‘Hmm, I’m not sure, but you are, you terrible woman. Why would you want him back?’
The older woman laughed. ‘Now, who said I wanted him back, Philippa?’ It wasn’t often anyone dared to call her terrible. Most of her family were boring, sadly. Apart from the irascible Lottie and her beautiful, and totally unsuitable, suitor Rory. It took Elizabeth back, when she watched them, to the days when William had dated Alexa. Two comets on a collision course. A repeat performance would be too sad for her to bear. But although she interfered at a superficial level, she was too wise to try and alter the course of destiny. They’d find out, they’d learn, with or without her. Tippermere, Tipping House, was her life. But without Charles and the children it meant little. Apart from a legacy. To pass on when the time was right. When things had been sorted.
‘Well, if you don’t want him back, you want someone else to think he is. Don’t think I’m not going to find out.’
‘I don’t doubt it for one minute.’
Pip had spoken the words without really thinking about it, but Elizabeth’s response pulled her up short.
‘And now you, dear girl, have made Thomas the filling in rather an interesting sandwich.’ Which hadn’t been Pip’s intention, she didn’t know there was another layer to this particular story. ‘So, your premiership footballer is interested in building a property portfolio, is he? Because he certainly isn’t interested in that woman.’
‘Nope, he’s not after Amanda.’ Pip grinned. The message that the nation might have taken could, given the headline of the previous week, have been that the prize was the grieving widow. But headlines were known to mislead. ‘He’s madly in love with a stunning Essex girl, but, you will like this bit, his father is a property developer.’
‘Poor boy.’
Pip presumed the reference was to Tom, but who knew with Elizabeth? ‘Poor girl don’t you mean? Look at her.’ She picked up the discarded newspaper. ‘She’s loaded, glamorous and lovely, that shot should be every woman’s dream, except the truth of it is that one of them is obsessed with another woman, and the other is… well Lottie reckons he’s sad and lonely. Well, she reckons they both are.’
‘She might have a point. What do you think?’
‘I think he’s desperately trying to find the meaning of life.’
‘But aren’t we all, dear? That’s a given, but it’s what he thinks he’s after in the meantime that is the interesting part.’
‘I don’t think either of them is after a relationship, to be honest.’
‘Really?’ Elizabeth raised an enquiring eyebrow, which Pip missed altogether, so intent was she on trying to work out in her head what Tom really did want.
‘Oh well, I better get off and see a man about a dog. Again.’ Pip grimaced. ‘I’m going to sort this bloody photo opportunity if it kills me.’ She grabbed an olive and counted her blessings that Elizabeth worshipped the blue bottle and forsook anything that required more than a quick chew before digestion. Then wondered if it was wise when the herbs tasted more potpourri than anything remotely related to an edible plant. Spitting them out would have been rude; she tried to push the bits to one side and hoped she didn’t accidentally swallow any more. ‘And then, when I’ve let this particular pussy out amongst the pigeons, we’ll see who breaks cover.’
‘You’re mixing metaphors, my dear. Be a darling and top my drink up on the way out, and Pippa?’
‘Yes?’ Pip shot her a look of suspicion.
Elizabeth winked. ‘Don’t forget to send me an update on your cats and dogs, and feel free to spit the olive out. We don’t want you choking, do we dear?’
As Pip had so accurately guessed, Elizabeth did have an ulterior motive behind her meddling. And it involved protecting her future. Her children’s future. But with Philippa’s help it was developing into a much more interesting situation than she could have envisaged. With the property-developing Simcocks on one side, and an immovable object on the other, who knew what direction poor, uncomprehending Tom would decide to head in? Her primary concern, though, had to lie with her own interests, and interfering with the future of Folly Lake Manor was something she would only do if it proved necessary.
‘We don’t, do we? Who would help you with your schemes if I did?’ There was no rancour behind the comment, though, Pip loved Elizabeth almost as much as she’d ever loved anyone. They had a bond, a shared inquisitive side to their nature, a yearning for facts, coupled with a desire for mischief and a way to lighten a boring life. Her mother had never understood her need to disrupt, but Elizabeth did. Never unkindly, the aim was not to hurt, just to make life more interesting.
