“Sophie, can you make tea? Mr Tanaka has arrived.” Charlotte, the housekeeper, was looking harassed. “Mr Richard has vanished, Miss Andrea is out, and Mr Tanaka’s not looking happy.”

“Give me two ticks to get a tray together.”

“He’s got a mountain of luggage, and it all needs to be laundered and pressed. Maggie has gone home early, so I’m all alone.”

When we’d arrived the day before, Charlotte had been a total darling, helping me unpack and set up, and so it was a no-brainer. “You take care of his bags, and I’ll serve him tea.”

“But it’s not your job to serve.”

“It’s not yours to help me unpack, either. Go on, love, and leave me to it.”

I loaded a tray with green tea, honey sticks and manju buns and rushed off to the big red drawing room.

Basildon Hall is exquisite, a lovely Tudor manor built by duke as a little country getaway. In other words, twelve bedrooms, two drawing rooms, a dining hall, breakfast parlour, billiard room, and a giant library. We won’t mention the rambling servant quarters, the stables, or the lake, because everyone has those, right?

As it’s owned by the Duchess of Weir, and she’s stinking rich and house proud, the whole effort is beautifully maintained and furnished. But Kaito Tanaka, sitting on the red velvet sofa and staring at the Landseer on the wall, was looking glum.

He was in his thirties, tall, thin and dressed in jeans and a bright green tee that announced, ‘Wake Up Smarter; Sleep with an Engineer’. Taking in the inch-long high-and-tight hair and big specs, I got a solid impression of fun-loving, hard-working nerd. I liked him on sight.

“Mr Tanaka, I’m Sophie.”

“I’m Kaito Tanaka,” he spoke with an American accent and from his smile, he was an informal chap. “You can call me Kaito if you like, but I always feel like I’m taking part in an Inspector Clouseau film.”

“Gosh! The butler who’s always attacking him?”

“Exactly!” He grinned, showing off perfectly white straight teeth. “Call me Tanaka.”

He was a total sweetie. “I have brought you tea and red bean manju.”

At that, the gloom fell away and his dark eyes sparkled. “Manju? Really?”

I once spent a month in Chengdu, and although I adore Chinese food, especially spicy Szechuan cuisine, I got so desperate for a taste from home that I would’ve killed for a packet of salt and vinegar crisps.

From his tired eyes, wrinkled clothes, and air of exhaustion, this man had been on the go for too long. The way he grasped the tea and sniffed it spoke volumes. “My car broke down on the way to the airport, I missed my flight, and the next one was delayed,” he sighed.

“Oh, you poor thing! Would you like some noodles? I can make you yakisoba.”

“Really? Ohmigod, I was just thinking that I’d scream if I see another taco or burger.”

“You’ve been in the States?”

“Three weeks in the Arizona desert. We were setting up a space telescope.”

“Beautiful, but not exactly within reach of a proper restaurant.” I could see the man was in need of a bit of pampering. “I’ll make you a snack right away, and tonight you can have unadon.”

He closed his eyes and actually moaned. “You’ve got unagi, I mean, Japanese eel?”

“Yes, and I raided the snack section at Japan Centre Groceries in London, too. If you look in the tin by the side of your bed, you’ll find rice crackers, Pocky chocolate biscuits, and Pretz.”

“Sophie, you are a saint.”

It was rather lucky for me that Richard walked in at just that point. Knowing I was looking good, I bowed formally to Tanaka. “Anything you want, please just let me know.”

It earned me a massive smile from Richard, and I was feeling pretty good as I went back to the kitchen. It was a pity, though, that the Russians weren’t as nice. They arrived just as I was serving the noodles, and they looked as shattered as Tanaka.

“A storm over the Urals and we had to fly around the Ukraine for security reasons,” Vladimir Petrov moaned. But he waved away my offer of tea and a snack. “I’ll have vodka, and you won’t be able to make good piroshki. Only Russians make good piroshki.”

Rude, but I wasn’t bothered by it. When you’re paid a fortune, it’s easy to smile. “Okay, we have Stoli, Russian Standard, and Absolut in the drinks cabinet. If you don’t see what you want, let me know and I can special order.”

He grunted and shrugged. Not a happy camper, our Vladimir. He was a typical Russian, a burly bloke with a wide, pale face, pale blue eyes, flat cheekbones, and a bristle haircut. 

