Читать книгу Country Affairs - Zara Stoneley, Zara Stoneley - Страница 12

‘Morning, babe.’

Lottie, who was concentrating on the mobile phone in her hand as she walked down the stairs, was caught completely unawares by the deep male voice and simultaneously dropped the phone and lost her footing.

The mobile, which luckily was slim and light, shot out of her hands and hit one of the terriers, which was patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, squarely on the rump. With a surprised yelp the dog sprang to its feet, shot up the narrow stairs and completed the job of sending the still half-asleep Charlotte flying.

She landed face first in the crotch of the male in question.

Which was so not where she wanted to be – and opening her mouth to say so could have been seriously misconstrued.

For a moment she froze, not quite sure what to do next. Hoping she hadn’t been noticed was not an option. Nose-deep in a man’s unmentionables was also not an option. Especially when those private parts were not attached to her boyfriend.

‘And there was I thinking you didn’t care any more.’ He chuckled.

As she couldn’t decide where it was safe to put her hands to lever herself up, she settled for slithering to the floor, which was pretty undignified, but safe. Well safe-ish.

Tilly, the head terrier, relieved to see she was still alive, leapt on her thigh with a delighted whimper and proceeded to give her a reassuring kiss, which did nothing at all to help the situation.

Being caught in her Minnie Mouse PJ’s and bare feet was one thing, still having her bed hair and bad breath was another. Crouching on the floor with dog slobber on her face lowered her to altogether new depths. Low even for her.

‘Want one? Or had you got something tastier in mind?’

She looked up into the grinning face of Todd Mitchell, who was waving a bacon sandwich in her direction, and clearly had lots of things in mind - none of them remotely connected to bacon.

Todd in the kitchen eating breakfast was so not how her day was supposed to start.

‘Some knees-up you had last night. Your folk certainly know how to party.’

Lottie did her best to piece together the rest of the evening after Todd’s unscheduled departure, and failed miserably. There was a rather fuzzy memory of spin-the-bottle that probably shouldn’t be thought about too deeply, followed by an award-winning performance from Rory in the stable yard. She probably still had straw in her hair, just to finish off the sophisticated look. And she had a vague recollection of Uncle Dom insisting they had to talk. Whether they had or not was a different matter.

‘You okay, Lots?’

‘What are you doing here?’ She took in the smell of coffee and tried to decide if actually drinking some would make her feel worse or better.

‘Brekkie.’ He waved the sandwich in the air again briefly before taking a large bite. She watched him chew. Mesmerised. ‘Tab brought me over and told me to wait here while she did her horse business.’ It was definitely good when he spoke with his mouth full, made him far less attractive. ‘Good type that Rory, when you get to know him. Makes a mean bacon sarnie.’

Lottie looked at him suspiciously, wondering what kind of male bonding could have possibly taken place over a pan of crispy bacon and when nothing came to mind she rescued her beeping mobile from the dog’s basket before it got chewed up. Uncle Dom, it seemed, had been busy this morning, texting and calling her, which was a bit weird. For him a phone was a functional item to be used only when necessary. Maybe somebody had died. Or she’d done something exceptionally outrageous at the wedding. Or, more likely, forgotten to do something she’d promised.

Had they put all the horses away or had they left some on his front lawn? She was tempted to put the mobile back in Tilly’s basket and hope the terrier ate the evidence.

‘I didn’t mean what are you doing in my kitchen? I meant what are you doing in the country?’

‘Oh, I get you now.’

‘So you’re not in prison then?’ The faint note of optimism was probably just a little bit mean.

‘Let out early for good behaviour.’ He winked.

Laid-back could be good, but it could also be annoying at times. Todd must be the only man on the planet who didn’t think being dragged off a beach by the police was an issue, and who could shrug off imprisonment. Did nothing ever get under his skin?

She’d been to hell and back wondering what was going to happen to him, what it was all about. And it didn’t even bother him a teeny weeny bit. It looked as though he’d just ridden the wave and come to carry on where they’d left off. Except he couldn’t. No way was she ever going to trust a man like Todd again, and anyway she’d moved on. Or, more accurately, moved back – to the life she used to have, except this time it was better. Now she knew Rory loved her. And she felt needed; by him, by her family and by the massive, beautiful estate that plucked at her heartstrings.

But even with the hangover from hell, she couldn’t stay sore at anybody for long. Not even Todd.

