Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
‘Well, this’ll do, won’t it?’ Jamie said with a satisfied grin.
‘Not too shabby,’ I agreed. ‘I’ve seen worse.’
The taxi drew to a halt on a gravel driveway in front of a long, graceful sandstone building.
Wings stretched east and west on either side of a porticoed entrance, which was in turn flanked by immaculately trimmed yew peacocks in stone urns.
A flight of shallow steps led up to the door, where two blokes – footmen?
Butlers? Concierges? – in top hats stood waiting.
As soon as we opened the car doors, they sprang forward in unison, one greeting us and the other waiting while the driver opened the boot to remove our bags.
‘Good afternoon, Ms Meadows, Mr Baldwin.’ The first man half-bowed to me and Jamie in turn. For a second, I was worried that his top hat might fall off and had to resist the urge to hold it on for him, but to my immense relief it stayed put. ‘Welcome to Hadleigh Hall.’
‘Thank you.’ I managed to get the words out, but my breath was almost literally taken away by the swishness of the lobby into which he led us.
The ceiling was double height, with a galleried landing running along the far side.
A shiny round table stood on a velvety Persian carpet, a vast flower arrangement on it scenting the air with roses and oriental lilies.
A waitress offered us glasses of champagne from a silver tray.
It’s not half bad being on the receiving end of service like this for a change, I thought, catching Jamie’s eye with a delighted smile. I could see that he was trying to look as if he stayed in places like this every weekend of his life, but it wasn’t working.
‘Please, take a seat,’ one of the butlers said, once he’d offered to show us to the powder room if we needed – I mean, powder? ‘My colleague will take your luggage up to your rooms, and Patrizia, our guest relations manager, will be with you in just a moment.’
It was Jamie’s turn to remember to say thank you.
We sat together on a yellow brocade sofa, sipping our complimentary champagne and gazing around in total awe.
In spite of the warm welcome we’d received, I couldn’t help feeling a bit daunted, almost intimidated, by the grandeur of it all.
It was the sort of place that made you worry you’d use your cutlery in the wrong order at dinner, or get lost and somehow stumble into the wrong room by mistake and interrupt a posh couple having sex, or fart in the middle of your relaxing spa massage.
‘Here’s the thing,’ Jamie said after we’d spent a moment taking it all in, ‘our job sucks a lot of the time. And then—’
‘Something like this turns up, and you think—’
‘You know what, I’ll take all the shit Cormac Kennedy can throw at me.’
‘Exactly.’
‘It reminds me a bit of my mate Tuppers’s gaff,’ he went on. ‘Only that’s up north, not in the Cotswolds, and it would need a few million spent on it to look like this, which old man Montague doesn’t have.’
Jamie had dropped hints about his wealthy, well-connected friends in the past, but I’d never really asked for details, and I wasn’t going to now – I didn’t need reminding that he felt considerably more comfortable in environments like this than I did.
‘Well, if Tuppers ever wants to open a hotel, you can pass on some tips,’ I suggested.
We exchanged grins again.
‘We’re going to have to remember that we’re working, though,’ I went on.
‘Yeah, whatevs.’ Jamie shrugged. ‘They invited us here for a jolly, right? They want us to recommend this place to our clients, so they need to give us the full treatment, right?’
‘I mean, I guess so.’ I sipped my champagne doubtfully. ‘But you never know. I wouldn’t want to take the piss.’
‘I fully intend to take all the piss.’
‘Yes, but we don’t know what the rules are. They didn’t say. For all we know, the stay’s included but nothing else is, and when we leave on Sunday, they’ll hand us a bill for squillions.’
Jamie looked down at his champagne as if it might be poisoned – or, worse, chargeable. ‘You think they’d do that?’
‘They might.’
‘Maybe we should ask.’
‘Maybe you should ask.’
We caught each other’s eyes again and giggled, united in the shared awkwardness we knew each other well enough not to have to try and conceal.
‘Maybe we should offer to take one room instead of two, as a cost-cutting exercise,’ he suggested. ‘Then they could comp us more food and booze.’
‘Then I’d have to listen to you snoring all night,’ I teased.
‘I don’t snore,’ he said huffily. ‘As you’d know full well if you—’
‘If I what?’
‘Slept w— shared a room with me.’ He winked.
‘Jamie!’ We hadn’t been talking loudly, but now I dropped my voice to a whisper. ‘Don’t do that, okay?’
