Keeping the Peace (17 page)

‘How much work does it need?’

‘The lounge only needs to be painted now, and I think I’ve done an all right job retiling the downstairs loo. The kitchen is having new worktops installed next week, then there’s the two bedrooms and bathroom upstairs to sort out. Oh, and I haven’t even touched the garden yet.’

‘How long is all that going to take?’ Ollie groaned.

‘I’m going to try have it all ready by the end of the jump racing season. That way, I won’t be leaving Jack in the lurch.’

‘And when’s that?’

‘After the National. Sometime in April I think.’

Ollie groaned again and Pippa stifled a sigh. Ollie’s scarce DIY skills weren’t going to be forthcoming.

‘But just think,’ she carried on brightly. ‘Once the cottage is sold, I can move back to London and maybe together, we can get a bigger flat. Somewhere I can have an art studio.’

Ollie’s eyes brightened and he raised himself up again to look at Pippa.

‘If we got a bigger place, we could have drinks parties too. I went to Rich Holden’s place a couple of weeks ago for a party –’

‘Your acting friend?’

‘Yeah.’ Ollie looked a little smug. ‘My
friend
. His place is massive. He had twin three-seater sofas in his sitting room plus extra chairs and tables. And a huge garden by London standards.’ A frown passed over his forehead. ‘We would have to look at places in decent areas.’

‘Well, of course,’ Pippa agreed.

‘No. I mean
decent
areas. Rich had his neighbours round for the party – which was just as well because it went on until about four in the morning. But they were the sort of neighbours whom you could invite to that sort of party, if you know what I mean.’

‘Um…’

‘We can’t get a place in some backstreet if we’re going to have parties like Rich does.’

Pippa stayed silent, thinking of what it would be like if she had a party at Hazyvale House. It would be fun. She could just imagine the driveway crowded with cars, guests in the lounge and kitchen, spilling out into the back garden. In her mind’s eye, she could see Finn and Jack – minus Melissa – Emmie, Billy, Tash, maybe Randy from the café serving drinks… Disturbingly, when she tried to picture Ollie there, it wouldn’t stick.

She became aware of the lazy circles her fingers were unknowingly still drawing on Ollie’s body when he shivered. He shifted his body and his eyes sparked hungrily. She stroked her fingers down his waist and over his hips, brushing against the hard heat of his erection and feeling a confidence boost that she could still arouse Ollie, even when they seemed to be drifting apart.

Ollie removed the duvet which had been modestly covering her naked body and began his own explorations. He leaned over to kiss her, brushing a lock of her hair away from her face.

Pippa closed her eyes, arousal heightened by its lengthy absence.

‘Do you want me?’ Ollie murmured.

‘Oh, yes,’ Pippa said, writhing beneath his touch. She felt his weight upon her, his breath short and rasping in her ear as he nibbled her earlobe. Pippa’s pelvic muscles spasmed as she felt his cock rub against the tender skin on the inside of her thigh. She rose up to meet him, a gasp escaping as he entered her, a familiar body made unfamiliar by absence. One thing that she would always compliment Ollie on was that he was great in bed. His rhythmic thrusts grew faster and more urgent and he muttered in her ear.

‘Hmm?’ she said, lost in a swirling pool of bliss.

‘I said
call me doctor
.’

Pippa’s eyes opened and briefly she lost her rhythm. Ollie, supported on his arms, was staring, his eyes glazed over, his mouth open to reveal clenched teeth. Was he having a heart attack? Why did she need to call his doctor?

‘What?’

‘Call me Doctor Fletcher,’ he snarled.

‘Doctor Fletcher?’ Pippa echoed.

Immediately Ollie’s lovemaking became more frantic.

‘Yes! That’s my name.’

Pippa couldn’t help herself. She roared with laughter. Her eyes, which had been watering with arousal seconds earlier, now streamed with amusement.

Ollie rolled off with a huff, his proud penis now shrinking into a sulk.

Pippa reached out to him, trying to contain the giggles still bubbling out of her like champagne.

‘I’m sorry, Ollie,’ she chuckled. ‘I am, really. We’ve just never played that game before. I mean, I’ve heard of Nurse-Patient, but not Doctor –’

Ollie shook her placating hand off his shoulder and sat on the side of the bed, his back to her. His neck was red, either with rage or embarrassment.

