“Don’t be, son. Very nice it was too.”
We ignored my mother’s sharp intake of air and my father’s sigh of frustration.
Gran turned to my sister. “More meat than a butcher’s window.” Then she turned back to my parents. “Are we having lunch or what?”
A couple of hours later, after the most awkward meal of my life, a black Range Rover pulled up in the road outside the house. William peeked through the net curtains, then raced to the front door. Having refused my mother’s offer of a robe, he was still in his boxers. It had kept everyone uncomfortable the entire meal, and I loved him for that. I followed him outside. When the car door opened, Indira Murray stepped out. What the hell was she doing here? Indira was wearing yoga pants and trainers and shifted her sunglasses on top of her head to better eyeball William in his boxer shorts. As she walked up the drive, she circled a finger at Achilles, who had destroyed my parents’ front garden.
“This is so over the top, William. We’ll make a TV producer out of you yet.”
I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Saving the Love Manor,” she said. “It’s brilliant, Petey. I want to make it.”
I looked at William. I was shocked and confused.
“So, second confession for the day,” he said. “Imayhave sent Indira your pitch forSaving the Love Manor. When I sent that message earlier. That’s our plan B. I’m sorry, perhaps I should have asked. You’re not angry, are you?”
Should I be angry? Words didn’t come. My body was numb.
“But what about the privacy issues?”
“Lola reedited it,” William said. “It’s fine now. And it’s absolutely amazing, Petey.”
The rest of the household had now followed us outside and were standing on the porch.
“I came straight here so I could tell you to your face,” Indira said. “I want you to executive produce it. As we agreed. If you still want to?”
I spluttered. “Yes. Yes, of course I still want to. But I thought you didn’t want to make this type of TV anymore?”
“Petey Boy, there’s enough compelling drama going on at that house without needing to exploit anybody for entertainment. This is exactly the kind of TV show I want to be making. I do have one condition, though.”
My heart stopped.
She turned to look at my gran. “Peggy. I want you in the show. You’re television gold. We’d need you at Buckford during filming.”
My parents gasped. There was muttering behind me.
William looked at me, then at Gran. “In that case, Peggy, would you like to come live at Buckford full-time? The place doesn’t feel right without you.”
“You’re busting me out of prison?” Gran clapped her hands together in prayer. “If Petey Boy’s going, I’m going too! You know, my husband always said I had the legs of a film star.”
“You cannot be seriously considering this?” my father moaned.
“You watch me, Teddy.”
My mother inhaled sharply. “What will people say?”
“There’s something else,” Indira said. “The Love Manor. I’m willing to sell you two the format rights. If you want to make it?”
The clattering sound of my jaw hitting the pavement could be heard several streets away.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“But…” I looked at William. “We can’t afford that, can we?”
William seemed thoughtful. “Would making two shows from Buckford be enough to keep you in Leicestershire full-time?”
