“Would you like me to start the reading of the will?” Mr Nagle asks the earl. The solicitor never moved to help the guy when he was almost coughing his guts up. I’ve never liked him much, he always seems shifty to me. I know he worked for the previous earl for a long time and they were quite friendly, but he always made my skin crawl. The earl takes a drink of his water, which pleases me as he’s heeding my words, before answering.
“Yes, please do,” he replies.
I stand quietly and attentively with the rest of the staff as Mr Nagle takes out several sheets of paper and starts reading. I’m not entirely sure why we’re here, but Bob said we had to be, so we obey. I only half listen to what’s being said, the language isn’t plain enough for me and I’m not really interested. Instead I keep glancing at the earl. To make sure he’s not going to start choking again, of course, and certainly not because I’m finding it hard to look anywhere else.
He doesn’t look like someone who’s just inherited a huge house and vast fortune, though I can’t blame him. I wouldn’t want it either. I’m happy doing what I do. It’s a physical job, which keeps me fit, and I get to enjoy football on the weekends, playingin a team with Jordan and our mates, trying to put together a team for the Sunday league next season. On most Saturdays I go to the match, especially if Forest are playing at home. It’s a simple, stress-free life, and it suits me fine.
A gasp gets my attention and I quickly look over at the earl, but it’s not him having a relapse. I realise it’s come from Martha and she’s looking at Bob, her hand to her mouth. He’s looking as stone-faced as usual, his normal expression for when he’s on duty, as he calls it, when he’s in the same room as our boss or their guests. Though he’s rarely more animated when he’s not.
“I’ll continue,” Mr Nagle says with a slight air of impatience at being interrupted. “To Martha Jones, I leave seventy-five thousand pounds.”
Bloody hell, if what caused her to gasp was a similar amount for Bob, that’s a hundred and fifty grand between them. They could do a lot with that sort of money. Good for them.
“To Simone Phillips, Courtney Phillips, Jordan Bowes, and Jason Bowes, I leave fifty thousand pounds each.” Mr Nagle adds.
Jordan lets out a breath and I feel him nudge my shoulder again. I know what he’s thinking. That’s almost two years’ wages. If we are let go, it would certainly help while he finds another job. It would help me too.
“And to my nephew, Kai Buckley, I leave Cavendish Hall and the remainder of my estate.” Mr Nagle carries on but I don’t pay attention. Instead I watch as Kai—damn I shouldn’t think of him as that—as the earl slumps back in his chair. He chews on his bottom lip, obviously deep in thought, and turns his face to stare into the fire. Normally we’d wait until we’re dismissed,but that doesn’t look likely so Bob takes charge and ushers us all out of the room. None of us speak until we’re in the kitchen, our usual gathering place and unofficial staff room. Martha fills the kettle and puts it on while Simone sets out the teapot in a well-established routine.
Soon we all have a brew and are sitting round the kitchen table.
“Well, that was unexpected.” Simone voices what we’re all thinking.
“Can you imagine having that much money?” Courtney’s excitement bubbles up. “What are you all going to do with yours?” she asks the table in general.
“We don’t know yet.” Martha takes a mouthful of her tea and then looks at Bob with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise. All that time to relax, sailing from place to place, seeing the world and having someone else to do the cooking for a change.”
“A cruise!” Courtney exclaims. “You could retire with the money you and Bob have.”
“Not really. We’re not that old yet!” She chuckles a little and makes a dismissing motion with her hand towards Courtney, who just laughs at her. It feels like we’re getting back to normal with the usual banter, except nothing will be the same again with a new earl in the house.
“What about you?” Simone tips her head towards Jordan.
“Well, it depends, doesn’t it?” he replies. “We have no idea what will happen to us yet. We might not have jobs next week.” He finishes his tea in a large gulp and puts the mug on the table to silence, the mood dropping as everyone contemplatesthat possibility after the elation of being left something in the will. Jordan looks around as if he’s realised he’s dampened everyone’s spirits. “But if I had a choice, the boys have always wanted me to take them to Disney World.”
“And you shall. I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” Simone says reassuringly and squeezes his arm. He gives her a grateful look.
“What do you think of the new earl then?” Courtney asks and Bob frowns at her in warning. He doesn’t approve of us talking about who we work for. He says gossip breeds a familiarity that might spill over when we’re in their presence. He’d give us a good telling off if we forgot to address them correctly. As head of the staff, our conduct is his responsibility, and he takes it seriously.
“I think he’s handsome, like a filmstar,” Courtney says dreamily and then turns to me. “What do you say, Jason?”
My sexuality is no secret from the rest of the staff, who have never had a problem with it. Courtney’s question doesn’t come as a great surprise, as we’ve often discussed the merits of various male Hollywood stars, always as a bit of fun, but this time her question irks me. I don’t want to discuss the delicate beauty of the new earl with her or anyone. I don’t even want to think about him and the effect his feline eyes had on me. It’s a dangerous path I’m not going to tread upon.
“I think he needs some of Ma’s cooking,” I say, rising from the table and ending the conversation. I hear Bob’s approving huff, Courtney’s disappointed sigh, and Martha’s hearty laugh as I leave the room. Rain or not, I still have work to do.
CHAPTER 3
KAI
My eyes are crusted with sleep and my limbs feel leaden when I eventually wake up. I’m surprised I slept at all as I tossed and turned for hours. I returned to my cold empty flat late last night, not the same person I’d left that morning. After talking for hours with Mr Nagle and asking a lot of questions, I managed to catch a train home. I feel like I should be jubilant about my inheritance, but instead I feel weighed down by it all. I reluctantly clamber out of my warm cocoon of duvet and blankets and pull on some sweatpants and a hoodie. I stumble into the kitchen where I’m met with a far too bright and cheerful Tate, my flatmate. He is, annoyingly, a morning person, and even though he was out until god knows when last night, he’s bounding round the kitchen. Looking at his clothes, he might have just walked in from clubbing all night. It’s hard to tell with Tate. His tight shorts, which today are red, and his glittery crop top are pretty much his standard attire.
“Jeez, you look rough,” he says as he spots me where I’m propping myself up on the doorframe. “Was it a drag yesterday?Did you have forgotten relatives bending your ear and saying of course you don’t remember me, last time I saw you, you were just yay high? Old ladies who launch into an hour long tale of catching you up on everything they’ve ever done, referencing cousins you’ve never heard of?”
I snicker at his description, which, while wholly inaccurate, conjures up an image that could have been true. Though the fact that there were no other mourners at the graveside apart from myself, Mr Nagle, and the staff is more intriguing than if a hoard of relatives had appeared.
“No, nothing like that, though I have news.”
“Well, so do I,” Tate says, pouring us both a coffee.
