James laughed. ‘I hope not. Oh, and Lucy says you’re still being sexist.’
‘Tell her to get real,’ Lewis sighed. ‘Even she wouldn’t send a dwarf to audition for the role of a giant.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ he said. ‘Oh, and Matt says we need to be careful we don’t offend the locals. Apparently there’s a kind of film hysteria building up. With the exception of a couple of documentaries, there’s been nothing of this scale in these parts for years. Hence the number of entries for the competition.’
‘Fine. Well, tell him we’ll use everyone else in the background shots. That should keep them happy.’ (Though whether the shots would get past the cutting room floor was another matter entirely. No director or producer in their right minds would film a showground full of blonde-haired young women, all the same sort of age, unless they were doing a re-make of something like the Stepford Wives.)
‘This girl’s really getting to me, James,’ he sighed. ‘I need to find her. She’s even in my dreams. I tell you, I’ll know her as soon as I see her.’
‘If she turns up.’
‘She will,’ he said.
After the way Ursula had reacted when he had mentioned Robert Johnson’s daughter, he was ninety nine percent certain that she was the girl he was looking for. And he had left Ursula in no doubt that he wanted to meet her. If she didn’t pass the message on, then the woman was a fool.
Then again, he thought ruefully, perhaps she was.
Whilst Lewis was making his phone call, Ella was sponging Majesty down. The horse was supremely fit, but he was sweating after their long, fast ride, and she didn’t want him to catch a chill. She sponged around his ears, and under his belly, before fastening a string sweat rug over him and leading him into his stable.
‘You wait there,’ she murmured, patting his neck, ‘while I go and catch Star.’
The piebald gelding was having a lovely time, having been given an unexpected break from his exercise routine. It wasn’t often he got the chance to unwind in a lush and muddy farmer’s field. Consequently, he was making the most of it.
Ella groaned as she saw the caked in mud encrusted over most of his black and white coat. ‘Did you have to roll?’ she said. Clumps of matted soil hung from his forelock and mane, and his face looked as if he was having a mud mask beauty treatment. It would take forever to brush all the tell-tale bits off him.
She fastened a head-collar on him, and led him out of the field. Ursula would be wondering where she was, but she would just have to wonder. These things couldn’t be rushed. Star would have to be spotless, before she could saddle him up for the long ride home.
Majesty whinnied softly when she led the piebald gelding into the stable yard, and Star gave an answering whicker.
‘Don’t know why you’re looking so pleased with yourself,’ she muttered. ‘God, but you’re filthy.’ She tied him to a tethering ring in the wall, before going to search for a body brush.
As she was hunting through the small shed, which served as a tack room on the farm, she heard the sound of a car. It was probably the farmer, she thought, poking her head around the wooden door. But it wasn’t. It was Heather.
‘Hi,’ she said, strolling over to greet her. ‘I didn’t expect to see you today.’
Heather climbed out of the car, and straightened her knee length skirt. ‘I didn’t expect to be here,’ she said. ‘But I had to deliver a document over at Mainwarings, so I thought I’d pop in to see how my beauty is doing.’
‘Majesty?’ Ella said. ‘He’s doing fine – unlike this old nag, here. Talk about taking advantage of the situation.’
‘Hmm. He is a bit muddy, isn’t he?’ Heather looked Star up and down. She didn’t step any closer – perhaps because she was wearing a smart, tailored jacket, and a pale pink blouse, (which weren’t the most practical garments to wear, when dealing with a mud-stained horse). ‘Anyway, I’m glad I caught you,’ she said, leafing through the pockets of her handbag. ‘Ah, here it is.’
Ella tilted her head to one side. ‘What?’
‘The entry form for the show on Saturday,’ she said. ‘I picked it up in the village. I thought I might take Majesty along. What do you think?’
‘Brilliant,’ Ella said trying hard to hide her disappointment. She had hoped to take Majesty to Hollyfield at the weekend. ‘Vanessa and Caroline are going.’
‘So I believe.’ Heather smiled. ‘Who are they riding?’
‘God knows.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me?’ Ella shook her head. ‘I’m not going. I have to work.’
‘You’re kidding?’ Heather said, dismayed. ‘Ella, they’re doing the filming for the latest Simon De Silva movie at the show. They’re specifically looking for show-jumpers to include in the film. You’ve got to be there. I mean, you of all people, just have to be there.’
‘Why?’ she sighed. ‘Because Robert Johnson was my father?’
‘Well, there’s that, of course, but…’
‘Forget it, Heather,’ she said, turning to walk away. ‘I won’t be there. It’s as simple as that.’
The older woman glanced at her watch. She ought to be getting back to work but she could see Ella was upset. Had she touched a sore point? Was there something going on at Hollyfields that she didn’t know about?
