Читать книгу Country Affairs - Zara Stoneley - Страница 13

‘Amanda is expecting.’

‘Expecting what?’ Lottie only had a fraction of her attention on her Uncle Dominic, partly because the two-year-old horse on the other end of the lunge rope had a way of knowing exactly when you weren’t concentrating, and partly because she had absolutely no idea why Dom was there and suspected she was about to get a telling off for something. And she was following the strategy of pretending he wasn’t there in the hope he’d forget and go away.

She loved Dom, but she didn’t love the disapproving looks or the lectures when she didn’t quite come up to his very high standards. Which was quite often.

‘Charlotte, are you listening?’

‘Of course.’ She glanced his way, and the stern look and folded arms meant he wasn’t going to forget, or go away. The black horse, which someone had imaginatively named Badger due to the broad white stripe down his nose, gave an experimental pull on the other end of the rope.

‘She is expecting a baby.’

‘What?’ She spun around to face him properly, inadvertently flicking the lunge whip as she went so that it caught the youngster on his nicely rounded rump. The horse gave a squeal of what could have been evil intent, or glee, and did the type of fly buck that was more often seen at a rodeo.

Dom watched in silence as Badger followed through by putting his head between his knees and arching his back in an even more impressive one, and his one thought, before the animal charged forward, was that the horse had incredible athletic potential. A loop of rein was dragged through Lottie’s hand, catching the lunge whip on its way, which narrowly missed her head before she fully came to her senses and took a firmer grip, desperately trying to keep her footing in the middle of the circle as the horse tore around at a dizzying pace.

‘Hey up, Dom, what are you doing here?’ Rory arrived just as Dom was trying to decide whether to step in and rescue his only niece before she was accidentally garrotted, or corkscrewed into the ground, or whether he should trust in her ability to slow the horse down. As Tilly the terrier tore into the arena, desperate to join in the fun, dodging hooves and curses, he decided that if he didn’t do something within the next ten seconds man (well woman) or dog was going to die.

But, just as Dominic vaulted over the wall, the horse miraculously slowed to a trot, dropping its head in a show of subservience. Lottie laughed and finally managed to pick up the lunge whip.

‘Wow, did you see that power? He could demolish a cross-country course.’

‘That’s what I bought him for darling.’ Rory sounded satisfied.

‘He nearly demolished you.’ Dom’s tone was dry as he climbed back out of the arena. The master of control, he was never quite sure whether to be in awe of, or despair of, the totally chaotic girl, who somehow carried some of the same genes as him. ‘And I couldn’t see the power the speed he was going.’

‘He’s only a b—’ Lottie was about to say baby, then it hit her. The word that had caused the explosion in the first place. She walked up to the horse, holding it firmly at its head, the other hand patting the strong neck, and stared at Dom. ‘Amanda is, you are, you’re both…’

‘Expecting. Yes.’

‘A baby?’ Just to be sure.

‘Woohoo. Didn’t know you had it in you, Dom. Congratulations!’ Rory gave Dom a manly slap on the back and nearly launched him back over into the arena again. ‘It is yours, I take it?’ Dom arched an eyebrow, stared down his aristocratic nose and refrained from comment.

‘Amanda’s pregnant?’ Lottie wanted to make doubly sure.

‘Isn’t that what I said, Charlotte?’

It was, but she was still trying to get her head around the statement, which was damned tricky considering she saw Dom as: A – too stuffy and pernickety to have a baby (or even sex for that matter) and B – too old. After all he was her uncle.

‘But…’

‘And I need to talk to you about your gran and Tipping House. Charlotte, I do appreciate that you’ve started to take on some of the responsibility, but I’m afraid we really do need to speed the process along.’

‘Speed it along?’ Lottie, who by now had forgotten all about the horse, but got a smart reminder when it gave her hand a sharp nip.