But he’d brought along a wife, and she was a vision. Bum-length blonde hair, huge violet eyes, a heart-shaped face, tiny waist, and endless legs. I recognised her: Lorelei Jones, a model from the East End of London who’d made it big and then vanished. Clearly she’d given up a career for a ring.

Both Richard and Tanaka were gazing at her with lustful admiration. So much so that Vladimir perked up and put an arm around her. “Lorelei, my wife.” The way he said it, he was claiming her. Or boasting, maybe.

“Delighted,” Richard said warmly.

“Want some manju?” Tanaka offered.

Lorelei soaked up the admiration and glowed. “I’ll have ice water,” she said to me, and to go with the looks, she had a breathy little voice that sounded sexy as hell.

Like Andrea before in the train, Lorelei looked me up and down and then smiled. Yup, the smug one that said I wasn’t competition. All eyes in the room were on her, and she knew it.

Honestly, just looking at Lorelei made me so depressed that I went straight back to the kitchen and ate two of the piroshki. They’re buns, made from the lightest dough, and I’d stuffed them with spinach and cream cheese. They were delicious, and I’ve no doubt they went straight to my hips. Probably my bum, too. And my boobs.

“At least you’re happy,” I told myself. “You’ve got a job you love, and you don’t have to live off ice water and fresh air.”

The pep talk worked, which was just as well considering what was in store. As the day progressed, the guests settled in, and I made the finishing touches to my own arrangements. I had my work cut out, because just as I was plating dinner, Charlotte came to tell me we’d be short-handed.

“Maggie, who is supposed to help me, thought she had a cold, but it’s bronchitis,” she said. “She’ll be off two weeks, at least. What’s worse, John, her husband, is supposed to act as butler. He says he’s not leaving Maggie, as she needs careful nursing.”

“So it’s just you and me looking after everyone? Or can we get in some temps from the village?”

Charlotte shrugged. “The locals don’t like housekeeping work; they think it’s beneath them. I can get my daughter to help me, but getting a replacement butler isn’t going to be easy. Especially with having to sign confidentiality agreements.”

“Well, that’s why they pay me a bomb,” I said. “It’s really not much more effort to serve.”

“Really?” Charlotte said doubtfully.

“Definitely. The sous chef they stuck me with on the last job was a klepto. I didn’t mind her stealing my coins and the odd fiver, but she also nicked prawns, salmon, and even a side of venison! Trust me. I’m okay with serving.”

Charlotte caved; she didn’t have a choice, and so that was sorted. With the new arrangements, I had to serve and clear as well as cook, which took me out of the kitchen and involved me in the house party. 

Richard had warned me they would be difficult, and he was dead right. I got the low-down on them all as I was clearing that first dinner.

“Sophie, it was perfect.” Tanaka was beaming. “Can you make me tempura tomorrow for dinner? And ramen for lunch?”

“Of course!”

“No more burgers, tacos and steaks,” he murmured. And I could see that having discovered I could cook Japanese, Tanaka would absolutely refuse to eat anything else. 

“I’ll eat Japanese, too, but only if you cook vegetarian,” Andrea said.

Which of course was impossible as Tanaka was a fish lover. 

Vladimir was a complete carnivore. “Just give me steak,” he shrugged.

“Of course.” He didn’t seem that interested, but he’d devoured the chicken breast with mushroom sauce I’d made for him, practically licking the plate clean. “You like your steak with a sauce or plain?”

“Whatever.” He really was uncouth. “Or make me one of those English roasts.”

“Roast pork with crackling? Roast lamb with Yorkshire pudding?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

In contrast, Lorelei had stuck to ice water all night and had asked for salad without dressing for dinner.  “I will have fruit for breakfast,” she told me. “And a boiled egg for lunch.”

“Soft boiled with toast soldiers?”

“No bread!” Her eyes raked my curves again, and she said simply, “I don’t want to be fat.”

Great. I don’t react. I can’t, not when it’s business, but I was happy to see Richard go purple with outrage.

I winked at him and said to Lorelei. “Only fruit and vegetables, then? And one egg every day?”

“Yes.”

To my surprise, Andrea spoke up. “I’ll have whatever Lorelei’s eating, Sophie. If it’s easier.”

Surprising, right? But nice, so I smiled at her. “Andrea, you’re getting your smoothies, love. I have a recipe featuring broccoli that’s supposed to be awesome.”

