Free Wickham Hall, Part 2 by Cathy Bramley

my grasp of numbers is weak at the best of times. In one ear and out the other. I should know, but I just forget.’
    â€˜We’ve sold eighteen thousand,’ I said. ‘With thirty per cent of those coming from online bookings. I’ll drop him an email. What else?’
    â€˜Oh, er . . .’ He scrunched up his eyes. ‘Have we made sure there are disabled access ramps in the indoor arena?’
    â€˜Yes, we have.’ I looked back down at my paperwork to hide my smile. That would be the ‘Royal’ we.
    â€˜Oh good.’ He nodded. ‘And he wanted to know whether the outdoor seating in the VIP area is shaded.’
    â€˜It is,’ I said. ‘Well, it is now. I’ve just been down this morning and asked them to put a canvas roof over it. It will be a bit like a sail. I didn’t want your parents’ guests keeling over with sunstroke.’
    He stared at me and whistled. ‘How do you remember this stuff? I bet I could ask you a thousand questions and you’d be able to answer all of them.’
    â€˜Planning. It’s all in here. Look.’ I held up my diary at today’s page. There was barely any empty space; I’d written reams of notes all over it.
    He shook his head and grinned. ‘Holly Swift, you’re a marvel. What would I do without you?’
    I felt ridiculously pleased and too tongue-tied to come up with a witty answer and was relieved when Sheila inadvertently came to my rescue.
    â€˜There you are!’ she announced, panting slightly as she laid a heavy cardboard box down on the table. ‘I’ve been carting these round looking for you.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Sheila, I thought I’d escape from the perils of sharing an office with an artist.’ I smiled, flicking a glance at Ben.
    â€˜The new Wickham Hall calendars are in.’ She flipped open the top of the box and handed one to each of us. ‘I thought you might like to see them before I drop them off at the gift shop.’
    â€˜I would, thank you!’ I held my breath as I looked at the calendar. This had been my first job on arriving at Wickham Hall, my first chance to prove myself, and I hoped I had succeeded.
    The cover photograph of Lord and Lady Fortescue was adorable: instead of a stilted formal pose, Lady Fortescue was sitting on a window seat in the Long Gallery, Lord Fortescue beside her, his arm around her shoulders; the pair were smiling and gazing at a jewellery case containing Lord Fortescue’s grandmother’s tiara. A lump appeared in my throat as I read the caption:
Lady Fortescue’s Hidden Treasure. A surprise on our wedding day from Hugo, this gift, a family heirloom, more than anything truly made me feel like one of the family
.
    Even though I’d read her words before when we put the calendar together, it still warmed my heart to read it again.
    â€˜Holly, this is great. Really great.’ Ben reached across and ruffled my hair as though I was a small boy. ‘And different. I don’t think the calendar has ever featured people before, has it, Sheila?’
    She smiled. ‘No, it’s usually flowers or views across the estate or various rooms in the hall.’
    â€˜The team at Wickham Hall, the people, they’re its beating heart. Good on you, Holly.’ Ben gazed at me and I stared back, trying to read his expression, my own heart beating furiously at the compliment.
    Sheila picked up the box and walked off to the gift shop and gradually the noise and the movements around me came back into focus.
    The door to the café opened very slowly and Jenny’s head appeared through it, followed by the rest of her.
    â€˜Just checking Lord Fortescue wasn’t around. I want to keep this a surprise. What do you think?’ She held out a small dish of tiny eggs skewered onto cocktail sticks that had been decorated with concertina’d ribbons of Parma ham.
    â€˜Very pretty,’ I said.