A Year of New Adventures: The hilarious romantic comedy that is perfect for the summer holidays

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‘I wonder if you could take Mr Forest in some more coffee in a minute? Black, no sugar. And don’t bother with those silly little mugs – I think he’d prefer a bucket if anything. He has lunch between one-thirty and two p.m. But no shellfish and definitely no cheese – it makes him sleepy and grouchy.’

‘No cheese; thank you for the warning. I don’t think we’d want to risk making him grouchy would we?’ I said. ‘But surely he’d want to come out and meet everyone?’

Pippa shot me the smallest smile. ‘Good luck with that then.’

I trailed after her as she edged towards the back door. I was curious to find out more before she disappeared in a flurry of angst.

‘Back to London are you? I expect you’ll enjoy a few days off,’ I said.

‘Yes, I mean no … I have plenty to keep me occupied. Paris – I should – Oliver’s work, difficult, you know how it is.’ She stopped to blow her nose on a tissue and take a deep breath. I swear she was about to burst into tears. ‘And, of course, the blasted launch has been postponed. It’s far from ideal … but then needs must. Anyway, I’ll be along on Friday to collect Mr Forest.’

‘We have to be out by ten-thirty, remember? Don’t be late! We don’t want to have to leave him on the doorstep!’

‘Yes of course. God Almighty! No, please don’t! He’d go mad!’ Pippa said, wide-eyed at the prospect.

‘I was joking,’ I said.

‘Oh. Were you? OK. Well you’ve got my mobile number. Right, I’ll be off.’

Pippa shot out of the door and round the corner of the house. I closed the door after her and went back to my vegetables, wondering what it would be like to work for someone who was so terrifying.

Five minutes later Oliver’s door opened and the man himself stood there. ‘I thought you were bringing me coffee?’ he said.

Ah! I had of course forgotten. I gave a nervous little laugh.

‘Yes, just coming. Awfully sorry, you see I was a bit busy with …’

‘In your own time,’ he said and closed the door again.

I pulled a face at where he had been and went to flick the kettle on. Black, no sugar, and in a bucket. Right, I could do that.

There was a knock on the back door and a worried little face at the glass peering in. She gave a big smile when she saw me.

‘You must be Elaine!’ I went to open the door and helped her in with her suitcase that was almost as big as she was. ‘How lovely to meet you at last. Come on in and make yourself at home. We’re very glad to welcome you. Helena is upstairs with our other guests Nancy and Vivienne, although I think Vivienne was going to have a nap.’

Elaine took off her fingerless mittens and unwound her woolly scarf.

‘What a lovely house – lots of character in these old half-timbered places. You can almost feel the history can’t you? If these walls could talk eh? I bet there would be a few tales. Do you know, I was saying to Frank the other day …’

Oliver’s door opened again at this point and Oliver stood there, his face dark and irritated.

‘Ah,’ I said.

‘Coffee?’ he said. ‘Today?’

‘Of course, sorry I was just getting Elaine settled. This is Elaine by the way. She’s …’

Oliver closed his bedroom door again with a noticeable slam.

‘… the one whose bedroom you nicked,’ I finished.

‘He’s in my room?’ Elaine said, and turned her worried round face to look at me.

‘I’m sorry; it seems he’s injured his ankle. He’s in one of those boot things. He just went in there before I could stop him. I would have got him out but he’s not very friendly.’

‘No,’ Elaine said looking at the closed door thoughtfully. ‘He’s not very polite either is he?’

I stood up and went to make a cafetière of coffee and poured out a cup for Elaine. She was busy looking through her handbag and pulling out paperwork, charging cables, spectacles, and all sorts of odds and ends.

I found one of those awful oversized mugs decorated with a slogan for chocolate that usually come with Easter eggs and are really only useful for storing pencils. I put it on the tray with the cafetière and went and knocked on Oliver’s door.

‘Come.’

I went in. He was still sitting with his feet up on the footstool, writing in his notebook. He didn’t look up as I came in.

‘Leave it on the table,’ he said.

‘Please,’ I muttered.

He seemed not to hear.

‘Anything else I can get you?’ I said.

‘I want lunch at one-thirty,’ he said.

Oh do you?

‘Yes, Pippa said you did. Well we generally have it ready from one, as we explained in the joining notes. But just come out when you’re ready and help yourself. Everything will be out on the table. I’m making vegetable soup …’

‘I’d prefer it in here,’ he said.

Oh would you? Would you indeed?

Well I’d prefer to be a stone lighter and six inches taller.

I’d prefer to drive an Aston Martin.

I’d prefer to have swishy, glossy hair instead of this unmanageable brown mop.

I plastered a smile on my face and moved the table closer to his chair so he could reach it. I’d made him an eight-cup cafetière in a rather sarcastic way; if he got through that lot before lunch he’d be crashing off the ceiling.

‘Fine, of course. Whatever you want. It would be nice to meet the others though wouldn’t it?’

He looked up, his expression stony. ‘What others? I didn’t know there would be any others. Is that what all that noise is?’

‘Oh, but I told you …’

‘Pippa assured me I would have the house to myself. I made it perfectly clear what I wanted. I assumed she had listened. I assumed you had.’

Assume? Hmm.

I started to edge away from him and towards the safety of the kitchen. ‘Pippa must have misunderstood. I could give you a hand to get to the table if you need one?’ I said.

He looked up and fixed me with a dark blue stare. The sort my school sports teacher used to give me when I said I had forgotten my gym kit for the fourth time.

