‘He thinks I am trying to cheat him, but I keep telling him that I’m not! He won’t listen. He is being completely unreasonable.’
‘What?’ Jack interjected.
‘He says he can understand where the confusion has arisen. It’s completely understandable.’
Both men regarded each other suspiciously.
‘I have travelled from France with another lorry which has broken down somewhere in this crazy country. Now I wish I had offered to stay behind with the broken down lorry than come up here. I could have let Francois deal with this bastard.’
Pippa murmured her sympathy and asked herself equally why she was doing this.
‘What?’ Jack said impatiently.
She looked at him with an increasing lack of understanding. It’s for Dave and Peace Offering, she told herself.
‘He said the other half of your order has broken down somewhere on the way. He regrets you should be put in this situation.’
‘Great. When am I going to get it?’
‘Do you know when the other lorry will be fixed?’
‘They are working on it now. It should arrive tomorrow. The sooner the better I think. For me though, I’ll make sure I don’t have to do orders for Monsieur Carmichael in future.’
‘What did he say about me?’
‘He said he admires you very much and it’s a pity you have met under these circumstances.’
‘A pity indeed. When is my hay going to arrive?’
‘Tomorrow hopefully. They’re doing their best to get the lorry going right now. What are you doing ordering hay from France anyway? What’s wrong with British?’
‘That bloody awful summer we’ve had this year ruined the crop. Instead, we’ve got to dish out a fortune to the French for theirs.’ Jack turned back to the stables. ‘BILLY! TOM!’
Two lads appeared from within the yard.
‘Come help this guy unload the hay into the barn, will you? Billy, I don’t want you climbing up top. You’re better off on firm ground. And if you don’t know any French, don’t bother trying to make conversation. How can they send over someone who can’t speak the bloody language?’
‘You don’t know French,’ Pippa reasoned as the Frenchman and lads began unfastening the load.
‘Yes, but I don’t need to. Everyone speaks English. Or they should.’
‘Well, since they don’t, do you admit that I might have my uses? I might be a waitress, but I’m not stupid, Jack.’
Jack sighed and looked away.
‘Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re stupid. I’m sorry if I implied that you were.’
‘So do I get the job?’
Jack gave her a resigned look making Pippa brighten with hope.
‘Do you know what you’re letting yourself in for?’
‘I love a challenge,’ she grinned.
‘Peace Offering might not be worth it. He hasn’t won in two years.’ Jack tried once more, but Pippa knew she had him beat.
‘Neither had Silver Birch.’
For the first time, Jack smiled, flashing a row of even white teeth.
‘Okay, fine. When can you start?’
Chapter Six
Pippa pouted ruefully as she opened the flat’s front door and heard the canned laughter from a comedy sitcom on the television. Ollie was home. That wasn’t unusual in itself, but right now she could do without him. Just for a short time while she gathered her thoughts and prepared herself for the subject she knew she had to broach. She had tried to plan ahead, but driving on the motorways back to London was a deeply traumatic experience and Pippa had needed all her wits about her.
How would Ollie take it? Ollie, being the creative spirit that he was, also had a creative temper. You never knew what you were going to get dealt with. Despite reason, Pippa found his extravert temperament very attractive. When guided the right way he could be a most passionate, and compassionate, man. She decided to dive straight in.
‘A’right, m’lover?’ she said in her best West Country accent.
Ollie raised an eyebrow at her from his horizontal position on the couch. But then his face split into a wide grin.
Pippa grinned back, glad that for whatever reason Ollie wasn’t sulking anymore.
‘I got it!’ he said, sitting up and spreading his arms in triumph.
Pippa’s smile clung to her face as she furiously tried to recall what Ollie had planned on getting.
‘Got what?’
‘The part. I had the second audition today. Remember?’
Oh, hell, Pippa inwardly grimaced. She had completely forgotten about Ollie’s follow-up.
‘Of course! Well done, Ollie!’ She rushed over to hug him. ‘What is it again?’
