‘So, Tom, tell me what you’re after. ’Cos I know it isn’t my body.’
‘Well I do like your body, quite a lot, actually.’
‘I was told,’ she cocked her head on one side, the hint of a grin at the corners of her generous mouth, ‘that you were lusting after a place, not a woman.’
‘And who said that?’
‘Elizabeth.’
‘Now there is a dangerous combination, you and Her Ladyship.’
‘She’s a clever lady.’
‘You both are, that’s what’s frightening. So where is this place I lust after? Tippermere?’
‘Oh no,’ she leant forwards, put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands so she could study him better. ‘She was much more specific than that.’
‘Really?’ Tom was intrigued, and slightly confused about the turn of conversation, but he doubted either Pip or Elizabeth were the type to speculate unnecessarily.
‘Really.’
‘And does this have anything to do with the visit from my ex-wife bearing threatening messages from my father?’
‘I think so. Just humour me first, what was the message?’
‘He told me not to rake the past up, or get his name in the papers or he’d sue me. Does that mean anything to you, seeing as you represent the press in these parts?’
Pip grinned. ‘It does. It means lots actually. It means that when Elizabeth told me you were infatuated with Folly Lake Manor she was right.’
‘I’m not—’
‘And she said you probably didn’t even realise yet. Clever old trout, isn’t she?’ Trout wasn’t the word that immediately sprung to Tom’s mind, but slippery fish about fitted.
‘And what has this got to do with my father, even if it does miraculously turn out to be true?’
‘Do you know why your parents went to Australia?’
‘How do you know they went to Australia?’ The hairs on the back of Tom’s neck were prickling in an alarming manner.
‘Elizabeth told me. Well?’
‘Not really, I think he went over there because of a business opportunity. I don’t know, I was a baby. Then, as soon as I was old enough, he shipped me back over here to boarding school.’ The start of the end of what had always been a tricky relationship.
‘They went because the business here had gone tits-up.’
‘An elegant turn of phrase for a wordsmith.’
‘He was involved in something dodgy here, which is why he doesn’t want you getting his name in the papers again.’
‘And what exactly has this got to do with my unrecognised infatuation with Folly Lake?’ Which he had to admit, he was strangely drawn to.
‘You were born there, Tom.’ There was the type of silence Pip had only heard in church before. ‘Your father has connections, he saw the picture of you and Amanda, at a guess, and he panicked.’
‘You obviously don’t know my father. He was never the type to panic.’ The words came out automatically, but Tom wasn’t really thinking about his father. He was thinking about Folly Lake Manor.
‘Maybe you should chat Amanda up?’ Pip was nudging for a response.
She got one, a short humourless laugh. ‘Lovely as she is, I’m not in the market for a relationship again.’
‘But she is lovely. And, from what I’ve heard, there are other people making a move.’
‘Stop trying to needle me, Pip.’ But he was needled, at the thought of someone new moving in, of the house that felt like home being taken over by strangers. Turning it into a place he might never get the chance to visit again.
‘Lottie reckons that even Dom is offering advice.’
‘I thought Rory said he was gay?’
‘He probably has; he’s probably said you are too.’ She grinned.
‘I’m not going to chat someone up just because I like their home. Money and love are like petrol and water, they coexist not mix.’
‘Bit deep for you.’ She was still studying him, like a cat studied a mouse. Maybe he should just freeze, play dead until she got bored and left him alone.
‘And I’ve heard that David’s dad has arranged to come over and see it.’
‘How do I even know you’re right?’ But she was. He knew it. Folly Lake Manor, a place he’d instinctively felt comfortable in. His destiny. He didn’t need to know any more, but he was going to find out anyway. ‘I need to talk to Elizabeth.’
Chapter 18
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes to a squint. Despite the fact that the sun was glinting off the metalwork of the car that was speeding up the long driveway, she was fairly sure that it was her one and only granddaughter who was hell-bent on disturbing the peace and quiet of Tipping House Estate on this sunny Monday morning.
It wasn’t just that the car was belching out black smoke at regular intervals, but more the fact that very few people dared to use the refined surroundings as a race track, and partly because she’d been disturbed from her early-morning cup of earl grey by a phone call from Pip. Charlotte, it appeared, was upset. And Thomas, Pip had declared, was also on a fact-finding mission.
Elizabeth sincerely hoped that she didn’t have to talk to both of them on the same day. Unveiling the past was hard work
‘Bertie, Holmes, come on boys. Charlotte has come to see us.’ Bertie wagged his tail with a slow force that swung his whole body from side to side, and the more sedate Holmes shoved a wet nose into Elizabeth’s hand as the trio made their way to the grand front entrance.
‘How about a nice gin and tonic?’
‘Gran,’ Lottie accepted the brief kiss on each cheek from Elizabeth and the slightly more sloppy kisses from the dogs. ‘Isn’t it a bit early?’
‘Never too early. I’ve been up for hours, now pour me a proper one like Philippa does, not one of those watered-down affairs.’
Lottie sighed. ‘Maybe you should do it yourself.’ And got a mock shudder from Elizabeth.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, dear. I have never made my own drinks, and I’m far too old to start now. And do put your shoulders back; you’d have a figure worth looking at if you did.’
