Country Rivals

by Zara Stoneley

  ‘I am.’ And he was. Handling this lot would be a piece of cake compared to keeping his wife under control.

  Chapter 11

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want you to make money, love, but there are limits.’ Billy Brinkley lifted his pint and took a gulp before peering over the top of it at his daughter and her husband.

  Billy was known throughout Tippermere, and considerably beyond, thanks to the TV coverage he had garnered over the years for his exploits in and out of the saddle – for his direct manner. He was blunt to the point of rudeness as far as some were concerned, which was why some of the villagers thought he was the best person to pass on their concerns to Lottie.

  ‘I’m not going to beat about the bush. Some twat parked a bloody big truck across our driveway in the middle of the night, love, and I had a right performance getting the horses past it this morning. It didn’t help when some stupid idiot jumped out of the hedge with a camera either. Bloody stallion nearly landed on top of the Very Reverend Waterson, who was sneaking past on his bicycle. Why the hell can’t the man get a car like everybody else?’

  ‘Sneaking?’

  ‘Well he used to ring his bell as he went past, until one of the dogs took a fancy to his bicycle clips, think the sun was glinting off them, went arse over tit into the ditch a couple of times, he did, and that soon put a stop to his bloody tinkling.’ Billy grinned. ‘Had his frock on the second time, was on duty.’

  ‘And it isn’t just that, Charlotte.’ Dominic, Lottie’s uncle, sat down next to Billy and looked across the table sternly. He shared a driveway with Billy – his leading up to Folly Lake Manor, which lay just beyond Folly Lake Equestrian Centre, home to the Brinkleys. ‘Have you seen the state of the lanes? They’re churning up the verges and spreading mud on the roads, not to mention the amount of rubbish they’re leaving.’

  ‘But,’ she looked from one man to the other, unsure which was easiest to mollify, ‘it isn’t the film crew that’s doing that, is it? It’s reporters and people who want to watch.’

  ‘That is immaterial.’ Dom tapped his glass. ‘If they weren’t here we wouldn’t have half the county climbing the trees trying to catch a glimpse of them. Is it really worth the upheaval, Charlotte? They’ve only been here a short time, so things are bound to get worse not better. Heaven only know what Mother thinks.’

  ‘Well, actually, it was Gran who suggested it to me.’

  Billy chuckled. ‘Wonder what the crafty old bird is up to this time?’ He had a grudging respect for Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe. He was well aware of the fact that she would have rather her daughter, Alexa, had married somebody more suitable than him, but after Alexa’s death she had done her best to support Billy and Lottie. At first the two adults had nearly come to blows, but once they had realised that they both had Lottie’s best interests at heart they had decided to work together. True, at times it had been a difficult relationship, but just as Billy admired Elizabeth, so she too respected him.

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘Aww come on, love.’ He ploughed on despite Lottie’s outburst and Dom’s raised eyebrow. ‘We all know she’s always plotting something. You mark my words, if she suggested this shower invade the bloody estate then there’s a reason behind it.’ He tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘True.’ Dom nodded in acknowledgement. ‘But you are still responsible for this, Charlotte. How much is it going to cost to repair the hedges and fences? And it isn’t just the expense, it’s about goodwill. The estate has always respected the wishes of the rest of the village. Poor Mrs Jones looked out of her window yesterday straight into a telephoto lens, and,’ he frowned sternly, ‘my groom was deposited onto the road yesterday when some fool jumped out of the hedgerow, shoved a notebook under the mare’s nose and asked if she was a famous rider or celebrity. I cannot afford to have staff injured. Amanda is feeling unwell, Alice is neglected, and I have a string of horses to exercise. Speaking of which,’ he glanced at his watch, at the end of what was really quite a long speech for him, ‘I really do need to get back and check that Amanda isn’t doing too much. Pregnancy really doesn’t suit her at all. But,’ he stood up and looked down his long, aristocratic nose at his niece, ‘you have to remember that you have a duty to the village as well as this estate.’

  ‘I know that, Uncle Dom.’ Lottie frowned, wishing she could be more like her uncle, who rarely, if ever, made a mess of anything. He must really think she was making a pig’s ear of it if she deserved a lecture of that length. He was so much better at this duty thing than she was.

