Country Rivals

by Zara Stoneley

  ‘Are you okay?’ She looked up from where her head was resting on his shoulder.

  ‘I’m fine.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘I’m fine, don’t hit him again.’

  He tried a grin, but knew it was a pathetic attempt. ‘I won’t.’ He looked at Xander. ‘If you want to help then clear out that stable.’ He nodded towards Gold’s loosebox, ‘and tell the vet we’ll be sorting a burial if he can tidy—’

  He stopped, unable to finish the sentence. He didn’t want to see Gold in the state she was in again, and he definitely didn’t want Lottie or anybody else to see her like that. There’d be no sign of the horrific cause of death when he dug the hole and lowered her into it.

  ‘Sure.’

  Chapter 25

  ‘So they’re all saying we’re ruining the village?’ Lottie was wrapped up in a rug, with a mug of coffee in her hands, huddled on the sofa with Harry across her feet and she still felt cold. She hadn’t been able to sleep, and after tossing and turning for what seemed like hours she’d gone downstairs to make a drink. The kettle hadn’t even boiled when Rory had appeared in the doorway.

  There were bigger issues on her mind, things she had to say, but that seemed the easiest right now.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You said before, when we were … you said you were sick of the filming, and everybody saying we were ruining the village.’

  ‘One or two have done.’ Rory sounded reluctant to admit it, but he’d said it in the heat of the moment, and he wasn’t going to lie. ‘Some of them are star-struck, some think they can be in the film, but one or two are fed up of the upheaval. The vicar said he doesn’t mind them all going to the church hall for the tea and cakes, but he puts his foot down when it comes to their mobiles ringing louder than the church bells.’

  Lottie grimaced, the nearest she could get to a smile.

  ‘He’s making a fortune in his little café, but isn’t up for the way half the congregation dive out whenever there’s a shout that some star is driving past. He was in the middle of a sermon about humility, apparently, when there was a call saying there was a photographer outside and half the women got mirrors and make-up out.’

  ‘I really hoped after that letter he sent us that things would calm down.’

  ‘They haven’t. He went up to see Dom yesterday and told him in no uncertain terms that he should speak to his mother, as we obviously weren’t going to resolve the issue.’

  ‘But we’re doing our best – why can’t he understand?’

  ‘Dom told him, but you know what the vicar’s like when he gets a bee in his bonnet. He’s a bit of a self-important old woman.’

  ‘Oh well, it’s not going to matter soon.’

  ‘No, once they’re gone we can get back to normal.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’ Lottie took a sip of scalding coffee and her eyes watered. ‘When I came out earlier it was because the solicitor had called. I came to tell you and …’ She’d never imagined as she ran out of the house to find Rory that things could get any worse, but they had. Bad enough to make her forget that they’d reached the end of the road. The air drained out of her lungs and she rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. ‘When I said we’d manage, we’d get things going again soon,’ she shrugged, ‘it wasn’t true.’ Her eyes were brim-full, but it wasn’t hot coffee. ‘We’ve got court dates,’ she took a deep breath to try and steady her voice, ‘and we’ll have legal bills, and the solicitor said that they chased the insurance company and they still aren’t in a position to settle.’ She looked up. ‘Nobody is going to bail us out, Rory. The money we get for the filming hardly makes a dent in things. It doesn’t really matter if they stay or go, it’s tiding us over, but at the end of the day the insurance company isn’t going to pay out soon enough. If they ever do.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘I worked it out before I came out to the yard to talk to you. The money that we’d built up from the business before the fire is just about all gone now. I mean, we had the roof fixed and those guest rooms redone when the income looked really good, and I paid off quite a bit of the bank loan. And then there was the cost of the horses before Rob signed you, which I know wasn’t for long, but there just isn’t much left – barely enough to live on.’ She tugged at a loose thread on the rug. ‘The solicitor tried to avoid court by offering to pay the deposits back in instalments, but they wouldn’t agree and that’s why he said we had no choice. We can argue that the weddings can go ahead, but he doesn’t know if it will help, seeing as we haven’t a clue when we’ll be able to start work. But at least this way if we can prove we can’t afford it in one chunk the court will work out what they think we can pay. But I don’t think we can even cover all the court costs, let alone pay back all the deposits. Oh Rory, it’s such a bloody mess.’ She put down her coffee and cupped her hands over her face, willing herself not to cry. ‘We haven’t got a choice. The bank isn’t going to lend us any more money if we haven’t got a business. You know that letter you tore up? The offer to buy the estate in its entirety, but let us stay?’

