‘No. Not really.’
‘There wasn’t much you could have done about Peace Offering, I’m afraid. But like I said, at least Astolat did well. He went for more than we expected.’
‘Oh, dear.’
The girl looked anguished.
‘I’m sure Mr Carmichael can find a private buyer for Peace Offering.’
‘What?’ Pippa said, for the first time listening to what the girl was saying.
‘I said I’m sure Mr Carmichael can find someone else who wants Peace Offering.’
Pippa’s heart began to thump again.
‘You mean he isn’t sold?’ She held her breath.
‘Well, no,’ the girl replied, puzzled. ‘Weren’t you watching?’
‘No, I’ve only just arrived. He’s still mine? How come?’
‘He didn’t reach his reserve.’
‘Thank God!’ Pippa wanted to hug the girl, but managed to restrain herself by squeezing her hands together.
Peace Offering’s handler looked at her in bemusement.
‘You’re glad?’
‘Yes! I didn’t want to sell him! What about Astolat? Is he still mine?’
‘No, he sold. Quite well actually.’ As an afterthought she added, ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh, dear. Never mind, Peace Offering’s the one I really wanted to keep.’
‘Are you going to keep him in training at Aspen Valley?’
Pippa twisted her sales catalogue in her hands as she considered the question.
‘Um, I think so. I haven’t really thought that far ahead. Where is Jack Carmichael?’
‘Mr Carmichael? He was in the ring, but he was going straight to see some client or other afterwards. You might catch him if you’re quick.’
Imagining the trainer’s inevitable response to her idea of keeping Peace Offering, Pippa stalled.
‘Maybe not just yet.’ It wasn’t a response she was looking forward to getting.
She gazed up at the lanky horse. He looked so majestic with his Roman nose held high and his long ears pricked forward. The lead rope now hung limp between his lips, forgotten momentarily as he watched the activity around him.
Her heart softened. For a moment, she imagined the warm smile on Dave’s face.
The girl grinned at Pippa.
‘I’m glad you’re keeping him. Peace Offering might not be Kauto Star, but he has just as big a heart.’
‘Who?’
Pippa’s initial excitement of keeping Peace Offering began to subside as she drove back to London. How on earth would she be able to afford him and do up Hazyvale House? If Jack Carmichael trained a hundred horses then he must be pretty good at his job, which usually meant he would be expensive. Her waitressing job and her art commissions, which came by less frequently than Haley’s Comet it seemed, would probably not cover training fees. But how much could it possibly be? Ollie’s flat, which had been a present from his rather overbearing parents, was always a constant drain even without a mortgage to pay. Moreover, with him not earning anything, Pippa had already told him not to worry about the bills until his agent found something for him and the small rent she paid saved him having to go begging to his folks.
Maybe she had been a bit hasty in deciding to keep Peace Offering. But every time that thought crossed her mind, she reminded herself of his sweet nature and Dave Taylor’s dream of running him in the Grand National. Was it so wrong to want to follow a dream?
By the time she had parked Ollie’s Alfa Romeo she had convinced herself she had made the right decision. She couldn’t wait to tell Ollie.
‘You what!’
Pippa jumped in fright.
‘I decided not to sell him. Coffee?’ she said, trying to avoid the confrontation.
‘What? Yes, okay. But Pippa, have you gone mad? First you drive off with my car without asking –’
‘I would have rung, but I didn’t want to disturb you in the middle of your audition. How did it go, by the way?’
Ollie’s face, twisted in anger, softened into a smirk.
‘Pretty well actually. They want me to go back again – hey, stop changing the subject. You steal my car, drive four hundred miles across the country. Thank God you didn’t have an accident.’
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry.’
‘You’re not insured to drive the Alfa! It would have cost me a fortune if you’d crashed. Pippa, really! What do you want with a racehorse? You don’t even like horses.’
‘I never said that,’ Pippa said over her shoulder as she prepared some coffee cups in the kitchen.
Ollie followed her in.