‘A doctor in Holby City. Meet the new Doctor Fletcher! It’s only a small part, but they want me to feature as background cast as well.’
‘That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Ollie. What a breakthrough! I knew you could do it.’
Ollie folded his arms behind his head and lay back again.
‘So did I. Mind you, I can’t afford to pay for this racehorse of yours. Are you going to go out every weekend and see him? He’s going to cost you a fortune anyway, never mind your travel costs.’
‘Well, there’s the thing,’ Pippa began. She wiped her damp palms on her skirt and paused as she chose carefully what to say next. ‘He is going to cost me a lot of money, you’re right. And Astolat’s sale was meant to go towards renovating Dave’s house. So I thought I might move down there for a while, do the house up myself and save some of the expense,’ she concluded cheerfully.
Ollie looked horrified. He pulled himself up on the couch to get a better look at Pippa.
‘What?’
‘I thought I might move down there for a while –’
‘I heard you, Pippa. What I meant was, are you crazy?’
This was the second time in as many days that Ollie had asked this and Pippa was beginning to think he might not be wrong.
‘How are you going to live? What about your job? What about me?’
Pippa idly straightened the photo frames on the coffee table.
‘I have a job. I’ll be working for Jack Carmichael.’
‘Who?’
‘Peace Offering’s trainer.’
‘Doing what? Making his coffee?’
‘No, as his secretary. His up and left yesterday without notice.’
‘But Pippa, you’re not a secretary! You’re a waitress.’
Pippa twisted her toes in her shoes at his derisive tone.
‘I know, but I can learn, can’t I?’
‘And this, here? You’re going to leave me?’
Pippa swept down beside the sofa and took Ollie hands.
‘No, no! I’m not leaving you, Ollie. Of course not. I thought maybe you’d like to come down and live there with me.’ She looked at him uncertainly. ‘That was, until I heard you got this part. You must go for that, of course...’ Her voice trailed off as she watched Ollie’s expression.
‘Damn right I’m going for it!’ he said. ‘Me in the country? Can you really see it? I’d be bored out of my mind!’
‘Not if you helped fix up the house with me.’
‘Oh, so you’d just want me to be your live-in handyman, right?’
‘Of course not. I’d want sex as well.’
Ollie looked violated, making Pippa laugh.
‘Don’t be silly, Ollie. You know it wouldn’t be like that. You’d love Hazyvale House. You would, honest.’
Ollie snatched his hands back.
‘I did drama at school, Pippa. Not woodwork. Plus, I get hay fever.’
She thought back to the French hay incident and had to stop herself from smiling.
‘There’s no hay this year. They had a bad crop because of the wet weather.’
‘Pippa, I don’t know what’s got into you lately. Ever since Dave Taylor kicked the bucket, you seem to have lost all of your senses. Why are you doing this?’
/> Pippa considered his question for a long moment. Why was she doing this?
‘Ollie, I’ve been working as a waitress for four years now. The biggest promotion I’ve had was from Sid’s Greasy Spoon to Vivace Restaurant. It’s not going anywhere and I’m not going to be a waitress for the rest of my life. I needed a kick up the backside to do something and Dave’s given it to me. I can’t just throw it away.’
‘A kick up the backside, maybe. But moving to the country on some Grand Designs venture and getting a job in something you know nothing about? Come on, Pippa, get real. And what about our life here? Together?’
‘Like I said, I thought you might like to move to the country.’
‘I don’t know why we’re still arguing about this. I’m not going anywhere. But did you really think I would agree to this? I’m a city guy, not a country yokel. And I hate tweed.’
Pippa sighed in surrender and stood up.
‘Fine, Ollie. But I’m going.’
‘So you are leaving me.’
‘No! It’s only three or four hours’ drive away. And it won’t be forever; a year maybe. By then the cottage will be redone and sold and I won’t have to work for Jack Carmichael to afford Peace Offering’s training fees. You can come and visit any time. We can still be together.’
‘Thanks for the invite,’ Ollie huffed.