  ‘I am trying, but we really do need the money and Gran is sure it will pay off in the end and make the wedding business even more profitable.’

  ‘She is, is she?’

  ‘And it isn’t for long. I mean, I don’t feel we’ve got any other option, to be honest. Unless you’ve got any ideas?’

  Dom shook his head in exasperation. ‘I’ll leave it with you. It is your call at the end of the day, but your gran is an old lady, Charlotte. You are the one who has to make the decisions now. We don’t want to cause upset, do we? Amanda was quite shocked when she caught somebody trying to climb onto our roof to get a better view.’

  ‘Oh God, you’re kidding me?’ But Dominic seldom joked. ‘I’ll try, I’ll talk to Seb, and maybe Xander can help too. I just never expected all this fuss.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do your best. Right I’m off.’

  ‘Give my love to Amanda, won’t you? Is she okay? I did mean to pop over and see her, but there’s been so much going on in the last few days.’

  ‘I’m sure she will be fine. It’s no worse than last time, but I honestly think two children will be our limit, I’m not sure we can go through this again.’

  Lottie smiled at Dom’s weary expression. She had never seen him as the paternal, or even demonstrative, type until he’d met Amanda and she’d given birth to beautiful little Alice. He worshipped the ground they walked on. He also liked to be in control, to know where he stood, with as little fuss and chaos as possible. Dominic Stanthorpe most definitely didn’t like change and disruption.

  Amanda’s illness at the start of her pregnancy, coupled with an influx of visitors to the village and a film crew invading the estate, just had to be his worst nightmare. He was probably more worried about the effect on his wife than himself, and he had always been more than encouraging when Lottie came up with her ‘save the estate’ schemes, so she knew that she shouldn’t take his words too much to heart.

  ‘You know we can look after Alice any time, if it helps.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ He smiled, and the tired look dissipated. ‘She loves spending time with her naughty Uncle Rory – heaven only knows why.’

  In Dom’s view, Rory took life far too lightly – both with his horses and in general terms – but once his own strict regime had been abandoned to family life he’d started to appreciate the other man’s stance to a certain degree. ‘I dread to think what type of hooligans your kids will be. Goodnight all.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he wasn’t even at the door before Billy spoke up again, ‘you should just let the buggers in.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Lottie, who had dreaded the ‘your kids’ conversation, which she was sure her dad or husband would pick up on, was totally confused by the comment.

  ‘Let the idiots in, you know onto the estate and charge them for the privilege of watching. It’ll stop them littering up the lanes and climbing over the walls.’

  ‘But Dad, Seb said he needed peace and quiet to shoot.’

  ‘Nothing in the contract to stop you, is there? You can stick up an electric fence to stop them getting too close to the action. In fact, if I was you I’d pen them in and hitch it up to the mains. Five quid a head and you’ll be laughing, love. Keep the village happy and make some more dosh.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea, actually, Billy.’ Rory, who had been listening with mild disinterest, suddenly perked up. ‘I’m not sure about the legalities of the electric fence, but why can’t we charge
them?’

  ‘As long as you stick a high-voltage sign up nobody can sue, can they?’ Billy chortled.

  Lottie had a sudden vision of her father rounding up all the fans and journalists and corralling them like sheep, then chasing them all off the estate at the end of the day on horseback. Well, those that hadn’t already been electrocuted. ‘Well, I’m really not sure …’

  ‘If you ask me, if you’re not going to do that, love, you’ll have to do what Lizzie would do and get the shotguns out.’ One of the things Billy did appreciate about Lady Elizabeth was her direct approach; he thoroughly approved of that.

  Lottie sighed, thinking that this was getting out of hand, as a lot of discussions that took place in the pub tended to. ‘They, er, asked if you’d be an extra actually, Dad. So I suppose that’s a no?’

  ‘An extra bloody what?’

  ‘You know, be in it. I think they just want you to ride past.’

  ‘Ride past?’