I thought it had gone quite well, but Richard came storming into the kitchen while I was loading the dishwasher, and he was uptight as hell. “That bitch, Lorelei! I’m so sorry, Sophie!”

“Never mind, Richard. Did you like your chicken?”

“Yes, it was superb. The clear soup and the sherry trifle with custard, too.”

It made me glow. Compliments on my food always do make me happy.  But I tried to be humble. “Thanks.”

“But I didn’t expect you to have to cook five completely different meals every time!”

“Pooh, you’re paying me a bomb to keep everyone happy. Tanaka is delighted, Lorelei liked her salad, and although Vladimir complains, he’s stuffing his face. Just let them be.”

Richard looked around the carnage that was the kitchen. “Ohmigod! Why don’t you have help?”

“The maid’s ill. Bronchitis. And her husband, who’s butler here, has to nurse her.”

“I heard.” Richard was frowning. “I’ll get someone from London.”

“Oh, you are a sweetheart!”

“Andrea did actually hire a maid, that’s who the extra seat on the train was for, but she cancelled at the last moment.”

“Did she? That was kind of Andrea.” I thought about it. “Look, if she hasn’t replaced her, there’s probably a reason for it.”

“Security,” Richard said simply. “We don’t want strangers in the house.”

“Then don’t take the risk. Charlotte’s daughter is coming tomorrow. We’ll be fine.”

That got me a big smile. “Seeing you’ve dealt with royals, I know you’ll see to it. I was just thinking that this is a lot more work than we agreed on.”

I batted my eyes at him. “You’ll have to make it up to me.”

We might have had some fun, but at that point Andrea barrelled in. “Richard, Tanaka wants you.”

“And I want Sophie,” he muttered. But business is business, so he went, promising, “Tomorrow!  I’ll make it up to you!”

There are always problems with house parties. Catering just is one big pain to organise—it’s part of the business—but I saw very quickly that poor Richard was having a dreadful time.

Tanaka and Vladimir were definitely not friends. They were super polite to each other. So polite that it was clear they loathed each other. Also, neither Tanaka nor Vladimir wanted to be in England.

I overheard their first meeting, straight after breakfast, because I was serving coffee and biscuits.

“We have no problems working with you, Richard,” Tanaka said. “But I’m afraid that an international venture isn’t what we’re looking for right now.”

“We are of the same opinion,” Vladimir said instantly. “You’re a good engineer, Richard, really, almost as good as a Russian.”

At that, Richard smiled and Tanaka rolled his eyes.

Vladimir steamrolled right on, “Russians make the best robots, the best computers, and the best rockets. We were first in space, and we don’t need other countries holding us back.”

“Considering Mars 96 couldn’t get out of Earth’s orbit, I don’t think you should boast,” Tanaka snapped.

“One word: Minerva,” Vladimir spat back. “You never did find out what happened to it, did you?”

They were hissing like steam engines and were just an insult away from World War III.

“I appreciate both your views,” Richard said diplomatically, “but this isn’t about international cooperation or who is best. I asked you here because I have a dream.”

At that, both Tanaka and Vladimir frowned. I could tell they were too angry at each other to consider any kind of joint project.

“I’m already rich,” Richard said softly, “but I’m planning to be bigger than Bill Gates, Carlos Slim, and Warren Buffett rolled together. I’m going to be so loaded that buying the International Space Station will be pocket change.”

At that, the two men sharpened up.

“You mean, you’re looking for a corporate outlet, not just with the agencies?” Vladimir asked.

“How would that work?” Tanaka asked.

“I created Trouper to work in space,” Richard said. “It’s designed to deal with extreme heat, extreme cold, and extreme pressure. It also copes with rough terrain.” He dropped his voice and said, “You’re here on behalf of your agencies, but I’m already making cost-effective adaptations that will work underground and in deep water.”

Clever, right? Richard’s robot would revolutionise mining and deep-sea exploration. It sounded terribly exciting, but sadly I’d finished serving, so I didn’t have an excuse to linger and eavesdrop.

When I went back to clear, though, the atmosphere was much more positive.

“Okay, so I don’t go back to Moscow tomorrow,” Vladimir conceded.

“I’m interested in seeing what you’ve got,” Tanaka agreed. “I’ll cancel my seat to Tokyo tonight.”