‘My pleasure. Now, shall I make us some dinner?’
As Pippa walked out of the room, she could hear Ollie mumbling about the ludicrousness of everything. He would come round to the idea once he’d got used to it. Once he saw Hazyvale House he’d see it as a challenge, just like she had.
Challenging was one word which could be used to describe Pippa’s new adventure. Slightly uncomfortable was another. With her knees drawn up under her misshapen jumper, she sat huddled in the dark in her brand new second-hand VW Beetle at the end of Hazyvale’s driveway the next evening. The full force of the heater tinged her cheeks. Still trembling with cold, she flicked the ash from her cigarette through the inch-open window. She held her mobile phone to her ear, wondering if there was some small corner of the house which she might have missed that had signal, instead of only at the end of the driveway.
Vaguely, she watched the shadows of the overhanging branches dance over the dashboard, dark against the silver base of moonlight. It was a clear frosty evening with more stars in the sky than Pippa had ever seen in her life. Neither had she been so cold, unless you counted that drunken night two Februarys ago when she and Tash had taken a dip in the Thames for a dare.
‘I can’t believe you’ve actually done this, Pip.’ Tash’s tone was admiring.
‘You don’t think I’m being crazy?’
‘I always think you’re crazy. But in a loveable way, not an unstable asylum-case way.’
‘That’s where Ollie thinks I should be. In an asylum.’
‘Bugger Ollie, what does he know? You’ve done the right thing moving away. You needed a change.’
‘You think so?’ Pippa needed Tash’s reassurance.
‘Yes. You were getting yourself stuck in a rut, working at Vivace’s and playing housekeeper to Ollie.’
‘I wasn’t –’
‘And I Googled your Jack Carmichael and he isn’t half fit. I wish I was going to be his secretary.’
Pippa laughed.
‘Firstly, he is not my Jack Carmichael. Secondly, he’s not my type.’
‘Rubbish, he’s everyone’s type. Is he married?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t notice a wedding ring.’
‘So he is your type.’
‘Why, because he isn’t married?’
‘No. The fact that you noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. That’s proof you found him attractive. Him not being married is a bonus, of course. Could get messy otherwise.’
‘Tash!’ Pippa laughed. ‘I’m not about to seduce Jack Carmichael, regardless of how good-looking he is. He’s a right grump.’ She took a drag from her cigarette and tapped its ash against the window crack. ‘Anyway, I think he’s got a girlfriend.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘He took a call from someone called Melissa when I was there and it just sounded like she was his girlfriend.’
‘In what way?’
‘He didn’t want to have dinner with her folks.’
‘You’re probably right then.’
‘Besides, you’re forgetting that I already have a boyfriend as well. Just because I’m moving away doesn’t mean Ollie and I have split up.’
‘Hmm.’ Tash didn’t sound convinced. ‘What is this house that you’ve moved into like?’
Pippa glanced in her rear-view mirror where she could see the security light at the front door lighting up the nearby oak tree. With its sagging roof the cottage looked like it was smiling.
‘It’s nice. A bit shabby at the moment, but it’ll be fun getting it straightened out.’
‘It’ll also be a lot of hard work.’
‘I know. Will you come down and help every now and then?’
‘Of course I will. On one condition.’
‘Which is?’
‘I get to meet your boss.’
Pippa snorted.
‘Tash! Really, you’re incorrigible.’
‘When do you start the new job?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Pippa said with a grimace.
‘Looking forward to it?’
‘Like a bullet in the head. I don’t even know how to type, Tash. How am I going to cope with being a secretary.’
‘You learn. Just like everyone else did. Nobody was born knowing exactly how to do their job. If you’re worried about typing just remember “Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs”.’
‘What?’
‘Keep practising that sentence. It uses all the letters of the alphabet. Keep your forefingers on F and J, hit the spacebar with your thumb and you’re away. You just need to practise.’
‘And wages and accounts? I’m bound to have to do all that.’
