Pippa laughed.
‘How young are we talking?’
‘Maybe nineteen,’ Tash said non-commitally.
‘Christ, Tash. You cougar!’
‘I’m only twenty-six! That’s only…’
Pippa snorted as she imagined Tash counting out on her fingers.
‘…only seven years difference.’
‘Well, is that what’s stopping you – the fact that he’s younger than you?’ she asked, trying to stop herself from laughing. ‘If it is then you know age shouldn’t make any difference.
‘Yes and no,’ Tash said in anguish. ‘I’m also manager of his manager if you know what I mean.’
‘Ah, hierarchy,’ Pippa nodded. ‘Going slumming, are you?’
‘For want of a better word, yes.’
‘Tash, you want my advice? Stop being a snob. If you like Orlando, ask him out. No one else has to know.’
‘His name’s Adam.’
‘Okay. Ask Adam out then. Go for it, girl!’
Tash exhaled noisily into the phone.
‘You’re right. I will. Thanks. That’s settled then. Now, more importantly, how are you and why has today been better than yesterday?’
Pippa grinned as she thought of the fun she had had that morning.
‘Jack took me onto the Gallops to watch Peace Offering. It was so exciting. Peace Offering was fabulous, to the extent that even Jack was impressed. And Emmie – that’s his work rider – said that when they’d ridden past us Peace Offering found another gear and took off with her.’
‘Found another gear? What is he, a car?’ Tash drawled.
‘Apparently that’s what they say when the horse starts going faster. Emmie told me she thought it might have been me jumping up and down in my red coat, but Jack’s sceptical. Nevertheless, he said he’s going to look at races for him next Saturday. Do you think you could come?’
‘Depends on where it is, sweets. But I’ll try.’
‘Great. Anyway, that means Jack is back in my good books, you’ll be pleased to hear,’ Pippa continued, leaning her head back against the wall and thinking of the moody trainer. ‘You can ignore that email I sent you yesterday.’
‘What email?’
‘You know. The one I sent you complaining what a prat Jack was being. I take it all back now.’
‘Don’t think I got that one. Maybe it disappeared into that big black e-hole. The same thing happened last week to me. Had a client supposedly send us confirmation on some proofs for a dinner menu, but did I get it? Nooooo.’
‘Oh.’ Pippa frowned and broke off a twig from one of the dead plants in the terracotta pots. She held it between her two fingers then looked around idly for her cigarettes. ‘I did swear in it. Maybe your company’s got a filter for rude emails. Never mind. I’ve forgiven him now –’ She was interrupted by her phone beeping. She looked at the lit up screen and sighed. She had another call waiting. ‘I’ve got to, Tash. Ollie’s trying to get hold of me. I’ll speak to you soon.’
‘No worries. Bye, Pip. Keep smiling.’
‘You too. And good luck with Orlando.’
‘Adam,’ Tash corrected.
‘Orladam.’
‘Hey, Ollie. How are you, angel?’ Pippa enthused a moment later. She had spoken to Ollie on a few occasions since she had left, but this was the first time he had actually called her.
‘All right. Thought I might give you a ring now since I’m going out later. Didn’t want you to call and interrupt dinner.’
Pippa pulled a face. She hadn’t been planning on ringing Ollie at all.
‘That’s great. Who are you going out with?’
‘Some people from the set. Rich Holden is coming along.’
Pippa scoured her memory for the name. By the tone of Ollie’s voice, Rich Holden was someone she was supposed to know – or know of, she thought, remembering Ollie’s tendency to name drop.
‘An actor from Holby City?’ she guessed.
‘Yeah, you know him. He plays Doctor Feldman and is sleeping with his med student.’
‘Of course. That sounds fun. Dinner, I mean. Where are you going?’
‘Regan’s and maybe The Watershed afterwards.’
Pippa felt a stab of longing for the buzz of London’s bright lights and crowds.
‘I miss you,’ she said, tracing the twig still in her fingers down the window, keeping pace with a raindrop on the other side.
