Keeping the Peace (29 page)

‘You’re not sorry that I’ve broken up with Ollie, are you?’

Tash looked offended before her expression became a bit sheepish.

‘Am I sorry that you’re no longer seeing that knob? I’ll be honest with you, Pip. No, I’m rejoicing he’s now out of your life. On the other hand, I’m very sorry he upset you. Even if I didn’t exactly love him to bits, I know you did.’

Pippa nodded, satisfied.

‘Like I said to Jack, it’s quite a relief that it’s over. What Ollie has ensured is that I’m in no hurry to get into another relationship.’

‘So this Finn character is chasing down a dead end?’

‘I don’t know that that is what he’s after. He’s just very good company. And I
do
like him, don’t get me wrong. But Ollie’s put me off boyfriends for a while.’

‘What you need is to have a bit of fun. To get out there, have a couple of one-night-stands, get Ollie out of your system for good.’

‘Doesn’t sound a bad idea,’ Pippa conceded.

‘Good, we can start tonight. I’ve come all this way over here to act as slave labour, I expect a bit in return. So I insist you take me out and show me the bright lights of the country.’

‘They’re not that bright, believe me,’ she warned. ‘But The Plough is usually buzzing on a Saturday night. We can go there, maybe go out for dinner beforehand.’ She sat up to face Tash and held up her depleted wine glass. ‘Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll treat you to an Indian for dinner if you help me get the carpet up in the lounge
and
the stairs.’

‘You’re on,’ Tash replied, tapping her glass against Pippa’s. ‘Let’s finish the bottle first. It tastes so much better chilled.’

Pippa was just blotting her lips on a piece of tissue paper when she heard the toot of a horn outside.

‘Pip!’ Tash yelled from downstairs. ‘The taxi’s here!’

With a last glance in the mirror to make sure she’d mascara-ed both blue eyes and rouged both cheeks (learnt from experience when getting ready with a bottle of wine), she skipped out of the bathroom and clattered down the now stripped and dirty stairs in her high-heeled boots. She had forgotten how noisy bare wooden floors could be. She’d nearly reached the bottom, her hand skimming the oak balustrade when a crack and a dry splintering of wood interrupted her descent. With a cry she grabbed wildly at the bars as her footing vanished. Her elbow smashing into the lip of a higher stair, making her eyes water.

‘You lightweight, Pippa,’ Tash said, appearing over her crumpled position. ‘We’ve only had a couple of bottles and you’re already falling over.’

Pippa rubbed her elbow and sat up with a groan, trying the disengage her boot from the gaping hole where a stair had once been.

‘Oh, fuck, look what I’ve done,’ she moaned, her pain forgotten as she examined the broken step.

Tash leaned forward for a closer inspection.

‘Jesus, you just broke an oak floorboard. What did you do? Jump from the top of the stairs?’

‘No,’ Pippa giggled, her anguish softened by rosé. She ran her fingers along the splintered hole, brushing bristles of old blackened wood from the main. ‘I might have been a bit heavy-footed, but not enough to
break
this, surely.’

‘Well, that wood does look a little rotten. How old did you say this place was?’

‘A couple of centuries, I imagine.’

A more impatient toot from the taxi outside caught their attention.

‘Come on, we can worry about this later,’ Tash said. ‘Can you walk or do I have to carry you to the car?’

The taxi deposited them outside Moulin Raj, Helensvale’s local Indian restaurant and Pippa led the way up the few steps to the entrance. Inside, with the heating on tropical, the restaurant manager still wore a scarf and gloves. He nodded when they requested a table for two, the soft lighting bouncing off his neatly combed black hair.

‘Please take a seat. I will see what we have available, please.’

Pippa and Tash made themselves comfortable on the sofa in the entrance room whilst their host disappeared through a beaded curtain beneath an archway into the main dining area. Tapping her boot idly against the carved chest-like table in front of them, Pippa glanced around the room, her gaze alighting on the diners she could see through the flimsy beads. With a gasp, she looked round for somewhere to hide, settling for a poster-like menu on the table.

‘What the fuck?’ Tash looked at her as if she was mad.

‘Ssh,’ Pippa hissed. She peeped around the dog-eared corner of the menu held up to her and Tash’s faces, to certify what she had glimpsed. ‘It’s Finn.’

‘Ooh, your admirer. Put this thing down before you take my eye out, sweets, and let me see. Why don’t you want him to see you?’