  She tried to dismiss the thought of him galloping past, Western-style, with a lasso, after an escaped newspaper man. ‘Well pop over some jumps in the background, not many of the extras can do that without falling off. The ones I’ve seen all seem a bit hopeless, actually.’

  ‘So, I’d be getting paid for wasting my time cavorting for the cameras?’ Billy was as canny as they came and as careful with his money as a farmer. ‘You don’t get owt for nowt’ was a saying Lottie grew up with, even though Billy hadn’t been back to Yorkshire since he was a child.

  ‘Well,’ Lottie looked at him doubtfully, ‘I hadn’t thought about being paid, to be honest, I just thought it was nice to be asked.’

  ‘Nice to be asked? You’re doing them a bloody favour, love, I sometimes wonder about you, girl.’ He shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. ‘Another one, Rory? Lottie? Nice to be asked, my arse.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll cough up, Billy. We got them to pay extra for stabling their horses on the yard. Mine’s a pint, please.’ Rory finished his own drink and pushed his empty glass across the table. ‘Didn’t they say they wanted him to yell at somebody to get out of the way, Lottie?’

  ‘Well, yes, something like that,’ said Lottie, worried about exactly what her father might shout.

  Rory chuckled. ‘So it’s more of a cameo than an acting role, then. Just be yourself, Bill.’

  ‘Guess that’ll cost them extra then, eh?’ Billy winked and waved the empty glasses at the barman. Despite being more than a little annoyed at finding the lanes blocked with reporters’ cars and bystanders who were trying to get a glimpse of the stars, he could more than hold his own. And the thought of making some money out of it all had cheered him up no end. ‘Joking aside though, love, you know I’m not one to make a fuss about nothing, but I do have to say, old Dom has a point. There’s one or two in the village that are a bit worried this thing is going to take over.’

  ‘Push up a bit Billy, love.’ Tiggy, Billy’s eccentric but very loveable wife, squeezed her way onto the seat next to him, her ample figure taking up well over half of the seat, despite Billy’s portly frame. ‘If you ask me,’ she leant forward conspiratorially, displaying a fair amount of cleavage despite the cold weather, ‘they’re just jealous. You should have heard the vicar and Mrs Jones moaning about why it all had to be on the estate and why they couldn’t benefit too. It’s all a load of hot air about nothing, love, don’t you worry about it. They just don’t like the fact that it’s nothing to do with them. Nosy lot.’ She patted Lottie’s hand. ‘Anyway, what’s all this about a sexy polo player? Do you think he’d pose for me? I’m really thinking I need to get back to doing some portraits.’ She kissed Billy on the cheek. ‘That fireman calendar you got hasn’t half inspired me, but there’s nothing like a real body, is there? It’s always so hard to get your hands on a good life model, though.’ Her voice drifted off wistfully.

  ‘There’s nothing like getting my hands on your body, love.’ Billy kissed her back and wrapped his arms round her in a show of affection, and Lottie studied her drink intently.

  Lottie’s mother had been the love of Billy’s life and her death had left him devastated. For years he’d struggled to come to terms with the event and with caring for his young daughter, but throughout it all Tiggy had been there in the background. Quietly supporting him, loving him in the same way her devoted spaniel loved her, and expecting nothing in return except his happiness. His gruff exterior shielded his emotions from most people, but Tiggy saw right through it.

  When Billy had finally realised he was in love and had proposed, the whole village had been amazed that ‘tatty Tiggy’ had made an honest, and slightly less grumpy, man out of him. They’d also been more than a little bit shocked that Billy was willing and able to cope with such a scatty wife. She would constantly get distracted mid-task and forget what she was doing, which resulted in horses being put into the wrong fields and water buckets overflowing. If Tiggy had been a groom, Billy would have sacked her several times over (especially when she turned his stallion out with his mares). But she wasn’t and he couldn’t. In fact, Billy couldn’t imagine life without her.

  Tiggy guffawed, her whole body quivering with laughter and then she planted a big kiss on Billy’s lips. ‘And it’s all yours when we get home, my darling. Now, tell us all about this man, Lottie. I’m coming over tomorrow to see him with my own eyes.’

