Page 26 of A Colourful Country Escape
Lexie tried to duck in the driver’s seat, but it was futile. He could see her shrinking down. He looked through the window and down to her hand, which was clamped onto the keys in the ignition.
‘The gate’s locked,’ he shouted through the glass. ‘So you may as well join us.’ He lifted his palms towards the skies. ‘It’s lovely weather for it.’
Mrs Carrington-Noble had seen Lexie too; there was no escaping it. She only wished she wasn’t wearing her sari fabric pyjamas and a bobble hat that made her look like the guy fromWhere’s Wally. Well, the van had been chilly. Lexie forced open the rusty door with a screech and tried to look businesslike as she lowered her zebra slippers onto the stones.
Ben’s mother paused in her fight with a peacock over one of Lexie’s woollens and gave her a pointed stare.
Lexie felt the return of Cherrybomb to her cheeks. She couldn’t have felt more out of place in the shadow of this Downton Abbey of a house, with these people who dressed so bloody formally for this early on a Saturday.
Mrs Carrington-Noble moved her foxy, glaring eyes to her son. ‘You cannot invite stray women to live on our grounds, nor delve into our private business, without my say-so. What will people think?’
‘Which people, Mother? The precious racquets club?’
There was a short silence. Lexie held her breath.
‘You know full well I don’t play racquets anymore. Not since … ’ The woman’s voice faltered.
‘Sorry, it’s the polo club we’re aspiring to impress these days. My mistake.’
There was obviously some personal battle going on, which Lexie had no desire to be a part of. ‘I should just … ’ She pointed a bitten giraffe-print nail at the van.
‘Not so fast.’ The vulture-faced woman strode across the gravel, sending tremors through Lexie’s bobble hat. She landed in front of Lexie, her neat auburn-and-grey bob trembling like her indignant cheeks. ‘Who are you, exactly?’
Lexie gave a feeble wave and introduced herself. It was clearly no time for a friendly handshake.
‘And why are you camping on my driveway dressed like a vagabond?’
The peacocks tried to gather behind their mistress, but Ben shooed them away.
‘Lexie’s our new social media manager. She pins and tweets, and pokes people on Facebook—’
‘Poking’s not a thing anymore,’ Lexie whispered.
‘She’s also in charge of blogging and trolling—’
‘No! Definitely not trolling. Trolling’s a bad thing,’ Lexie corrected him. ‘You see why he needs someone to sort these things out?’
She threw a hopeful half-smile at Mrs Carrington-Noble, slightly disappointed at her compulsion to please this mean lady. But she was the gatekeeper to Lexie’s precarious fresh start, and she’d been beginning to enjoy her new role. In all honesty, she needed it. Because what else did she have?
But the smile was met with a scowl so frosty the woman would have looked at home with a carrot as a nose, if the weather had been any cooler.
‘And why do we need such interference?’ The woman addressed her son.
‘Because it’s the twenty-first century, so Cory keeps telling me. The business will apparently die without an online presence. Lexie’s here to save us.’ He gave a sarcastic salute.
Oh right. So Ben was standing up for her to wind his mother up rather than because he was starting to believe in her. She’d thought it was too good to be true, but she’d take what backup she could. Those peacocks were still eyeing her from a distance.
‘So you published a blog post?’ Ben asked Lexie.
‘Yes!’ Lexie was glad of the change of tack. ‘It’s all about … colours.’ Oh Christ, that was feeble. She was fast beginning to feel like fox food.
‘And about how you bothered my peacocks, duped my sons and invited yourself to set up a gypsy camp on my driveway.’
Lexie gulped. ‘That wasn’t exactly my message, it was more about … ’ But she couldn’t arrange her thoughts.
‘How she’s here to inject some life into us all,’ Ben added.
So he had read it. Did she sense some irritation in his voice? But he hadn’t marched out here to tell her to take the post down. Nor the colourful new website.
