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

sheltering when I did my GCSE rural studies course.’
    â€˜You did? This is wonderful – Emma’s totally switched off from the whole thing. Come along, I’ll show you,’ Tarquin said. ‘You see, contrary to what people believe, they are full of light; I’ve used glass on one side and . . .’
    To Emma’s relief, her father’s mobile phone rang at that moment. He snatched it from his pocket and closed his eyes, a habit he always had when speaking on the phone.
    â€˜What? It’s not? You haven’t? They didn’t?’ Tarquin’s face was growing more purple by the second. ‘Give meten minutes and I’ll be there.’
    â€˜Problem?’ Emma asked.
    â€˜Our local MP has just flown –
flown,
mind you – from Shoreham Airport to Exeter for a seminar. And he’s the one who goes on about carbon footprints. Davina and I are heading for the
Evening Argus
right now – I want headlines in tomorrow’s edition, I want . . .’
    What else he wanted Emma didn’t discover as he was already out of earshot, heading for the office above the garage where Davina, his personal assistant, was undoubtedly already scribbling a suitable invective for his next press release.
    â€˜Sorry about that,’ Emma said. ‘When Dad’s on one of his rants, there’s no stopping him.’
    â€˜He is,’ Harriet sighed, ‘absolutely lovely. You are so lucky to have a dad like that.’
    â€˜You mean one that goes round switching off lights and wearing slightly grubby shirts because he won’t let anyone wash at more than thirty degrees? That kind of lucky?’
    â€˜No,’ Harriet said solemnly. ‘A dad that hasn’t gambled your home away. That kind of lucky.’
    Emma said nothing. She felt too ashamed.
    â€˜Oh wow! It’s amazing!’ Harriet stood open-mouthed outside the front door of Donwell Abbey, her eyes scanning from the immaculate lawns, fringed with beech, sycamore and Scots pines and staked out with archery targets to the shimmering waters of the spa pool, glimpsed through the window of what had once been the orangery.
    Emma had to admit that, despite knowing the house almost as well as her own, she never failed to be impressed by its russet walls, almost hidden under great swathes of Virginia creeper, its numerous mullioned windows that twinkled when they caught the late afternoon sun, and the vast oak front door with its enormous lion’s head door knocker.
    â€˜I can’t wait to see inside!’ Harriet bounded ahead of Emma up the stone steps just as the front door opened and a cascade of croquet mallets and hoops hurtled down the steps.
    â€˜Oh ****!’ A broad-shouldered, dark-haired guy with the faintest hint of designer stubble lunged towards Harriet, almost knocking her off her feet.
    â€˜Oh sorry,’ he gasped. ‘Look, can you hang on to these for a second?’
    He thrust a box of croquet balls into her arms and began scooping up the hoops scattered over the steps. As he stood up, he caught sight of Emma and promptly dropped them again.
    â€˜Hi, Theo – clumsy as ever I see!’ Emma laughed. ‘I didn’t expect to find you here.’ She turned to Harriet. ‘This is Theo Elton, famous for asking me to dance at the South Downs Ball and totally ruining my Manolo Blahniks. And that was before he fell into the water feature.’
    Theo broke into a grin and pulled a face. ‘Thank you for that, Emma!’ He winked at her. ‘I’m glad I made such an impression. Hey, you’ve cut your hair short.’
    Emma was so gob-smacked that a guy would notice such a thing that she completely failed to reply with awitty riposte. She’d known Theo, who was studying medicine at Cambridge, for years; he had grown up in the neighbouring village of Fyfield. His father was chaplain of Fyfield College, which was only half a notch lower than Eton and