Pip’s idea had been to force Tom into showing his hand. To settle the future of Tippermere once and for all. But she was sure that Elizabeth had some ulterior motive. Why on earth would the Stanthorpes have any interest in what happened at Folly Lake? True, they wouldn’t want any riff raff and unsightly developments scarring the landscape of their ancestors. But it was more than that, Pip was sure. And Pip’s instincts very rarely let her down.
***
It wasn’t a puppy. It was a leggy mutt of a dog with a black patch over one eye, one ear that stuck up and one that flopped down, and an alarming tendency to start scratching at odd intervals, and at such odd angles that it occasionally led to a confusion of legs and a collapse, which to Pip spelled out a bad case of fleas or ringworm, and an IQ that wouldn’t challenge a hamster. But Sam was entranced.
‘Oh. My. God. He’s adorable.’
Pip smiled encouragingly. He was a rag tag bag of bones from where she was sitting.
‘Look at those cutesy ears, and he’s smiling at me.’
About to be sick, I’d say. ‘He loves you already.’
‘Can I really have him?’
Tricky one. From what Pip could remember, the brief spiel from Tom involved words to the effect of ‘you can take photos but that’s it, nobody is taking a dog home until background checks have been done’. It sounded to her like they were lining up the Spanish Inquisition, not trying to find a waif and stray a new home with as many Bonios to eat and trees to wee on as its little heart could desire.
‘See how you get on. I mean Tom has lots of dogs to choose from.’
‘But he’s gorge.’
Pip smiled what she hoped was the winning smile and nodded at the photographer. The little soirée with Tom, Amanda and the Simcocks had been awkward. Even if she had managed to get a photo that made them look like they were heading for a lifelong membership of admiration club capital. Who said the camera didn’t lie? But Tom had been more than insistent that nobody, and he meant nobody, could just walk off with one of his rescue cases.
Maybe asking David about his father and just what he’d do with Folly Lake Manor if he got his hands on it wasn’t exactly diplomatic. But, at the time, how was she supposed to know that Tom had his own eye firmly fixed on the prize? She’d thought the Strachan prize involved Mandy, not her mansion. The only good thing was that the man himself was involved in another photo shoot today, which meant he was a few hundred miles away and couldn’t ruin things.
‘He is, erm gorge. If we take some pics, though, is it okay if we just say you were here looking for the right one to adopt, you know, not exactly say this is the one, or,’ think fast Pip, ‘everyone will want him. His old owners might even suddenly come back when they realise just how lovely he is.’
‘Oh, I see what you mean, babe.’ Sam’s face had dropped.
‘Just between us, of course.’
‘Sure.’ It lifted again, the golden smile breaking out as she gave Pip a hug. The ‘gorge’ pooch, sandwiched between two female forms, did what dogs do when they’re trapped in a desperate situation.
‘Oh, shit.’ Except it wasn’t. Pip pulled back as the warm glow of satisfaction turned to a warm patch of damp.
‘Ah, the poor little thing’s piddled.’
The dog wriggled, sensing freedom, a fresh spray arcing out as Pip jumped back, desperate
to get out of range. Sam hung on, behind the line of fire, her mouth open in astonishment as the fountain slowly lost its force and spluttered down to a dribble.
The girl, who Tom had said was in charge, looked on in disapproving silence, finally cracking under Pip’s stare. ‘Shall I take him off you?’
‘Bit late now, unless he’s got a reserve tank.’
Sam giggled. ‘He can hold his drink just like Davey, by the looks of him.’
This made Pip blanch. No, she wasn’t going to ask if squeezing him had the same effect. He was a footballing hero, he went out onto the green pitch and fought for his country. Imagining him peeing his way between the goalposts wasn’t part of the equation.
‘I’ll make a point of not hugging him too hard, then.’
Sam laughed properly then, and juggled the dog into a firmer hold. ‘Do you think we could smuggle him out? Tom would never know, would he?’ She looked at the kennel maid with wide eyes, then back to Pip with a secret smile. ‘We could make a very generous donation, you know, just to help feed all the others.’
‘Photo first.’ Pip waved firmly in the photographer’s direction. ‘Do your stuff, Jon, and stay out of his range of fire, just in case.’
