Doubting Abbey (37 page)

‘Switzerland.’

‘Where exactly?’ the slimeball continued.

‘Bern,’ I mumbled.

‘And, as a result of speaking to the locals there, you said your French was “
superbe
”.’

‘Erm, don’t you mean your German, Abigail?’ said Lady C to me brightly. ‘Everyone who’s well travelled knows that’s what they speak in the Swiss capital.’

Oh, Highland fudge
.

‘No – I dug around. Actually, Abigail attended a famous finishing school in the French-speaking Swiss city of Geneva.’ Nick crossed his arms. ‘I found Miss Croxley’s name on their online back register.’ He looked straight into the camera. ‘Abbey’s story about studying catering in Surrey checked out, though. But why would she lie about where she attended finishing school? Unless, erm…’ He sniggered. ‘She didn’t know the precise details of her own history and, on the spot, made something up?’

‘You aren’t making any sense, man,’ said Edward. ‘Who exactly are you, anyway? I rang the agency that we employed you from in a hurry, and they could only provide scant details about your gardening experience. I should have questioned them thoroughly before taking you on, instead of being swayed by the fact your hourly rate wasn’t much.’

‘Me? A gardener?’ He shook his head. ‘If you’d bothered getting to know your staff any better, you’d realize that was a joke. Jean appreciated my muscle, but she’d be the first to tell you my knowledge of all things horticultural is limited. And didn’t you spot my designer T-shirts?’

I did—and his fancy cologne.

‘You don’t acquire things like that through working for peanuts,’ he continued. ‘I’m a private investigator, mate—previously a journalist. I’ve got a degree to my name. The only gardening I do is the metaphorical sort—digging up dirt on people.’

I gasped. How could I have ever been taken in by him?

‘This is all very distasteful,’ said Lady C quickly and stood up. ‘Come on, Abigail. Let’s, erm, leave the men to sort this out.’

‘Nice try, Lady Constance, but I think the Croxley men will want her here.’

‘Who hired you to spy on us?’ said Edward in a steely voice.

Gaynor was practically salivating with excitement and looked even more turned on than when she flirted with Edward. ‘What a fab coup,’ she hissed to Roxy.

‘Isn’t it obvious? Are you so naïve?’ said Nick. ‘This is a competition – for a million dollars.’

Of course. The Baron. That’s why Harry was in the pub that night. He must have been collecting information from Nick.

‘The Baron insisted the Croxleys were too perfect and wanted to know your flaw,’ said the smug PI. ‘A bit like a diamond—if it looks like there are no imperfections, then it’s probably a fake.’

‘That family dared investigate us?’ Edward’s eyes blazed.

‘Why not? Reckon they’re beneath you because they don’t hang portraits of relatives from centuries ago?

I bit my thumbnail and looked at Lady C, whose eyebrows had almost disappeared into her grey hair. The feeling of sickness had gone now. I just felt numb. Was it possible that this scumbag knew who I really was?

‘Would a real Lady suggestively massage the base of a fountain, on film, in front of the general public?’ said Nick.

Lady C raised her eyebrows at me, probably wondering why I hadn’t told her about the more recent things Nick and I had done.

‘Would a successful caterer’s daughter burn baked apples and prepare a salad dressing that burns your throat? Would she send onions flying across the table? Would she eat marinated asparagus with her fingers and watch carefully which cutlery other people used? Come on, guys, you’ve had access to the best education in the country. Surely you must have noticed something strange about Abbey, like…I’m just guessing… a lack of knowledge about Applebridge Hall and its heritage?’

The Earl stared at me. ‘I was a tad surprised at how little you knew about the first Earl of Croxley and our history, Abigail. But still…’

‘I doubted Abbey from the start,’ said Nick. ‘I mean, whoever heard of a Lady zooming downhill on a lawnmower or befriending a temporary gardening assistant?’

‘You seem to have some antiquated, clichéd view of what it’s like to be an aristocrat, young man,’ said Lady C. ‘The Earl and his son are most fond of their staff, Kathleen, Mr Thompson and Jean.’

‘But would they suggestively feed them fruit?’

Lady C’s jaw dropped and she turned to me. ‘So, that was you?’

‘No, of course they wouldn’t,’ said Nick. ‘So, I decided to investigate further and took myself around to Abbey’s flat in London. Now, according to a neighbour, Chelsea…’

Oh, crap
. Not chatty Chelsea. She talked even quicker – and for much longer—than Roxy ever could.