‘You’ve never shown any interest in horses. Why would you want to go throwing money away like that? If you’d sold them both then imagine how much easier things would be here.’
‘Peace Offering didn’t actually meet his reserve so technically I didn’t actually stop him from not selling.’
‘What does that mean? That he’s so useless no one even wants him? Now you’re going to waste money on paying for his upkeep. We could’ve gone on holiday. Or done some redecorating around here. God knows we could upgrade this kitchen.’ Ollie threw a disdainful gesture to his surroundings.
Pippa tried to stem the defensive barrier which rose inside her by searching for a teaspoon. Why were there never any in the cutlery drawer?
‘The original plan was to do up Hazyvale House, remember,’ she said.
‘More bloody expense. Jesus, for once, I have to agree with your parents. That Dave Taylor is more trouble than he’s worth.’
Pippa held up a threatening teaspoon in his direction.
‘Hey, only I am allowed to slag off my family. Okay?’
Ollie shook his head.
‘I don’t believe you did this. And my Alfa – God, if you’d crashed her...’
‘Ollie, come on. It’ll be fun! We could go to the races to watch our horse run. We could get all dressed up and have a really exciting day out.’ Pippa handed him his coffee and beamed at him, trying to ignite some enthusiasm.
Ollie grimaced as he took his first sip.
‘How much bloody sugar did you put in here?’
‘Two.’ Pippa took a sip of her own coffee only to find it without sugar. ‘Oh, you’ve got mine as well, I think. Sorry.’
‘Remind me what you do for a living?’ Ollie tossed his coffee into the sink and slammed the mug onto the draining board.
‘You were distracting me,’ Pippa protested.
‘I thought women were renowned for multi-tasking.’
Pippa pouted. Yes, she understood Ollie’s mood swings were frequent because of his lack of work, but he was being unnecessarily cruel. Her mobile began to ring and with a sigh of relief at the escape it gave her, she pulled it out of her pocket. She groaned when the caller’s name flashed on the screen.
Aspen Valley
No doubt, it was Jack Carmichael wanting to give her a bollocking as well. She couldn’t face him right now. Besides, she wanted to see him face-to-face to discuss Peace Offering’s future. She switched her phone off.
‘Who was that?’
‘Just someone I don’t want to speak to right now.’
Ollie dragged his fingers through his short dark hair.
‘Jesus, Pippa. I don’t understand you. You’ve done some crazy things in the past, but this just takes the biscuit.’ He shook his head and walked out of the kitchen.
Through the gap of the doorway she could see him unhooking his jacket from the coat stand on his way to the front door.
‘Where are you going?’ she called after him.
‘To the pub. I’ll be back in time for dinner.’
‘I’m working the evening shift tonight.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine, I’ll eat at the pub.’
Pippa took a thoughtful sip of her coffee in the wake of Ollie’s departure. She grimaced before throwing her coffee down the plughole as well.
Chapter Five
Pippa could feel the heat of Jack Carmich
ael’s wrath before she’d even reached the door to Aspen Valley’s racing office. His raised voice bounced out of the open doorway.
‘What do you mean “a couple of weeks”? I need someone right now! How can you call yourself Rush-Hour Recruitment if you can’t supply people at short notice?... Yes, I want someone qualified... No, I’ve already said there isn’t accommodation provided. This isn’t a hotel! He-hello? Fucking hell!’
Pippa knocked on the door. Jack halted in his pacing. Leaning up against the doorframe, she gave him a sympathetic smile.
‘Bad day?’
‘You could say that. Bloody Gemma has up and left on some delusional romantic quest after her boyfriend to Cuba.’
‘Your devoted secretary?’
‘Or so I thought. And you, Miss Taylor? The only thing you can say to improve my day is to tell me you’ve changed your mind again and want to sell Peace Offering.’
‘Nope. Sorry, can’t help you there.’
Jack shook his head.
‘Great. Well, come in. Don’t stand there in the doorway looking smug.’
‘I’m not looking smug. I’m just looking cheerful.’
