âYou, um, arenât disappointed?â
Her eyes sparkled. âGemma, my dear, Iâm beginning to understand why you and Abigail are such good friends. With a new hair colour and clothes, you could be in with a real chance of pulling this off. I used to run intensive etiquette courses and might just be able to teach you everything you need in the next ten days until the final. Tonight weâll start with table manners. I brought some of the more adventurous foods you might encounter, like asparagus, mussels and quail eggs.â
Urgh! Sheâd better teach me the etiquette for throwing up.
I picked up the magazine. It was a TV guide for next week. Oh my God!
Million Dollar Mansion
was advertised on the front. I flicked through and came to a full page photo of the Earl of Croxley, a slim, grey-bearded man with a pipe, in a tweed suit. Lord Edward, his son, looked a moody so-and-so, as if the camera was his worst enemy. Yet I could forgive his Victor Meldrew expression because of those tousled honey curls and broad shoulders.
Phwoaar!
On the opposite page were the other finalists. With dyed black hair greased back and an expensive suit, the divorced Baron of Marwick was in his sixties and looked like his middle name was Smug. His son, Harry Gainsworth, wore a flash tie and mega gold watch. Their family had owned Marwick Castle for less than a century. Both held glasses of champagne and in their interviews called the Earl of Croxley a âboring old fartâ.
Whereas the Croxleys⦠Once more I gazed at the photo of Applebridge Hall. My eye caught tatty gardens and crumbling brickwork â talk about shabby chic. I read the Earlâs warm tales about his grandparents and Elizabethan ancestorsâit must be hard for him, all that history suddenly at risk. But could little old me really help save the Croxleysâ mansion?
âShame, isnât it, that Abbeyâs dad and the Earl arenât on talking terms â that Abbey and Rupert arenât in touch with their cousin,â I said.
âIt is, dear. I believe Edward made some attempt to contact them when he wasâ¦ooh, almost twenty. Abigail and Rupert were still at junior school. He sent them cards and the occasional book. But Richard never passed them on.â
âThat stinks! Does Abbey know?â
âYes. Richard told the children it was for the best. That they were too young to understand the reasons for the estrangement and what was really going on. The cards eventually stopped.â
Blimey. This was hardcore falling out, not to let the kids at least have contact. Without warning, I sneezed and sniffed loudly.
Lady C tutted and passed me her dainty lace handkerchief.
âSee?â I said. âWe could change my appearance â even with my own style and hair colour, Iâve been mistaken for your niece. But everything else about me is wrong. I talk while I eat and, thanks to Uncle Pete, I know more about brick-laying than cross-stitch or croquet.â
âLadies arenât stuck in the nineteenth century, my dear,â said Lady Constance. âExpert knowledge in any area is admirable.â
At that moment the National Anthem blared out from her handbag. That was some ringtone. Lady C took out her phone.
âHello, Abigail⦠Pardon? School? Oh, dear. Oh dearie, dearie me. Noâdonât mention that. Ah, and thereâs something elseâ¦?â A pained expression deepened her wrinkles. âYes, quite. What a shame. Leave it with me. Speak later, poppetâ¦â She ended the call.
âBad news?â I said.
Lady C stared at me for a few seconds. âAbigail misunderstood the start date of the final. Filming actually begins on September the first.â
âThis Saturday?â I squeaked. âThat only gives us four days! And wasnât there something else â about a school?â
Lady Câs shoulders sagged. âThatâs irrelevant now, seeing as your transformation is quite impossible. Poor Abigail. You were her only chance.â
Uh oh â another adrenaline rush as my conscience pricked. Months ago, Abbey had taken me in, after I left Dadâs so that he could turn my bedroom into a nursery for his new girlfriendâs twins. Truth be told, I still owed her big time. My heart raced, meaning I was about to do something stupid⦠Urghâlike deceiving people and pretending to be posh. An uncomfortable twinge pinched my stomach. Yet just one look at Lady C reminded me just how important this was to Abbey. And if you couldnât step out of your comfort zone to help mates, then I reckoned it was what Abbey would call âa pretty poor showâ.
âWhat the hell,â I heard my sing-song voice say. âLetâs give it our best shot. Applebridge Hall, here I come!â
If anyone could imitate my best bud, it was me.
LORD EDWARDâS E-DIARY
Monday 27
th
August
âCommentsâ
10.30p.m
. After several pleasant hours of reading, here in my beloved library, Iâve just bobbed back online to close down the laptop. How extraordinary that already several people have commentedâfor that I thank you.
Drunkwriter
, your poem wasâ¦thought-provoking.
Historybuff
, Applebridge Hall was indeed built almost five hundred years agoâby the first Earl of Croxley, who fought against the Spanish Armada.
