So I wasn’t in trouble. That was a relief. I didn’t think an angry Petey would be a kissy Petey.
“But it was a big day today. Double eviction.”
“Not—”
“No, not Jonty and Lola. Kiki Galapagos and Tom the racist closet case from rural Somerset. But, in welcome news, Ridhi and Armando seem to have turned a corner.”
“Bully for them. Three cheers.”
As we reached Lady Caroline’s Bridge—the covered stone Palladian crossing built by Capability Brown—my heart was thumping so loudly it was causing ripples on the water. Petey sat on the bench looking back along the lake to the house, so I sat down beside him. His fingers were still intertwined in mine. The evening was calm, but the frogs were going absolutely hell for leather. A pair of ducks glided down from the sky and landed on the water in front of us.
“Is that Derek’s duck?” Petey said.
“You know, I think it might be. Looks like he found himself a girlfriend.”
“Good for him.”
We sat there in silence for a minute, me trying to drum up the courage from my loafers, where it was hanging out with my toes.
“All right, your turn,” Petey said. “Shall we compare notes? You go first. What ideas did you come up with for saving the estate today?”
“Ideas?”
“Yeeeessssss…”
“For saving the estate?”
“William, did you not come up with any ideas? What did you do all day?”
How could I tell him I stared out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him? That I pined for him? Imagined kissing him, spending my life with him?
“Well, I…”
“William, you have a hundred and sixty-five days to save the estate. You need twenty-six thousand pounds every single day or you’ll lose everything.” Petey stood, his hand leaving mine. He pointed back towards the house. “If I were you, I’d be unable to think about anything else. Have you doneanythingto find that cash today?”
I felt so ashamed, but I couldn’t admit I hadn’t. I opted for a tiny white lie.
“I thought we could sell the Holbeins. They’ll leave sodding great gaps on the wall of the Long Gallery, but that portrait of Queen Elizabeth is the stuff of childhood nightmares. No wonder she died a virgin. I won’t miss it. I’m sure we’ll be able to fill the spots with something. There’s an IKEA up near Nottingham.”
Petey’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, and to be honest, this ain’t the time for jokes. You need to get serious or you’re gonna lose everything.”
I hated that he was right. But I felt so daunted by the size of the task in front of me. It was crippling.
“I have absolutely no idea where to start.”
Petey’s eyes softened. He sat back down beside me, weaving his fingers into mine again.
“A kilo of carrots is approximately eight to ten carrots,” he said.
“Have you had a seizure?”
“When I was a kid, my gran would sell a kilo of carrots for eighty pence. The profit margin was ten per cent.”
“If you’re suggesting I sell Achilles’s carrots out from underneath him, he’ll riot.”
“Eight pence profit isn’t a lot, but sell enough every day, every week, and at the end of the year you’ve made about four hundred quid—on carrots alone. Then there’s potatoes, beans, tomatoes…”
Petey looked at me earnestly, like he’d made a deeply profound point that would set me on the path to financial freedom.