‘It’s your inheritance, and although I know I said I’d carry on helping until you were ready, the ball is now in your court.’ He shrugged, looked apologetic. ‘I’m going to have to support Amanda, which means I need to be in her home, our home, at Folly Lake Manor. And,’ he leaned forward in a way she didn’t like at all, and sighed, ‘unfortunately Mother has been ill, which rather brings things to a head. She needs assurance that you’re in control and she doesn’t need to have any concerns about the estate and everything it entails.’

‘Ill? Gran isn’t ill, she was at the wedding, and –’

‘She hides it very well, but she’s getting too old for all the worry, whatever she says.’ The small frown he couldn’t hide worried Lottie. ‘The doctors say she’s had a small stroke, and the best way to help is for us to take the pressure off.’

‘I will, I will. I can go and help her, visit more, spend time up there, can’t we Rory?’ Lottie had wild, and totally impractical, thoughts about making soup and taking dictation, neither of which she’d ever done in her life, while Rory did manly thing like standing at the fireplace and supplying Elizabeth with perfect G&T’s.

‘It’s not about spending time with her, Charlotte. It’s about money.’

‘But you’ve already told me about the money. I’ve got a plan and we’re seeing the bank manager, and I—’

Dom sighed. ‘What we’ve discussed is just the tip of the iceberg. That estate needs managing, it needs a cash injection—’

‘I know, I’ve thought about how to raise money and—’

He held up a hand to stop her words. ‘A serious amount of money, Charlotte. What we’ve talked about is the substantial sum needed for the essential repairs, that have been left for far too long, but there are also the huge day-to-day running costs as well as actually overseeing it all.’ His tone softened. ‘I’ve tried to break you in gently, but the bank manager had been running out of patience, and we really need to appease him. I think you’re the person that has to do it.’ Dom patted the horse, which had taken advantage of the situation and pulled away from the confused Lottie. ‘You are the next Lady of Tipping House, my darling girl, and we need you to become that Lady now, whether you’re ready or not. Come up and see your grandmother later and we’ll talk.’ He paused and looked at the horse again. ‘Nice-looking animal, needs some discipline, though.’ And he was off, before Lottie had time to ask him about babies, or her gran, or what he meant by a ‘small stroke’.

She looked at Rory. ‘I can’t manage the whole estate, can I?’

‘Of course you can, gorgeous. If that shower of relatives of yours can, then it must be a piece of piss.’

***

‘Stuff and nonsense.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Dominic straightened the painting above the mantelpiece and wondered just how many years attempting to prolong his mother’s life would knock off his own. ‘Doctor’s orders and you know it, Mother.’

He loved his mother, every irascible inch of her, and the idea of her not being around was unthinkable. When Elizabeth died it would change not only his life, but the life of everybody in Tippermere. But handling her retirement would be like handling an uncut colt who knew you were just about to cut off the very part of his anatomy he held most dear. Separating her from her responsibilities would be like castration, if that was not too crude a way of putting it. Although the thought of what she might say if she could read his mind did lighten his mood slightly.

‘And what does that young whipper-snapper know? If I did everything the doctors told me I’d have been pushing up daisies for the past twenty years, just like your father. Gin is good for one. And do stop fiddling, dear.’

Dom stopped and resisted the urge to pour himself a stiff brandy. Tipping House Estate had been his home all his life, and he had at one stage wondered how he would feel when it came to letting go, handing the beautiful estate over to the care of its true heir, or more accurately, heiress, his niece, Lottie. But he now felt only a strange relief, along with guilt that he felt that way. Meeting Amanda had been his saving grace. She’d coaxed a caring side out of him that he never knew he possessed and now she was his priority. Along with his unborn child.

‘Thank heavens for that. Finally somebody who will talk some sense.’ Elizabeth’s backbone visibly straightened as Pip, with a wink in Dom’s direction, waltzed into the room. ‘Pour me a drink Philippa, and you,’ Elizabeth glared at her son, Dominic, ‘can take the dogs out for some exercise if you want to be useful.’ Bertie, the portly Labrador, picked precisely that moment to wander into the drawing room, a very fat but very dead rabbit hanging from his soft mouth.

