Every Bookshop Needs a Cat (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Climbing the Social Ladder

1/2 for today <3

I hope you enjoy!

K. xx

***

Anya assumed that driving through the delivery gates and parking the Rover at the back, next to what appeared to be a grocer's van, would be the safest choice. She's had some experience with wealthy clients - but never had she faced anything similar to Nidhogg Hall. She'd googled it after dropping Varya off at the farm. Many, many years ago - in a different life - when visiting the palaces and the manors of the Russian Tzars with her parents, she used to imagine what it would be like to grow up there. Look at you now, Anya! You literally wash the dishes of a person who did grow up in such circumstances.

As she was driving closer to the Hall, some memories from the art and history classes resurfaced. Just as most of stately homes of the period, the Hall had the E design and featured plenty of glass - tall windows lined up on its side facing the countryside - as well as a curious mix of heraldic pretension and classical columns, profuse carvings, and ornate decorations.

"Hiya," a man unloading the van greeted her with a wide smile. "And who would you be?"

His tone was friendly, but Anya still tensed and clutched the strap of her handbag.

"Hello," she answered quietly. "I'm Anya Rosenfeld. I mean, Ferguson. I'm here to see Mr. Bjornsson, and I wasn't sure which way to go. This is my first time visiting the Hall."

"Ah, you must be Dom Ferguson's wife! Pleasure to meet you! I'm Mr. Tate. The missus mentioned you'd been food shopping, and then the rumour said it was for Master Niklas." The grocer grinned. "You're housekeeping in the Ekollon, innit? Such a pity about that accident!" Mr. Tate clicked his tongue. "I've never been one to place any blame, you know. Seeing we can't know what happened then, innit? And he'd always been such a good boy; uppity sometimes, of course, but for a good reason, wasn't he?"

Anya wasn't at all sure what the man was talking about - but she hummed as if agreeing, just in case.

"Follow me, miss," Mr. Tate said and picked up a box. "It's through here."

Anya offered her help, and he generously allowed her to take one box, but only one, with the caveat of 'seeing you're on the wee side.' He confidently headed for one of the doors, and Anya followed. Inside there was a narrow hallways that led to a kitchen, perhaps; but she never got a chance to find out.

"Mr. Tate!" a female voice rang behind them, from outside. "Is that you? Is Ms. Rosenfeld with you?"

"That would be Ms. Atieno, Mr. Bjornsson's secretary," Mr. Tate explained to Anya, and then shouted over his shoulder, "Yes, Ms. Atieno! We're both here. Carrying in your artichokes, just as you–"

"Mr. Tate, Ms. Rosenfeld isn't supposed to be using the tradesmen's entrance!" Ms. Atieno exclaimed, catching up with them, her stilettos clanking loudly in the passage. "She's a guest, not a member of staff!"

Anya pressed the box of leek tightly to her chest.

"Oh goodness me, why didn't you say nothing, miss?" Mr. Tate squawked and put down his box. "Here, give me that! You should've said so, the old daft me thinking you're–"

"I'm sure Ms. Rosenfeld simply didn't want to put you in an awkward position," Ms. Atieno cut him off and turned to Anya. "I apologise for the confusion. You were supposed to be met at the gate, but your visit coincided with a grocery delivery. Please, follow me. I'll take you straight to Mr. Bjornsson's study. Tea has been served already."

Anya hesitated, and the grocer as much as pried the leek out of her hands. She was almost tempted to argue, but shrank under the other woman's pointed stare. Anya muttered a goodbye and dragged herself after Ms. Atieno, while Mr. Tate was still apologising and lamenting his 'unacceptable, simply unacceptable ignorance' behind her. It seemed the whole 'upstairs-downstairs' distinction was still a thing in Fleckney.