Round one to Richard, right? But to my surprise, he stalled. “You’re both tired and jet-lagged. Today we rest, and tomorrow we’ll take our first look at Trouper.”

“Trouble?” Tanaka asked immediately.

“One of the data lines is down,” Richard moaned. “As we’re in the middle of nowhere, getting it fixed is a pain.”

“We had the same in Arizona,” Tanaka said. “Eighteen million bucks of telescope, and we spent five days twiddling our thumbs because we were missing a ten-dollar cable.”

“Andrea has gone to see the local council. They’re in charge, so hopefully it won’t take long to fix,” Richard sighed.

On that note they scattered, Tanaka to catch up on his jet lag, Vladimir to catch up on his email, and Richard making frantic phone calls.

I went back to the kitchen and cleaned a mountain of potatoes and leeks for vichyssoise, followed by peeling potatoes for Vladimir and Richard, and carving tomato hearts and spring onion flowers for Tanaka and the girls.

As the boys had all raided the pudding tray the night before, I made some jam tarts and whipped up chocolate cupcakes. They’re lovely when you stuff them with butter icing, and they’re good with ice cream, too, so I went all out.

By the time I had everything cleaned and prepped, I decided I deserved a break and some fresh air.

Clutching a mug of tea and an apricot jam tart still warm from the oven, I went out to the kitchen garden. Instantly I heard Richard’s voice. “They can’t find him? Seriously? Are you sure you’re in the right office, Andrea? And you’re talking to the boss?” There was a short silence, and then he sighed. “Well, I guess if he’s not there, there’s not much you can do. Better come back then.”

At that point, I realised the library looked out over the kitchen garden and that Richard was using it as his office. Clearly the line was still down, and Andrea’s mission had failed.

That sounded a bit desperate. London people never realise that instant service is strictly a city thing. I grew up in the country, the Cotswolds in the south of England, and I was guessing that Chester was about the same. What takes a day in the metropolis takes three days in the suburbs and a week everywhere else.

“Richard.” Lorelei’s breathy voice carried clearly through the open French windows. “Hello, darling.” Then there was the unmistakable sound of carrying on.

I went straight back indoors, telling myself that it had nothing to do to me, that I wasn’t disappointed, or surprised. After all, I’d known Richard was a dog. He must have known Lorelei in London before she went off and married.

Richard clearly had no self-control because if Vladimir caught him, it wouldn’t just screw the deal; it would be a bloodbath. But, as I reminded myself, it really wasn’t any of my business.

Okay, so as you’ve probably guessed, I was crushed. Jealous, too. We’d just flirted, and I knew it meant nothing, but even so, I felt as if he’d dumped big-sized me for sylph-like Lorelei. It hurt.

Work gets you through all kinds of trouble, so I went back into the kitchen and chopped onions and pounded black peppercorns while imagining I was bashing blonde-hair-down-to-her-perfect-arse-Lorelei. It was helping me nicely, so when the kitchen door opened and Richard came in, I was able to smile.

Richard was looking rueful, “Sophie, I’m looking for a cup of tea and solace.”

What can you say? He was still my client. Also, I have my pride. There’s steel under my curves, so I put on the kettle, pushed over a plate of apricot tarts and said lightly, “What’s bothering you, love?”

“Well, I—”

At that point a breathy “Richard, where are you?” drifted down the corridor. To my utter surprise, Richard got up and bolted into the larder, taking his tea with him. Lorelei peered around the door a second later.

She looked a little petulant. “Is Richard here?”

“I think he’s gone up to the lake,” I said it without a blush, but inside all I felt was relief. Clearly Richard wasn’t mad about the beauty. “If you run, you can probably catch him.” Told you I have an evil streak. It’s more than a mile to the lake, and it’s all uphill.

Lorelei went trotting off, and Richard emerged from the larder. “She pounced on me earlier,” he explained. “I was in the library, getting some work done, and she just walked in and jumped me! I don’t even know her! I only met her once, years ago, for about two minutes. The woman’s a sex fiend!”

“Or plain crazy for you.” Like me, I wanted to say but didn’t.

“Well, it was damn embarrassing,” Richard humphed. “And what’s worse, her husband was next door. I was shit scared he’d walk in on us.”

“Yes, I have the feeling he’d not take it well.”

“I’m not taking it well, either,” Richard sighed. Then he grinned at me. “Now if it had been you, I would have been happy!”