Pip grimaced. Dead things, especially in the house, were something she could never quite get used to. She might have grown up surrounded by fields, but that was a Welsh mining village, where very little moved and very little died apart from the elderly residents.

She wrinkled her nose and sloshed a generous measure of gin into the nearest tumbler. Dom frowned and raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s for me. I need a drink.’

Dom wasn’t convinced. He’d asked Philippa along to the discussion because he knew his mother liked her. They had an unexpected affinity, which he could only put down to a shared interest in mischief-making, and maybe loneliness. They were of a type: fiercely independent, smart and undemonstrative. Elizabeth had never been one for shows of affection, but Dominic knew that beneath the surface she was as kind and caring as they came. But she wasn’t about to lay herself bare to anybody.

He sometimes wondered about his parents’ relationship, if his mother had ever truly opened up, even to his father. And he hoped very much that he was different. That he could share everything with Amanda, the woman he’d never expected to find. But his upbringing and genes meant it didn’t come naturally. But, there again, unburdening oneself and breaking down wasn’t always a good thing.

He studied Pip, who was sipping her gin with a look of mischief on her fine features. He didn’t trust them together, but he would use any means at his disposal to aid his attempt to get his mother to hand over the reins to her granddaughter. Going on as they had been was no longer an option. He was spending far too much time meeting with the new bank manager, who didn’t have any of the understanding of the old one, who had helped manage their money for years. He couldn’t explain the situation to Elizabeth and risk damaging her health even further. He’d been told to avoid stressing her. Although, he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly how dire the situation was, and had decided to ignore it. Something Lottie was very good at.

Although Lottie’s most recent attempt at organising an event, her father’s wedding, had not exactly been a success in the conventional sense, he was still convinced that she had to start to shoulder much more of the responsibility, had to prepare to be Lady of the Manor. And hopefully work out how to save it in the process.

And, although it made him feel very selfish, Amanda needed him. He’d never, until he met his wife, had anybody really need him. But he had now, and he wasn’t going to let her down. His caretaking duties had to come to an end sooner or later, and as Charlotte showed no inclination to get married and follow the path of inheritance, she could at least start to assume responsibility. It was all going to be hers one day soon, and sooner if she didn’t help him find a way to get the bank off their backs.

Pip opened her blue eyes wider, a hint of a smile wrinkling the corners. ‘Well, you said Elizabeth wasn’t allowed.’

‘She isn’t. But I don’t expect that will stop the two of you.’

‘I am not dead yet, you know, unlike that animal Bertie’s got. Where on earth did you get that from, you naughty animal? Do get Cook to hang it in the kitchen, Dominic. And Philippa, come and sit down.’ Elizabeth patted the seat next to her. ‘The pair of you can stop talking about me as though I’m not here. I’m beginning to sympathise with that Mark Twain fellow, who was presumed in his grave before his time, even if he was American. I take it we’re all gathered, so you can persuade me it’s time to take a back seat?’

Dom looked at his mother and wished, not for the first time, that she wasn’t so shrewd, just a nice old lady in her dotage. ‘Yes.’ He sighed, prepared for the fight.

‘Well about time too. Why you haven’t got Charlotte sorted before now is beyond me. The girl is more than ready.’

‘What do you mean, sorted?’ Lottie chose just that moment to arrive, swiftly removing the rabbit from Bertie’s jaws and dangling it out of his reach as she looked from Elizabeth to Dom and back again.

‘You need to organise things, dear. Now get rid of that carcass and pour us all a stiff drink. Your Uncle Dominic spends all his time trying to hide bank statements from me, but he appears to have forgotten that you need to feed and water the living.’

Dom opened his mouth to respond, then wondered why he was bothering and shut it again.

There was something wrong if Elizabeth was being compliant. She must be up to something, which probably involved getting her hands on a large gin and tonic.

Lottie wondered whether she could just shove the dead animal under the table, then decided to give it to Dom instead, before eyeing up the drinks suspiciously.