‘Why?’
Pippa pushed herself off the doorframe and sauntered in.
‘Because I am now the proud owner of a racehorse and this is a fresh new chapter of my life.’
‘Why do you want to keep him?’
‘Because Dave wanted to enter him in the Grand National.’
Jack’s blue eyes widened.
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Peace Offering? In the National? That’s only the biggest steeplechase in the world. He’d have no hope!’
In her mind, Pippa saw the paper full of statistics.
‘Neither did Mon Mome or Foinavon. But they won.’
‘Foinavon only won because there was a pile-up at the Foinavon Fence.’
‘Wow, that’s creepy. Everybody crashes out at a fence with the same name as the eventual winner.’
Jack looked at her under heavy lids.
‘It only became known as the Foinavon Fence after the race and for that precise reason.’
Pippa grinned.
‘Did you know only five favourites have won it in the last fifty years?’
Jack regarded her with a wry smile.
‘My, my. You have been doing your homework.’
Pippa’s cheeks flushed.
‘It’s true though. It’s not as unrealistic as you’re making it out to be.’
Jack sighed and raked a hand through his thick dark hair.
‘And presumably you want to keep him in training here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Miss Taylor –’
‘Pippa, please.’
‘Pippa. Please excuse me if I sound presumptuous, but how do you intend to afford his training fees on a waitress’ salary?’
‘With the money from Astolat’s sale.’
‘What about Dave’s house? I thought that was the whole point of selling the horses.’
‘How much do you charge?’
‘More than you can afford, believe me.’
‘Do you do discounts?’
‘No. I –’ Jack was interrupted by his mobile phone ringing. ‘Bloody Lady Pennington. I don’t have the strength to talk to her right now.’ He viciously cut off the call, but almost immediately it rang again. Jack sighed. ‘Hello, Melissa... Tonight? Do we have to? You know I can only take so much of your father...’
Realising she was eavesdropping on a personal call, Pippa tried to distract herself. Peering over the reception unit, she saw a chaotic jumble of papers covering the entire desk, the message alert on the telephone was flashing and the innards of a Racing Post had spilled onto the floor. Jack wasn’t coping well without Gemma, it would appear. A smile touched her lips as an idea occurred to her.
‘...Okay, see you later.’ Jack snapped shut his phone and took a deep breath. ‘Right, where were we?’
‘You were about to offer me a discount on Peace Offering’s training fees.’
Jack stared at Pippa’s beaming face.
‘What? I don’t do discounts. I told you.’
‘But you would if I were to work for you?’
‘That’s ridiculous! By your own admission, you don’t know anything about horses.’
Pippa examined her nails, avoiding his eyes. Her fingers trembled and she put her hand away. She wouldn’t allow him to see just how shaky the ground was beneath her.
‘Maybe not, but I do know that whatever person being supplied by that agency you were talking to earlier isn’t going to know much either,’ she said coolly. ‘And whereas they can’t get you anyone for at least two weeks, I can start immediately. Almost.’
‘Absolutely not. You’re a waitress. I need a secretary. There’s more to this job than making the boss coffee. Do you have office experience?’
‘Yes, I worked in a lawyer’s office before.’ Did two weeks’ work experience as receptionist at Hodder & Barrett, Inc. count?
Jack’s phone rang again.
‘For God’s sake!’ he roared. ‘What is it with people today? I’m a racehorse trainer, not a fucking receptionist. Hello, Mr Cox. How are you?’ His tone changed like a channel had been switched. ‘Good, good. Yes, sorry about that, I haven’t had a chance to check my messages yet. My secretary isn’t in today... Tomorrow afternoon sounds just fine. Dexter and Lugarno will be getting fed about five o’clock... My pleasure.’
The reception phone began to ring as Jack patiently dealt with an owner and Pippa took the initiative. Walking round the desk, she went to pick up the phone as Jack ended his call.
