Doubting Abbey Read Online Free Page A

silver and servants would have to avoid eye contact and bow. For two whole weeks I wouldn’t have to clean or iron. At the most I’d serve cream teas to the The Little People (previously me!) who, in awe of the Croxley name, would hang on my every word. Although Lady C kept hinting that I might be expected to bake, I was sure the local shops would sell scones and the like – I could just raid their supplies.
    As the lift approached the ground floor, I chuckled at the idea of me ordering people around. What was I like? Living like that would be the pits. Hopefully the servants (just saying that word felt wrong) would be like family and I could still make myself Cup-a-Soups and Pot Noodles. The real challenge would be resisting the temptation to tell them who I really was. I took a deep breath. Stiff upper lip, as Lady C would say.
    As for servants and bells… well, from what the Earl had told Abbey’s dad, Applebridge Hall had suffered from years of financial problems. Entering this competition was a last drastic measure. For getting to the final, the Earl had already won twenty-five thousand pounds, to put into motion plans for how the place would eventually start earning its own keep. I’d said that was a mega amount of money. Abbey soon put me right.
    ‘Oh, no, Gemma,’ she’d insisted. ‘That’s nothing, in terms of running a mansion. Maintenance costs for one year would see that gone – and that’s without repairing the roof or completing the rewiring. Then there’s damp, rising gardening costs and, as for the internal renovations… Tapestries and ceilings need refreshing and apparently Uncle’s desperate to reupholster much of the furniture. Metres and metres of brickwork should be re-pointed…’
    Still, I couldn’t wait to see the place and strode out into the sunshine.
    ‘Yoo-hoo!’ called a voice. ‘Abigail Croxley?’
    I looked at my watch again.
    ‘Miss Croxley?’
    Eek! That was me. I shook myself to attention and looked up. A skinny woman with red hair, carrying a clipboard, waved from next to a big shiny black car, parked up by the side of the road. Chin not too high or low, shoulders back, I strolled over.
    ‘How do you do?’ I said in a controlled voice, and held out my hand.
    ‘Oh, erm, good, thanks.’ She grinned and grasped my fingers, pumping them up and down. ‘I’m Roxy—the production assistant. We spoke on the phone yesterday.’
    Stomach twisting, I nodded. What if, face-to-face, my pretend accent sounded weird? But then, after all this time living with Abbey, I stood as good a chance as anyone of mimicking a posh voice.
    ‘We’d better get a move on,’ she continued, speaking at top-speed. ‘The TV crews at Applebridge Hall are on standby. My boss, Gaynor, the director, hates it if people are late. Footage of your arrival will have to be edited, ready for screening on tomorrow’s Sunday night show.’ She grinned. ‘Welcome aboard the roller coaster that is Million Dollar Mansion !’
    She lugged my case over to the car boot. I’d never met anyone who spoke so fast. A chauffeur in a smart cap and suit got out and opened the door for me. The only time I’d seen anyone dressed like that was at a mate’s hen night, but trusted (nay, prayed!) this old codger wouldn’t perform a striptease.
    While Roxy got in around the other side, I concentrated hard to get into the car just right. The rules were… legs first, knees closed at all times… Phew. Job done. No knickers flashed.
    The door closed behind me. I looked to my left and smiled at Roxy. She ended a phone call as the chauffeur loaded my luggage, got in and we pulled away.
    ‘When was the last time you visited Applebridge Hall?’ she asked warmly, while scribbling notes.
    ‘Only last year,’ I said, chest feeling all tight. I wasn’t used to telling such bare-faced lies and in my mind frantically went over what Lady C called my ‘remit’ – a mega fancy word for the task I’ve been given, namely