‘… Abigail has indeed been away for the last two weeks—likewise, her flatmate, Gemma.’

Edward rubbed his neck.

‘Nice girl, that Chelsea,’ said Nick. ‘She invited me in for a cocktail; showed me some photos of her house-warming last year.’

I couldn’t move.

‘Where is this leading?’ said Edward.

Nick delved into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a photo. He handed it to Edward.

‘Abbey and Gemma,’ said Nick. ‘Just in case you were wondering.’

Edward glanced at me and then back at the shot, which he studied very closely. ‘Are you sure? There’s a definite likeness, but…’ He studied my face, then handed me the photo. ‘This Chelsea woman must be mistaken. The well-dressed blonde woman in that picture has definite shades of Abbey, but I don’t think she’s my cousin.’

‘Or perhaps it’s this woman, here in the flesh, who isn’t related to you. Consider that. Of course, you recognize Gemma, don’t you, Lord Edward?’ Nick smirked. ‘She’s the one you were so quick to defend the other night when I found her trespassing on your land. While here, she coloured her hair red – take that away and it’s the brunette in the photo.’

‘I have no idea what this is all about or… or how you doctored that photo of myself and Gemma,’ I said and forced my limbs to move. I headed to the stairwell. ‘Edward, Uncle, we have guests to attend to. Nick, you’ve had your fun, but I suggest you take yourself and your over-active imagination out of this house before we call the police. You, um, need to “get a life” – I believe that’s the phrase people use.’

Nick burst out laughing. ‘Okay, okay, I get it—you’re scared cos your cover is blown. But the least you can do is come clean.’

‘That’s enough.’ Edward lunged forward and grabbed his arm.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you,’ said Nick and shook him off. ‘The cameras are rolling. I could do you for assault. Okay. You’ve made me do this, Abbey – or should I say,
Gemma?
’

He held up his phone for Edward to watch and a video started to play. ‘That’s Chelsea,’ he said. ‘Listen to what she has to say when I show her some footage of “Abbey” on
Million Dollar Mansion
.’

‘Ooh, no,’ said a squeaky voice from the phone. ‘That’s not Abigail. Her nose is slightly too long. The face is a tad rounder and she’s not quite so slim. It’s a good likeness but… No. Definitely not. The hair’s not quite the same shade, either. And Abigail doesn’t walk that quickly, her steps are much more measured.’ Chelsea giggled. ‘If anything, that person looks and acts much more like Gemma, without the dark hair and fake tan. The two of them sometimes get mistaken for each other, you know.’

Silence, apart from jazz music wafting up the stairwell.

‘I was as sick as a dog after that mustard pineapple, you little bitch,’ said Nick and sneered in my direction. ‘It’s you, isn’t it, Gemma Goodwin—minus the WAG make-up, cheap clothes and home-dyed hair? Are you going to tell us why you’ve spent two weeks tricking this family and the nation into believing you’re a Lady when actually you’re a pizza waitress? So much for traditional values —this whole Croxley charade is based on lies.’

Lady C’s hand flew up to her face. The Earl’s mouth fell open. Only Edward remained statue-still. Despite letting out a mega gasp, Roxy managed to give me a sympathetic glance.

‘Sorry, I can’t do this,’ I said and hurtled downstairs. Heart pounding, I raced past champagne-drinking guests and escaped into the cool evening air. Briefly, I stopped to pull off my shoes and then, as fast as I could, ran around the back of the house and into the maze. After going around in circles I eventually found the grassy bit in the middle and, with noisy breaths, slumped to the ground, evening dew seeping through my dress. My hands shook like my cousin Kevin’s whenever he tried to come off the booze. It was too much…the sleepless nights, carrying on the pretence and now these revelations… I gulped. Was this what they called a panic attack?

What were the papers going to say after tomorrow night’s show, when that confrontation would be broadcast? I’d be the most hated reality show star in Britain and, as for what Edward must be thinking… My head dropped. I remembered Kathleen’s warning of how, above all else, Edward despised lies and deceit.

I sat bolt upright as the bushes rustled and a tall figure appeared by my side, chest heaving up and down.

‘Edward…Look. I’m sorry… I never meant to…’

‘So it’s true? I had to ask you myself.’ His voice shook. ‘You’re not my… my cousin?’

I stood up and took his hand but he yanked it away.

‘How could you? My father and I let you into our home. We trusted you. Was it all some kind of joke?’ He shook his head. ‘Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get to know Abigail?’

