Country Rivals

‘Well, yes,’ Sam looked doubtful, ‘but if she can’t have her wedding here, then it’s only fair to give it back, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not her fault the place burned down, is it? Haven’t you got insurance for that type of thing, you know Acts of God, or whatever.’

‘It wasn’t God, it was the act of a drunken toe rag.’ It was rather unfair that this article was all about how evil she was and barely mentioned the inebriated groom, who had nearly toasted his family and friends as well as her own. ‘But I haven’t cancelled her wedding. It’s not until next year and the house should be fine by then, so she can still have it here. That’s why I haven’t given her a deposit back.’ She skimmed over the article again. ‘In fact it’s right at the end of next summer, I remember her now.’ And she did. It had only been yesterday and one of the shortest conversations of the lot. In fact it consisted of ‘I want to cancel and can I have all my money back?’ followed by the dial tone before Lottie had even had time to discuss reduced rates or extra flowers (which was her latest tactic in the effort to stop the rush of cancellations). ‘She says here I’ve ruined her fairy tale, wrecked her dreams, and it has to be perfect or her whole life will be destroyed ‘cos his family will think she’s cheap.’ Lottie pulled at Harry’s ears absentmindedly and he wriggled, trying to lick her hand. ‘And she didn’t say any of that to me.’

‘What about this one, babe? Here’s another one.’ Sam pointed to a paragraph further down the column. ‘I think this is the Downton bit, where she says I just wanted to be like Lady Charlotte.’

‘And I’m not bloody Lady Charlotte,’ sighed Lottie, knowing she was sounding a right grump.

‘Look here, she says I was promised I’d be treated like a lady of the manor on my special day and now they won’t give me my money back or give me my dream wedding, they just think they can do what they want to normal people like us, it’s a disgrace.’

Lottie peered at the photograph, this time the bride-to-be had actually gone to the trouble of putting on a wedding dress. ‘Isn’t it bad luck to let your groom see the dress beforehand?’

‘Probably not hers, hun. I bet the press lent it her.’

‘I remember her.’ Lottie jabbed at the picture. ‘We bloody did offer her some money back. I gave her a cut price and offered them a marquee.’ She hugged Harry to her. ‘The thing is they’re not the only ones. They’re all pulling out. It’s like somebody has told them to. None of them will discuss it. The moment I ask they just slam the phone down.’

‘Like who, babe? Who would tell them to cancel? I mean that Andy that was just here. He’s a bit naughty but he wouldn’t do anything like that, not on purpose.’

‘I don’t think it’s the papers,’ she paused, ‘I keep getting these other phone calls all the time, as well as the cancellation ones.’ In fact the phone rang almost non-stop and Lottie always leapt on it in case it was good news. But it never was. ‘There’s this bloke who says bungee jumping is the answer to all my problems, then there’s the boot-camp lot who want to do squats on the front lawn, and this hyper weirdo who says we need an adventure park, not forgetting the loony who said we need lions because they are so going to be the in-thing next year.’

Sam giggled.

‘Then there’s the luxury hotel chain who want to offer spa breaks.’ Lottie frowned, but Sam clapped her hands.

‘Ooh a spa sounds exciting, that would be amazing.’

‘But I don’t want somebody running a spa here. It’s my home, Sam, but it’s just like there’s a load of vultures circling; you know, waiting for us to cave in and accept an offer. Do you think one of them is behind this?’ She sighed. ‘I can’t really afford to pay back all the deposits for next year. We actually are pretty broke, you know.’

Sam shrugged, but looked far more serious. ‘I don’t know, babe, but it’s quite a lot of work to find out who all these people are, isn’t it? I mean how would anybody do that, get their names and phone numbers and everything?’

‘Oh I don’t know. Am I just imagining it all? And then there’s the insurance people. They keep asking so many questions, it’s as though they don’t believe a word we’ve said.’ She opened the paper out fully. ‘They asked just how hard up we are, and even though I told the last one how well the business had all been going and asked why on earth I’d set fire to my own home, he still gave me a look over the top of his specs and then made a harrumph noise, muttered something like not for me to say and wrote something down.’

‘Isn’t it scandalous or libellous or something, what she’s saying here? About you not being honest about everything?’

The problem was, Lottie thought, she had every intention of being up and running again by next spring, but what if she wasn’t? What if the insurance company still hadn’t paid out and she really did have to start paying the remaining deposits back? Not that there were many, but it would leave their bank balance in rather a dire state. She’d be back to square one, just as she’d been when she agreed to take on the responsibility of the Tipping House Estate and try and save it from rack and ruin.

‘Aww don’t look so sad,’ Sam gave her a hug, ‘it will all work out. Tell you what, I’ll work my charms on Andy and find out who put that girl up to this. I’ll give him some goss.’ She grinned. ‘He’s a real pushover, if you know what I mean. Oh no, look at the time. I’m going to have to go soon. Me and little Roxy are going to the Botox clinic.’