  She looked up and he nodded.

  ‘I told the solicitor to get in touch with them again – see if we can come to some kind of arrangement.’

  ‘But Lottie, there must be something else we can do.’

  ‘There isn’t, but at least they can’t all blame us for ruining the village then.’

  ‘Oh Lottie, they don’t really blame you – they just like moaning. They’d be devastated if you left this place. But we won’t.’

  ‘I think we will, Rory.’

  ‘Lottie, this isn’t like you. You don’t give up.’

  ‘I’m just being practical.’ She shrugged.

  ‘But we’ll be here, even if we don’t own the place. You said we could lease it.’

  ‘For how long? Rory, it won’t be ours.’

  Rory pulled her closer to him and rested his chin on her head.

  ‘I hate to do this, but if it’s a bad news day … There’s something else I found out.’

  Lottie pulled the blanket up to her chin. She wasn’t sure she could cope with anything else. Not today. Life was never going to be the same. It had been a sign, Black Gold dying. She was as good as knocked down herself. ‘What?’ She might as well hear it – get it all over with.

  ‘The latest leak to the newspapers came from Pandora. She gave them that photo. I don’t know about the other report with you and Xander. But that picture of her collapsing into my arms was her doing.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ She didn’t really need to ask. He was sure, or he wouldn’t be telling her this, not right now.

  ‘I asked Elizabeth to talk to Pip, I know they still chat a lot.’

  Lottie frowned, then chewed the inside of her cheek. Pip had been a good friend when she was in Tippermere and Lottie still missed her. Oh God, she wished she was here now.

  ‘She made a few calls and called in a few favours, and found out Pandora got a photographer in under the pretext of being an extra. Hard not to admire her, really, isn’t it? She’s orchestrating everything, and I’d never had her down as particularly clever.’

  ‘But why would she do that?’

  Rory shrugged. ‘Good publicity?’

  ‘She’s after you.’

  He laughed. ‘What would she want with me? Anyway, I’m yours, darling. You’re never going to get rid of me, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I think she wants the house too – not that she’s going to get it now.’

  ‘The house?’ He looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

  ‘This house, Tipping House. I’m sure she does. She did this scene where she and her on-screen husband were fighting about staying, and she said this was where she belonged.’

  ‘But that was acting.’

  ‘It wasn’t. She’s not that good, ask Gran.’ She paused. ‘I think that’s why she came back.’

  ‘But they’re paying us, they’re making it
possible for us to keep going. Well, they have been until …’

  ‘I know, but it gave her the perfect excuse to come back, didn’t it? She can work her magic on you, work out just how to get rid of me.’

  ‘Lottie that’s rubbish. Nobody is ever going to get rid of you. Listen to me.’

  But Lottie had her face buried in Harry’s coat and all Rory could do was hang on to her and hope he could somehow make it all right. They had each other, they had his old cottage that was rented out, but would Lottie ever cope with losing her family home?

  * * *

  Rory was up early the next morning. He was at Billy’s, collecting the digger he’d arranged to borrow by 5am and had dug a large hole in the upper paddock before anybody else had stirred. By 6am he, Lottie, and Tab were standing by the newly covered grave saying a last goodbye to Black Gold.

  There was a shrill whinny from the direction of the yard. ‘Minty will miss her.’ Tab knelt down and smoothed out the soil.

  ‘We’ll all miss her.’ Rory put an arm around each of the girls.

  ‘She could be such a cow.’ Lottie sniffed.