She followed her to the yard and stood by Majesty’s stable door, stroking his neck (at least he was clean), as she watched Ella attempt to brush the mud off the piebald gelding. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘It’s not your fault.’ Ella stooped to brush the horse’s belly. Star rubbed the back of her neck with his hairy, mud-encrusted chin. ‘Ursula obviously didn’t want me to go. She’s re-scheduled the timetable so that I’m working that day. I should have realised she was up to something, but it never crossed my mind.’
‘The cow!’
‘Well, you know what she’s like,’ she said. ‘She wants to put Vanessa and Caroline in the limelight, not me.’
‘But it’s so unfair,’ Heather said crossly. ‘Don’t you think it’s unfair?’
‘A bit,’ Ella said. ‘But there’s not a lot I can do about it.’
She laid the brush to one side, and lifted the saddle down from the stable door. Star fidgeted as she tried to tighten his girth. ‘How much did you manage to eat?’ she groaned, poking a finger into his swollen and well-satisfied belly. ‘It’s the starvation paddock for you when I get you back, old man.’
Heather smiled. Ella was such a sweet young girl. She glanced again at her watch. But she couldn’t stay. She really did have to get back to work. A few pressing matters, that had been brought to her attention, needed investigating.
‘Look, I’ll try and catch up with you during the week,’ she said, reaching for her car keys. ‘Perhaps you could give me a ring – say, on Thursday? You can let me know if you think Majesty will be fit enough for the Show.’
‘Oh, he’ll be fit enough.’ She grinned, as she swung herself up into the saddle, and gathered up Star’s reins. ‘The question is, Heather, will you?’
‘Yes, I know – I’m one of those dreaded week-end riders, and no doubt I’ll ache for England the following day, but I aim to give it a go. If only to wipe the satisfied smirk of Ursula’s face when she sees me there.’
‘Go for it,’ Ella said. ‘I wish I could.’
As she rode along the track leading back to Hollyfield Stables, it might have surprised her to know that someone else was also thinking along those lines.
Chapter Thirteen
Ursula spent the best part of the following two days cajoling, pleading and grovelling to Stella Watkins. She could not afford to lose her one and only dressage instructor, particularly since she had heard, on the grapevine, that New Hall Equestrian Centre were looking for a suitably qualified person to take charge of their dressage team.
On the subject of Minstrel, however, she refused to be swayed. Vanessa could, and would, be riding him at the County Show.
‘
But I’ve had a word with Mary Rose,’ she told Stella, (having taken the chance to phone her the moment she had finished discussing the matter with Mary) ‘and she’s quite happy for Laura Middleton to ride Lady Jane. She’s not taking her to the show because she’s abroad next weekend. Paris, I believe.’
Lady Jane was a top class Hanoverian dressage horse, kept at livery at the stables, and ridden only by her owner. It had cost Ursula the promise of free livery for a month, (and much imploring on her part), before Mary could be persuaded to allow Laura to compete on her. (And then, only because she had seen Laura ride for herself, and knew how competent she was).
‘Lady Jane?’ Stella queried. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure,’ Ursula said.
A long pause followed, as Stella considered the matter.
Ursula started to doodle on the notepad beside the phone. Hurry up woman, she thought. I haven’t got all day. The doodle grew into a large, black spiral, which spread down the page and became a vine, with leaves hanging off it.
‘I happen to think that Laura would do better riding Lady Jane than she would on Minstrel,’ she added, ripping the page from the notepad and screwing it into a small ball. ‘You have to admit, that that horse has a natural talent for dressage.’
‘Indeed,’ Stella agreed. ‘She has beautiful paces.’
‘And it would be a shame to miss out on the opportunity to ride her. You know how possessive Mary can be.’
‘Yes, quite.’ Even she had to admit that it was practically unheard of for Mary to allow anyone else on her horse. (Which was probably why she got such good results from her). They had been placed in several recent events, and taken the trophy at the previous year’s County Show.
‘So what do you say?’ Ursula said. ‘Will you reconsider your decision?’
‘Possibly,’ Stella said. ‘I’ll need to think about it.’
Ursula was incensed. What did the woman have to think about? She was being offered a prize-winning horse on a platter. If Laura won the dressage event, a lot of the credit would go to her instructor. Why was she hesitating?
Stella, however, knew when a carrot was being dangled under the end of her nose, and she was quite prepared to let Ursula sweat for a while. She had every intention of returning to her rather comfortable post at the stables. Until this unfortunate business with Minstrel, she had virtually ruled the roost there. None of the other riding instructors were a match for her, and Ursula didn’t have a clue when it came to showing horses. So yes, she would be going back – but only on her terms.
Ursula was starting to panic. She thought Stella would jump at the offer. Now she was beginning to think that New Hall Equestrian Centre had been in touch with her after all. ‘There is the chance,’ she added hastily, ‘that I may be able to arrange a small pay rise for you as well. A token rise, to show how much we appreciate all the hard work you put in.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Johnson.’