‘Because he’s with someone else,’ she replied in a grating whisper.

Emboldened by Tash, who was craning her neck to get a better view, she lowered the menu so she could see over the top. Finn, dressed in casual jeans and collared shirt was leaning his arms on an intimately-small table, nodding as his companion spoke. Pippa couldn’t hear what she was saying, not was she that interested. All she could do was stare at the girl’s almost angelic beauty. Honey blonde hair which glowed beneath the restaurant lights, framed a slim heart-shaped face, milky white and pure in complexion. Matched with Finn’s attractive bone structure, they were a perfect pair.

Pippa felt a pang in her gut.

‘Oh, I say,’ Tash drawled. ‘They do raise rather dishy stock out here in the country.’

‘He’s Irish.’

‘That’s mostly countryside, isn’t it? Who’s that with him?’

‘Dunno. I’ve never seen her before. She must be the girl Emmie saw him out with a while back. She’s not from around here.’

‘I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before. Hang on.’ Tash looked puzzled. ‘I thought he was chasing after you.’

Pippa shrugged.

‘Well, he’s always been very
affectionate
towards me. I’d stand no chance next to her though.’

The pair ventured a bolder look over the menu at the dining couple before their focus was cut off by the restaurant manager’s frame.

‘There is a table available if you would like to follow with me, please,’ he beamed at Pippa and Tash.

‘No, no, no,’ Pippa shook her head. ‘We can’t eat here anymore.’

Tash looked pained.

‘Oh, come on. What harm will it do? They might not even notice us.’

‘I’ll notice
them
though,’ Pippa insisted. ‘I’ll buy you some dry-roasted peanuts at The Plough.’ She turned to the confused-looking manager. ‘I’m sorry, there’s someone in there I’d rather not see – oh, shit!’ She ducked. ‘He just looked this way.’

Grabbing Tash by the arm, she dropped to the floor and crawled towards the exit, shielded by the carved table then made a dash for the door.

Once outside, Tash leaned against the metal railing alongside the steps and clutched her sides, heaving with laughter.

‘What are you like, girl?’ she said, ‘Do you think they’ll ever let you back in there?’

Pippa conceded to see the funny side and half-supporting, half-being supported, she held onto her friend’s shoulder, wracked with giggles. The pavement swam in front of her feet and a vague voice in her head told her she should really get some food inside her before she drank any more.

They weaved a path down the High Street, arm in arm, towards The Plough.

‘That’s the café across the street there,’ Pippa pointed out, her finger bobbing like a buoy on stormy waves. ‘That’s where we got the cups to replace the ones Peace Offering broke.’

‘Pip, I know you love your horse, but I shouldn’t need to tell you, a bucket will do just fine for him. He doesn’t need to drink from cups.’

Pippa doubled over. Tash pointed further up the street.

‘Oh, look. Your local fire crew are out on display.’

The garage doors were open, beaming light onto the pavement and a fire engine stood docile in the entrance while its crew, their overalls lowered to their waists to reveal fit torsos in slick t-shirts, sprayed and polished its flanks.

‘Come on, lads! Show us your hose!’ Tash bellowed.

Pippa dragged her friend through the front door of The Plough.

They shed their coats as they were enveloped in the thick warm air and hung them on a floundering coat stand by the door. They shouldered their way to the bar, deciding to order a bottle of wine rather than have to keep ordering it by the glass and stocked up on peanuts and crisps. Using Tash’s shoulder for support, Pippa climbed onto the footrest of the bar to look around the pub. The whole room was jammed with people, even the pool table was being encroached upon. At the other end was the lounge area and with a triumphant smile, she spotted the familiar faces of Emmie and Billy sitting beside the cast iron fireplace.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Come meet some friends.’

With introductions complete, they settled down, Pippa perched precariously on the arm of Tash’s chair and shared the snacks with the Aspen Valley grooms.

‘We were going to eat at Moulin Raj, but Finn was there with his mystery woman,’ Pippa explained the heap of food. ‘We didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘She’s back, is she?’ Emmie said. ‘Finn won’t tell us who she is. Says she’s just a friend.’

Billy snorted.

‘With legs like that and a face like an angel, no guy would want to be
just friends
with her,’ he said, then catching Emmie’s disapproving eye continued swiftly, ‘is how some men would see it. Personally, she’s too skinny for my tastes.’