“Flirt.” But I was aware of that delicious throbbing starting up again. “I thought you were lusting after data lines.”

“That too. We called yesterday, and they said it would be fixed, but nothing’s happened.  Andrea is at their offices now, but the manager says his contractor can’t be reached. Something wrong with his cell, he says.”

“Can’t they send someone else?”

“They’ve only got one expert. I could probably fix it but he’s the only one who has the access code.”

“You can’t hack in?”

“I might but it’s illegal.”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate.”

“It’s damn stupid!” Richard exploded. “It’s totally against protocol, too. What if there’s a fire, an emergency or, heaven forbid, he’s run over by a bus?”

“It will be sorted, I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so, or I’m dead in the water before I even start.” Richard took another jam tart off the plate and bit into it. “This is yummy,” he moaned. “I’d better take up running.”

“Stay away from the lake. I just sent Lorelei up there.”

“Brilliant,” he laughed. “See if you can get her to jump in next time.”

“Richard?” Andrea’s voice came drifting out from the library.

“I’m in the kitchen!” He gave me a big smile. “Thanks for the rescue, Sophie.” And then he was out of sight but not hearing. “Any luck?” I heard him ask Andrea.

“None. I went all the way to the Board of Directors, but they’re clueless,” Andrea’s voice quacked over clearly. “Their expert is Ned Foulkes, a local country yokel. As he’s the only man in the district who can do the job, he does a Higgs boson whenever he doesn’t feel like working, and as everyone’s too scared he’ll resign, he gets away with it.”

“Good god! How about we get up someone from London?”

“There’s still the matter of the access codes. Only Foulkes has them.”

As they talked, I was thinking. By the time I finished the soup and the tempura batter, I had an idea. Richard and Andrea weren’t in the library, so I went to find Charlotte.

I found her upstairs, making beds. “Do you know a Ned Foulkes?” I asked her.

“Sure, he lives about ten miles from here.” Charlotte was shaking up a duvet. “His dad owns a dairy farm.”

“But Ned’s a techie, right?”

“Yes. He was here for a week, setting up all the extra lines Mr Richard wanted.”

Bingo. “There’s a problem and Ned’s gone AWOL. How do I find him?”

“The Kingfisher Pub,” Charlotte replied promptly.

“Is he a drunk?”

“No, a fanatical darts player.”

“Great.” He’d be sober then. “May I borrow your car?”

“Of course, love.”

“How do I get to the Kingfisher?”

Country roads are narrow and signposting is crap, so it was almost two hours later when I drove back up to the house.

“I can’t find Sophie anywhere,” Andrea’s plaintive voice was echoing around the hall. “I don’t know where the dratted girl has gotten to!”

“She’s not a dratted girl,” Richard snapped back.

“She should be in the kitchen, not running around goodness knows where.”

Lovely, right? Andrea was determined to put me in my place. In a dark basement, if possible, out of her precious boss’ sight.

“I’m here,” I said as I opened the library door. “I went to the pub.”

“Drinking?” Andrea pounced immediately. “You’re not supposed to have time off! Not on a short contract!”

But Richard was looking at me speculatively. “What are you up to, Sophie?”

Triumphantly, I produced Ned. “Mr Foulkes, this is Richard Cummings. If you fix his line for him and promise to stick around, he’s going to give you a massive tip.”

Richard was reaching out, grasping Ned by the hand and shaking it vigorously. “Indeed, I will.”

“Enough to go to the World Championships, the one in Surrey and the one in London,” I said significantly.

“Happy to do so,” Richard promised, and from the way he put am arm around Ned’s shoulders, I could see he wasn’t letting go. I got a massive grin. “Sophie, you’re a lifesaver. I won’t forget this. It’s well above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you!” Then he was towing Ned away. “Come and fix us up, would you? Our T-1 line is slower than dial-up.”

Andrea stared after them, looking a bit down in the mouth. “I would have found him tomorrow,” she muttered.

“I’m sure you would have.”

I can be diplomatic, but Andrea was in a jealous snit. “Tanaka wants to eat sushi tomorrow and Lorelei says she wants beetroot salad.”

“No problem.”

“It is! I’m not your PA, I work for Richard! Next time, don’t slope off without arranging for someone to take over your duties.”

And then she stomped off, thoroughly bad-tempered.