EtonMess
, close as cousin Abigail and myself are, I, um, donât profess to know
any
of her personal measurements. Nor whether she prefers tights to stockings⦠For details regarding her appearance, you must wait to see her on the show. Which reminds me of terrific news, blog-readersâshe just rang, to confirm her arrival this Saturday.
Chapter 2
Ever wondered how it might feel to go on one of those makeover shows where they revamp your look for The Big Reveal? Well, take it from me, youâre torn between dying to peek and fearing you wonât recognize the reflection at all. Especially when you quite liked the former youâI would miss my rub-in tan and Dairy Milk hair.
I glanced at my packed suitcase as I waited for the
Million Dollar Mansion
car to drive me the hourâs journey to Applebridge Hall. Lady C had pinned up my newly dyed, strawberry-blonde hair. The nail polish was clear, the chicken fillets gone and the make-up toned down. Nor did my outfit show legs or cleavage.
I hadnât needed as much help from Lady C as Iâd expected, appearance-wise. After all, Iâd lived with Abbey for months now and knew just how much mascara she liked to apply to her lashes (think more wiry daddy-long-legs and less furry tarantula).
Lady C yawned and pointed towards Abbeyâs full-length mirror. Weâd hardly slept for the last four days. It was like suffering from an almighty hangover.
âTime to take a look, dear,â she said.
I tiptoed forward. âShiitt!â
âGemma! After everything weâve practised this week. How terribly disappointing that you still use that ghastly word.â
âWhat? Ohâ¦Sorry.â I giggled. âBut itâs wicked! I
do
look just like Abbey.â Apart from my cuddlier tum and freckles. I swivelled from side to side, eyeing the knee-length navy skirt and red polo shirt. I wore KMid high nude shoes and gold stud earrings and a little silk red scarf around my neck⦠There was a definite classy air hostess vibe going on!
âNow, youâll have men fighting to open doors for you.â
I shrugged. âWhy should they? Guys, girls, weâre all equals.â
âYou think thatâs how men treated you, in your old clothes?â She smiled and shook her head. âRight, youâve got my mobile phone number, dear. Donât hesitate to ring if you need me. Now, remember, cutleryâ¦â
âWork from the outside inâ¦â I said and gave a big yawn, remembering to cover my mouth.
âAnd alcohol?â
âDonât clink glasses or get drunk.â
Carrying my suitcase, I left Abbeyâs bedroom and followed Lady C into the lounge.
âPity Abbey couldnât drop by to see me off,â I said. âShe wouldnât believe what I look like now.â
âYes, itâs unfortunate she had to take her parents to the airport this morning.â
âAt least we spoke on the phone briefly last night. She couldnât stop talking about her trip.â I glanced sideways at Lady C. âIn fact, I didnât have time to ask her what she said to you on the phone, when we were in the park â about a school. Seeing as you canât remember.â
Lady C blushed. âOh, er, never mind. Right, letâs see⦠If you are expected to help in say a coffee shop,â she said, changing the subject, âdonât hesitate to contact me if youâre expected to bake. I have files of recipes.â
I opened the flatâs front door. Roses in her cheeks, Lady C gave me a quick hug.
âThe best of British, dear. Now remember, most importantlyâ¦â
âThe three Ms: Modesty, Manners and no Men.â For some reason my eyes tingled. âDo you, um, think weâve done enough? In such a short time?â
âHard work can achieve great things, Gemma, and Iâve been incredibly impressed by your commitment. As long as you donât dunk your bread in soup or chew your hair orââ
âInterrupt people?â I, um, interrupted.
We both smiled and I made my way to the lift.
Right. Get into character, Gemma. This could, in the words of Abbey, be
super fun
! Little old me was going to see how the other half lived. Iâd ring bells for coffee, eat off silver and servants would have to avoid eye contact and bow. For two whole weeks I wouldnât have to clean or iron. At the most Iâd serve cream teas to the The Little People (previously me!) who, in awe of the Croxley name, would hang on my every word. Although Lady C kept hinting that I might be expected to bake, I was sure the local shops would sell scones and the like â I could just raid their supplies.
As the lift approached the ground floor, I chuckled at the idea of me ordering people around. What was I like? Living like that would be the pits. Hopefully the servants (just saying that word felt wrong) would be like family and I could still make myself Cup-a-Soups and Pot Noodles. The real challenge would be resisting the temptation to tell them who I really was. I took a deep breath. Stiff upper lip, as Lady C would say.
As for servants and bells⦠well, from what the Earl had told Abbeyâs dad, Applebridge Hall had suffered from years of financial problems. Entering this competition was a last drastic measure. For getting to the final, the Earl had already won twenty-five thousand pounds, to put into motion plans for how the place would eventually start earning its own keep. Iâd said that was a mega amount of money. Abbey soon put me right.
