Country Affairs

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?

Chapter 6

‘Isn’t it something all girls want?’

Pip was only half listening to Sam, who had been waiting on her doorstep when she got home. Well, more precisely, waiting in her soft-top car with a dreamy look on her face. When Pip had glanced over her shoulder she’d been horrified to see that Sam was flicking through baby pictures on her mobile phone.

The news that Elizabeth was ill worried her. It was easy to forget just how old Lottie’s gran was as she meddled in the villagers lives, supped her gin and tonics and strode out in her Hunter wellingtons and Barbour jacket. Pip couldn’t imagine her not being around and nor, she imagined, could Lottie.

‘Sorry, what did you say? God, it stinks in here!’ There were many good things about living with Mick, the farrier, but one enormous negative. The smell. Of horses and burnt hoof. And open windows didn’t seem to solve the problem. And then there was, of course, the whole maybe-he-didn’t-love-her thing.

‘Are you okay, babe? You seem bothered.’

‘Bothered and bewildered.’

Sam stared, confused.

‘I’ve just come from Tipping House. I don’t think Elizabeth is very well.’

‘Oh no, not her Ladyship. You two get on so well, don’t you?’ Sam wrapped her arms around Pip in a spontaneous hug. ‘Although she is quite old, I suppose, but the Queen Mum went on for years, didn’t she? And Lady S is, like, related to her, isn’t she? I’m sure she’s got wonderful gene things. She’s not in hospital or anything is she?’

‘No, she’s not in hospital, but she’s only got the Queen’s genes several times removed. I guess I just forget she’s an old lady. She doesn’t seem like one.’

‘She’s a card, bless her.’

‘And Lottie is going to have to start behaving like a Lady.’ Lottie worried her as well. She’d been her normal scatty self when Elizabeth was there, but after her gran and uncle had left the room Pip had seen a glimpse of the woman her best friend was maturing into. Whatever Lottie thought, the Stanthorpe genes were obvious, the determination to succeed and do her duty impossible to ignore. Which was great, except she still seemed to be worried about the whole Todd situation and had asked again if Pip couldn’t at least keep an eye on him. And how did she get out of that one without seeming totally unhelpful and selfish? Assuring Lottie that they’d sort something out didn’t somehow seem enough.

‘Wow, that is so exciting, isn’t it? Lottie a real Lady.’ Sam clapped her hands together. ‘Does she get to hold tea parties on the lawn and wear a tiara?’

‘No, Sam. She gets to climb up and repair the roof if she can’t work out where to get the money from.’

‘Really? Does she know how?’

‘Nope.’ Pip raised a grin from somewhere, staying serious was impossible with Sam around. ‘Sorry, what were you saying before?’

‘Oh, I said wouldn’t you like one, babe? You know, a little mini-me. It would be so amazing.’

Pip, who was accustomed to hearing Sam talk about hair extensions and facelifts, hoped she’d misunderstood the question. ‘One what?’

‘You know, a baby. Doesn’t every girl really want one?’

She wasn’t sure now which was worse, worrying about Elizabeth and Lottie, or this conversation. ‘Sam, I don’t even want a dog, let alone a baby.’ She stared at the glamorous Sam and wondered what on earth it was that triggered baby lust in a woman after she’d been with the same man for any length of time. Personally, she was more interested in a different type of lust, which was pretty incompatible with babies, as far as she could see. And she’d thought Samantha Simcock would be the same. After all, if a girl is married to the seriously ripped England goalkeeper, lives in a mansion and has access to as many designer clothes as her heart desires, why on earth would she want to swap them for dirty nappies and middle-of- the-night feeds? ‘You’re not telling me you…?’

Sam shrugged, which Pip took as a bad sign. And even though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, she decided it was probably time to open the wine.

‘Your boobs will sag.’ She passed Sam a glass and hoped that the alcohol would help the conversation take off in a more sensible direction.

‘Ah, that’s no problem, babe. You can always have them done, you know – implants. A lot of men love them all pert and it shows you still care about them, doesn’t it? And you can have them any size you want.’ She grinned. ‘That’s what all the girls do, you know, after they’ve weaned the babbies off them, that is. They won’t do them straight away, of course.’

‘Urgh, I don’t want to hear.’ Pip put her hands over her ears and tried not to think what Mick’s reaction would be if she landed him with a baby and a new pair of boobs. ‘And you’ll get bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. Implants won’t help with those.’

‘Oh bags are just so easy to fix, babe. I know one girl who had a job lot, you know –boobs and a bit of lipo on her thighs as well as having her eye bags sorted. I’m sure she got a really good deal for having the lot done all at once.’ She looked at Pip with an earnest expression. ‘You shouldn’t let a bit of sagging stop you.’

‘I’m not, believe me. When you’ve had as many brothers and sisters as I have, not to mention a load of cousins. then it puts you off bum-wiping for life.’

‘You can’t mean that. I want lots.’ Sam had a dreamy look in her eye. ‘Davey would like a whole football team. And I could always get a nanny or au-pair or something. He’d love that too.’ She winked.

‘Does he know how much that’ll cost in nappies as well as plastic surgery?’ Pip had a sudden vision of Sam’s gorgeous body being lifted, sucked and tucked in all directions as daddy David drilled them into becoming mini-me goal keepers. Not that many people would object to a few David clones.

‘And you’d need a bigger Jacuzzi.’

Sam ignored her, too taken with the fantasy world she was busy creating in her head. ‘Oh, babe, can you imagine having a little girl to take shopping? Just think about all the gorg stuff you can buy. You can get all the same stuff for kids now as for yourself, you know. Even, like, mini Barbours from when they are really teeny tiny. And’ she was warming to the subject, ‘the girls could have cute ponies and join in with the jumping that everyone does here. They just look so good in white pants and those black jackets, don’t they? Have you seen Jordan when she does that dressage stuff like Dom does? She looks cool, and so glam too with her hair up and that red lipstick. Somebody told me she had to have her boobs reduced so she could ride properly. That can’t possibly be true, can it?’ She paused, obviously considering that dressage might not be the ideal pursuit for her as-yet unconceived offspring. ‘I mean, I can see that it might make it more difficult to jump, but that stuff is just on a flat bit, isn’t it?’

‘I haven’t the foggiest, although you don’t see many big-boobed riders do you? Not professional ones anyway. There’s lots on the hunting field.’ Pip paused, aware she was being drawn into the ridiculous conversation.

‘Maybe she was scared they’d pop if she fell off?’ Sam gave a hearty laugh and opened her big blue eyes wide in mock horror.

In her brief time with Lottie and the Tippermere crew, Pip had seen a fair few falls – some of them quite spectacular (and most of them arse over tit, as Billy liked to point out), but she could never remember seeing any breast implants explode. Never. It would have made a lasting memory and the easiest piece of journalism she’d ever done in her life. ‘I thought they were supposed to be robust. Anyway it’s probably better to fall on your boobs than your nose. Although I suppose you could get a nose job.’ The sarcasm was lost on Sam.

‘You can get anything fixed now, babe. I know some really good people. Them days of black eyes and having to hide away for weeks have gone. Davey said that Jose’s fiancée had her boobs done for the World Cup and was on the beach by the time they’d played their first match.’

‘I thought she was just his girlfriend.’ Pip was faintly miffed that not only had she somehow missed out on the news that the England football manager had got engaged without her knowledge, but that she still hadn’t managed to get an interview with him. When Sam and her footballing husband, David, had moved into Kitterly Heath she’d had plans to grab some headlines of her own, but somehow her eye had drifted off the ball once she’d moved in with Mick. And she hadn’t realised quite how much until now.