‘Going to give me a hug, kiss and make up?’

That was pushing it too far, though. Time to change the subject. ‘Don’t you think she’s too young for you?’

‘Who?’

‘Tabatha.’

‘Tabatha?’

‘The one with the pink knickers, remember?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, no chance of forgetting those pink knickers. Bit young for me to what?’ And grinned. ‘Seriously,’ and for a second the smile did disappear, ‘I am sorry, and I never actually was in prison, you know. We just forgot to post that final divorce thingy, what do you call it? Absolute, decree absolute. Why you Brits have to complicate everything beats me. All that bloody legal stuff.’ She watched as he took another healthy bite out of his sandwich. ‘And would you credit it? My second bloody marriage was never legal.’ He laughed: a loud, healthy laugh that reminded Lottie that her head hurt. In a kind of throbbing, pounding way. ‘These beach weddings on remote islands have hidden benefits. Paperwork’s a shambles.’ He grinned and displayed a good set of perfect white teeth. ‘So hey presto! No probs and here I am.’

Not that she saw ‘here I am’ as ‘no probs’, which took her neatly back to the ‘why are you here?’ question.

‘I was sorry about the whole beach thing,’ he was giving her his earnest look, ‘I was looking forward to that paella.’

‘It wasn’t the paella that was the problem. It was the police.’

‘The police?’ He looked blank. ‘They didn’t bother you, did they?’

‘Not apart from surrounding us on the beach and then dragging you off it.’

‘To be fair, they didn’t drag, hun.’

‘But they were there. They arrested you. I was sunbathing. I was in a bikini, and,’ she paused at the critical bit, ‘it wasn’t even my best one.’ Humiliation had not been the word for it. It was like that nightmare of arriving at a party in fancy dress only to find out that the event was actually black tie. Well, that was one of her nightmares, along with the one when she sat down for dinner and then realised she was naked. She probably should talk to somebody about her weird dreams. Or maybe not.

Todd looked confused. Obviously, getting arrested on the beach was just a normal occurrence for him, and what else would you be wearing on a beach? ‘Anyhow, all in the past now. Thought I’d come and see what your neck of the woods looked like. No,’ he held up a hand to stop the words she wasn’t going to say, ‘no worries about putting me up. Got it all sorted.’

Putting him up? Was the man mad? He had to go. Soon, now, immediately.

All Lottie wanted to do was bang her head on the wall, or just curl up on the floor, shut her eyes and try to blank him out.

‘So you didn’t actually come here to find me and say sorry?’

‘Well, I am sorry, babe, honest. I know it was all kind of unexpected, and it was me who persuaded you to head to Spain.’ He shrugged, ever nonchalant, but she could see in those deep-blue eyes that he actually was at least a tiny bit bothered. ‘And it worked out better for you in the end, didn’t it?’ He gestured round the kitchen. ‘You were getting bored of beach life weren’t you? Couldn’t wait to get back to all this, eh?’

‘That’s beside the point. It was a shock. But you’re right, I am happy to be home.’ She paused. ‘I’m fine, so you’ll be, er, moving on now you’ve got that off your chest?’

He shrugged. ‘Thought I might hang around for a bit and explore your neighbourhood.’

‘You can’t.’ That did sound mean. ‘I mean why? I mean shouldn’t you be surfing or something?’

‘A change is as good as a rest, isn’t that what they say?’

‘You don’t need a rest, Todd. You surf and you lie on beaches and er…’ She racked her brains for some valid reason that didn’t sound like ‘I’m far too busy to babysit you’, and drew a blank. ‘You’ll be bored, you don’t like horses and…’ He couldn’t stay, he really couldn’t. She had meetings with Dom and roofs to mend (literally) and horses to look after and her inheritance to, well, inherit. ‘I’m very busy.’ She finished lamely.

‘No bother. I’ve sorted digs. You won’t even know I’m here.’

Todd had known, better than Lottie, that their time together had a very limited span. And he knew that for both of them it had just been a good dose of sunshine and harmless fun. It would have just been better if it had ended differently. At an airport, with a farewell kiss before they boarded different planes. In normal circumstances they would never have met, but they had. And it was his fault, of his making – as was the abrupt and unconventional ending to it all.

He should have just left it at that, given it up as a bad job and gone back to his normal life. But he couldn’t. What ever happened to riding the waves, having a few tinnies and a lot of belly laughs? When the hell had he grown up and developed a conscience? Well, the honest answer to that one was probably when he realised that blood really is thicker than water.