‘I miss you too. It’s not the same here without you. When do they collect the recycling here, can you remember? I put the rubbish out on Monday, but they only took the black bag.’
‘Every second Monday. Make sure you put the tops off the plastic milk bottles in the black bag though. They won’t take it otherwise.’
‘Anal prats,’ Ollie muttered.
Pippa snorted at his hypocrisy, but managed to turn it into a cough.
‘Pippa, when are you going to give up smoking?’
‘Soon. Listen, Jack’s decided Peace Offering can have his first race next Saturday,’ she said, changing the subject before Ollie could give her a lecture on the dangers of smoking. ‘Will you come?’
She heard Ollie give an impatient sigh at the mention of Jack and Peace Offering’s names. It was only because they both featured high on her current agenda of Life In The Country, she thought, trying to justify her reasons for always bringing them up in conversation with Ollie.
‘I’ll see. Depends on filming. My first episode is being shown around Valentine’s Day. Gruesome love triangle, but I can’t say much more. I’ll let you know the exact date so you can record it.’
‘I’m sure I won’t miss it,’ she reassured him.
‘I know, but I want you to record it as well.’
The pride in his voice made Pippa smile and her heart softened.
‘Okay. I’m proud of you, Ollie. I know things haven’t been easy lately so I’m really pleased for you.’
‘Me too. Anyway, I’ve got to dash if I’m going to make dinner. Rich hates people who are late. You should have seen him the other day when Jess, the make-up girl was late. She said her car had broken down, but she could easily have taken the Tube. Rich was furious –’
‘Ollie,’ Pippa interrupted, ‘You’d better go. Tell me another time.’
‘Shit. Look at the time. You’re right. I’ll speak to you soon.’
‘Okay. Take care. Love you.’
‘Me too. Bye.’
Pippa let the phone hang limply in her hand when the line was cut short then, with a sigh, she edged off the windowsill and counter. One of her buttock cheeks was numb. Rubbing some life into it, she wandered over to the fridge to fix herself some dinner.
Chapter Twelve
The following Monday, Pippa was barely able to acknowledge Jack’s entrance into the office as the phone trilled for about the twentieth time in as many minutes.
‘Okay, if I can have your name and address I’ll see what I can sort out for you,’ she said to the caller. She saw Jack pause before going into his office as he stopped to listen to her conversation. ‘Thank you, we’re very proud of him too... Okay, Gerry. I’ll make sure the farrier doesn’t throw his shoes away. I’m sure there’ll be a spare one for you... No problem. Bye.’
Jack raised an eyebrow and gave a mirthless chuckle.
‘Souvenir collectors?’ he said.
‘Yeah. I’ve never known men get so excited about shoes before, and horseshoes at that. It’s a pity Virtuoso’s only got four feet.’ She paused and grinned at Jack. ‘Well done. Big race was it that he won yesterday?’
‘Yes. A grade one chase.’ The frown lines on Jack’s brow disappeared and Pippa was tempted to think that he might perhaps look happy for once. ‘Did you watch it?’
‘I did,’ she replied, feeling smug. ‘I might not know much about racing, but he certainly looked impressive. And by the sounds of it, the public think so too.’
‘Won easily. Could have been more than twelve lengths if Rhys had asked for it.
’ His smile widened as he replayed the finish in his head. ‘He did the right thing though, easing up like he did. We’ve got the King George next month and then another prep race before the Gold Cup at Cheltenham. We don’t want to beat him up too much if we’re to keep him fresh –’
The telephone interrupted him and Pippa reached for it.
‘Wait!’ Jack said, raising his hand. ‘Before you answer that, if you have any calls from the press, just say Virtuoso has come out of his race fine and they can find my full statement in the Racing Post. I’ve got a telephone interview with them later this morning. Don’t try answer any other questions. They’re bound to ask for more.’
‘Will do,’ Pippa said, picking up the phone. ‘Good morning, Aspen Valley Stables.’
Just before Jack turned away into his office, she saw him glance around him, a puzzled frown once more creasing his forehead. With a shake of his head, he left the reception.