‘Do what?’ His blue eyes were wide and innocent.
‘Flirt with me. There’s no point – Sam’s not even here.’
‘Sorry.’ But his grin was unrepentant. ‘Couldn’t help myself.’
‘Well, you—’
Then we saw a tall woman in a cream shift dress approaching us and stopped talking just in time.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Baldwin and Ms Meadows.’ Smiling, she extended her hand for us to shake. ‘I’m Patrizia, and I’d just like to say how delighted we are to have representatives of Devereaux Partners here at Hadleigh Hall.’
‘We’re delighted to be here.’ Jamie seemed to have regained his normal composure.
‘We would very much like you to experience everything this property has to offer,’ Patrizia went on. ‘I’m sure you’d like to go up to your rooms in just a moment, but perhaps you’d like to have lunch in an hour or so? And then I can give you a little tour.’
See? I glanced sideways at Jamie. It’s going to be nose to the grindstone.
‘That sounds lovely,’ I said.
‘But above all’ – Patrizia gave a hundred-watt smile – ‘we hope you will enjoy Hadleigh Hall and the hospitality we offer here as our guests. So after you’ve had a little look around, please feel free to relax and have fun. We’d love to offer you a spa treatment, and of course dinner is on us.’
That’s more like it, Jamie’s eyes said.
‘And tomorrow, there’s all the facilities for you to explore. The leisure centre, the golf course, the gardens, even horse riding. We hope you’ll treat this as your home for the weekend, as all our guests do.’
‘We will,’ I promised. ‘Thank you so much for inviting us.’
‘And now my colleague Juan will show you to your rooms. Your reservation for lunch is at one thirty.’
A few minutes later, I was standing on a polished parquet floor looking out between cream velvet curtains at a rose garden in full bloom.
Beyond it, I could see a lake with a few swans gliding over its surface, and on the far side of that were rolling hills.
The bed was vast and surrounded by white muslin drapes.
The air smelled of the expensive toiletries I’d sampled in the bathroom.
My case had even been unpacked and the dress I’d planned to wear to dinner taken away to be steamed.
I allowed my mind to reach out to the poor girl on minimum wage who’d be standing, right at that moment, in a cramped, humid laundry room wondering how the hell she’d get through all the ironing she needed to do and cursing the addition of my dress.
I was you not so long ago, I thought. I really hope one day you’ll be me too.
My mind flitted to Zahra. Perhaps one day I’d arrange for her to stay here, able to recommend the place from personal experience. If I did, I hoped she would arrive with a suitcase full of fabulous, sexy clothes and a man she really fancied.
There was a tap on my door, and I turned to open it, half-expecting fresh bottles of water or a top-up of my already perilously overloaded fruit bowl. But it was only Jamie.
‘I just had to check you didn’t get a better room than me.’ He flopped spread-eagled on my bed, giving a couple of bounces to test its springiness. ‘But you didn’t.’
‘Yours had better not be bigger,’ I said, ‘or I’ll make you swap.’
He sat up and looked around. ‘Pretty much identical. Only I’ve got a free-standing bath instead of one with jets.’
‘Hmmm. Okay, you can keep yours.’
‘Maybe we could try them both. They’re big enough for two. Think bottle of champagne, the sun setting over the lake, frangipane-scented bubbles everywhere, you and me in the—’
‘Jamie, stop this!’ I put my hands on my hips, keeping my voice stern. ‘Come on. You know it’s not real. It’s just a game – a joke – a thing to wind Sam up. It isn’t happening.’
‘You should’ve let me finish.’
‘Why? What were you going to say?’
‘I was going to say, and then Sam bursts in through the door, tries to drown me in the bath, I escape through the window and flee down the drive bollock-naked, then he goes down on one knee to propose to you. Job done. But you ruined the moment.’
In spite of myself, I laughed. ‘Okay, fine. But it’s still not going to happen. Should we head down for lunch?’
‘Yeah, let’s. I’m starving.’ He smiled, and the awkwardness that had sprung up between us melted away again.
‘Do you think we need to change?’
‘We’ve only got five minutes.’
I looked at my watch and saw that he was right. ‘Okay then. We’d better be on best behaviour while we get the singing-for-our-supper bit out of the way.’
I checked my face in the mirror, pulled a brush through my hair, then picked up my bag. Jamie patted his pockets for his room key and phone, and we headed out into the corridor.
