Out front, Ben inhaled, taking in the mixed odors of car and airplane exhaust, cold mist and an ever-present dampness. He looked up at the leaden sky.
“There is a sun up there, right?”
“No wonder they’re all so pale.” Steve put both hands on the small of his back and straightened it, causing a popping and cracking sound that made Andrea wince.
“Ouch,” she said.
“Yeah, I know, right? Fourteen hours on a plane is murder,” he said to her and then turned to Dan. “And all crammed into business class. Why no first class, you tightwad.”
“Oh really?” Dan’s brows went up. “You ever been in first class before?”
“Let me think.” Steve grabbed his chin for a moment. “Um, nope.”
“It’s overrated. Besides, Chambers, I’ve never seen anyone eat so many little pastries and mooch at the stewardesses so much.”
“Just getting my money’s worth. Oh wait, I mean, your money’s worth. Thank you, Uncle Daniel.” Steve saluted.
“I’m cold.” Andrea pulled her thin coat tighter.
Ben saw that she had dressed for fashion rather than practicality; even though Dan had warned her it’d be cooler, a silk scarf just wasn’t going to cut it.
Dan began to rummage. “I might have a spare pullover you can…”
“I’ve got one here.” Emma pulled a top from her bag and tossed it to the woman. She hoisted her carryall to her shoulder and groaned. “Hey Steve, this friend of yours was meeting us here and now, right?”
“Yep, Jennifer Brock, zoologist who works at the London Zoo.” Steve turned about looking up and down the street.
“The zoo, huh?” Ben grinned. “No wonder she likes you.”
Steve turned back momentarily. “She said I’m a fine specimen.” He pointed. “There.”
Ben turned — a slim, athletic-looking woman with a dark bob haircut waved back. She wore a khaki shirt with a monogram on one of the pockets. She marched straight up to Steve, hugged him hard, kissed his cheek, and then pulled back to stare up into his grinning face.
“All this way just to see me?”
“Of course, Jenn.” Steve turned side-on. “My friends.” He counted each off. “Ben, Emma, Andrea, and Dan our mobile bank account.”
“Thank you, Steve.” Dan held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jennifer.”
“And you.” Jenny took his hand first. “And you, and you…” She then shook all of their hands. “Please call me Jenny, and come on, we can formally introduce ourselves in the van.” She turned on her heel. “Let’s get to the car-park before it sends me broke.”
Jenny had loaded them all into a Ford Transit Kombi van with the same London Zoo logo stenciled on the side as she had on her breast pocket. There were six seats, three in the front cab, three in rear, with plenty of storage for their bags.
Ben immediately smelled hay, with a hint of damp fur, and suspected people weren’t the only things that had been transported in Jenny’s van.
Steve slid in next to the zoologist, and Emma jammed in on the opposite window seat. In the back, Ben slid across to one window, Andrea quickly jumped in next to him, and Dan took the last seat.
As they sped out of Heathrow, Ben hung an arm out the window, watching with a mix of alarm and amusement — New York rush hour had nothing on some of the turnpikes out of the airport ring.
The real difference was that where American drivers would jam a hand down hard on their horns, or lean out of their windows to give you a piece of their mind, English drivers tended to glare or quietly fume in their vehicles.
Jenny half turned. “Tomorrow, I’ve arranged an interview for you at Windlesham Manor. As a background story, I told them you were planning on placing your dear old mother there. I can take you, but it should be only two of you — you guys choose which ones.”
Jenny turned back to the road. “Oh, and dress well; this place is expensive.”
Steve grinned. “Well, I’m out.”
Emma turned in her seat. “Got to be Ben. Only he really knows what to look for.” She smiled at him. “And I can accompany him as I just bought some new clothes. We can pretend to be a couple.”
“Or brother and sister,” Andrea added with a smirk.
“What do we do?” Dan asked.
“Enjoy our hospitality.” Jenny shot back. “I’ve put you all up at Fairstowe House; it’s a bed and breakfast down at Crowborough, so close to the Manor. It’s nice; there’s a traditional English pub down the road, and the place has a lot of history. So while Ben and Emma visit the estate, the rest of you can go for nature walks, exploring, or just sleep off your jet lag.”
“Well, that works just fine for me.” Steve sighed and eased back in his seat.
“Well done, and thank you, Jenny,” Ben said. “How far exactly to the Manor?”
“From Fairstowe House, just a few miles. From here, 50 miles, so sit back, take in the scenery, and get comfortable, as it’ll still take us about 3 hours, with most of that just getting out of this damned city.”
“Well then.” Ben also eased back in his seat. “I’ll be working off my jet lag right now.” He closed his eyes.
The squeal of breaks and a sharp elbow in the ribs told him they’d arrived, and Ben opened his eyes to a scene that reminded him of a cross between Harry Potter’s Hogwarts and the cover of one of his mother’s prized House and Gardens magazines.
“Wow,” Steve said from the front seat.
Fairstowe House had to be 200 years old if it was a day. Its sandstone and dark brick façade was covered in climbing roses, and leadlight windows held glimpses of golden lamps burning within.
“Looks inviting,” Ben observed, pulling back the door on the van. The group piled out and stood in the courtyard, smelling rose, lavender, and a hint of wood-smoke.
“Oh yeah, I could get used to this.” Emma turned slowly, hands on hips.
The front door opened and a woman holding a tea towel wiped her hands on it, and then flicked it up over her shoulder. She smiled, making her cheeks glow even more.
“Jennifer?”
“Yes, hello, Mrs. Davenport.” Jenny strode forward to shake the woman’s hand. She turned. “And my American friends.” She pointed at each, giving names. Ben and the group grinned and waved as their names were called.
Jenny looked pleased. “And let me know if you need help translating. Their accents can be a little difficult.”
Steve laughed. “Wait until she gets a load of our manners then.” He gave the older woman a wry smile. “Don’t believe a word of it, Mrs. Davenport, we’re a well-behaved bunch.”
The older woman smiled warmly. “Well, of course you are. And call me Margaret, please.” She stood to the side. “This way, this way, do come in.”
“Beautiful house, Margaret,” Andrea said, following first. “Looks old, um, I mean, grand and historically old.”
Margaret stopped in the living room. “Not that old; the Fairstowe country house, stables, and even rose beds are all approaching two centuries, but inside, you’ll find all the mod cons.”
The fireplace popped behind her, and Ben smelled burning cedar. Except for the slightest waft of mustiness, Ben loved it — it was warm, comfortable, and they seemed to have it all to themselves.
Margaret beamed. “I have a room for each of you.” She raised her chin. “I was told that you each wanted a single room; was that suitable?”
Dan nodded. “Sure, still all single for now, but we’re working on it.” He let his eyes slide to Ben. Emma glared in return.
“It’s absolutely perfect, Margaret, and thank you.” Jenny then checked her watch. “It’s 4pm now, and we’ll be going out for dinner, so I think we’ll get settled and clean up.” She raised her eyebrows. “What say we then meet down here at 7pm? I know a perfect place for dinner.”