He busied himself with picking up the fire poker to rejuvenate the smouldering logs in the grate, but dropped it with a hiss and plunged his burning fingers into his beer.

‘Maybe she’s an owner or something,’ Pippa suggested. ‘I saw him out with Melissa a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Is this the Melissa Jack’s dating?’ Tash asked.

‘Yeah, but her father also owns half the horses at Aspen Valley –’

‘Including Virtuoso,’ Billy added with extra emphasis.

‘Honey, I’m sure that would impress anyone who knows anything about racing, but I work at a London advertising agency,’ Tash replied. ‘What’s so great about him?’

Billy looked taken aback.

‘He won last year’s Cheltenham Gold Cup
and
the King George! He’s evens favourite to do the same thing this year as well.’

‘Sounds impressive. And what does this Melissa character do when she’s not accepting gold cups and deceased kings?’

‘She has some fashion label or other,’ Pippa said. ‘But my point is Finn said he’d met up with her to discuss her father’s horses with him since he’s riding them all now. Maybe this girl is also –’

‘I’ve got it!’ Tash said, sitting up and nearly dislodging Pippa from her perch. ‘I knew I recognised her from somewhere. She’s Cara Connolly, an Irish model. She’s the new face of Skylark!’ She stared at the three blank faces before her. ‘Come on, Pip, you know who Skylark are. They’re an accessories chain doing handbags and jewellery and stuff. No? God, a few months in the country and I’ve lost you already. Anyway, Cara Connolly is their latest discovery. We’ve been doing an advertising campaign for them and she’s all over it.’

Pippa let this information sink in, feeling a tiny twinge of regret knowing that this girl wasn’t just a pretty face, she was obviously successful too. Looking at it from that angle, Finn’s attentions were sure to be further diverted away from herself.

‘Did I say something wrong?’ Tash asked when her only response was silence.

‘Oh, no,’ Emmie reassured her. ‘It’s just not Finn’s style, that’s all. He’s usually happy to hang out with us at the pub. If he’s dating celebrities… well, he probably won’t want to do that anymore.’

Pippa munched on some peanuts and washed them down with the last of her wine. She leaned over to retrieve the bottle, steadied by Tash, and refreshed their glasses.

‘Maybe they’re better suited than we think,’ she said, masking her disappointment with a smile. ‘At least they can watch their weight together.’ She took another gulp of her drink and beamed at the other members of the party.

Emmie looked troubled, Tash looked bemused and Billy plain confused.

‘Strange that,’ he piped up. ‘You say she works for a handbag shop called Skylark? That’s the name of Virtuoso’s biggest rival in the Gold Cup.’

P
ippa had little time to ponder over Finn’s escapades over the next few days as the trail leading up to Cheltenham Festival began to hot up. The following Thursday, she’d only just managed to get the entries and declarations done by the deadline in between telephone calls from press and jockeys’ agents. She was just about to take a break for lunch when another call came through.

‘My name’s Seth Rutherford. Could I speak to Jack Carmichael, please?’ a pleasant cultured voice spoke.

‘I’m afraid he’s not in the office at the moment, Mr Rutherford. Is there anything I can help you with?’

‘If you have a persuasive nature, perhaps you can. I’m raising funds for some charities by enlisting the help of some of the more celebrated faces of racing in the run up to Cheltenham and was hoping Mr Carmichael would be one of them.’

‘I’m sure Jack’d be happy to help providing it doesn’t clash too much with his schedule,’ Pippa replied confidently, knowing Jack already did a fair amount for charity. ‘What does he have to do?’

‘Well, with the past success of the charity single
Cheltenham
based on Petula Clark’s
Downtown
, we’ve decided to do the same thing, but this time using The Beatles’
Ticket to Ride
, with a few lyrics tweaked here and there, obviously, to make it Cheltenham-themed. We have a number of high profiles already lining up to help. Do you think Mr Carmichael would be keen to do the same?’

Pippa paused.

‘Um, well,’ she began, ‘personally, I think it’s a marvellous idea. I’m sure Jack will do too. I’m just not sure if he’d be so keen on the singing bit.’

‘It’d only be the chorus and the odd line here and there. We’re literally going to record it in one evening and with twenty or thirty other participants, so it’ll be minimal fuss and he wouldn’t exactly be standing out from the crowd,’ Seth Rutherford was quick to reassure her.