My throat hurt as I gazed at his face—the drooping mouth, the questioning eyes. ‘I hated all the lies, but Abbey, she needed my help, you see—’

‘Constance just explained,’ he said in a dull voice. ‘I can’t believe she helped her niece pull off this deceit.’ He shook his head. ‘Why didn’t I see the signs? The unladylike words you played in Scrabble. Calling Henrietta’s mum Mrs Viscount…The strange expressions you came out with, only to blame them on the influence of your flatmate, Gemma – who was you all along.’

‘Yes. Me. Gemma. Who cares so much…’

He stared at my face. ‘Of course… The likeness, I can see it now. You’ve taken me for a fool.’

‘I did it for your family!’

‘Ten out of ten for acting – you should go to drama school. How easily you explained your appearances here at night. All those made up stories about your brother dropping you off… How do I know that anything you’ve said is true? Well, huge congratulations. Thanks to you, we’ll lose the show.’

‘Please, I—’

‘Gaynor wants you to do an interview with Charlie Chingo for tomorrow’s programme, so that you can put forward your side of the story,’ he snapped. ‘You may remain on the estate until the live final on Saturday – Gaynor thinks you should be there – but that’s it. You’re not welcome any longer than is necessary.’

‘Wait a minute…Edward—’

‘Father will speak to Richard. I don’t know what my cousin was thinking of when she asked you to take her place. It’s farcical.’

‘Her parents are away on a cruise,’ I said.

‘The two of you thought of everything,’ he said.

‘You know what? Yeah, we bloody well did. Abigail was so torn and didn’t want to let her father down – I couldn’t say no when she asked me to help. Zak—’

‘I heard,’ he said.‘All of this, so that she could go on holiday with her boyfriend.’

‘It
wasn’t
a holiday – those war-torn African children are in crisis. Zak and Abbey are probably two of a handful of adults they can trust. But yeah, funny the things people will do for love, isn’t it?’

We exchanged looks.

‘I think the original Earl of Croxley who fought against the Spanish Armada would be mega proud of Abbey, heading to a war-zone.’ I gave a tentative smile. ‘Please, Edward… Can’t you see that the last thing I wanted was to hurt you? Abbey hoped me taking part – as her —would reconcile the two brothers.’

Edward looked sad. ‘If she was that bothered, she should have turned up herself.’

I stared at him for a moment, and then shook my head.

‘Have you even thought what it was like for me, facing the cameras for that first cookery lesson, having previously been told I’d just be helping out in a coffee shop? But I stepped up to the mark. God knows how I would have managed without Kathleen’s help. It’s not all been a bundle of laughs.’

‘Kathleen was in on this?’

Oops.

‘Were Father and I the only ones not to know?’ His face flushed deeper. ‘Dennis Smith was right about you and your cookery skills – or lack of. I should have listened to his years of expertise. Instead, I was loyal to my supposed cousin. What a joke.’

‘The lies…were for the greater good,’ I said, still holding his gaze.

‘The words “lies” and “good” don’t belong in the same breath. The one thing I love… liked about you, Gemma, was…’ his cheeks flushed ‘your lack of agenda – you were who you were. But now…’ He ran a hand through his honey curls and looked about ten years old.

I took his hand. ‘What is it, Edward?’ I said softly. ‘Someone’s lied to you big time before?’

He jerked away once more. ‘You don’t understand – or know the real me at all.’

‘But at least admit…If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have got this far. Who thought of the evacuee reunion? And my antics with Nick caught the attention of the younger viewers. Does all that count for nothing? We’ve got this far.’

‘What’s been the point? We’ll have lost the viewers’ trust, now.’

‘Saving your bloody family, that’s what! And how do you think I feel as the new national joke? I’ve had to transform my appearance and the way I move. I’ve had to speak posh and constantly worry that I’m letting someone down. Well, stuff you, if you can’t see the good in that.’ With a stifled sob, I picked up my shoes and raced through the maze, tripping as I went. Edward caught me just as I was about to tumble over and helped me regain my balance.

‘Edward… It’s me…’ I implored. ‘It’s Gemma, who likes to dip in the pond…play Tig in the woods and chase…’

‘I… I don’t want to see you until the final show on Saturday – when we’ll no doubt lose,’ he muttered. ‘Please, Gemma, understand. The betrayal hurts too much.’ He eased his grip on my arm. ‘It’s not that I’m saying I’m perfect, but lies…No, I can’t take any more.’