Secret Schemes and Daring Dreams by Rosie Rushton Read Free Book Online Page A

must be Harriet – welcome to Hartfield!’
    â€˜Hello, I’m really – I mean it’s so good of you – and the programme . . . I just love it . . . and I’m really into conservation and . . .’
    Fortunately, Tarquin was too buzzed up to listen to Harriet’s stammering.
    â€˜Now, Emma, listen,’ he enthused. ‘I’ve had the most brilliant idea!’
    Emma groaned inwardly. When inspiration struck her father, it was usually of two kinds: either highly embarrassing, involving her in making excuses for why everyone had received shapeless Fair Trade cotton T-shirts or Make Your Own Log kits for Christmas; or very labour intensive, with her as the labour.
    â€˜It came to me in the shower,’ her father went on. ‘You know George is in a state about the new bedrooms not being ready? Well, his worries are over – he can put some of the guests in my lodges. Be great publicity for me and the TV programmers will love it.’
    Emma hesitated. ‘What does George think about it?’
    â€˜Bit doubtful,’ Tarquin admitted. ‘Anyone would think I was suggesting putting them in mud huts.’
    Emma was hardly surprised. Her father was the first man in the South of England to build eco-lodges; theywere little two-room earth shelters, built into the side of the hill at the bottom of their orchard, their roofs covered with plants and grass. They reminded Emma of Teletubby houses, but the BBC were fascinated and were devoting a whole episode of
Going Green
to what they called ‘Down to Earth – the New Way of Living’ – but then they weren’t aspirational guests forced to give up power showers, surround sound TV and the newest version of in-room coffee maker for the privilege.
    â€˜Perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘the film crew could stay there? Or maybe you should just pretend someone was there? I could pose for them – that way there won’t be other people’s mess lying around.’
    â€˜Now that
is
an idea! You’d be perfect,’ Tarquin exclaimed, turning to Harriet. ‘Isn’t she a clever girl? Of course, her mother was very inventive, God rest her soul.’
    His eyes took on the faraway look that Emma knew was a warning of worse to come.
    â€˜OK, Harriet, let’s get going,’ Emma butted in firmly. The last thing she needed was for her father to go into one of his maudlin phases right now. ‘I’ll show you where you’re sleeping and then we must go. I promised George that I’d get you over there in time to help in the tearoom.’
    â€˜Lily can do teas,’ Tarquin interrupted. ‘She’s going to be a sort of general dogsbody to Mrs P and this Italian chap, just till things calm down a bit.’
    â€˜Lily?’ Emma gasped. ‘You don’t mean to tell me George has actually asked Lily Bates to work there?’
    Her father shook his head. ‘Not George – it was myother bright idea,’ he said proudly. ‘Now she’s at catering college, she needs all the experience she can get. And it’ll be fun for her – heaven knows, she deserves some.’
    For the second time that day, Emma felt a pang of conscience. Lily’s mum had for many years been their housekeeper but, when Emma was ten, Mrs Bates was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and her condition had deteriorated so fast that she was now wheelchair bound. Tarquin had installed them in a cottage in the village and paid their rent, but it was Lily, an only child, who had grown up caring for her mum, combining school and homework with household chores, shopping and cooking. She had never had much of a social life and was, in Emma’s opinion, totally without the social skills necessary to ever get one.
    â€˜Can’t I just see the lodges?’ Harriet pleaded, finally managing to string an entire sentence together. ‘Have they got sedum roofs? I read a book about earth