Tuesday on the eleven-forty-five, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Who’s the photographer? Nicky Bentworth?’
‘No, the condition for exclusive access was that we had to use the duchess’s nephew as the photographer, Lance Garcia. You’ll meet him up at Seaton Hall.’
‘Lance Garcia?’ I asked, frowning in confusion. ‘I’ve never heard of him, have you?’ Country House ’s photographers were all from the same upper-class
tweedy stable, and practically interchangeable. They were Hugos and Olivers and Barnabys. Never Lances.
‘No. The duchess is an American,’ sniffed Martha, in much the same way that she might say, ‘The duchess has recently escaped from a psychiatric institution.’ ‘I
believe her nephew is from San Francisco. Quite what he will know about photographing historic houses, I do not know. The entire situation will require firm supervision. I hope you are up to
it.’
‘I’m sure I am,’ I said. Actually I was pretty unsure, but the opportunity to get far, far away from London and thoughts of Martin was too good to turn down. Not to mention
that I might actually be able to get a hot shower at the Delaval Arms.
‘Good. I’ll bring you my dossier on Seaton Hall later today,’ said Martha. She started to walk away and then turned back. Her face was calm, but her hands betrayed her, holding
on to the door frame with white knuckles as if she might rip it away from the wall, Incredible Hulk-style. ‘I am sure I can trust you to do me justice.’
I frowned at her departing back, unsure what she could have meant. Was she trying to appoint me as some kind of deputy in her battles against Amanda? A fellow class warrior against the rahs?
There was no way I was stepping into anything that might drag me into the bathroom wars. Or did she mean that Seaton Hall was too important to mess up? Like I didn’t know that – the
entire heritage industry had been itching to get a glimpse of the property for the five years that the duke and duchess had been restoring it. But the duchess had refused to allow anyone access
until completion; all anybody knew was that it had cost millions. It was a privilege to be invited to see it at all, let alone before everyone else.
‘Kerr-ist,’ said Ticky, swinging back into her seat and exhaling loudly. ‘What a relief. I peed like a fricking racehorse.’
‘Nice; thanks for sharing.’
‘Did I just see Martha leaving?’ she asked. ‘Tell me she didn’t come to share her thoughts on the bathroom argument?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘She’s told me I have to take over her visit to Seaton Hall next week. The Duke of Delaval’s restoration feature.’
‘She gave up Seaton Hall!’ Ticky exclaimed, scenting drama. She leaned forward in her seat and propped her elbows on the desk in official listening stance. ‘No way! Goouurd,
that must have been what they were arguing about. She wouldn’t have let go of that without a fight. But why are they getting you to do it?’
‘I don’t know. Martha said something about me being her specific choice. And she wants me to keep an eye on the photographer – he’s not got much experience.’
‘Weird,’ mused Ticky, putting her feet on the desk and swinging from side to side on her wheeled chair as she stared at the ceiling. ‘I wonder if Maaahn let her choose her
replacement to soften the blow of not letting her go. Of course Marth would think you’re the easiest person to boss around – she can kind of do the feature by proxy through
you.’
‘Er, or she thought I’d do a good job, Ticky,’ I said.
‘Oh yah,’ she agreed. ‘Course you will, Roars, I’m not doubting that. But admit it – Martha’s got a much better chance of getting you to do her bidding than
she has, like, Noonoo or someone else who’d stick their own ideas all over it and insist on taking the glory.’
‘Whatever,’ I snapped. Ticky was so pushy and thick-skinned, she didn’t see the virtues of doing things my way
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Who’s the photographer? Nicky Bentworth?’
‘No, the condition for exclusive access was that we had to use the duchess’s nephew as the photographer, Lance Garcia. You’ll meet him up at Seaton Hall.’
‘Lance Garcia?’ I asked, frowning in confusion. ‘I’ve never heard of him, have you?’ Country House ’s photographers were all from the same upper-class
tweedy stable, and practically interchangeable. They were Hugos and Olivers and Barnabys. Never Lances.
‘No. The duchess is an American,’ sniffed Martha, in much the same way that she might say, ‘The duchess has recently escaped from a psychiatric institution.’ ‘I
believe her nephew is from San Francisco. Quite what he will know about photographing historic houses, I do not know. The entire situation will require firm supervision. I hope you are up to
it.’
‘I’m sure I am,’ I said. Actually I was pretty unsure, but the opportunity to get far, far away from London and thoughts of Martin was too good to turn down. Not to mention
that I might actually be able to get a hot shower at the Delaval Arms.
‘Good. I’ll bring you my dossier on Seaton Hall later today,’ said Martha. She started to walk away and then turned back. Her face was calm, but her hands betrayed her, holding
on to the door frame with white knuckles as if she might rip it away from the wall, Incredible Hulk-style. ‘I am sure I can trust you to do me justice.’
I frowned at her departing back, unsure what she could have meant. Was she trying to appoint me as some kind of deputy in her battles against Amanda? A fellow class warrior against the rahs?
There was no way I was stepping into anything that might drag me into the bathroom wars. Or did she mean that Seaton Hall was too important to mess up? Like I didn’t know that – the
entire heritage industry had been itching to get a glimpse of the property for the five years that the duke and duchess had been restoring it. But the duchess had refused to allow anyone access
until completion; all anybody knew was that it had cost millions. It was a privilege to be invited to see it at all, let alone before everyone else.
‘Kerr-ist,’ said Ticky, swinging back into her seat and exhaling loudly. ‘What a relief. I peed like a fricking racehorse.’
‘Nice; thanks for sharing.’
‘Did I just see Martha leaving?’ she asked. ‘Tell me she didn’t come to share her thoughts on the bathroom argument?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘She’s told me I have to take over her visit to Seaton Hall next week. The Duke of Delaval’s restoration feature.’
‘She gave up Seaton Hall!’ Ticky exclaimed, scenting drama. She leaned forward in her seat and propped her elbows on the desk in official listening stance. ‘No way! Goouurd,
that must have been what they were arguing about. She wouldn’t have let go of that without a fight. But why are they getting you to do it?’
‘I don’t know. Martha said something about me being her specific choice. And she wants me to keep an eye on the photographer – he’s not got much experience.’
‘Weird,’ mused Ticky, putting her feet on the desk and swinging from side to side on her wheeled chair as she stared at the ceiling. ‘I wonder if Maaahn let her choose her
replacement to soften the blow of not letting her go. Of course Marth would think you’re the easiest person to boss around – she can kind of do the feature by proxy through
you.’
‘Er, or she thought I’d do a good job, Ticky,’ I said.
‘Oh yah,’ she agreed. ‘Course you will, Roars, I’m not doubting that. But admit it – Martha’s got a much better chance of getting you to do her bidding than
she has, like, Noonoo or someone else who’d stick their own ideas all over it and insist on taking the glory.’
‘Whatever,’ I snapped. Ticky was so pushy and thick-skinned, she didn’t see the virtues of doing things my way
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