‘Well, that might take a bit more practise. I flunked GCSE Maths with flying colours so I won’t give you any advice on how to do accounts. You’re good at numbers though. What are you worrying about?’
‘Messing up,’ Pippa admitted. ‘He’s doing me a favour giving me this job. He knows I’m not qualified enough.’
‘You’re also doing him a favour, remember. If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have a secretary at all.’
Pippa exhaled a long plume of smoke, abstractly watching it escape through the window slit.
‘He might wish he didn’t have one when I make a hash of everything.’
‘Pippa! Snap out of it! Stop being a defeatist; it doesn’t suit you. You walk in tomorrow and you sit down at your desk and you do what needs to be done. I’m sure he’s not just going to dump everything on you and expect you to know how to do it. In every job you have to learn new things. Everything will be fine. Understood?’
Pippa swelled with renewed bravado.
‘You’re right, Tash. How bad can it be?’
‘Good girl! And remember why you’re doing all this.’
‘Peace Offering?’
‘Yes. To Peace Offering and his glorious future.’
‘Are you toasting him, Tash?’
‘Yes, of course. It’s half six. Haven’t you opened a bottle yet?’
‘No, I’m sitting at the bottom of the driveway in my car.’
‘Why?’
‘Because this is the only place I can get signal.’
‘Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll drink for both of us. How does that sound?’
Pippa smiled and hugged her knees to her chest.
‘Sounds good, Tash. Thanks.’
Chapter Seven
A low-lying mist cloaked the countryside the next morning. Pippa shivered as she got out of her car in the Aspen Valley car park. The tangy aroma of newly tossed hay and straw wafted up her nose and she blinked as the brisk breeze stung her eyes. She wrapped her coat
firmly around her and hurried towards the yard. A hive of activity greeted her as she turned the corner. Grooms were busy mucking out, tossing soiled straw into rickety wheelbarrows parked in the entrance of the stables. Others strode along the concourse, hefting saddles and bridles in their arms. The hollow clip-clop of shod hooves rang round the buildings as horses were led to and from their work.
Pippa gazed, wide-eyed, at this vibrant work place. She hadn’t realised so many people worked here. No one had noticed her presence yet and she took a moment more just to enjoy watching them. Eagerly, she tried to identify Peace Offering from the horses being led around, but couldn’t see him. Her attention was captured by one familiar face though. Jack was bending down next to a steaming horse, feeling its foreleg whilst its rider stood to the side holding the reins. Rising to his full height, he gave the horse a distracted pat on the neck and spoke to its rider.
Pippa couldn’t hear what was being said, but she saw the girl nod and smile at him before leading the horse to an adjoining stable. He caught sight of Pippa as he turned around. A small smile touched his mouth. He walked over, his long strides eating up the ground.
‘Morning, Pippa. I was wondering if you would be joining us.’
‘I said I would, didn’t I?’
‘And you always do what you say?’
‘Most of the time,’ Pippa replied loosely.
Jack gave a humourless chuckle and motioned her towards the office.
‘Let me show you to your cell.’
‘You’d suit being a prison guard, you know,’ she said as they walked.
Jack gave her a sidelong glance, but said nothing.
‘This is where you sit.’ He gave her a patronising smile, making Pippa feel about five as she settled herself on the chair behind the reception unit.
He’s just waiting for me to fail, she thought. I’ll show him. He ain’t seen nothing yet.
‘First things first. Entries and declarations.’
Hmm, I ain’t seen nothing yet either, Pippa thought again.
‘Okay,’ she replied uncertainly.
Jack sighed.
‘Before a horse can race he will initially need to be entered in one, usually five or six days before it takes place. This is like letting them know that you intend to run. And you must make sure this is done by twelve o’clock. One minute past twelve and they won’t accept it. Next stage is declarations, which is like a confirmation that you’re running. This is done twenty-four hours before race day and must be in by ten o’clock. Again, they cannot be late. I’ll give you a list every morning of what horses need to be entered in which races and you can then go onto the Weatherbys website and fill in all the details.’
Keeping the Peace Page 5