The knock on the door made them both jump guiltily, along with the three terriers, who all hit the floor running and scrambled for pole position, hurtling towards the door like cannonballs, yapping at each other and the as-yet unseen visitor. Lottie had long since learned that you let the dogs get to the door first, unless you wanted bruised shins and burst eardrums. Her early habit of jumping to her feet when the doorbell or phone rang had long since departed after a few catastrophic collisions that had taught her just how unstoppable a terrier in full flight was. It was safer to fall off a bucking horse than be swept along by a pack of rampaging Jack Russell terriers.

The whirlwind of brown and white fur went into reverse as the door swung open to reveal a neatly dressed Pip, sleek blond hair in a neat ponytail, clothes that suggested she wasn’t about to get stuck into mucking-out duties. She was waving a copy of the Daily Mail.

‘You have just got to see this—’ She stopped dead on seeing Todd, then shoved the paper in his direction with a smirk. ‘This picture of our surfer dude.’

Lottie got to the paper before Todd did and spread it out on the pine kitchen table. It was the perfect homage to a Thelwell cartoon. The barrel bodied Merlin was flying (along with the bright-pink balloon that was attached to his tail), the terrified Todd clinging to his mane, long legs stuck out in a futile attempt to put the brakes on.

‘Oh and Dom said he needed to track you down, Lottie. Where’ve you been all morning? I’ve been trying to call you.’

Todd was frowning as he stabbed a finger at Wizard of Oz? ‘Hey, what’s with the funny headline?’

Which meant Lottie didn’t need to explain she’d spent the best part of the morning in bed, and it also meant she didn’t have to wonder why Dom was so determined to track her down.

‘Merlin, the horse is called Merlin, you know as in King Arthur?’

‘Oh, right.’ He obviously didn’t know.

‘Wizard as in Merlin, Oz as in Australian?’ Pip shook her head and gave up the explanations as a lost cause when she saw his blank expression. ‘You even got in the Manchester Evening News, which normally doesn’t do horse stuff.’

‘Didn’t know the press were invited to the party.’ He held the paper at arm’s length, unsure whether to be pleased at what had to be a spectacular entrance to English country living or disappointed with the pink balloon, which really wasn’t his style. ‘Anyhow, what’s with all the fuss? You never seen a stranger in this neck of the woods before?’

‘Nothing quite like you, no.’ Pip suddenly relented and smiled. ‘I’m the press.’ She might have forsaken the daily grind of a journalist’s life in London, but writing was her life and Pip had found that working as a freelance in Cheshire was remarkably lucrative, given the fact that the place was awash with scandals and celebrities.

Tippermere might appear tranquil, but underneath the surface lurked secrets begging to be uncovered. And as for nearby Kitterly Heath, you didn’t even have to delve under the surface. In a place where footballers brushed shoulders with rock legends and film stars it was more a case of picking which stories to publish and which to ignore. And Todd’s abrupt entrance at the wedding had been an unexpected bonus.

‘Oh yeah.’ Todd looked at her speculatively, the more relaxed Pip had caught him unawares. He’d forgotten all about the slightly jaded chief reporter version of Pip that he’d first met in Barcelona. All that seemed a long time ago. ‘I thought you did fashion shows and red-carpet events, not country weddings and horsey stuff.’

Pip ignored him. ‘And Billy is a celebrity around here, well not just here, everywhere. You know, Olympic medals and all that jazz.’

‘So if he’s the celeb, why’ve they got my face on the front page?’

‘Well it isn’t exactly your face.’ Lottie said reasonably, taking another close look at the photo, which wasn’t quite as blurred now she’d got used to daylight. ‘You can actually see more of your bum than anything.’ She giggled and had a closer look.

‘Your arse is the one on the front page because you’re funnier. Billy can ride a horse and they’ve got fed up of running his bonking pictures.’ Lottie flinched, aware that Pip wasn’t intentionally being hurtful. ‘But a picture like that is one in a million.’ Pip tried not to look too smug, but she was pleased. She’d just known it would be worth shelling out to get Bob the photographer there, and he’d earned every penny of the three bottles of wine bribe it had taken to persuade her editor to send him.

‘Not sure how to take that, mate.’