‘Aspen Valley Stables,’ she carolled. ‘Oh, hello, Lady Pennington.’ She grinned as Jack’s face fell in terror and he frantically waved the phone away from him. ‘I’m afraid he’s unavailable right now,’ she continued, laughing silently at Jack. ‘I’m very sorry you’ve been trying for so long – yes, I understand you must have a very busy schedule. As such, I’m sure you can appreciate Mr Carmichael has as well. I’ll pass on the message as soon as I see him though. Okay, bye for now.’
Jack looked traumatised.
‘God, what did she want?’
‘Just that she wanted to discuss the four Lord Pennington bought at the sales. She sounds like a right toff.’
‘She is. The worst kind. Thank you for lying to her.’
‘Pleasure. Does that get me the job?’
‘No, of course not. Besides, you live in London. Are you going to commute every day?’
‘I also have a house less than half an hour away.’
‘Which is barely habitable by the sounds of it –’
‘Mr Carmichael?’
They turned at the sudden interruption. Pippa recognised the girl wringing her hands in the doorway as the one she had met at the sales.
‘Yes, Emmie? What is it?’
‘Um, the hay from France has arrived.’
‘Wow, you really do treat your horses well here. Do you serve them white Alba truffles imported from Italy too?’ Pippa said, impressed.
Jack didn’t deign to answer.
‘Okay, tell them I’ll be there in a sec. You wait here, Miss Taylor. And don’t answer the phone. Please.’
‘Pippa,’ she correctly faintly to his departing figure.
‘This. Is. Only. Half. What. I. Ordered!’
Jack’s deliberate words rang through the yard as Pippa ventured out of the office to investigate. In the car park, Jack stood facing a man in shabby jeans and a crumpled leather jacket. The trainer’s broad shoulders were tensed and rose up and down with each controlled breath. The other man shrugged, relaxed in comparison. She turned her gaze from the men to a vast shaggy lorry bundled high with hay bales.
‘How am I supposed to fee a hundred horses with this?’ Jack said through clenched teeth. ‘Bloody hell. Why am I even asking you this? They can’t even send a driver who can speak fucking English!’
‘You English people are mad
,’ the man replied in French.
‘What?’
‘Are you okay?’ Pippa said with some concern. Jack was almost hyperventilating.
He turned and frowned at her.
‘I thought I told you to stay in the office? But since you ask, no, I’m not. I’ve got a hundred horses to feed and only half the hay I ordered. What’s more, they send a driver who can’t speak English. Sometimes I think they do this on purpose. The French have a twisted sense of humour.’
‘Better than none at all.’ Pippa raised her eyebrows meaningfully at him and he glared back.
‘Why don’t you go back to the office like I asked and I’ll be with you once I’ve cleared up this mess?’
‘How do you intend to do that if you don’t speak French?’
‘We’re in England! I’m allowed to not know French. He’s not!’
The Frenchman might not have been able to understand them, but he understood Jack’s aggression clearly. He muttered under his breath.
‘Maybe I can help,’ Pippa said.
‘Do you speak French?’
‘Well, I learnt a bit at school and –’
‘Somehow I doubt whether your schoolgirl French lessons are up to this.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Pippa turned to the Frenchman. ‘You’re right, but it’s only some English who are mad,’ she said to him fluently. The man grinned. ‘I’ll go wait in the office, shall I?’
Jack grabbed hold of her arm.
‘Wait! You do speak French! Tell him he hasn’t delivered the full order. What’s on this order form isn’t what’s on that lorry.’
‘Hmm. My schoolgirl French lessons might not be up to it,’ Pippa said slyly. Her two years spent at an art college in Paris might have been though.
‘Stop taking the piss!’
‘That’s no way to speak to an owner. Do you want my help?’
‘Yes! Tell him –’
‘I know, I know. Are all racing trainers like this?’ she asked the Frenchman.
‘Some, but this one is particularly bad.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said you’re a very good trainer.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything? Lose the chitchat. Ask –’
‘He seems to think you have delivered too little hay, but are charging him for the full price.’
Keeping the Peace Page 4