Pippa smiled. She wondered how long it would take him to notice.
Five minutes later, Pippa knocked on Jack’s door with his tea.
‘That was the entertainment people just confirming they’ll be round this afternoon to set up the marquee for the Open Day tomorrow.’ She set his mug on a coaster. ‘I hope the weather holds out.’
Jack peered at the chamomile tea then up at Pippa.
She held her breath.
Jack picked up the mug without comment and took a tentative sip.
She exhaled.
‘Me too. Catering all sorted?’
‘Yup,’ Pippa said, pleased that for once she had completed a task without making a hash of it.
‘That reminds me. Can I have a look at one of the owners’ booklets? I just want to make sure the horses will be paraded in the right order for them all.’
Pippa hesitated.
‘Owners’ booklets?’ she said, an icy tendril of fear contracting around her stomach.
Jack paused, his mug halfway to his lips. His eyes darkened.
‘Yes, the owners’ booklets, which everyone gets given tomorrow when they arrive so they know who they’re looking at.’
Pippa gulped and moved her weight from one foot to the other.
‘Um, was that something I was meant to know about, Jack? You never said anything about any booklets.’
Jack exhaled with dragon-force and put his mug down with a thud, slopping hot tea all over the desk.
‘Jesus Christ! Haven’t you had any deliveries?’
She shook her head.
Jack groaned.
‘Gemma was meant to have organised it all before she left. Bloody hell. I should’ve checked before now, should’ve asked about them,’ he muttered. He dragged his fingers through his hair and looked up at the ceiling, revealing tense muscles in his throat and neck. ‘We’ve got a hundred and fifty people coming tomorrow to look at the horses and they’re not going to know Virtuoso from fucking Peace Offering!’ Jack’s voice rose until he was shouting. ‘Media! Owners! Potential owners!’
‘Okay, okay, it might not be as bad as you think,’ Pippa tried to placate him. The chamomile wasn’t working its magic this time. ‘Maybe Gemma has ordered the booklets. Which company is doing them for you? I can ring them and check.’
‘Weatherbys did them last year for us. Jesus Christ. The Open Day is tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Don’t panic.’ she said, backing out of the office. ‘For all we know, Weatherbys have got them all ready and are just waiting for us to call. I’ll just go do that...’ Closing the door behind her, she dashed back to her desk.
Pippa’s reappearance in Jack’s office a minute later had him look up with hope. A wave of compassion swept through her when she saw his eyes, such a vivid blue, but now two shades darker with worry. Reluctantly, she shook her head.
Jack groaned and banged his head on his folded arms.
‘What a fuck-up,’ came his muffled response.
‘There must be something we can do.’
‘Like what?’ he exclaimed, looking up. ‘Scribble a hundred horses’ names on a piece of paper and have you draw a picture next to each?’
Pippa bristled. Setting her jaw, she marched across the room until she was standing above her boss.
‘Stop it,’ she commanded. ‘Right now –’
‘Don’t tell me what to do!’
Pippa raised a stern finger at him.
‘Listen to me, Jack,’ she said in a slow even tone. ‘Do you have any booklets from last year? Give me one so I know what it looks like. Then give me the correct order you want them put in and I will sort it out –’
‘You can’t. You’re only a bloody waitress!’
Pippa’s blood began to simmer.
‘I am also all you have right now. So do as I ask and stop wasting time.’
Jack glared at her and Pippa wondered if he was going to start throwing things around.
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked instead.
‘I have a plan,’ she said, not confident enough to say what exactly. ‘Now, what about entries and declarations?’
‘Only a handful, thank God. I’ll have them ready for you in a few minutes.’ He slid open a drawer and after rummaging around in it, retrieved a glossy A4 booklet. ‘This was last year’s,’ he said, resigned.
‘Fine.’ She took it and walked away. ‘One last thing, Jack,’ she said, pausing at the doorway. ‘Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.’
Back at her desk, Pippa unearthed her mobile phone from her bag and with trembling fingers, scrolled through her address book.
‘Hi Tash. It’s Pip.’