Pippa kneeled behind him and wrapped her arms over his shoulders.

He tried to shrug her off.

‘Come on, Ollie. I’m sorry. I should be grateful you didn’t want to play this game when you did that cameo of the vet on
EastEnders
. What role would you like me to play: nurse or patient?’

‘Just forget it,’ he muttered and got up to stride over to the bathroom.

Pippa’s feelings of remorse and pity were once again replaced with amusement and she fell back onto the bed, smothering her giggles into the pillow.

W
ith the first week of December came the first snowfall of the season. The flakes began their silent descent as Pippa drove home from work on Thursday evening and she found Hazyvale House’s swayback sprinkled with a light dusting when she pulled up in the rutted driveway. By the next morning a crusty carpet of untainted white blanketed the front garden, covering the messy tangle of flowerbeds and softening the general dishevelled image it hadn’t yet managed to shake.

To be fair, Pippa thought as she wrenched open her car door and ripped the rubber lining from the frozen frame, she hadn’t paid that much attention to the garden yet. That was something she was gearing up to tackle when the days were longer and less hypothermic.

She dragged her thoughts away from the cottage renovations as she made her slow journey to the stables, her first experience driving in snow. Whether the gritters had been caught napping or whether this particular part of the southwest didn’t register as worthy on their routes, the narrow roads had been left unprepared.

Pippa chewed her lip and gripped the icy steering wheel as she manoeuvred the Beetle through the slushy ruts left by previous vehicles. When she pulled up outside the stables, she flexed her stiff fingers then blotted her damp palms on her trousers.

Snow was very pretty until you drove in it.

Aspen Valley’s horse lorry was parked, ready to depart for the day’s racing and she pitied whoever was responsible for driving its great bulk across country in these conditions.

When Jack arrived shortly after her, he looked like he was returning from a trip to the Arctic. His nose was cherry red and fat melting flakes clung to his jacket as he bustled into the office. A few minutes later, he handed her the list of entries and declarations.

‘Could be a waste of time,’ he grumbled. ‘An inch of snow and everything grinds to a bloody halt. Wincanton have cancelled this afternoon’s meeting because the track is frozen. Why couldn’t they have put the covers on?’

Pippa had a sudden mental image of young Wimbledon ball boys running around the racecourse hauling tarpaulins after them, but swallowed the smile this brought to her face. Jack wouldn’t see the funny side of it.

‘Don’t know, Jack,’ she replied. ‘Maybe they were given the wrong forecast.’

‘And it’s Cheltenham Festival Trials weekend! I’ve got both Dexter
and
Dust Storm running in the novice hurdle.’

‘Maybe the ball boys will have a chance tomorrow then,’ she murmured, concentrating on entering the runners in their designated races.

‘
What
?’

Pippa stopped typing to look at Jack then realised what she’d just said.

‘I mean the people who put the covers on the course. You know, like at Wimbledon. Maybe they’ve had enough warning to get them on.’

Jack shook his head.

‘Pippa, sometimes I think you’re in a different solar system, never mind a different planet to the rest of us.’

Poised over her keyboard, Pippa beamed at Jack heading back into his office, feeling strangely proud of her eccentricity.

With racing still hanging in the balance, Pippa wasn’t surprised when, just before lunch, the office door was opened, admitting a blast of glacial air. But instead of a grumpy-looking Jack muttering about a wasted journey, she was greeted by a tall, mouth-wateringly sexy man followed by a young woman not much older than herself. Pippa’s jaw fell slack when the man smiled at her. The crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes deepened beneath a natural tan which was criminal to have in the middle of an English winter.

‘Can I help you?’ Pippa uttered at last, really meaning it.

‘Good morning,
ma’amoiselle
. Is Jack here?’ he asked, his French accent as soothing as a feline purr.

Pippa shook her head.

‘No, I’m afraid not.’ A nasty thought occurred to her. Her eyes flickered from the Frenchman to the office diary lying on the desk. ‘Er, was he expecting you?’

‘No. We stopped by on the off-chance.’

The woman, her long brown hair secured in a plait, smiled at Pippa.

‘I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ginny Kennedy. My partner, Julien. Our horse, Caspian, is being stabled here for the winter.’

A light bulb pinged in Pippa’s brain and she beamed at the two visitors. She might not know all of the horses at Aspen Valley yet, but Caspian stood out for a particular reason: he wasn’t a jumper.