‘I don’t need a hand,’ he said, ‘just lunch. At one-thirty. Is your name really Billie? What’s that short for then? Wilhelmina?’ He gave a snort of amusement.

‘No, actually it’s short for Billericay,’ I said sadly. ‘It’s been a complete nightmare all my life.’ I bit my lip and looked away.

He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Really? I’m so sorry, I mean I didn’t mean …’

I took pity on him. ‘I’m kidding. It’s short for Sybilla, which is just as bad really isn’t it?’

He didn’t answer.

I went back to the kitchen and when I had closed the door I’m afraid I stuck my tongue out at him.

Elaine was still rifling through her capacious handbag and pulled out some printed emails with a little harrumph of satisfaction.

‘Look, I did ask for the ground-floor room. I thought I had. Is there another one perhaps?’

‘No, I’m afraid not, Elaine. I am sorry. I feel terrible. Obviously, I will put you into a really nice room as near the stairs as possible and refund the price difference you’ve paid. Sorry.’

Elaine smiled and cocked her head towards Oliver’s bedroom door. ‘It’s fine, dear; I can see how you’re fixed. I’ll just have to manage. Don’t you worry. I expect it will do me good; I’m getting very lazy these days.’

‘Well thank you for being so understanding, Elaine.’

I took her case up to the room. It was at the top of the staircase, a pretty room above the kitchen with a delightful leaded dormer window overlooking the garden. The single bed was high and stately with a deliciously plump duvet and pillows. I was suddenly tired and I could have crawled in for a power nap myself given half a chance.

Elaine was delighted. I introduced her to Nancy and Vivienne and I left them to settle in while I went back downstairs to finish off blending the soup and unwrapping the cheese. I took a glorious wedge of Stilton and waved it at Oliver’s room in a gesture of defiance – and of course at that precise moment he opened his door and caught me in the act. Oh FFS.

He stood and raised his eyebrows at me and I froze, the cheese in front of me like an axe head.

I started to wave it around. ‘Just airing it,’ I said, ‘like you do.’

‘I’ve not seen that done before,’ he said, narrowing his eyes.

‘Really?’ I put it behind my back. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, I was just wondering what the Wi-Fi code was?’

‘It’s all on the welcome sheet,’ I said, briskly efficient. ‘One was left on your bedside table.’

‘Was it? I hadn’t noticed.’ He looked around vaguely.

You mean you didn’t try looking. Give me strength, why do I bother?

I went to fetch it. ‘Here we are. The Wi-Fi code is there under the section headed Wi-Fi code. See?’

His mouth twisted a little. ‘So it is.’ He went to close the door and then hesitated. ‘Thank you.’

Good grief!

Helena came downstairs.

‘Everything OK?’

‘Perfect,’ I said, arranging the cheese on a slate platter with some grapes and celery sticks.

Helena started wiping down the worktops. ‘Nancy says she’s got into such a muddle with her WIP, she’s almost tempted to start again. How’s the soup coming along?’

‘It will need seasoning I expect. I haven’t been able to concentrate on it. There’s still no sign of Nick Fitzgerald. I hope he won’t be long. It’s twelve-thirty.’

Helena started opening the cupboards looking for side plates while I ran two French sticks under the cold tap before putting them into the oven to crisp up. There was a fresh block of butter in the dish; we were just about ready. I went rummaging through all the cupboards and drawers to find glasses and cutlery so I could set the table. It’s always difficult the first few hours in a strange house because no one knows where anything is and it’s a steep learning curve.

Suddenly Oliver’s door opened again. By the expression on his face he was not happy. ‘Do you have to make such a bloody racket?’ he said. ‘Shouting at each other! Opening and closing doors! Crashing around. I’m trying to work and it sounds like there’s an elephant on the loose out here.’

Flaming cheek! I know I might have put on a couple of pounds recently but there had been an offer on Wagon Wheels and I’d forgotten how much I liked them.

‘So sorry,’ I said, ‘but of course that’s the disadvantage of a ground-floor room. You could always go into the big sitting room. It’s right at the front of the house, very quiet and there’s a lovely wood burner in there. Very cosy.’

The oven timer beeped and I went to get the bread out of the oven.

‘I don’t want to be cosy; I just want some peace and bloody quiet,’ he said.

There was a knock on the back door and Oliver rolled his eyes in exasperation before disappearing back into his room.

Helena went to open it. It was a young man, rather attractive in a tousled, geeky, sports jacket sort of way.

‘Hello,’ Helena said, rather breathlessly, ‘you must be Nick Fitzgerald?’

He stepped into the room, bringing a swirl of rain with him. ‘I am.’ He shook her hand.

It was obvious he liked what he saw. A lot. I swear you could feel the electricity between them crackling across the room.

‘Filthy day it’s turned into. And it started out so well. Still, it’s looking up now I’ve got here.’

He gave Helena a wide grin and shrugged off his coat. Helena fussed and twittered around him and after a few introductions took him away to show him his room. She came back a few minutes later still rather dazed and silly. Most unlike her usual Miss Sensible demeanour.

Great, just what we didn’t need: Helena flirting with a guest. She’d never done anything like that before, although thinking about it we didn’t get many men as guests. And we’d never had someone with an unruly mop of tawny curls, smiling brown eyes, and the hint of a rather muscular frame under his tweed exterior.

There was soup to be served and bread to be sliced up and arranged attractively in the wicker baskets we had found. I fixed her with a steely look and willed her to calm down.