‘Hey, sweets! What’re you doing calling me at work. Not another Jimmy Choos sale I’ve missed, is there?’
‘Not quite.’ She eased her quaking knees as she sank into her seat. ‘I need to ask you a big big favour.’
‘Sure. What’s up? Are you okay?’
The concern in Tash’s tone made Pippa want to cry.
‘We’ve got an Open Day tomorrow and we’ve just discovered Jack’s last secretary didn’t order the booklets which get handed out. If I get all the info together, do you think you could bash something half-decent together before tomorrow?’
‘Like what?’
Pippa flicked through the pages in front of her.
‘Booklets. A4 size, colour with photos. About thirty pages. I guess about a hundred and fifty copies.’
‘Blimey, Pip. I thought you were going to ask for a couple of flyers or something. But a hundred and fifty full booklets? In one day?’
Pippa felt the blood drain from her face. Tash was her one and only hope.
‘Please, Tash. You have to help.’
‘Design is backed-up at the moment. Your booklet sounds at least a full day’s work for them. Then it’s got to be printed. I’m sorry, Pip. Our schedule’s manic –’
‘What if I designed it then?’ she said in desperation. ‘What’s the latest I could get it to you to be printed?’
‘Well, ideally we ask for a week’s notice, but I can see that not happening.’ She paused and Pippa could imagine Tash’s business brain clicking into gear. ‘This is going to take you all day to do so it’s not going to make print before close of business. What time does this thing start?’
‘Half eleven.’
‘Right. That’s almost a full morning then. You do some artistic wizardry on your computer and get the design to me by half seven tomorrow morning and I’ll slip it in the print queue and courier it over to you. We should make it.’
Pippa sighed with relief.
‘Oh, thank you so much. I owe you big time.’
‘So does Orladam in the Print Centre,’ Tash drawled. ‘This is called payback, baby.’
Pippa mustered half a smile.
‘You went out with him then?’
‘Yep. He was DJ-ing at a club over the weekend and he invited me to join him. He’s twenty by the way.’
‘Out of nappies then?’
‘He was out of Calvin Kl
eins too, Saturday night. I’m thinking of changing his name to Aladdin rather than Orladam.’
Pippa laughed then covered her mouth so Jack wouldn’t hear.
‘You devil, you.’
‘Pah! Devil nothing. Stop gassing. I’ve got work to do and so do you by the sounds of it. You can do it. Don’t let that Jack Carmichael use you as a punching bag.’
‘How –’ It always amazed Pippa how Tash seemed to know exactly what was going through her head.
‘I just do. Now go away and do some work.’
By lunchtime, Pippa had finished the entries and declarations, directed a call from the Racing Post through to Jack, promised six other people Virtuoso tail hairs and shoes, taken a call from the caterers asking whether she would prefer Winter Pimms rather than the summer variety, downloaded a programme off the internet on which she could design booklets and was now only just starting on the cover.
She looked at last year’s cover, which was a simple photograph of two horses jumping a schooling fence out on the Gallops and “Aspen Valley Stables Horses In Training” written in plain black font. Pippa pulled a face. It was a bit... boring. She flexed her fingers and straightened her shoulders.
‘Right.’ If she was going to do anything with this booklet, then one thing for sure was that it would look good.
While snatching the occasional bite of her sandwich, she wrestled with the design programme, deciding on a photograph of Virtuoso clearing the water jump during his Cheltenham Gold Cup win last season. She saturated it with the red and white stable colours of Aspen Valley, the sun in the corner shedding pink rays across the background. She added a brush effect to both jockey crouching in his saddle and the horse stretching out to enhance the feeling of speed. In a bold Edwardian font she typed out Aspen Valley Stables.
Just as she tweaked the contrast and brightness of the picture to finish off the cover, the main office door opened and Finn stepped in. He scraped his boots on the wire mat and held up a piece of paper with a grin.
‘Jack asked me to pass this on to you. It’s a list of all our residents from Block A to Block H.’ He handed Pippa the sheet of paper.
Keeping the Peace Page 9