‘I don’t want people staring at my boobs,’ Lottie muttered as she poured the drinks, but the sharp ears picked it up.
‘Gentlemen admire, not stare, Charlotte.’
But Elizabeth was wrong. They would be staring, because after a brief scramble about in Rory’s bedroom that morning she’d been unable to locate her bra, which meant it could be anywhere. Well, almost. When they’d finally got rid of the adoring Tabby, Rory had done a good job of parting Lottie from most of her clothing at various spots around the yard.
She could, of course, have gone home for more undies, but she’d needed to visit Tipping House before she chickened out and modified the ever-growing list of questions down to a lame ‘don’t you love me?’ Which Gran would have thought weird, and wouldn’t have solved any of Billy’s problems, including his impending homelessness.
‘Now come and sit down next to me.’ She patted the seat, which Lottie took as a sign that if she wasn’t careful it was her that was going to be interrogated, rather than the other way around. Elizabeth had a way of taking control, which was intimidating for the unaware, and bloody annoying for those who knew her.
‘Why does Uncle Dom hate Dad?’ Better to get in there before the diversionary tactics took hold, or she got cold feet.
‘Hate isn’t a very nice word, dear. Do sit down, you’ll give me a crick in my neck looming over me like that.’
With a sigh, Lottie gave in and sat down, clutching the cut-crystal glass full of gin with an obligatory splash of tonic. ‘You don’t really want to get rid of us, do you?’ Despite Rory’s cheering-her-up tactics, which had been pretty impressive, even by his standards, Tiggy’s words had come back to haunt her in the early hours. Well, not actually that early; she had been too exhausted and loved up. But they had come back as soon as Rory had thrown back the sheet, opened the bedroom curtains and threatened to drop her in the
water trough.
She really did have to find that bra later; it was one of her better ones. In fact, she did have a vague recollection of watching it fly across the tack room shortly before Rory had promised to shag her senseless half way up the ladder to the hay loft, which she was pretty sure was impossible, but had been game to try.
Oh, God, why was she thinking about that when her gran was just about to announce, for all she knew, that her and her father were worthless and their home was just about to be turned into a theme park, or a low-cost, out-of-town, concrete shopping centre? It had to be her old habit of burying her head in the sand and hoping it would all go away. She’d done that as a child when anything nasty happened, run away and hidden in a ditch at the end of the field and concentrated on winning Badminton and Olympic gold for her country. In fact, she could distinctly remember doing that the day her GCSE results had been published. Things would work out; that had always been her philosophy. Things happened for a reason. But this time she wasn’t sure. This wasn’t just a quirk of fate.
‘Of course we don’t want to get rid of you. Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Well, Tiggy said…’
‘Ah.’ Elizabeth put her glass down on the table, out of range of Bertie’s whipping tail. ‘But have you spoken to your father, Charlotte?’
‘Not yet.’ Watching ice melt had never been more fascinating, but eventually she looked up and met her gran’s look. ‘Tiggy said you wanted me to come back here, but I never did live here, did I?’
‘Tiggy was correct. You were born in this house, Lottie. And like the selfish old lady I am, I wanted you to stay here. But it was for your own good too; I did think it best.’ The thump, thump, thump of two Labrador tails broke the silence. It was the first time that Lottie could ever remember feeling awkward in her grandmother’s presence. Intimidated before, yes, but this was different.
‘So you did try and take me away from dad; what she said was true.’ Her heart seemed to have curled up into a hard lump in her chest. It hurt.
‘It isn’t quite that straightforward. Come on,’ Elizabeth stood up, the dog-tail drumming increased in tempo, ‘it’s easier to walk and talk. And you need some fresh air.’ Which was another first, thought Lottie, Gran abandoning a half-finished gin and tonic. ‘It isn’t that I don’t like your father, that’s untrue. William is a fine man and I can understand why Alexandra fell in love with him. And she was, you know, in love.’ Lottie knew she was under scrutiny, but she concentrated on not tripping down the stone steps. ‘She loved your father with her whole heart. He made her happy.’ She gave what sounded like a wistful sigh, if Lottie didn’t know better. ‘And what more could anyone ask for their child?’ Lottie shrugged. Elizabeth, old and wise enough to realise when the need for facts was stronger than the pain that might come from knowing them, decided to carry on talking.
‘You were indeed born here at Tipping House, Charlotte. When your mother found out she was pregnant, we were of course delighted, and it made sense for her and William to move into the east wing of the house. It was where her old room was when she was growing up. There was more than enough room for both of them, and you when you were born. We had staff there to help, space for a nanny,’ Lottie realised her mouth had dropped open, and shut it quickly, ‘and it was much more suitable than their house at Folly Lake. Horses can be so time-consuming, and William had a good head groom who could ensure things ran smoothly when he wasn’t there.’ There was a brief lull whilst Elizabeth bent down to pick up the stick that one of the dogs had retrieved. ‘And there were, of course, the late night parties after a successful event, which weren’t always appropriate with a baby. But when you were about six months old they insisted on moving back to Folly Lake. It was their choice, I think,’ she looked shrewdly at her granddaughter, ‘William found it a little suffocating here.’ She indicated the gate with her stick, and Lottie opened it, Bertie and Holmes forging ahead through the gap, tongues lolling. ‘After the accident, your father went to pieces. You won’t remember, you were too young, but he was no longer drinking for fun, there was a serious edge. I urged him to bring you back here, where you belonged, but he refused, and I have to admit that Dominic was not happy. Something happened between them that night.’ She shook her head, her voice drifting uncharacteristically for a moment, then pressed on at a pace that even Lottie was finding hard to keep up with.