âOh, no, Gemma,â sheâd insisted. âThatâs nothing, in terms of running a mansion. Maintenance costs for one year would see that gone â and thatâs without repairing the roof or completing the rewiring. Then thereâs damp, rising gardening costs and, as for the internal renovations⦠Tapestries and ceilings need refreshing and apparently Uncleâs desperate to reupholster much of the furniture. Metres and metres of brickwork should be re-pointedâ¦â
Still, I couldnât wait to see the place and strode out into the sunshine.
âYoo-hoo!â called a voice. âAbigail Croxley?â
I looked at my watch again.
âMiss Croxley?â
Eek! That was me. I shook myself to attention and looked up. A skinny woman with red hair, carrying a clipboard, waved from next to a big shiny black car, parked up by the side of the road. Chin not too high or low, shoulders back, I strolled over.
âHow do you do?â I said in a controlled voice, and held out my hand.
âOh, erm, good, thanks.â She grinned and grasped my fingers, pumping them up and down. âIâm Roxyâthe production assistant. We spoke on the phone yesterday.â
Stomach twisting, I nodded. What if, face-to-face, my pretend accent sounded weird? But then, after all this time living with Abbey, I stood as good a chance as anyone of mimicking a posh voice.
âWeâd better get a move on,â she continued, speaking at top-speed. âThe TV crews at Applebridge Hall are on standby. My boss, Gaynor, the director, hates it if people are late. Footage of your arrival will have to be edited, ready for screening on tomorrowâs Sunday night show.â She grinned. âWelcome aboard the roller coaster that is
Million Dollar Mansion
!â
She lugged my case over to the car boot. Iâd never met anyone who spoke so fast. A chauffeur in a smart cap and suit got out and opened the door for me. The only time Iâd seen anyone dressed like that was at a mateâs hen night, but trusted (nay, prayed!) this old codger wouldnât perform a striptease.
While Roxy got in around the other side, I concentrated hard to get into the car just right. The rules were⦠legs first, knees closed at all times⦠Phew. Job done. No knickers flashed.
The door closed behind me. I looked to my left and smiled at Roxy. She ended a phone call as the chauffeur loaded my luggage, got in and we pulled away.
âWhen was the last time you visited Applebridge Hall?â she asked warmly, while scribbling notes.
âOnly last year,â I said, chest feeling all tight. I wasnât used to telling such bare-faced lies and in my mind frantically went over what Lady C called my âremitâ â a mega fancy word for the task Iâve been given, namely pretending to be one of a happy Croxley clan. In an email to Abbey, Lord Edward said she should act as if the family often met up. All members of staff would play along, as the future of Applebridge Hall â and their jobs â depended on it.
âRecently, Iâve been terribly busy in catering and am so looking forward to taking time out to visit my uncle again. Iâd be interested to know the arrangements for when I arrive,â I continued, articulating every word as if I was the Speaking Clock.
âQuite a, erm, character, isnât he, the Earl?â she said and glanced sideways at me.
Really? I was dying to probe her further but another of Lady Câs rules was never to appear over-familiar.
âAlthough Lord Edwardâs not half-bad.â She winked. âDefinite eye-candy for the girls.â
âI wouldnât know about that,â I said stiffly. Uncomfortable as it was, good old English reserve was useful if stuck for words.
Roxy rummaged in her jeans pocket and pulled out some fruit pastilles. She held out the packet. âI never have time to eat these days â fancy sharing my breakfast?â
âThatâs very kind, but no, thank you,â I said, remembering what Lady C said about never eating on the go. On the other hand, I didnât want to offend herâ¦
âWhat a, um, charming bracelet,â I said and pointed to her wrist.
âOh, ta.â She grinned. âMy fiancé gave it to me.â
âFiancé? Oh, of course, I didnât see the ring.â It was no Elizabeth Taylor rock, but, nevertheless, a mega diamond to me. âAmaaaaazinâ,â I cooed. Oops. I caught Roxyâs eye. Her lip twitched. We giggled and then quickly I recovered my stuffy act. âMy flatmate⦠thatâs um, one of her words,â I said. âOccasionally, I pick up these things.â
Roxy examined her wedding finger. âMy boyfriend proposed in New York. Although I donât suppose this compares to the huge pendants and tiaras youâve grown up with.â
âThe, um, setting is utterly exquisite,â I said. âItâs a ring Iâd be proud to wear.â
Roxy eyes crinkled at the corners. She held up her clipboard and flicked through the paperwork quick-smart. âThe arrangements, letâs see⦠Late morning arrival â greetings with family and staff. Then youâll have a little private time before, at one oâclock, your uncle and cousin make a special announcement.â
âWhat about?â I said.
