I half expect him to neigh. ‘I know, babe. I just wanted to introduce myself.’
Babe? Ugh.
‘Ezra Bardon.’ Seemingly in one swift movement, he’s opened the door, slipped out onto the gravel and leaned against the shiny body of his car. He folds his arms lazily across his chest and flicks his chin into the air. A slight frown creases his brow when I don’t respond. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t have a name?’ He removes his sunglasses, hooking them on to the open collar of his polo shirt. ‘Or would you like me to guess?’
I really, really wouldn’t like him to guess. It would be agonisingly cringe-worthy standing there while he reeled off name after name.
‘It’s Emily. Emily Atkinson.’
He grins toothily (there is no other way this dude can grin). ‘Hello, Emily Atkinson. What a beautiful name.’
My eyes are aching to roll. If I don’t concentrate really hard they will begin the cycle. ‘Thank you. I like it.’
‘It suits you.’ He pushes himself away from his car and saunters over to me, the stupid, Jaws-like grin taking up half of his face. ‘A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.’ I didn’t think it was possible, but the grin widens. Jeez, this guy has a lot of teeth. I’m filled with the urge to play them like a glockenspiel. ‘I hope I get to know you more over the next few days.’ I feel grubby as he looks me up and down, his head bobbing in some sort of agreement with himself. ‘Why don’t I give you my card? This place is huge – I wouldn’t want to miss you.’ He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a thick, cream business card embossed with gold and black lettering. I’m about to decline – both his offer of the business card and the getting-to-know-you-better part – when the crunching of gravel underfoot catches the attention of both of us.
‘Ezra?’ The approaching bloke has a knitted brow, his head tilted to one side. He’s wearing navy overalls and heavy black boots, and is carrying a pair of gardening shears tucked under one arm. ‘Sorry to interrupt, mate. Your wife said to tell you she’s gone for a lie-down.’
‘Oh.’ Ezra’s eyes widen, and the proffered business card is snatched away and shoved roughly into the top pocket of his polo shirt. ‘Thank you. I’ll, er, just go and park the car and, um, hahaha.’ Unable to find any more words, he simply titters to himself as he backs away. The gardener and I watch as he turns and practically nosedives into the driver’s seat before tearing away in a cloud of dust and gravel.
‘A friend of yours?’ I ask once the cloud has dispersed, but the gardener is already striding away.
‘God, no,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘Never met the slimy bastard before but I saw him arrive with his clearly pregnant wife earlier.’
‘You’re kidding,’ I say, more to myself as the gardener doesn’t seem to want to stick around and chat. How can Alice want me to put myself through this kind of shiz? To commit myself to a man who flirts with anything in a skirt (or a pair of jeans, like I’m wearing right now) as soon as my back is turned? ‘What a scumbag. Why are men like this?’
‘Hey, we’re not all like Ezra Bardon, you know,’ a voice says from behind me. I turn and see a bloke framed in the doorway at the top of the steps. ‘Some of us have morals. We’re not all cheating scumbags, I promise.’ He smiles, and I’m pleased when a full set of teeth doesn’t tumble out for inspection.
‘I guess not.’ I shrug, not convinced either way.
‘It’s true. Some of us are decent.’ He jogs down the steps to join me on the gravel. He’s wearing a pair of brown trousers and a blue-and-white-striped shirt, which should look ridiculous but suits him. ‘I don’t think we’ve met before – are you a guest from Carolyn or Piers’ side?’
I shove my hands into my jeans pockets, my eyes inspecting the gravel at my feet. See, this is why I didn’t want to come, because I’m not really a guest from either side. No matter how much Alice has assured me otherwise, I still feel like a gatecrasher.
‘I’m actually a friend of Carolyn’s sister. She didn’t want to come alone, so I’m sort of her plus-one.’
‘You’re a friend of Alice’s? Is she around?’ I peek up to see him looking around the grounds. ‘I didn’t know she’d arrived yet. It’s been too long since I saw her, so I’ve been looking forward to catching up.’
‘She’s parking the car.’ I grab hold of the suitcase handles and start to drag them towards the steps. ‘She’ll be meeting me here in a minute.’
‘Can I give you a hand?’ He indicates Alice’s suitcase, and although I’m usually quick to assert my independence, I find myself thanking him. They are heavy and difficult to manoeuvre on the gravel.
‘This one has to be Alice’s suitcase,’ he says as we lug the cases up the stone steps. ‘Weighs a ton. She never could travel light. I bet she’s brought six pairs of shoes with her.’
‘Only six?’ I scoff, which makes him laugh. I’m not joking, though. The girl has squeezed eight pairs in there, ranging from sparkly flip-flops to knee-high boots.
‘Will you be okay from here?’ His phone has started to ring as we reach the entrance hall and he’s pulling a face at its display. ‘It’s work. I really should take it.’
‘Go ahead.’ I drag my case to the side, where a suit of armour is standing guard by the door. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘No problem.’ He smiles, his phone still ringing in his hand as he backs away. ‘Tell Alice I said hi.’
I would, I think as he turns and strides away, the phone now at his ear. But you didn’t tell me your name.
I feel myself slump as soon as he’s out of view, hands resting on my thighs as I try to get my breath back. I would never admit I’m struggling, but now I’m alone, I can admit how exhausted I am by the short trip up the steps. But I forget all about the suitcases and my fatigue as I take in my surroundings.
Wow.
Just wow.
The wide entrance hall is lit by a giant, glittering chandelier and dozens of decorative wall sconces dotted in between large, gilt-framed portraits of the Monroe ancestry. The floor is covered in a patchwork of black and white tiles, while a red-carpeted staircase stands in front of me, leading up to the first floor. Lots of doors lead off to a warren of rooms at the sides and I’m not sure where I should be heading. The castle is humongous and my room could be anywhere. I’m sure I’d find myself lost within minutes, but Alice should be here any second now to lead the way. In the meantime, I grapple with the suitcases once more, somehow wrestling them towards the staircase, where I sit gratefully on the second step, exhausted after my suitcase skirmish.
‘Alice!’ I’m so relieved to see my friend after a considerable wait that I forget my thighs have turned to jelly and jump up from the stairs. ‘What took you so long?’
‘I had to phone Kevin to let him know we’d arrived safely.’ Alice retrieves her vanity case from where I’ve dumped it on the floor and grabs the handle of her suitcase. ‘And then I got chatting to one of Piers’ cousins. Lovely young man. Gave me his card.’ She pulls out a familiar cream business card embossed with gold and black lettering. ‘I thought I’d try to introduce you to him at dinner, but if not, we have his number.’
‘I don’t think so.’ I pluck the card from Alice’s fingers and tear it in two. ‘We’ve already spoken, and he’s no Prince Charming.’
Alice sighs. ‘It was the teeth, wasn’t it? I knew they’d get in the way.’
‘You’re not kidding. Those choppers must obstruct the guy’s life on a daily basis.’
‘That