Page 73 of Escape to the Country

‘London,’ Eleanor told him, feeling nervous under his scrutiny.

‘Civilisation indeed,’ said Alex, nodding. ‘This must all be a bit rural for you.’ Without waiting for an answer, he swept past and headed towards the kitchen.

Annie and Eleanor exchanged a smile and then followed him.

In the kitchen, the electrics, lighting and plumbing had now been completed. Brand new appliances were starting to arrive in enormous packaging and the whole room was slowly taking shape.

‘A dishwasher! A tumble dryer!’ said Annie, with a smile. ‘And no mice. Well, maybe not so many.’

Alex shuddered. ‘I should think not. So have the plasterers finished upstairs as well?’ he asked.

‘Last week,’ said Annie. ‘All the guest bedrooms are just waiting for your magic touch.’

‘You wait until I tell you my ideas for these,’ said Alex, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’ll be like the best hotel in the area. Very upmarket but beautiful too. And free, natch. But, heaven help us, only housing crusty musicians. Oh, not gorgeous Tom, of course. I can’t believe my first weekend visit and he’s at bloody Glastonbury.’

‘Try and focus,’ said Annie, in a firm tone. ‘Now what about my kitchen? You haven’t told me what it’s going to look like.’

‘It’s going to be fabulous and that’s all you need to know,’ said Alex, his eyes gleaming. ‘Your fiancé has made you wait long enough, so we can go over budget by a teensy tiny bit.’

Annie shook her head. ‘I daren’t. We’re so broke.’

Alex made a face. ‘How dull. Leave it to me. I know how to get a bargain or two.’

Annie led them outside onto the sunny patio where she planned to serve them tea.

Alex glanced down to a pile of cuttings that had been hidden underneath her notepad on the table. ‘What’s all this?’

‘I was sorting out a few newspaper reports from the last couple of years,’ said Annie, with a grimace. ‘We’ve got to host the annual summer fete. It’s our duty as future earl and countess of Cranley.’

Alex clapped his hands together in fake enthusiasm. ‘A summer fete! How very twee!’

Eleanor looked at the photographs and was dismayed by what she saw. The Queen’s garden party, it certainly wasn’t. A few stalls, mostly bric-a-brac and other rubbish. Some flowers in pots for sale. A few balloons. ‘Where’s the bunting?’ she asked. ‘If it’s going to be a proper fete, it should at least be pretty.’

‘Everything should be pretty to look at otherwise it’s too depressing to contemplate,’ said Alex.

Annie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I think people came because their parents did and it’s sort of carried onto the next generation.’ She brought out a large notebook and stared down at the blank pages once more, as if seeking inspiration.

‘You’d better put Portaloos at the top of that list,’ Alex told her, tapping the blank page. ‘I’m not having all and sundry traipsing through this beautiful home that I’ve made for you.’

Annie grimaced. ‘God, I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘What had you thought of?’ asked Eleanor.

Annie sighed as she handed over the photographs of the previous fetes. ‘Just that it had to look better than that.’

Alex grimaced as he looked over Eleanor’s shoulder at the pictures. ‘It couldn’t look much worse. Where the hell’s that cake? We need sugar for the shock.’

Annie served the tea and cakes on the rickety patio furniture. To make it a bit more pretty, she had arranged some pink sweet peas which had been plonked into a jam jar.

‘Bert grows them. Don’t they smell wonderful?’ said Annie, sniffing the air. ‘They’re my favourite.’

‘It’s like we’re in a frigging time machine,’ said Alex, shaking his head. ‘Albeit a cute, countryside one.’

‘We’re not that bad,’ Annie told him, cutting a slice of cake. ‘We’re just in the country, that’s all.’

‘That’s it!’ exclaimed Alex with a start.

‘What are you talking about?’ said Annie.