‘And so I asked him to let you come back here on your own, let us take care of you, and he refused. Maybe it was misguided, but that yard of his was no place for a young girl, especially with a cavorting father, however much he loved you. I do not dislike your father, Charlotte. I greatly admire him, but if you have heard rumours that I fought to keep you here, then unfortunately you’ve heard the truth. The man was heartbroken and in no fit state to look after a child, he was drinking and,’ she paused as though the coming word was unsavoury, ‘womanising. But he did come to his senses and cleaned up his act. He has been a good father to you, Charlotte, I couldn’t have asked for more, and despite our differences he has been fair, and made sure that you and I have always seen as much of each other as I wanted. Maybe we should have told you all this before, but I always think that when the time was right we would know.’ She paused for breath and glanced at her granddaughter again to see if there was any response.
‘Remember, Charlotte. There is no greater love than that which a parent has for their child. That is something that your father and I share; I know he has always done his best for you and would die for you. Don’t roll your eyes, child,’ Lottie hadn’t been called a ‘child’ for a long time and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be now, ‘he would do anything for you in the same way I would for my own children. We share that, and I do admire him. But I also love you, and my deepest wish was always to see you happy and secure. Everything that was done by all of us was always with your best interests at heart, however misguided it may seem to you. Now,’ she paused at the entrance to the cobbled yard, the place Lottie loved so much but had somehow not realised they’d reached. ‘Let us go and see if your uncle will talk to us, because I have a feeling that what you really want to know only he can tell you.’
‘Dad thinks he hates him.’
‘So you said.’ She paused and gave Lottie the full-on assessing look. ‘I doubt for one moment that’s true, dear. I do wish they’d sort out their problems, though, but men are never very good at that type of conversation, are they? Bertie, do stop that. What has he got?’
Lottie, who thought it looked remarkably like a slice of leftover pizza, declined to comment, on either issue.
***
Dominic was surprised to see Lottie at the yard, and even more surprised to see the rest of the entourage, which consisted of his mother and both her Labradors, one of which seemed to be eating what he could have sworn was the remains of yesterday’s supper.
He’d had an uninterrupted morning, schooling one of his favourite horses, and was still bathed in the glow of success from the previous day’s dressage competition, where his stallion had excelled himself. He had been looking forward to a discreet afternoon meeting with the lady who appeared to still be the centre spindle of the gossip mill that was Tippermere.
‘Charlotte and I have been having a little chat.’ Oh, why did those words leave him with a feeling of dread? Whilst he could remember suggesting that it was time Lottie found out about the past, the fact that they’d now both turned up in the yard was not what he’d intended at all.
‘There are rumours abounding, apparently,’ and why did it look like his mother was amused? ‘That you are in collusion with Amanda James, and are on a mission to evict William and Charlotte and turn Folly Lake into a, what is the term – amusement Park? And no doubt completely destroy the village in the process.’
Dom glanced over at Lottie, who was doing her best to wrest what was definitely the contents of the horsebox bin from the jaws of the fatter of his mother’s two dogs.
‘Nonsense.’
‘Exactly what I thought. There you are, Charlotte.’
Lottie gave up on trying to prise the dog’s jaw apart.
‘What do you mean, there you are? There you are doesn’t exactly work, does it?’
Dominic shifted uneasily, not quite sure what was coming next. He and Amanda had been discreet up to the point where, actually, even he was unsure what was going on. But, he was quite happy to leave things as they were until he had worked out a way of discussing it with his mother that wouldn’t cause upset, or a battle. He really didn’t want a battle. And he didn’t want to get on to what ‘collusion’ might mean.
‘Why on earth would I want to evict you and Billy? You’re my niece, for heaven’s sake.’
‘Everyone says you fell out. Tiggy said it, and Rory kind of said it.’ She hadn’t got as far as checking with her dad yet, but whilst Tiggy loved to listen to the gossip, she rarely added anything original.
‘Whatever disagreements I have with your father, do you honestly believe that I want to see the countryside flooded with tourists, and seeing either of you homeless?’ His voice softened from its imperious, defensive tone. ‘I do know what that place means to you both.’
‘You really can be a sanctimonious twat.’ The broad tones that could only belong to Billy Brinkley made everyone, including the dogs, stop what they were doing. Lottie took the opportunity to grab the food that was falling from Bertie’s gaping jaws.
‘Maybe your father should be the one to explain.’ Dom looked at him, feeling strangely relieved at the interruption. The rift between them was the least of his problems right now, not that he would have ever imagined that his presence could have been quite that welcome.
‘He’s right.’
The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights Page 119