‘Of course!’ she said. ‘I’m Pippa. I haven’t been working here all that long. When Caspian arrived, you more than likely met Gemma, Jack’s last secretary. He’ll be disappointed to have missed you.’

‘Likewise,’ Ginny sighed, her tone receiving a quick frown from Julien.

‘I’ll just check where he’s being stabled, and have someone take you to him,’ Pippa said, clicking open a document on her computer of all Aspen Valley’s residents.

As she waited for the page to load, she noticed Ginny hardly able to contain her excitement. ‘Caspian’s a bit of a celebrity around here,’ she said. ‘Everyone wants to look after him.’

‘We miss him at home,’ Ginny replied. ‘But hopefully a good rest over winter means he’ll come back next season bigger and stronger.’

‘Here we go. Caspian’s in Box 104. I’ll just call someone to take you there.’

‘Do you know where it is? Have you met Caspian?’ Ginny asked.

Pippa paused as she rose to her feet. Would they take offence if she admitted that she hadn’t been that bothered to meet what was obviously their favourite horse?

‘Um, not officially, I haven’t.’

‘Would you like to? He’s such a love. Isn’t he, Julien?’

‘More so since he won the Dewhurst,’ he teased.

‘Rubbish. Would you like to come along? He’s favourite for next year’s Derby, you know. If he wins, you could say you met the Derby winner.’

Far from sounding boastful, Ginny’s voice softened with wistfulness as she imagined winning flat racing’s most coveted prize. Pippa recognised what she felt about Peace Offering’s bid for the National in her misty eyes, albeit Caspian was more like a handful of aces to her own Joker card.

‘I’d love to,’ she said. ‘Follow me.’

The sound of Ginny’s voice softly calling his name brought Caspian whickering to the door.

‘He certainly knows who his owner is,’ Pippa said with a smile.

The dark bay colt blew gustily over Ginny as she rubbed the small star between his eyes.

‘Well, strictly speaking, my father is his owner,’ Ginny said. ‘But I’m his trainer.’

Pippa was taken aback for a moment.

‘You’re a trainer?’ she said. ‘Wow.’

Ginny grinned.

‘You sound amazed.’

‘I don’t mean to. It’s just that – I didn’t think –’ she stammered. ‘Sorry, I’m pretty new to this game. Jack’s the only trainer I know. I guess I just presumed all trainers were like him.’

Ginny and Julien laughed.

‘No. We come in all shapes and sizes,’ Julien said.

‘You as well?’

Ginny chuckled at Pippa’s astonished expression.

‘Julien was my hottest rival last season.’

I wouldn’t argue with that, thought Pippa.

‘And this fella here,’ Ginny went on, scratching her horse under his chin, ‘was my deadliest weapon.’ Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. ‘Jack’s at the top of his game. If you don’t mind me asking, if you’re new to this, how did you get the job as his racing secretary?’

Pippa batted her hand.

‘Long story. The short version is that he trains a horse that I own.’

‘How lovely. Have we heard of him?’

Pippa pulled a doubtful face.

‘Probably not. Does Peace Offering ring a bell?’

Ginny shook her head and Pippa nodded.

‘No, I thought not. He’s not exactly the Kauto Star of the yard, as someone once said, but...’

‘But?’ Julien prompted.

Pippa felt embarrassed all of a sudden, telling two virtual strangers who must be experts in their profession, her naive hopes for her horse.

‘I want to run him in the Grand National,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Jack isn’t quite so optimistic. He’s probably right. It is a bit pie in the sky.’

Ginny and Julien exchanged a small smile.

‘Don’t let that stop you,’ she said to Pippa. She turned back to Caspian to fuss him some more before continuing. ‘On paper Caspian didn’t stand a chance in the Dewhurst Stakes. He was one of the outsiders in the race. But he made all the sceptics eat their words when he won.’ She gave Pippa a warm smile. ‘If you have a dream, don’t let anybody talk you out of it.
Anything
can happen in racing.’

Looking at Ginny, Pippa saw the young trainer believed every word she spoke. And she
was
a trainer. She must know what she was talking about. A tiny ball of anticipation flickered inside her. What was it? Hope? Belief? She had an overwhelming urge to hug Ginny. Wrapping her coat more tightly around her, she restrained herself.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll remember that.’