‘I’d just go with the flow if I was you.’ Lottie, who had decided to risk the coffee, sat down and cradled a large mug of it in her hands. ‘You’re a novelty, they’ve got loads of pictures of Dad playing the fool. And Wizard of Oz isn’t a bad headline, he got Bronco Billy.’ She sighed. Even now she hated those headlines that had followed her around at school.

‘Really?’ He paused and stared at her. ‘What was that about then? Does he do rodeo riding as well?’

‘No, you don’t want to know. Honestly.’

‘I hardly knew you at all, did I?’ And it was true, thought Todd. The Lottie he’d met in Australia, the Lottie he’d taken to Barcelona with him had just been a fun-loving girl looking for a good time. He knew nothing about Tippermere, her family, her real life, apart from the brief comments about horses, boredom and being taken for granted. Okay, he had known she came from the countryside, and he did know her dad was big in the horse world. Oh yeah, and he’d had an inkling about the whole gentry thing. But it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the girl he’d briefly known. He’d just seen flip flops and fun. And, well, a great deal of booze and her glorious body.

Yesterday had been a bit of an eye-opener seeing her surrounded by men who might look out of place amongst body boarders, but seemed more than in control on the back of a horse. Which was one experiment he wasn’t going to repeat in the near future. Talk about chafing! His hand automatically went to his crotch.

And boy could they drink. Even the old girl she’d called gran had been knocking them back. In five hours he reckoned he’d seen more of Lottie (in the fully clothed sense) than he had in five weeks on a beach. And it suited her. He was seeing her in a whole new, and very appealing, light. Which was not how his mind was supposed to be thinking.

‘Think I’ll go and find Tab, then, shall I?’ Sensing he was on the road to screwing up again if he wasn’t careful, Todd was up out of his chair as he swilled down the last of his sandwich with a gulp of tea. ‘Nearly forgot. That posh dude was after you. Something about her ladyship. Catch you later, babe.’

Pip stared at the newspaper headlines. ‘Is he for real?’

‘Well, I was hoping that last night was a nightmare, or you’d slipped me some hallucinogenic drugs.’ Lottie slumped into the comfy chair next to the Aga and let Tilly cuddle up next to her. She stroked the dog’s muscled-up little body. ‘I can’t still be dreaming, though. I wouldn’t have a hangover like this, would I?’

‘No dream. Do you think Tab is going to give him a lift to the airport?’

Lottie gnawed the side of her fingernail with a worried expression on her face. ‘He said somebody was putting him up, said he was hanging around for a bit.’ She groaned. ‘She can’t be taking him back to her place, can she?’

‘You’re kidding. Can you imagine Tom’s face if his little girl arrives home with a man like Todd, well any man, really? And he adores you, so all you’d have to do was say the word and Todd would be out.’

‘I suppose so.’ Lottie hugged the little dog closer and carried on worrying.

‘Does it bother you, him being here?’

‘It’s not that. I mean I don’t know exactly what he said to Rory, but he doesn’t mind. And it’s weird, but it just seems like it was years ago, and it was fun, but…’ She shrugged, then grinned. ‘I’ve got Rory now.’ Then the smile faded as she remembered. ‘And I haven’t got time to look after him or anything, and I don’t really know why he’s here, to be honest.’

‘Mm. Maybe he’s bored? But look on the bright side, I’m sure somebody would be happy to take him off your hands.’

‘What am I supposed to do? I can’t just ignore him, and he doesn’t know anybody else.’ She paused, as she suddenly realised that he did know somebody else.

Pip caught the look and laughed nervously. ‘Oh, no.’

‘But you know I promised Uncle Dom I’d take on the running of the Estate, and I said I’d move into Tipping House soon,’ she glanced nervously at the door. This was something she still hadn’t managed to discuss with Rory properly. She had mentioned it, more than once, but they hadn’t exactly set a date. She’d thought that after the hugely successful wedding had taken place would be an ideal time, but it hadn’t been quite gone as planned. Either the wedding or the chat, given that Todd had stormed into the ceremony, and Rory had decided to liven up the proceedings that came after. If he’d only be serious just for one moment it would be so helpful.

‘Tell me you’re not serious, please Lottie.’

‘Well, er I was being serious. Is that a problem? I mean, you know him, and all you need to do is—’

‘No way.’

‘He’ll soon get bored and you can put him on a plane?’