The dog’s tank was obviously empty, because the rest of the afternoon was dry in every sense. And looking through the photos, Pip had to agree with Sam that the dog looked adorable. Even better from the other side of the room. In fact, Sam and her canine friend looked like they were in love; two shaggy-haired cohorts who’d finally met their perfect partner. It was just a shame that David had ruled himself out of the session by claiming his physio was more important.
‘No.’ The kennel maid was adamant. She might have been slightly star-struck, but was still pretty disapproving and determined.
‘Nobody need know. I can smuggle him out in my bag.’
Pip shot a glance at the large handbag at exactly the same time the kennel maid did. ‘It’s not big enough.’ Almost in unison.
‘But they don’t need to know that; you can just say that’s what happened. He disappeared.’
‘I’d get the sack if I started losing dogs.’
‘Can’t you ring Tom, Pip? You can persuade him, I’m sure you can. The way he looks at you I bet you could get him to do anything.’ Pip wasn’t too sure about that. Anything might have been on the agenda when he was pissed and stripped of his faculties and his pants, but stone-cold sober Tom could be surprisingly resolute when it came to his pet project. But… she smiled. His partner, the politician’s mother, she suspected, might be a different kettle of fish altogether if it came with a promise to give her son some much-needed local election support.
‘Give me five minutes. And whatever you do, don’t let that animal near a bowl of water.’
***
‘Do you think you’ll ever get married?’
They were sitting in the front of Sam’s four-by-four, with the dog, named with outstanding originality ‘Scruffy’, sitting between them as they swung onto the motorway. ‘Swing’ being exactly the wrong motion as the dog slid along the leather seat towards Pip and heaved alarmingly.
‘Shit, stop the car, he’s going to be sick.’
‘I can’t babe, I’m on the motorway. Can’t you give him a sick bag or something, there’s one in the glove compartment.’
‘You keep sick bags in the car? You never said your driving was that bad.’
‘Carrier bags.’ Sam laughed as the dog retched again and slid slowly back the other way.
‘Bugger, he’s coming my way.’ Pip made a dive of her own towards the glove compartment. The only bag she could see was decidedly green all right, and not in an eco-friendly sense, more in a Harrods sense. ‘I can’t, I just can’t.’ But then she discovered she could, as the dog gave a more serious heave, its back arching as it wobbled between them. There was a lot to be said, Pip thought, for crates on the back seat rather than pampered pooches loose on the front. There was also a lot to be said for decent air-conditioning, which after she’d opened the window briefly and nearly blasted her and the dog out into the slipstream, Sam had switched on and shut the fresh air out.
‘He’s so sweet. You’re so clever finding him.’
Pip was pretty sure she’d be more convinced once she was out of range. ‘I’ll get to know him better when you’ve found out how to stop him recycling so efficiently.’
‘Dave will love him.’
Which reminded her. ‘I think it’s you he loves, not a dog. So, have you thought about getting hitched?’ Fiancée would look so much better in the article, and besides she was curious. Sam didn’t even wear an engagement ring, yet the pair were obviously besotted with each other, even to Pip’s cynical eye.
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you and David. You’ve been going out a while now, haven’t you?’ Pip hung onto the door as Sam peeled off the motorway and hit the roundabout at a speed that left her and the dog colliding. He looked at her with doleful eyes, as though deeply apologetic but seriously seasick. She could sympathise.
‘Yeah, years. We knew each other before anyone had even heard of Davey. Well, his club had, but you know he hadn’t been signed big or anything.’
‘So, come on, you must want to? Don’t you? It is serious, I mean I can tell that just looking at the two of you.’
Sam stroked the dog’s woolly head, pulled at his ears thoughtfully. Perfectly manicured fingernails teasing at the silky coat. Scruffy shifted and tried to scratch her away with one hind leg and promptly fell off the seat and into the foot well. Maybe they were made for each other.
Pip hauled him out and hoped it was just a nervous twitch.
‘This is off the record, right? I mean, I’m sure you wouldn’t say anything to anyone, you’re just so lovely.’ Sam pulled off the main road, drove in silence down the long lane until finally coming to a halt outside the large gates. The engine ticked over as the gates slowly opened.