  * * *

  The man in question, Xander Rossi, was leaning over a stable door, his dog cradled in his arms.

  He’d had mixed feelings about returning to Tippermere, but they always said you could only feel one source of pain at a time, didn’t they? He was a grown man now, not some hormone-ridden kid with a chip on his shoulder, so the half-forgotten discomfort that Lottie had caused him in the past had to pale into insignificance alongside the mountain of problems that he’d been trying his damnedest to block out more recently.

  Alcohol and feeling sorry for himself hadn’t helped one bit when his career had train-wrecked, he’d hit the newspaper headlines for all the wrong reasons, the hate mail had started and Miranda, his ex, had done a runner. But wallowing in self-pity wasn’t really his style anyway, and he’d soon had to snap out of it when the one real constant in his life, his mother, had started to disintegrate before his eyes.

  Xander ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. Pandora had come back into his life at just the right moment. He’d needed to get away until the journalists lost interest and he was yesterday’s news – and a few weeks on location where nobody knew who he was had seemed ideal. Well, it was either that or hiking in the Himalayas. A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth, the weather was supposed to be okay there at this time of year, a damned sight less variable than Pandora anyway.

  He reached into his pocket and found the ever-present mints, then fed one to each of his two ponies that were stabled in the courtyard. It was so damned peaceful here, away from the hustle and bustle, away from the strident voice of his sister and the barking commands of her husband. With just the tinkling sound of water in the fountain to accompany the whinnies and nickers of the horses.

  It had been a stroke of luck that there were looseboxes free, as he knew he’d get no peace in the temporary stable block that had been set up for the rest of the horses to be used in the production. Here he could hide from the crowds and the questions he didn’t want to answer.

  It was strange to feel almost at home. As a teenager he’d been the oik, the outsider, and he’d hated the lot of them, and resented what they had, but right now this place was actually taking the edge off things. He could breathe properly for the first time in months. Maybe that’s what you got if you had enough money, a protective barrier against the rest of the world.

  Or maybe it was just him who had grown up. That teenage version of him had probably been a pain in the arse, blowing imagined slights out of all proportion, like kids do. Now that he was older, more jaded, he supposed the little things didn’t matter as much. And, he guessed, he’d foun
d his place in life. What he wanted to do. Play polo. Well, he had thought so, until recent events had shaken him more than he liked to admit.

  Some elements of the press were still out to get him – egged on by his ex – keen to paint him as the cruel sportsman. He had to face it, his polo-playing days were over; he couldn’t win now as far as the sport he loved was concerned. If he announced his retirement he’d be hailed as a coward who couldn’t cope with the pressure; if he returned to the field he’d be the heartless bastard who’d been responsible for the death of a pony but carried on regardless.

  And if he did go back, what kind of player would he be anyway? He’d lost his nerve, lost the killer instinct that would let him gallop up a line, ride off a player recklessly, spin so fast he risked going down in a tangle of tack and legs. It wasn’t about protecting himself; it was about the horses. The accident had been his wake-up call, the red flag that announced his competitive spirit had taken him over that invisible line.

  The pony nudged his hand and Xander stroked the velvet-soft nose. ‘You’re going to be bored stiff working on a film set, aren’t you?’ She blew sweet hay-scented air down her nose. ‘Even an old girl like you.’

  He’d had to sell his best ponies, so getting back to the top of the game was a hopeless dream anyway. All he had left were the steadier ones, the troupers that had been with him longer than he dared remember.

  He’d had no choice – raising funds had been his priority – and all he could hope was that the money lasted until some kind of settlement had been agreed. Throwing himself into a legal battle with his father was as good as burning fifty-pound notes, but he had no choice. He couldn’t abandon his mother. If he didn’t stand up for her against the selfish bastard, nobody else would.

  Pandora had known he was in some kind of mess. His sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued half-sister had spotted the weakness and taken advantage. She’d swooped in, a vulture thinly disguised as a guardian angel, as the hate campaign against him had peaked, and she’d offered her condolences when Miranda had shown her true colours and as good as sworn allegiance to the tabloids. But he was sure Pandora had still got no idea about the family battle lines that were being drawn up.