  ‘She was a rum-un, I’ll say that for her.’ They hadn’t heard Billy walking across towards them and now he ruffled Lottie’s hair, patted Rory on the back, and nodded at Tab. ‘Never thought when I got her that she’d be quite such a madam, but you never know with horses, do you? Come on, love.’ He nodded back towards the yard. ‘It’s a cold, hard fact but where there’s livestock there’s always deadstock, as my old man used to say. Tiggy’s cooked up breakfast for you lot. Come and tuck in and remember the good times. It’ll take your mind off the grub – you know what her cooking’s like. You too, young Tab.’

  ‘But the horses …’

  ‘I fed them while you were out here. Turn them out when you get back. Come on before the eggs are harder than cricket balls.’

  * * *

  There was something exhausting, Lottie decided, about grief. It drained you. Real grief – unlike falling out with a boyfriend, deciding you’re overweight, or falling off a horse and breaking bits you’d rather not – dug a hole deep inside you and excavated the contents. At least, that’s how it felt. Like a black hole. And real grief hurt more as you got older. She didn’t like being grown up.

  The only positive she could glean, if you could call it that, was that it took her mind off the fact that each day brought her nearer to the one when she’d lose Tipping House. It was just a case of waiting now, waiting for a response about the offer on the estate, waiting for a court date, waiting for the film crew to wrap up and leave. In the meantime she couldn’t wallow, she had to give herself a kick up the backside and get on with life.

  After a week of welling up every time she looked at Gold’s empty stable, she knew she really had to do something. As her dad had pointed out, none too subtly, if you had animals then there were losses. She wasn’t quite sure if it was the way Black Gold had died, or the fact that she had been such a character that had got to her so much.

  Gold had been a ‘coming home’ gift from Billy, after she’d returned from Australia, via Barcelona, gaining and losing a boyfriend along the way.

  Her father had eyed her up and down and said ‘well if you’re staying here you’d better do some work. I’ve got a youngster that I picked up the other week. You can sort her out. I think you’ll get on fine – two of a kind.’

  Lottie didn’t think they were any such thing, but the mare had certainly stopped her moping about her two-timing, beach-bum ex. Day-dreaming was firmly off bounds when you were with Gold. If you were in the saddle and she thought you were distracted, then she’d deposit you somewhere uncomfortable, and if you were in the stable a sharp nip, or strategically placed hoof would remind you she was there.

  In the end, Rory had suggested they put her in foal. He loved Lottie too much to watch her risk life and limb every time she exercised the horse, and having a baby might settle her (Gold not Lottie). It didn’t really, so apart from the occasional hack out Gold was destined for life as a brood mare.

  Her first foal, Minty, was as obliging as Gold was awkward, and they’d more or less decided that next year they’d put her in foal again. The thought brought a new lump of grief to Lottie’s throat and her eyes filled. She blinked, then wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She couldn’t forget the horse, but feeling washed out and hopeless wasn’t any good either. Which was why she’d given Tab a well-earned day off and after shooing Rory out of the yard on Joker she’d set to and given the tack room a good clean out, and the yard a sweeping even Uncle Dominic would have found impressive.

  She propped open the door of the one stable that hadn’t needed mucking out. Rory had left it empty, but it was so silly having Tab trail over to Billy’s every day to look after Maddie – they had more than enough work on the yard for the three of them.

  Grabbing hold of the wheelbarrow, she set off towards the barn. It was rather trickier making her way back with a bale of shavings and a dog balanced on it. The small wheel bounced over the cobblestones, veering alarmingly towards the fountain that stood in the middle of the yard, and Tilly slid off the shiny plastic, gave a yelp of surprise, and then ran round and round the water feature as fast as she could with her head down and tail tucked under.

  As Lottie came to a halt, the terrier was back on top of the barrow, barking excitedly before tearing off back to the barn at a gallop, with Harry and the other dogs trailing behind.

  She tipped the bale of shavings into the middle of the box and was ripping it open when a clatter of hooves announced Rory’s return.