‘If you want, I’m fine with off the record.’ Pip shrugged. She liked Sam, and she liked David. And she wanted the real interview, the one with his manager, even more than she wanted to be friends with them. And she felt decidedly safer now they were driving slowly up the driveway and had stopped by her moped.
‘Well, we are.’
Sam was out of the car, dog deposited on the gravel before Pip had even opened her door. ‘You?’ She let the words do a few laps of her brain, just to make sure. ‘You are? As in, you’re married? To each other?’
Sam laughed ‘Of course to each other, who else would we be married to? We got hitched ages ago, when we were on holiday, but you know how it is.’
Pip wasn’t sure she did know how it was. ‘Do I?’
‘We got paid not to be married, you know, until we could have a big exclusive wedding; it’s going to be filmed and everything. The full works, and they’re sending us to this private island that’s owned by what’s his face, you know, that Virgin bloke. Don’t say a word will you, babe? Please? Dave will be so cross if he finds out I told someone. This is just so exciting, I can’t wait to show him.’
Show him? For a moment Pip was confused, then realised. It was the dog that was exciting. After all, who would be excited by a fairy-tale wedding and being whizzed off to a private island?
‘That moped is seriously cool. Maybe I should get one.’
Pip offered up a silent prayer. Sam let loose on anything two-wheeled didn’t bear thinking about. ‘You’d have trouble getting Scruffy on it.’
‘Lunch tomorrow, then? At the wine bar. And you can tell me all about Amanda. She’s sweet. I think she needs cheering up and I’ve got just the thing.’
Chapter 12
‘Gross, isn’t it?’
‘Sorry?’ Lottie felt herself go red and regretted the way she’d been staring at the car. The fact that Tab had noticed was bad; the fact that she’d voiced the exact words that had been in her head was worse. ‘Well I—’
‘Yellow is so naff. I mean, there is a reason you can�
�t normally buy them in that colour. It isn’t standard.’
‘He had it ordered specially?’ And she’d just kind of assumed a man like Tom would at least have some taste.
‘No, stupid. He bought it for Mum as a surprise. He ordered it in black, but no one can keep a surprise from her. She opened the order and rang them up and told them they’d made a mistake, and that if they couldn’t do it in the colour she wanted she’d cancel the order. She likes to be noticed.’
‘Red gets noticed.’
‘Red is even more naff.’ Ah well, that told her. ‘I think he’s only driving it to piss her off.’
‘No he’s not.’ Tom appeared from wherever he’d been, which Lottie suspected was just having a nosey around the grounds, just in time to catch his daughter out. This seemed to amuse him, considering he was quite good at it, but didn’t seem to bother her at all. ‘He’s driving it because the other car is in for repair. Or had you forgotten?’
‘It’s been in for ages.’
‘That’s what happens when your teenage daughter tries to teach herself to drive and exits through the wall, not the open doorway.’
‘Funny.’
‘Not really. Go ahead, don’t mind me.’
Lottie studied Tab, who was sitting astride her horse, and thought how unfair it was that riding came as naturally to some people as walking. Even though, with a dad like Billy, it should have been in her genes, she’d had to work bloody hard to turn herself into any kind of decent rider.
Not that many people who knew her would agree with her self-assessment; as Dom and many others had observed, the only thing that was holding Lottie back was Lottie herself. She was harder on herself than anyone else ever was, took every criticism to heart, and yet her natural empathy with a horse was an asset that many riders would have killed for. She might not be the most skilled, but her instinct to read her ride would never let her down, as long as she listened to it and believed in it. But right now it was her empathy with another rider that was at the fore.
‘Can’t you go away, Dad? Please? You upset Merlin. You know he doesn’t like you.’ The normal acerbic tone that Tab adopted as second nature was laced with uncertainty. Lottie widened her eyes and tilted her head in a way that was supposed to suggest ‘bugger off’, but Tom just smiled in his lazy way and winked. She flicked a hand in a ‘go away’ gesture and he sat down. She’d more or less exhausted her repertoire of discreet hints. Short of the direct ‘piss off’, she wasn’t sure what came next.
The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights Page 111