âThe business idea theyâve come up with, to save Applebridge Hall. Lord Edward has been hinting about it on his blog.â She grinned. âGaynor had to work on him for ages before heâd agree to spill his thoughts and feelings on-line. But, to be fair, heâs gone for it with gusto and is determined itâll attract more fans and contribute to Applebridge Hallâs success.â
Ah, yes â Edwardâs E-diary. Last night Lady C and I had taken a peek. His tone sounded a bit old-fashioned but, to my surprise, he seemed mega friendly towards the blog-readers.
âAnd this announcementâ¦?â I said airily.
Roxyâs eyes twinkled. âDonât you know anything about it?â
âNo. Cousin Edward, he, um, wanted it to be a surprise.â Better not mention the coffee shop, seeing as other people didnât know yet.
She shrugged. âEven the crew and I donât know for sure. Weâve only just returned to the properties, since the preliminary rounds.â Roxy consulted her clipboard again. âTonight, at seven, youâll be having dinnerâ¦â She shot me a look. âLook, can I give you a tip, Abigail? Woman to woman?â
âDo call me Abbey,â I said and squished back into the comfy seat. Thank God these media types didnât stand on ceremony. In fact, so far, so bloominâ good. My false accent hadnât been rumbled. This speaking malarkey was manageable as long as I gave it more Toff than
TOWIE
.
âAbbeyâyou seem pretty down-to-earth. If you really want your family to winâ¦â She threw her hands into the air. âFor Godâs sake, sex things up!â
âI beg your pardon?â I said in my best plummy voice. Ooh, it was hard not to laugh, but Abbey would have certainly cringed at the S word. Not that she was a prude, but once Iâd read out a chapter of
Fifty Shades of Grey
â her eyes bulged so much, I thought she was going to croak and search for a lily pad.
âNo offence meant,â she said and shoved another pastille in her mouth. âItâs just that wordâs out that the Baron of Marwick has something wild planned for this evening. In contrast to your uncle, whose idea of an entertaining Saturday night is sharing good food with friends⦠Thatâs fine for an earl pushing eighty, but your average reality show viewer wants arguments, intrigue or, even better, nudity.â
âYes, last yearâs
Big Brother
was jolly good,â I said. âUm, so my flatmate told me.â
âSheâs right â viewing figures topped ten million. One of the housemates got pregnant and the police had to break in and stop a brawl.â
I put on a shocked voice. âHow dreadful.â
Roxy stopped chewing for a moment. âAs you probably know, your uncle is a bit camera-shy. But, to stand any chance of winning, heâs got to wake up to the fact that
Million Dollar Mansion
is more than a posh version of
Come Dine With Me
. Marwick Castle is a strong contender â the Baron is media savvy and doesnât much care what he has to do to pull in votes.â Roxy took out another sweet. âTo be honest, the production team was amazed Applebridge Hall got this far, and can only put it down to your hunky cousin appealing to female viewers.â She cleared her throat. âNot that you heard any of this from me.â
âYou can trust me,â I said, concentrating now. âThanks awfully, Roxy. Iâll do what I can. Your inputâs appreciated.â
As we turned off the motorway and stopped at traffic lights, she consulted her watch. âWeâll be there before you know it, so here are a few tips. Try to act natural in front of the camerasâas if us TV folk are invisible. Thereâs me and the director, Gaynor, various camera operators and sound guys, some set up in the house. Others will follow you Croxleys around the estate doing your daily business. Just consider us part of the scenery, the fittings and fixtures â discreet, unthreatening.â Roxy gave a wide smile. âThereâs nothing to worry about. And you look fab â those shoes are to die forâ¦â Her smile broadened. âThe viewers are going to love you.â
My stomach relaxed. Perhaps Iâd been worrying about nothing, I thought, as we overtook a tractor on the dual carriageway and I took in the quaint countryside.
âHow many episodes will be broadcast each week?â I asked eventually.
âThree â Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, at eight p.m. sharp, with the Live Final â a special Saturday show, on the fifteenth, two weeks from today. Cameramen have spent the last five days at both locations, filming a fresh load of stock shots â you know, house exteriors, the groundsâ¦â Roxy smiled. âDonât be nervous, Abbey. I can tell that youâre really photogenic.â
If only my appearance was the main concern, now. The mega hard part would be keeping my act up from sunrise to sunset, with all those TV people around.
Roxy texted madly on her phone for a while until, about twenty minutes later, a car cut in front of us, just as we turned into a road welcoming us to Applebridge. The chauffeur braked and Roxyâs clipboard fell on the floor. I collected up the papers as the driver sped up once more.
âThanks,â mouthed Roxy, who was now on the phone to Gaynor. I gazed out of the window again. Wow. What a tiny village. At a first glance, there was nothing in Applebridge, apart from a post office, corner shop and pub called The Green Acorn â although the place was famous for staging a rock festival on some of the Earlâs land every summer. According to Lady C, that was at least one source of income for Abbeyâs uncle.
I swallowed hard. Not long now to meeting my flatmateâs posh relatives and potentially being discovered, on ca