Pip laughed at the note of optimism in Lottie’s voice. ‘Lottie, you know I love you, but you know me and Todd never really hit it off.’

‘Will you at least think about it? Can you imagine what Uncle Dom would say if he found out about Barcelona and Todd getting arrested?’

‘I think he might already know.’ Pip’s tone was dry.

‘Gran thinks it’s entertaining, but you know what Dom is like, he can be so…’

‘Stuffy?’

‘Particular. He’ll think I’m not being serious enough. And have you any idea what he wants? He’s acting weird, phoning me even more than normal, and this morning he actually sent me a text. An actual text.’

‘No idea.’ Pip stared at Lottie, and squashed her original intention for coming. She’d wanted to talk to somebody and Lottie had seemed the ideal person. But suddenly she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t the type to unburden herself and if she was going to she had to be sure it was the right person, right time, right place. She was the stable one, Lottie was the scatty one. She was the one who never let relationships get to her. Lottie was the one who had ex-boyfriends who left her in the lurch only to reappear months later. And Lottie was the one who would soon be inheriting a mansion complete with a leaking roof and mountainous debts. The one who needed good friends she could rely on.

But the niggles that Pip had squashed the first time she’d stripped herself bare in front of Mick had come back with a vengeance. And each day they were getting harder to ignore.

‘Are you okay?’ Lottie was frowning.

‘I don’t think he loves me.’ It was out before she could stop it. So much for right time, right person.

Lottie jerked upright from her slouch, letting go of the dog abruptly, her mouth dropping open as the little dog landed on the floor and started to run around in circles after her tail, barking. ‘You don’t mean—’

‘Any chance of a cup of—’

‘Go away.’ The two girls shouted out in perfect unison and Rory, one foot hovering over the threshold of his own home, beat a hasty retreat, taking the dogs with him.

‘Oh blimey.’ Lottie was mortified. She’d never shouted at Rory before, let alone at the same time as Pip, which had made it pretty forceful. ‘I better go and explain, hang on, don’t go away.’ And she was across the kitchen and out of the door, still barefoot, before Pip could speak. ‘You won’t will you? I won’t be a sec, honest. Stay, stay there.’

Pip sighed, wondering why she’d ever thought a quiet heart to heart was possible in such a chaotic place. She studied the photos on the wall opposite. Rory on the back of one of his favourite horses took pride of place, being presented with a cup by Princess Anne. He looked dashing and fun, tawny eyes dancing, pure joy spread across his open features, even in the face of royalty. And even the royal in question was entranced.

Why couldn’t life be more bloody straightforward?

Pip made a sudden decision. Elizabeth was the one she should be talking to.

She had just got out of the front door when Rory appeared, coming in the opposite direction, Lottie clinging on to him and squealing.

‘He said he’d give me a piggy back across the gravel, it’s a bugger in bare feet.’ She was red-faced, which had to have more to do with where Rory’s hands were than it had to do with sore feet. ‘You’re not going are you? Oh please don’t. Oh Pip, I thought, but you had…’

‘I’ll catch up with you later, urgent call.’ It was only as she pulled out of the yard on her bright pink Vespa, nearly mowing down a jogging passer-by, that she remembered she’d promised to get Lottie to call Dom. Oh well, she had mentioned it, not that Lottie would remember, and she’d remind her again later. After she’d worked out just why her normally organised life had suddenly become an emotional whirlwind. And what she was going to do about it. About Mick.

***

‘You have to be the hardest person in Tippermere to get hold of, what have you been doing, Charlotte?’

Lottie who had finally given in and answered her phone (mainly because it wouldn’t stop ringing and the dogs steadfastly refused to eat it) stopped the examination of her feet, rubbed at the last bit of gravel and gave a worried sigh. ‘I’ve been here, Uncle Dom.’ She was only half listening as she watched one of the horses gallop enthusiastically around the paddock, kicking his heels in the air. A youngster, she really did need to work this morning even if she didn’t manage anything else.

‘Well, I asked that Australian chap to pass on a message if he saw you, and I asked Philippa, who is about the most reliable of your friends.’

Registering his tone, she picked up a pile of three-day eventing entry forms from the nearest chair, dropped them on the table and sat down. On the TV they always told people to sit down when there was bad news coming.

‘Charlotte, we have to talk. I’ve put this off as long as I can, but it can’t wait any longer. I’m coming to see you now, and don’t you dare disappear again.’