For a moment, I allowed myself to think how gorgeous it would be to have come here with Sam – to be actual guests instead of on a business freebie, to be beginning a romantic weekend instead of one that, while it would be fun, was also work.
But Sam and I could never afford to stay in a place like this.
It was Jamie I was here with, and I was going to make the most of it.
Make the most of it while also making sure to rein in any ideas he had about taking our plan in any way seriously.
Because that wasn’t what I wanted – not at all. That would be going way, way too far.
Or had it gone too far already?
‘We’re freeeee!’ Jamie raced across the lawn, jumped down the thing we’d been told was called a ha-ha and spun around, arms windmilling, until he got so dizzy he fell down on his back on the grass.
Laughing, I walked more sedately down the flagstone steps and joined him by the entrance to the rose garden.
‘God, what a display,’ I scolded. ‘What if Patrizia saw you? What if she told Jasper?’
‘Then they’d think I was making the most of the wonderful facilities,’ he replied calmly. ‘Making myself at home. Just like she said we should.’
I could kind of see his point. The two hours after lunch had been interesting but slow.
We’d been shown the chapel where wedding ceremonies were held, the ruined ice house next to the stables and the eighteenth-century maze.
We’d met the head chef, the chief sommelier and the grounds manager.
We’d seen inside the bridal suite, the private dining room and the cellar.
We’d been on our best behaviour throughout, making admiring noises and taking notes, and I was just as happy as Jamie was that we were now at liberty to do our own thing.
Not that I was going to show it by jumping off five-foot retaining walls.
‘So what shall we do now?’ I asked.
He put his head on one side. ‘Game of croquet? Billiards match? Couple of sets of tennis?’
‘Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not going to pander to your male ego by having you thrash me at croquet, billiards or tennis. Or any other sport that requires hand-eye coordination, for that matter.’
‘Fine,’ he said grumpily. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘I reckon we should check out the spa. We’ve got a couple of hours before we need to get ready for dinner.’
He brightened. ‘Check out the bar, you say?’
I punched his bicep. ‘You heard me. Come on – we can have a drink later.’
‘Several drinks.’ He scrambled to his feet, and we made our way back inside.
Back in my room, I pulled off my clothes, showered and got into my swimsuit, slipping on one of the hotel’s white waffle robes and sliding my feet into towelling slippers.
Jamie emerged from his room at the same time as I did, and we made our way down to the basement, following the signs that said Nirvana Spa and the strengthening smell of chlorine and essential oils.
At the reception desk, a woman in a white tunic greeted us.
‘Would you like a treatment this afternoon?’ she asked.
‘That would be amazing, thank you,’ Jamie replied.
‘Let me see what availability we have.’ She tapped her keyboard. ‘We are rather busy. I can do a manicure or pedicure, a detox body wrap or a luxury diamond facial.’
She smiled encouragingly, but I could see that even metrosexual Jamie was going to draw the line at a pedicure.
‘Or’ – she smiled enticingly – ‘the couples massage suite is free.’
‘Great,’ Jamie said instantly. ‘We’ll have that, please.’
‘But—’ I began, directing a glare towards Jamie, which he ignored.
It was too late to object – the woman had entered our booking on their system and slid out from behind the reception counter. ‘Certainly. I’ll show you where to leave your things, and your therapists will be with you in just a few minutes.’
I thought I was quick getting ready, but Jamie was quicker.
When I entered the treatment room, which was dimly lit and scented with candles and reed diffusers, whale music playing on a speaker concealed somewhere, he was already lying on one of the massage beds, his lower body covered by a towel, but his toned, naked back visible.
I hesitated.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Get your kit off. I won’t look.’
He pressed his hands over his eyes. I had no choice – the therapists didn’t know that although we’d booked a couples’ massage, we were far from being an actual couple.
I stripped off my robe, relieved that at least I’d had to leave my bikini bottoms on, and dived onto the other bed, covering myself with the waiting towel.
‘All clear,’ I whispered.
‘Great.’ Grinning, he picked up his phone and held it high. ‘Smile!’
‘What are you—’
‘Team selfie.’
‘But—’
‘We’re working, remember? Got to show off the luxury Devereaux Partners can deliver. Everything is possible, and we’re here to prove it.’
Before I could protest, I heard the click of the shutter. And before I could order him to delete the photo, like, right now, the door opened and our therapists glided in to begin our treatments.