Lottie looked at her horrified. ‘You can’t …’

‘Oh don’t be daft, babe, she’s coming with me not having it done.’ She giggled. ‘You’re a hoot, babe.’

‘Oh shit, I didn’t realise it was that time either. I said I’d go and talk to Gran, and you know she hates me being late. Oh God, I hope she hasn’t seen this.’

‘She probably has, babe. She doesn’t miss much. Amazing isn’t she?’

Amazing was one word, thought Lottie, but there were many others. She did love her gran, but sometimes wished she didn’t interfere quite so much. It just made her feel worse, as though she really was totally incompetent and not up to the job.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then, shall I, hun? I hope Roxy hasn’t tried to plait Scruffy’s tail again or got stuck under the seat. She’s the spitting image of me at her age, you know. My mum says I used to hide all the time and the other day she was stuck under the car seat. Like a cork in a bottle she was, with her bottom in the air.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t leave her on her own?’

‘Aww you’re so sensible, Lottie. I suppose it’s having all these horses and stuff. You know, my Roxy can’t wait to ride her little horse again. She might grow up just like you. You can give her lessons if you like.’

Lottie tried her best to look thrilled at the honour and headed for the front door, half expecting to discover Roxy had somehow managed to drive the car off. She hadn’t.

‘Bless, look how pleased little Scruffy is to see me.’ Sam waved in the direction of her convertible and Lottie was fairly sure that the poor dog was desperately trying to dig his way out of the car, rather than enthusiastically greet his owner.

Chapter 6 (#ulink_75885f2f-79c2-582c-bb38-6fcb6245cb65)

‘Oh good, you’re here.’ Elizabeth checked the clock. ‘And on time. Sit down. Now, I think it is time you met an acquaintance of mine, Charlotte.’

Lottie looked at her grandmother and wondered what she was up to. Elizabeth Stanthorpe liked to meddle. Despite handing over the day-to-day running of the Tipping House Estate to Lottie, she had the distinct feeling that when decisions were made, her gran was often behind them. And now she was pretty sure that the old woman had something up her sleeve. She didn’t indulge in idle chit chat, there was always an agenda. Even Bertie managed to look guilty as he lay at her feet, raising his eyebrows alternately and giving an occasional lazy wag of his tail.

‘Now, don’t look like that. I think this person may be able to help you, dear.’

Lottie raised an eyebrow.

‘You are doing splendidly, but if anything, matters seem to be getting more difficult. This problem isn’t going to be resolved overnight, is it, Charlotte?’

‘No.’ Every last hint of hope had disappeared from the long, drawn-out syllable.

At first Lottie had thought it was a case of putting the flames out, getting the cleaners in and carrying on as normal. Instead, the room had been declared out of bounds (there had even been a strip of red and white tape at one point that made it look like the scene of a murder) and there was a lot of poking about by firemen, none of whom matched her mental image of a muscled-up firefighter stripped to the waist and smeared in soot.

It was a good job, thought Lottie, that she’d not seen the Hunky Heroes calendar in the village shop before the fire, or she’d have been sorely disappointed.

The heroes that had clambered out of the fire engine bore no resemblance to the hose-wielding hunks who were raising money for charity: no nudity (covered by helmets or otherwise), no cheeky grins, no offers of a fireman’s lift. In fact, totally covered up they looked more like her dad than Mr January, February, or March.

The first lot had very efficiently put the blaze out and the second lot had poked around, grimaced, and written notes.

She would never look at a firework or bonfire in the same way again.

‘Are you listening, Charlotte? I do sometimes wonder how you get anything done with your head in the clouds.’ Elizabeth tapped her stick impatiently against the table leg.

‘It’s not in the clouds.’ Lottie, brought back to the present abruptly, decided to change the subject. ‘Why did you really buy Alice a pony?’

‘The girl needs to get in the saddle – nothing wrong with a bit of responsibility.’

‘It’s cold, wouldn’t it have been better to wait until the weather warmed up?’

‘No point in putting things off, and ponies are too easily ignored when they’re turned out to grass.’

Lottie sighed and wondered if it was too early to crack open a bottle of wine. ‘She’s only three years old, Gran.’ Although she was three going on thirty, but that was irrelevant.

‘Nearly four, by my reckoning, so she’s got long enough legs. And you can stop raising your eyebrows, young lady, she’s tall enough to sit astride. No good these little podgy toddlers, roll straight off a pony.’

‘Did you ask Amanda first?’

‘I think it’s time for a G&T, don’t you? Then I can tell you all about this nice young man I’ve invited for you to meet. Ah,’ she paused, ‘that must be him now, his name is James and I want you to be nice to him. I told him to come straight up. I do like punctuality.’ She gave Lottie, who usually raced in at the very last minute, a pointed look.