Page 86 of Lie For Me

Lucy, who had never learnt to take a compliment, laughed and blushed and looked everywhere but at Chris.

‘Oh, ha, well…that’s um, well, he wouldn’t, would he? He’s my brother.’

‘Well, you are,’ Chris said. ‘Very pretty. And that’s a beautiful dress.’

Lucy swallowed and simply said, ‘Thank you.’

‘So, Lucy Ollie’s Sister, what do you do when you’re not enchanting people at weddings?’

Wow, Lucy thought. Life really could turn on a sixpence. She had forgotten all about strained relationships with her family, fights with Heather and fake boyfriends. She was happy to bask in the attention of one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen in real life. She wondered what was wrong with him.

‘Well,’ she hesitated, years of having her job mocked by her family as not a proper job, making her pause before trying to explain what she did. Chris waited patiently, eyes on her. She took a breath.

‘I’m the events and volunteers manager for a stately home, a place called Dulcetcoombe in Yorkshire. I run the—’

But before she could try to explain what that meant, Chris interrupted her.

‘Dulcetcoombe?’ He was staring at the table, clearly trying to bring something to mind. ‘Dulcetcoombe…why does that ring a bell?’

Lucy really wasn’t sure how it could ring a bell with many people outside of Yorkshire. Dulcetcoombe wasn’t Blenheim or Chatsworth. It didn’t have a national reputation and had only been open to the public for about six years. But Chris was still muttering to himself, and Lucy sat quietly, assuming he’d soon realise he had confused Dulcetcoombe with something else.

Then suddenly, Chris slapped his hand down on the table.

‘That’s it!’ he said. ‘We looked at Dulcetcoombe as a possible location for something I worked on a few years ago. We didn’t use it in the end. We needed somewhere a little bigger, but we were there.’ He was grinning. ‘I seem to remember there was some sort of Hallowe’en Light Trail on or something? We did the trail before we left. It was great! Really atmospheric and beautiful. It seemed very popular. There were queues to get in as we were leaving. Were you involved with that?’

Lucy stared at him. He knew about Dulcetcoombe and the Light Trail! She had started that a few years ago, in her second year in post.

‘Yes, yes I was,’ she said on an out breath. ‘It was my idea! I think that must have been the second year that you saw. We started doing timed entries after that, because it got so popular, to make sure people didn’t have to wait long.’

‘Really? Wow, that’s impressive! So you do all the events there, then? It’s a beautiful estate. It must be an inspiring place to work.’

Lucy thought of how different this conversation was from when she tried to tell her family about work. They didn’t think Dulcetcoombe was inspiring—they thought it was an out-of-the-way money pit, long past its best, and that it should be sold and turned into a hotel or spa or country club. No more community events, school trips, community gardening clubs, vintage fairs, or grounds open to all the local walkers and dog walkers. Just private property and private grounds, prohibited to all except paying guests.

Lucy welled up at the joy of talking to someone––outside of Dulcetcoombe itself and the tight-knit community of people who worked in historic estates across the country––who appreciated a place like that. People who loved it for its grand, if worn, beauty, its rich history, the deep sense of place, and for what it still offered to its community today.

‘Yes,’ she swallowed, smiling. ‘Yes, every day when I drive down the approach and go past the last pair of oak trees and round the corner and there,’ she touched her hand to her chest, ‘there is the house. And it looks different every day.’ She could feel all her enthusiasm and love for the place bubbling up. ‘The light sometimes makes it look creamy and castle-like, like a huge cake, and other times, especially in the winter, it looks scary and gothic, and perfect for Hallowe’en!’

She hesitated, looking for signs that she was boring him, watching for the moment his eyes wandered across the room for a more interesting companion. But his gaze never wavered.

‘You must love working there,’ he said, leaning in, ‘with all that history. And the events, do you manage them all? Do you get to decide what events you do? That must be fun!’

Lucy started to think she must have been very good in a previous life. Or maybe this was divine payment for making it to the wedding and braving time with her sister. Or perhaps her attempts at manifesting a fantastic love life were all about to bear fruit, right now, in the form of the marvellous Chris, whom she hadn’t known existed ten minutes ago.

‘It is fun.’ She nodded. ‘I work with really wonderful, dedicated people, who are committed to preserving this historic site.’ She pulled a face. ‘And some very determined and opinionated volunteers.’ She laughed. ‘Sometimes I’m not sure who’s in charge—them or me.’

Chris laughed, a rich, rolling sound. Lucy thought she should pinch herself in case this was all a dream, and dug her nails hard into her thigh. Nope, not a dream. Ow.

‘Why did you say you were at Dulcetcoombe? For an event?’

‘I work in film locations,’ Chris said. ‘I was scouting in the area for a suitable filming location and Dulcetcoombe was one of the places we were considering for the shoot. In the end, it wasn’t quite big enough, and the director preferred another location. A shame.’ His eyes locked onto hers. ‘Maybe we’d have met sooner.’

Lucy blushed. ‘Wow, you work in film! That’s so glamorous! You must get to see amazing places and meet really interesting people.’

Chris pulled a face. ‘It is interesting and I love it, and the people I work with are great––though it’s more about muddy boots and 5am starts and twelve-hour days than glamour. I don’t get to do the red-carpet bits.’ He grinned. ‘But much as I love it, my parents are still waiting for me to get a proper job.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not sure exactly what that is, but I think it involves a suit, an office and a 9-5, and that’s not me.’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘I think the freelance and uncertain nature of working in film freaks them out.’

Lucy’s breath stuck in her throat. She spluttered and reached for her drink.

‘Hey, are you okay?’

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