thieves.”
Were my parents going to spot me at any point? Were they going to look for me? Clearly not. William waved me over, and I sidled up beside him.
“Here he is, the man of the moment—my hero,” William said. He put an arm round me and kissed my cheek.
“Hello, Mother. Father.” I tried, but I couldn’t put any warmth into it.
“Oh, Peter, why are you dressed in those tatty old overalls? Couldn’t you have made an effort? You knew we were coming.”
William squeezed me tighter. “Doesn’t he look fabulous in his uniform.
You know whenever Petey is boiler-suited up like Churchill, he means business.
” William leant in conspiratorially to my father.
“I’ll show you the Churchill Bedroom later.
And, Sir Edward, remind me to show you the stack of empties the great man left behind.
The fourteenth baron was so astonished he kept them all, stacked up in the cellar like a shrine.
It’s not on the usual tour.” My father was preening now.
“I hear you like a nice Bordeaux. We can grab a 1995 Chateau Margaux while we’re down there.
” William was playing my father like a fiddle.
He squeezed my shoulder again. “Petey Boy’s on the clock today, aren’t you, baby?
You know, of course, that he’s making a video to promote the house on social media and something called the internet. ”
“Thank you for signing the release forms,” I said. My mother’s nose curled. It had definitely been my father’s ego that signed the form. I bet they had a blazing row about it.
“Buckford’s opening to the public!” William continued. “Petey’s an actual genius with this sort of thing. I’d never have thought of a promo video myself. The sheer depth of talent—I don’t know what I’d do without him. You must be very proud of him.”
My parents looked at each other meaningfully. My heart stopped.
“Of course,” my father said.
“Terribly,” my mother added.
The lying bastards.
The other Jags had emptied now, and a queue had formed to meet my fake fiancé.
A group of at least twenty women in barely there muslin dresses appeared and started dancing in witchy free form through the crowd and the cars, to satisfyingly astonished faces.
I tried not to giggle, and I could feel William doing the same.
“I should get back to it,” I said. “I’m not meant to be in the footage.”
“All right, babe,” William said. He’d never called me babe.
Literally everyone was acting right now.
He leant into my ear and squeezed my butt.
“Isn’t this fun? Gah! I love you, so much.
” And then he kissed me—passionately—in front of my parents, and the North London Jaguar Car Club, and the pagans, and my film crew, and Bramley.
A wolf whistle cracked the air from above.
I was so embarrassed my knees almost gave way.
As I slunk away, I heard Bramley offer my parents “a restorative sherry” and point them towards the sunken garden, where sandwiches and light refreshments had been laid on especially.
“The Dowager Mrs Topham will be down to join you momentarily,” Bramley said.
Not if I could help it.
The plan for the next couple of hours was for the car club to split into two groups.
One lot would have individual photos taken with their cars out the front of Buckford Hall, while William took the other lot on a private guided tour of the house.
Then they would swap around. At the end, all the classic cars would be parked on the Great Lawn, sparkling in the sunshine, lined up on the slopes either side of the Long Water.
It would make for a magnificent shot back up the lake towards the house.
Then everyone would gather at the edge of Home Field to watch the re-enactment.
All fine in theory, but at some point my parents were going to find Gran stoned out of her nut—and who knew what the resulting explosion of outrage would level in its wake.
I walked into the house to find bedlam. The kitchen was filled with chattering women from the village, all of whom had volunteered to make sandwiches to feed the five thousand.
There was a Blitz-like spirit, if you didn’t count the pagan drifting between them, smoke wafting from burning sage held high above her head.
No one seemed to be paying her the least bit of attention.
The women turned to see me and bowed their heads.
“No, please don’t do that.”
I grabbed three bottles of water, then I headed upstairs to the servants’ quarters, where I found Gran, Bunny, and Karma sitting on a rug on the floor, in a gale of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, putting the water down on a table.
“Men,” Karma said, wiping her eyes.
I looked at the ashtray between them. There were at least three roaches in there.
“My God, how much have you had to smoke?”
“It’s all right, Petey darling. It’s natural.”
“It’s illegal,” I said.
Three faces stopped and turned to face me.
“When did you get so stuffy?” Gran said.
I eyeballed her. “Mother and Father are here.”
“We saw.”
“They can’t see you like this. I need you to stay up here until you’ve sobered up a bit.” I pointed at Bunny and Karma. “And you two help her out, please. Give her water. Help her walk it off or something.”
Karma was squinting at me through the smoke rising from the joint between her fingers.
“You seem very tense, Petey,” she said. “Your whole energy has changed.”
“Funny that.”
“So serious,” Bunny said. “Come and have a little toke, darling.”
I marched over, whipped the joint out of Karma’s hand, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and eyeballed the lot of them.
“Stay here and sober up, for Christ’s sake,” I said.
A mocking, sing-song “ooooo-oooooooooo” filled the room.
“This is a really important day for William. And for me. We need everyone to be on their game. We need your support.”
Bunny swallowed, her face turned serious. “Yes, darling. You’re quite right.”
“Thank you.”
“The re-enactment is at one o’clock. I’ll see you all then—and not a minute before. Sober. Are we clear?”
Three serious faces nodded. As I marched out into the hall, I heard them burst into laughter again.
“Men!”
“He’s going to make a brilliant duchess.”
I hadn’t even got to the bottom of the stairs when the three of them bounded past me, muslin trailing behind them.
“What did I just tell you?”
“Sorry, darling,” Bunny replied, “we’ve got the munchies.”
Derek appeared from a doorway holding up a piece of paper with a photograph on it.
“I don’t suppose you ladies have seen my duck anywhere, have you?”
The sound of clanking metal filled the corridor.
“Make way for the King’s Guard!” a man shouted. I turned to see a line of soldiers marching towards me. I stepped aside to let them pass, and the leader lifted his helmet. It was Andy from the village.
“Don’t suppose you could point us to the loos, could you?”
As I watched a trail of Tudor soldiers march up the stairs towards the servants’ quarters like something out of Bedknobs and Broomsticks, and looked back to see three stoned pagan witches trying to console a distraught man in search of his duck, and as I heard the bawdy revelry coming from the kitchen, inspiration struck.
Here it was, the idea I’d been looking for all this time.
It was fully formed, and it was brilliant.