‘That’s Philippa’s G&T. Come on now, before we all expire. And pour your uncle a brandy. He’s looking a bit peaky.’ Lottie picked up the bottle and was staring at the assortment of chipped cut glass, trying to decide how much brandy was a good measure, when Dom returned from his disposal duties.

‘Let me.’ He took the bottle and ignored his mother’s gimlet stare. Intending to take charge was one thing, but he now had a horrible feeling that his plans were about to be hijacked, and pouring drinks might well be the most useful contribution he could make.

‘Now Charlotte, I’m sure Dominic will show you all the boring bank statements later, and those awful spreadsheet things. Damned confusing if you ask me, when all you need is a bottom line.’ The clearing of Dom’s throat was audible.

‘He’s already shown me some.’

‘Yes, well, I’m sure he has, dear, but he hides a lot of them, thinks I’m losing my marbles.’ She looked at Dom as though challenging him to comment, which he wisely didn’t. ‘We are in a bit of a mess, but nothing that you can’t deal with, I’m sure. When I took this place on things needed doing, but we muddled through and so shall you, dear. All you need to know is that I’m not having the general public tramping through the place and sticking that nasty chewing gum everywhere, so you can scotch that plan. When I’m dead and buried you may do as you wish, but as I am far from it,’ she shot Dom another glance, ‘I do want you to maintain standards. But I will not interfere.’ There was a splutter from the direction of her son. ‘And I don’t want the grounds destroyed. None of those yuppie hunting and fishing events. Just raise some money, dear,’ she had one eye fixed on Lottie and the other on Dominic and the bottle of gin, which he was being far too careful with, ‘young people do it all the time these day for charity, so if long-haired pop people like that Bob Dildo can raise a million or so, then why can’t you? He doesn’t even look particularly attractive. Dirt under his fingernails, I imagine.’

‘Do you mean Bob Dylan?’

‘Whatever you say, dear.’

‘Isn’t he all religious, or something, these days?’ Lottie was confused.

‘Charlotte.’ Dom decided things were going off-piste. ‘Can we concentrate?’

‘But, Bob Dylan?’

‘Bob Geldof.’ Intervened Pip with a grin, already enjoying herself.

‘Oh.’ Lottie paused. That made slightly more sense. ‘Isn’t he Sir Bob now?’

‘He certainly is not.’ Elizabeth looked at the bottle of gin pointedly. ‘He has a KBE and let that be enough.’

‘You knew all along it was him and not Bob Dylan, didn’t you?’

‘Charlotte, darling,’ Elizabeth as was her norm, didn’t deign to answer the question. ‘At the moment you do not appear able to raise a round of drinks, let alone money.’

‘But I can’t organise big events like that.’ Lottie thought her point had been proved by the wedding, which was fairly small-scale. ‘Uncle Dom is so much better at being organised.’

Dom, who was trying to decide if it was worth attempting to fob Elizabeth off with pure tonic, concluded that doing so might shorten his lifespan considerably and instead settled for pouring a very small, but very strong, one.

‘Dominic might well be, he’s had lots of practice. All you have to do is oversee things. It’s the ideas that are the important part. And you are perfectly capable. William’s wedding may have been slightly unconventional, but it was a success.’

‘But nobody had to pay.’ Lottie felt herself shrivel inside when she thought about her father’s wedding and just how much the event had cost. It wasn’t just the flowers (most of which had been eaten by the horses), but the general destruction that came when a marquee and trestle tables were used for show-jumping practice. And an awful lot of champagne had been drunk after most of the guests had gone. And the poor Mr Music Man had been a quivering wreck, so she’d sent him home, clutching his laptop, with double his normal fee and a bottle or two to calm his nerves.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that the venue, Amanda and Dominic’s home, had come for free, the whole event would have cost Billy more than he’d paid out for his latest show jumper. She’d also been driven to showering the caterers with gifts, in the hope that they wouldn’t refuse to come anywhere near Tippermere ever again.

‘Do a little gymkhana at your father’s place for practice, dear, the pony club is always up for a bit of support.’

