Right Number, Wrong Girl
Page 26
Mum rolled her shoulders. “Camilla Hopkins will be here in twenty minutes to go over the plans for your party and put them in motion. Will you please attend the meeting and be polite to her? She’s doing this at the last minute for us and your input will be required.”
“My input is that I don’t want a bloody party. I’m going to be eighty, not thirty. If you want a party so much, why don’t you organise your own?”
“Because my birthday is in November, and it is currently March.”
“Is it? I thought it was August.”
“Can you please co-operate?”
“Absolutely not.”
Rupert leaned over. “Should I slip her a Valium, sir?”
“Which one?” I whispered back.
“Both?”
“You might have to.”
“What are we whispering about?” Dad asked, leaning in.
I grinned. “Morning. Those two.”
“Ah.”
They were still bickering.
“Good morning, Lord Devon,” Rupert said, standing up straight.
“Good morning, Rupert,” Dad replied brightly. “You don’t have a cup of tea, do you? I was up rather early helping the Johnsons attend to an ewe who was struggling to lamb.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked. “I would have helped.”
He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and a curve of his lips. “I tried to. You were passed out on your stomach in your bedroom.”
“Do not let Mum know that,” I muttered.
“I’m not that daft, son. Ah, tea, excellent. Thank you.” He took the strong cup of tea and sipped. “Lovely.”
“How did the lambing go? Did it make it?”
“Unfortunately not,” Dad replied morosely. “The cord was wrapped around the poor thing’s neck and we couldn’t save it.”
“Shame,” Rupert muttered.
“Rupert! A moment, please,” Mum called.
He excused himself.
I looked at Dad. “What now? Didn’t they lose one last year after this?”
“Yes. Luckily, they have a three-day old lamb they’ve been hand-rearing. It was a twin and mum rejected it, so they’re trying to introduce her to the ewe now. We’re hoping she accepts it.” He put another teaspoon of sugar in his tea. “One of those things, sadly. When’s this party girl getting here? Do I have time to act like I was never here?”
“Ah, George, there you are.” Mum swept over.
“Good morning, darling. You look lovely today.”
Mum stared at him. “Where have you been?”