Oh, how she hated the subtle sarcasm in her tone. ‘It’s no more than you deserve, Stella,’ she said, through well-gritted teeth. ‘Hollyfield Stables’ excellent reputation for dressage is entirely down to you. I really don’t know what we would do without you.’
Stella could hazard a guess. The term bankruptcy sprang to mind. She smiled serenely, as she cupped the receiver to her ear. ‘Maybe I was a bit hasty,’ she said.
Ursula’s spirits leapt. ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘I should have been more sympathetic to your needs.’
‘It was a dreadful misunderstanding.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘So we’ll say no more about it?’
‘Not a word.’
‘Good,’ Stella said, with a somewhat triumphant pitch to her voice. ‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, as usual.’
Ursula replaced the phone with a scowl. Thank God for that. Stupid, pompous ass of a woman. Well at least that was one problem sorted. Though how in heaven’s name she was going to afford the pay-rise she had hinted at was quite beyond her. The farrier had demanded cash on his last visit, due to a mix up at the bank. Her last cheque had bounced, and he didn’t want a repeat of that episode. Neither did Ursula. It wouldn’t do for rumours like that to leak out into the business community. The fact that she had a slight cash flow problem at the moment was inconvenient, but not insurmountable. She had already taken steps to improve the current situation.
A notice had gone out to all livery owners, informing them of the small rise in rent, which would take place from the following month. The price of both class and private lessons was also going up, and an advertisement had been placed in the local newspaper, offering stabling and schooling facilities at competitive rates.
Ursula flicked through the pages of the evening paper until she found the Classified Ads. Under ‘Horse and Rider’ was the entry that had cost her a small fortune to insert. Still, it looked good. The caption, “Quality livery available for the discerning horse owner,” stood out from the rest of the print, and was followed by a short description of the facilities on offer.
Unfortunately, New Hall Equestrian Centre was also advertising its business, and on the same page.
Damn and blast! Ursula folded up the paper, and pushed it to one side. Perhaps she should think about starting up the stud again. Since they had lost their finest stallion a few years back, she had given up on a breeding programme. It had always seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. The vet’s bills alone were prohibitive. But Thomas was experienced with quality bloodstock. Maybe she should have a few words with him, and see if he was enthusiastic enough to give it another go.
The phone rang as she was contemplating this new train of thought.
‘Good afternoon, Hollyfield Stables, how can I help?’ she said, in her telephone voice, which was uncharacteristically bright and cheerful.
The male voice on the other end, however, was not. ‘Ursula Johnson?’
‘Yes,’ she said warily.
‘Hello, Mrs Johnson. Andrew Jenson, here, from the bank. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for some time.’
‘Really?’ She tried to express surprise.
‘Yes. It’s about your overdraft.’
‘Oh?’ Ursula sucked in a deep breath. ‘Is there a problem with it?’
‘You tell me, Mrs Johnson,’ came the caustic reply.
‘Well, I’m quite happy about it,’ she said brightly. ‘With the new business, and the latest press release – oh, and the filming, of course – you’ve heard about the filming? You can see why I have such high hopes for the future of Hollyfield Stables.’
‘Yes, but sadly, high hopes don’t pay bills, and the bank needs to see some kind of return on its investment.’
‘I appreciate that, but…’
‘Good,’ he said crisply. ‘Because I’m giving you one month, Mrs Johnson.’
A cold sinking feeling settled itself in Ursula’s stomach. ‘One month?’ she echoed.
‘One month. If you don’t start repaying some of the loan, the bank will have to decide whether to foreclose or not.’
‘But the new rent increases don’t take place until next month, and the advertisement has only just gone in the newspaper,’ she groaned. ‘Mr Jenson, I do think you’re being a trifle unreasonable.’
‘Do you,’ he said coldly. ‘Well, isn’t that a shame. One month, Mrs Johnson. Good day.’
Good bloody day, my foot. Ursula slammed the receiver down.
‘Mother?’
‘What?’ she barked, glaring over her shoulder at this unwarranted interruption?
Caroline stood in the doorway, a rather petulant frown on her sulky face. (Unlike Ella, she wasn’t used to being shouted at.) ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she retorted. ‘I can see that you’re busy.’
‘Oh for goodness sake, child. What do you want?’
‘Well, if you must know,’ she said. ‘I was wondering if I could get some new riding gloves before the show on Saturday.’
�
�You want new riding gloves?’ Ursula positively spat out the words at her.
‘Yes.’
‘Mother, I really do need them, and there’s a sale on in that new saddlery shop in town. And Vanessa says…’
‘Just get them.’
Caroline’s face brightened. ‘You mean it?’
‘Yes. Yes. Go and buy them, and while you’re at it, get anything else you think you might need. Because one way or the other, you or your sister have to win on Saturday. I don’t care who does it, but one of you has to be in that film.’
‘It’ll be me,’ Caroline announced triumphantly. ‘I know it will.’
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