  Rushing to the door, the sun behind her shining straight through the back window, she was surrounded by a halo of dust particles, and a fair few shavings were stuck in her hair and on her top.

  ‘I thought that stuff was supposed to be dust-free?’ Rory’s deep laugh made her smile. ‘You’re not supposed to be rolling in them, darling.’ He did a double-take, realised which stable she was bedding down and his smile dimmed.

  ‘It’s okay. I need to see another horse in here. By the time you’ve washed Joker down I’ll be finished and he can come in here – then we can go and get Maddie from Dad’s. She can have her old stable back.’

  Rory kissed her on the nose. ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘Positive. And then you’ve got to help me get stuff sorted for the village show.’

  He groaned. ‘Oh God, I thought we’d escaped that this year.’

  ‘You can never escape the Tippermere Village Show.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Well not unless you leave.’

  ‘Lottie.’ His tone held a warning note. Rory kept telling her they’d find a solution, but that was just on the outside. She could see when she looked in his eyes that on the inside he knew they were running out of options.

  ‘Well, you’re definitely not escaping this one. Seb was told quite firmly that any shooting schedule he might have was to be suspended this weekend. Gran made sure it was in the contract.’

  She actually loved the village show, despite the mayhem it often caused. In fact, she loved all the village traditions and was determined that whatever happened to Tipping House, the village show, Boxing Day meet, and annual charity cricket match would never be surrendered to what some might call progress.

  Lottie was actually slightly worried that soon she was going to start sounding like Gran and say things like ‘it will be cancelled over my dead body’ or ‘in my day’ then follow it up with a demand for a stiff G&T.

  ‘You look happier.’

  ‘I am.’ She’d resolved to live one day at a time, to savour every second. ‘Now hurry up and get Joker untacked.’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’ Rory grinned, relieved to see his old Lottie back. Then he laughed as she ripped the bag, tipped the rest of the shavings out and was engulfed in a cloud of dust and fine particles, sending a waft of woody smells into the yard. ‘I’ll turn him out for a bit and let that settle.’

  Chapter 26

  Lottie had a love-hate relat
ionship with the early morning, particularly since moving into the old and creaky Tipping House. The house might look welcoming, but it swallowed all trace of heat, despite the softly glowing oak-panelled walls, which tricked you into thinking the summer warmth had found a way in.

  The part Lottie hated most was the actual getting out of bed, which meant cold feet whatever the time of year, followed by a shower that switched abruptly from freezing to red hot just as you were about to give up. But once she got outside it was different.

  She loved the peace and quiet of the early hours, before the rest of the world awoke. It didn’t matter what time of year it was, whether there was an eerie mist hovering over the lawns and distant coppice of trees, a crisp layer of white on the grass, or the sun rising on a beautiful morning. It was always glorious and made her realise just how lucky she was. Even with the agony of opening the bills that spilled from the groaning in-box, and gurgling pipes threatening to spill their contents that kept them awake at night, she had never been more certain that Tipping House was the only place she wanted to be. She’d do anything to stay here. Six months ago she would have laughed at the prospect of selling Tipping House, but now she knew she had to be practical. She gave a wry smile. The bank, for one, wouldn’t give them any choice.

  Selling to a developer was definitely a case of, as Elizabeth would put it, ‘over my dead body’, but the solicitors had managed to make progress with other prospective purchasers. At first Lottie had been thrown back into a state of despondency when one after another of the offers had been withdrawn, for various – often incomprehensible – reasons. She’d swung between elation that maybe it was not to be, to despair that there really wasn’t any other way out. But there was still one buyer wanting to talk terms – and willing to let Lottie and Rory stay on as tenants and run their business – when they finally got it up and running again.

  The thought of somebody else actually having the final say in what happened to the Stanthorpe’s ancestral home brought a dull pain to her chest, but she was trying to be realistic. Billy was only a tenant in his home – lots of people were in that position – and at least this would be a real person who she could hopefully get on with, negotiate with, not some nameless, faceless board from a company or a trust that would need to run the place strictly by their own rules.