I turned to face Indira. “Just take them.”
“Pardon?”
“It’ll be quicker if you take them,” I said, sotto voce. “Imagine she’s your nephew.”
Indira reached out her hand and took the basket. “Whereare my manners? Very thoughtful. Thanks ever so much, et cetera. I’ll distribute them to everyone later. I hope there’s enough forDerek’s duck. I know he’d hate to miss out. Will you be staying to watch the filming?”
The sarcasm was thick in the air, but Mum completely failed to smell it. She nodded. So did Bramley, who’d caught up and was collapsed on the grass beside his own wicker basket.
“Fine,” Indira said. “But if I hear a peep out of either of you, I’m sticking every last one of those acorns up your arse, sideways, until you’re shitting expensive cabinetry. Do you hear me?”
A few minutes later, three black landaus, each drawn by a team of four magnificent Cleveland Bay mares, circled into the carriage court. As if out of nowhere, Petey Boy was at the centre of the action. He had a clipboard in one hand, while the other was constantly playing with the button of his headset. He looked soin control. Like he was completely in his element. As the cast members sat in the carriages, dressed in their finery, Petey Boy issued instructions about how they should line up in front of Dorinda and what would happen next. He oozed calm authority. A gust of wind picked up, and from the stables, Achilles neighed loudly—as far as the stallion was concerned, a busload of new girlfriends had turned up. About three of the mares whinnied back. My eyes darted to Indira, but she didn’t say anything. Then there was a flurry of activity, and Petey Boy dashed over to stand with our little group. I raised my hand to wave hello, but he ignored me completely to stare at the monitors.
Indira called, “Action.” Actors dressed as footmen bustled about, helping the contestants down from the landaus. I spotted Jonty Boche, dressed in full coat and breeches, jumping down onto the gravel. Before I could engage my brain, my hand shot up to wave hello to my old school chum. Unfortunately, Jonty did the same.
“If it isn’t old Dub-Dub!” he bellowed, marching across the carriage court with his hand extended.
“CUT!”
Indira and Petey Boy both turned and glared at me, heads tilted. I’d seen the velociraptors do that inJurassic Park.
“Petey Boy, go deal with your twat friend.”
“I’m on it,” he said. Unless I’m terribly mistaken, he scowled at me—actuallyscowledat me—before dashing away to head Jonty off at the pass. It was clear I was no longer considered merely a bumbling incompetent but a serious liability. So much for being on the same team.
“Seeing as we’ve all stopped,” Mum put in, “would anyone like some tea?”
Bramley produced a thermos from his basket and raised it aloft like a trophy.
“NO! We need to crack on.” Indira turned to face me. “Lord Buckford, if you, or your people, cause me one more delay, I promise you I will be adding a pair of very small, very inbred, very high-carat diamonds to my jewellery box. Are we clear?”
My head was in my hands. This was not going well. When everyone was back in their positions, Petey Boy dashed back over to our tree by the monitors. I smiled as apologetically as I could manage and received a death stare in reply.
“Action!”
In the carriage court, it was time for Dorinda Carter to deliver the day’s coup de grâce. The smiling faces beaming back at her as she welcomed them toThe Love Manorturned to looks of horror as the first nine contestants learned they would not be lords and ladies after all.
“Upstairs, in the servants’ quarters, you’ll each find a bedroom with your name on the door,” Dorinda said. “Inside, you’ll find the uniforms appropriate to your new roles, as maids, housekeepers, cooks, valets, butlers, and footmen.”
“You what?” Ellie from Essex spat.
Kiki Galapagos shook her head. “Yous are takin’ the piss.”
Tom the hot farm boy raised a hand. “Can I be a stable boy?”
Indira’s jaw was clenched, her eyes bulging with delight. On the monitor, I could see cameras moving in and out on the contestant’s reactions. This was exactly what she wanted.
“So, go upstairs, find your rooms, get changed, and get to work,” Dorinda said. “Because…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Tonight, you’re hosting a ball for the lords and ladies of the ton. They will be here in four hours’ ti?—”
A duck quacked, loudly.
I barked a sharp, nervous, involuntary laugh—and slapped my hand to my mouth, horrified. There was a beat of silence. Dorinda and all the contestants fell into giggles. The carefully built on-screen tension had evaporated. Off-screen, the tension was thicker than ever. I looked at Indira, waiting for her to explode. She was silently staring at the monitors. I glanced over at Petey Boy, who was practically white knuckled, waiting for Indira’s reaction.
Dorinda didn’t miss a beat.
“So you’ve got a lot of work to do,” she said, taking charge of the moment. “Cos I don’t reckon that duck’s in the oven yet.”
Jonty’s familiar laugh bellowed across the estate, like a hyena having an asthma attack. The contestants cackled like hens. My eyes flicked to Petey Boy. His gaze met mine for an instant before we turned to face Indira.