‘No.’ Dom and Lottie spoke together. Both horrified at the thought of chaos that could ensue if dozens of pony-mad children on spirited mounts had the run of the grounds.

‘You’ll think of something. Right, let’s have that drink. I feel much better already.’

‘How about a dog show?’ Pip, who had taken the role of observer, decided it was time to chip in. Elizabeth looked at her as though she had grown an extra head.

‘You know, start small.’

‘Have you ever heard the expression “going to the dogs” Philippa?’

Pip laughed.

‘I’m not convinced that inviting every dog owner in the county to bring their animals to defecate on the premises will raise enough money to fix the roof.’

Dom grimaced. So she did know about the roof.

‘I was just thinking of how Lottie can improve her organisational skills. Okay, if you don’t want people traipsing in and out every day, and you want a big fundraiser, how about a pop concert?’ Pip grasped on Elizabeth’s earlier comment, knowing it would be harder for her to dismiss it. ‘Not that Bob Dildo, or even Sir Bob, will come.’

Dom rolled his eyes heavenwards.

‘I saw that, Dominic.’ Pip was not in awe of Dom in the same way that Lottie was. In fact, she was rarely in awe of anyone. ‘You know, party-in-the-park type thing. If it’s good enough for royalty, then….’

‘Royalty did not exactly have everybody in the front garden.’

‘For the Diamond Jubilee it was Party at the Palace.’ Pip finished triumphantly. ‘As in Buckingham Palace.’ Just in case anybody wasn’t following.

‘Well, you may do it at my funeral, dear, but not before.’

‘It would make a lot of money.’ Lottie gazed thoughtfully at Dom, who was looking his most stern.

‘Charlotte you had enough problems trying to control your father’s wedding guests. How on earth are you going to co-ordinate a pop concert?’

‘Well, there won’t be any horses, for one. And Prince Harry did it.’

‘True.’ Pip was almost buzzing with anticipation. ‘And if he managed, I’m sure you could.’ She grinned encouragingly. ‘He’s nearly as daft as you are.’

‘Well,’ Elizabeth drained her glass and put it on the table with a clatter before levering herself out of the chair. ‘As we’ve all agreed that Charlotte does need to step up to the plate, I don’t think you need me here interfering, do you? I could always move out to the Lodge for some peace and quiet, which I am beginning to think I will need.’

‘You can’t do that.’ Lottie looked horrified, and Dom thought his mother was now going a step too far in her bid to show indifference. She was definitely up to something.

‘Nonsense mother.’ His tone was mild, but she shot him an assessing look.

‘Jolly good! As long as we’re all in agreement. And I did notice how small that drink was, Dominic. Right, I am going to rest my eyes. This weather is very drying. Come on, boys.’ And she was off, the dogs’ claws click-clacking on the polished wood as they followed closely behind.

‘I think Prince Harry had considerably more help than you will get.’ Dom drained the last dregs of the brandy and sat down. ‘And he also has more contacts in the music industry.’

‘I have lots of contacts.’ Pip looked a bit disgruntled.

‘And we have a long-term problem here. One injection of cash isn’t enough.’

‘We could make it an annual event?’ Lottie sounded more hopeful than confident. ‘Like Glastonbury?’

‘I think you need something big to put you on the map, and then you need to capitalise on it. You know, let people visit, or something.’ Pip poured herself another drink.

‘Which is something mother has steadfastly refused to do, speaking of which I better check that she’s okay.’

‘But you never check…’ Lottie stared at Dom, her heart suddenly a lump in her chest. ‘Is there something you haven’t told me? She isn’t really ill is she?’

‘Would she have said yes to you getting involved otherwise?’ His voice was soft and he put a gentle hand on her shoulder, then headed off towards the stairs, tossing an ‘I won’t be long’ over his shoulder as he went. Which made the lump in her chest move up to her throat. There couldn’t be anything wrong with Gran, there just couldn’t. She was the one person who was never ill and never let anything stop her doing anything. Wasn’t she?