Secret Schemes and Daring Dreams by Rosie Rushton

mind, I’m crashing out. I’ll leave you to decide what to do. Life is all about making the right choices.’
    â€˜So I’ll tell Rob no, right?’
    â€˜Your choice. Night, Harriet. Sleep well.’

CHAPTER 5
Secret scheme:
Spend of the plastic, worry later
    â€˜DAD! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?’
    Emma, blasted awake at half past seven on Sunday morning by what sounded like dustbin lids being scraped along a brick wall, burst into her father’s den, hair tousled and feeling seriously sleep deprived.
    â€˜Dad!’ She punched the Off button on his vintage Bang and Olufsen. ‘You woke me up!’ she shouted accusingly.
    Her father glanced at his solar-powered watch. ‘It’s not early,’ he commented. ‘I thought you’d be over the way helping out by now. Besides, I’m so buzzed by this band.’ He gestured towards the deck. ‘That package from Lily – it had this demo CD in it. Great band – they’re called Split Bamboo and the lead guitarist is . . .’
    â€˜Jake Fairfax,’ concluded Emma with a groan. ‘Lily’s oh-so-amazing cousin.’ She eyed her father closely. ‘You’re not telling me this band of his is actually any good?’
    â€˜They’re more than good, they’re going places,’ herfather declared. ‘I’ve read a bit about them in the music papers. One of their songs – ‘Panic Stations Planet’ – is very of the moment . . .’
    â€˜So that’s why you’re keen – because they’re waving the green flag,’ teased Emma. ‘Never mind the music, just listen to the message, is that it?’
    â€˜Wouldn’t do you any harm to take note,’ her father muttered, pulling open a drawer and waving a bunch of Emma’s most recent shopping receipts in her face. ‘Look at this lot – High Wire, Stella Stein, Rock On Robin! How can you pay one hundred and five pounds for a handbag? It’s obscene.’
    â€˜It’s not just a bag, Dad, it’s a Valentine Rockport bag . . .’
    â€˜A bag’s a bag,’ he said emphatically. ‘And I’ll bet none of these clothes are Fair Trade. Do you realise they were probably made in some sweatshop in Bangladesh with —’
    â€˜Yeah, yeah, OK, I’m sorry,’ Emma assured him. ‘Anyway, Dad, listen – I’ve just sorted the Knightleys’ problems. Surely that deserves being let off the hook?’
    She told her father about the party, how she was the mover and shaker and how she reckoned to double the Donwell profits overnight.
    â€˜Excellent!’ Her father gave her a hug. ‘What an opportunity for them! Well done you!’
    Emma glowed under his obvious approbation.
    â€˜We can LOAF it,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to this new chef and have a word with Mrs P and —’
    â€˜We can what?’ Emma demanded suspiciously.
    â€˜Don’t you ever listen to anything I say?’ her fatherasked. ‘LOAF – Locally grown, Organic, Animal friendly and Fair Trade. Oh, I can see it now – we’ll get the press round – the Churchill name will ensure that – and we’ll have organic wines, locally produced food and flowers – no air miles there, you see – and I could —’
    â€˜Dad, stop it!’ Emma shouted. ‘What’s with all this “we”?’
    â€˜George’s mother phoned me – she’s worried about everything here. Says that old Coles, the estate manager, is losing his grip and she’s not sure George has enough experience to deal with everything. So I assured her that I’d keep a firm hand on the tiller till they get back. Now where do you think we could source —’
    â€˜Dad, let’s get one thing clear, right? No way are you going to embarrass me by getting on your soapbox and going all moral. Besides, it’s not as if one