Page 27 of A Colourful Country Escape
‘And you can’t say she’s not doing that.’ Ben swept his arms around the scene. A bright orange camper van, a trail of half-chewed woollens, a quaking Lexie in bobble hat and PJs, and two grumpy peacocks shaking their tailfeathers in distaste.
‘Is this thing even roadworthy?’ Mrs Carrington-Noble slapped Penny’s ancient paintwork and Lexie tried to stifle a gasp.
‘My paperwork is very much in order,’ said Lexie, with at least two fingers crossed behind her back.
Ben raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, this heap of metal is making my estate look shabby.’
‘If you disapprove of her taking up temporary residence on the gravel, we have enough spare rooms to solve the refugee crisis.’ He waved an arm towards the house. ‘But I’ll warn you, she grumbles a lot about beige and I wouldn’t trust her near a paintbrush.’
‘I forbid you to redecorate my house!’ Mrs Carrington-Noble glared at Lexie.
Ben seemed to be enjoying himself now. ‘Oh, really? That’s such a shame because I do hate all those pompous heads and imposing horses.’
‘You will not disrespect your ancestors,’ his mother rasped through tightly pinched lips, her red lipstick leaking bloody lines along her wrinkles.
‘Ah, theancestors.’ Lexie could see Ben’s twitchy smile. ‘Lexie would soon have your paintings posing on a feature wall of shocking pink. She tells me bright colours are all the rage.’
‘I will not have it!’ Mrs Carrington-Noble stamped a court shoe into the gravel and the stray peacocks made their final flap back to the safety of their pride.
Then, as if knowing exactly when to bring imminent disaster back from the brink, Ben tapped his mum’s arm jovially.
‘I totally agree. Let’s leave Lexie out on the driveway, where she can’t make too much trouble.’ He gave Lexie a swift look. And was that a wink? ‘I’m taking her to see some of our best clients on Monday, so she can interfere with their makeovers instead.’
Ooh, did he just agree to letting her have her own way about something? It was probably only to wind his mother up, but still.
‘Now, let’s get you a nice cup of tea. Mrs M has probably got some weed or other for times of stress.’ He rubbed his mother’s tense shoulders and began to manoeuvre her away from the fracas.
The stooping woman almost looked frail next to the masculine frame of her son, as he led her by the elbow towards the house. Mrs Carrington-Noble’s feet were suddenly less steady now on the wobbly stones, as though the adrenaline was seeping from her. Although something told Lexie she wouldn’t be deflated for long.
Did Lexie have the energy for this fight? She’d been trying to run away from being made to feel small by folk who valued money over manners. Had she just jumped right from the frying pan into the fire?
And yet she was desperate to prove she wasn’t flaky. If she fled now, Drew would be right. And what impression would it give to her little sister, when she was trying to demonstrate the importance of holding down a proper job? Plus she needed the money, and somewhere to park her worldly belongings. She wasn’t exactly a woman with options.
She would stick it out. For now. At least Cory had given her the heads-up on Mrs Carrington-Noble’s curious matchmaking, so she didn’t accidentally get in the way or look too jolly with her precious Benedict. If this was the trouble one parking space and a blog post could cause, then who knew what the woman was capable of.
And mini hooray – Lexie had won the battle with Ben over visiting clients. Monday might even be pleasant if Ben wasn’t too standoffish. She’d just have to pray that Mrs Nosey Fox Carrington-Noble didn’t come back and snoop while she was gone.
Chapter 14
‘What. The. Hell?’
Those were the only words Lexie could think of when she and Ben arrived back at the gates of Nutgrass Hall on Monday evening, after a day out taking photos of clients’ home makeovers.
‘What. The. Actual. HELL!’ The words kept going round her head on a loop, while her stomach tried to flip its contents into her gasping mouth.
‘Lexie, I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know what to say.’
As they stood on the gravel looking down at the pile of junk that blocked their entrance, Lexie didn’t know whether to cry or scream. Penny the camper van had never looked so small – probably because she had never been so small. She was about the size of a coffin, which was perhaps a suitable description. Because Penny the camper van was dead.
‘She’s been murdered. Ransacked and bloody well murdered!’
The rest of Lexie’s life had been unceremoniously dumped next to the crushed cube of a van. Boxes of overflowing paperwork, with a few strays frolicking in the breeze. Her battered suitcase containing her thrift-shop woollens. A few pots and pans. And … oh. Delightful. Some threatening paperwork about fines for Penny’s seriously overdue MOT, unroadworthy condition and invalidated insurance. Not to mention a bill for vehicle crushing, sanctioned with the signature of Mrs Carrington-Noble. Money really could arrange anything, no matter how unorthodox. And perhaps without it you were screwed.
Ben put his coat around Lexie’s shivering shoulders and pressed the intercom buzzer on the gate.
‘I’ll call Cory to come and help me with these boxes, and I’ll ask Mrs Moon to get the kettle on. Her chamomile tea is going to take a hammering.’
