Keeping the Peace

by Hannah Hooton

‘Oh!’ Pippa felt tears prick her eyes. An ocean wave of gratitude that the cottage might become the couple’s home crashed against a stony beach of regret that Hazyvale would no longer be hers.

  ‘It is still for sale, isn’t it? You haven’t sold it to some city weekenders, have you?’

  ‘No, no!’ Pippa gave a teary laugh. ‘It’s yours, most definitely. That’s wonderful!’

  ‘Oh, Pippa, this is so exciting! Once we get over all the boring bank loans and mortgages, then we can sort it all out. Billy’s dad is a solicitor in Bath so I’m sure we could cut a few costs using him. Isn’t this great? Oh! The only downside is that you’re not going to be living here anymore. You could buy another place round here, couldn’t you?’

  Pippa grinned at her enthusiasm.

  ‘I don’t know, Emmie. I’ve got an art exhibtion here in London in a few weeks’ time and...’ Her voice trailed off as she heard another voice in the background. She gulped as she recognised the speaker’s deep tone.

  ‘Ooh, hang on. Jack’s just walked in,’ Emmie said.

  Pippa strained to hear Jack’s muted voice.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she heard him ask Emmie.

  ‘It’s Pippa. Do you want to talk to her?’

  Pippa’s heart crashed against her ribs. Breathing suddenly became more difficult and painful than learning to knife juggle. She waited for his response.

  ‘No. I’ve got things to do,’ Jack replied.

  One of Pippa’s juggling knives pierced her chest.

  ‘Okay. I’ll tell her you say hi.’ Emmie’s muffled voice became clearer as she removed her hand from the receiver. ‘Jack says hi.’

  ‘Right. Well, hi, Jack,’ Pippa said with an attempted laugh. She failed. This was too hard. ‘Listen, Emmie. I’ve got to go. Thanks so much for calling. It’s great news that you’ll be taking Hazyvale. I couldn’t be more pleased.’

  ‘Me too! You’ll be guest of honour at our house warming party,’ Emmie enthused.

  Pippa’s first thought was to wonder if Jack would be there too.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ll speak to you soon.’

  ‘Okay. Bye, Pippa!’ trilled Emmie.

  ‘Bye.’ Pippa’s reply came out like a drying up stream. She let the phone slip through her fingers and bounce onto the bed. She flopped back and stared up at the ceiling. A nasty brown mark from the upstairs flat’s bathroom stained the corner.

  That was that then, she concluded. Jack didn’t want to talk to her. He was handed the opportunity on a plate by Emmie and he’d walked away. He’d had time to think about it and he still wasn’t going to make the effort.

  ‘Who am I kidding?’ she muttered. ‘Jack isn’t some stupid romantic hero. Those things just don’t happen in real life.’ She threw a pillow across the room, knocking Bristol Harbour off its easel. She didn’t care. She slammed her head back against the mattress again. ‘Stupid, fucking two-dimensional romance crap. They never bloody take into account the consequences.’ She snatched up her phone and whirred through her address book. ‘Why am I trying to fool myself? Did I really expect Jack to declare his undying love to me in front of Emmie?’ Her thumb stilled as she got halfway through her list of numbers. ‘It’s all bullshit.’ She read out the highlighted name on the screen, ‘Jack Carmichael,’ and pressed Delete Contact.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  ‘Knock, knock. Anyone home?’ Tash said, appearing in the doorway to the spare room.

  Pippa looked up from her book.

  ‘Physically, yes,’ she smiled. ‘Mentally – well, that’s open to debate.’

  Tash grinned and stepped into the room. She raised her hand, dangling a pair of shoes by their straps. Pippa looked at her questioningly.

  ‘I come bearing gifts. Your dancing shoes. You’ve locked yourself away for three weeks now. It’s time to stop moping.’

  Pippa pulled a face.

  ‘I haven’t really been moping. I’ve been working,’ she said, gesturing to the canvases stacked up against the wall.

  ‘Well, then it’s time to take a break. You and I are going out.’

  Just the thought of stepping outside of the flat made Pippa feel exhausted.

  ‘I don’t know, Tash –’

  ‘Come on, it’s Saturday! And these are for you.’ Tash swung the shoes in front of her.

  ‘But they’re your favourite. They’re your Jimmy Choos.’

  Tash nodded.

  ‘Technically, they’re yours. As is the psychiatric consult I promised you if you hadn’t bedded Jack by the Grand National.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘You got your act together after the National. Albeit only a few hours after, but after, nonetheless.’ She looked at Pippa’s pained expression sheepishly. ‘In retrospect, I feel bad for encouraging you. I didn’t take it seriously enough.’

  ‘Tash, it’s not your fault,’ Pippa protested. ‘What Jack and I did – well, we did of our own accord.’

  ‘Regardless, I feel it is my duty,’ she said, holding a hand up to her chest, ‘as your bad influencing, misguiding best friend to make amends.’ She winked. ‘I’m taking you out tonight just to show you there is life after Jack Carmichael.’

  The tapas bar which Tash took her to was humming with trendy youth when they arrived. In the lowered lighting, they settled themselves at a high table with an ice-bucket and bottle of champagne.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ Pippa asked, raising her voice above the noise.

  ‘A couple of times. Can’t afford to make it a habit, but it’s the new place to be.’

  Pippa looked around at the clientele, all fashionably modern and utterly different from the homeliness of The Plough. There wasn’t a flat cap or tweed jacket in sight.

  Tash poured their champagne into two glasses and held hers aloft.

  ‘To the future and its endless possibilities,’ she toasted.

  ‘To the future.’ Pippa clinked her glass against her friend’s and took a long swallow. The chilled alcohol tickled her taste buds and she grinned.

  ‘Good stuff, this.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that. Come on, let’s get sloshed.’

  The night passed in a haze of champagne bubbles and constant chatter. Pippa squinted at Tash and tried to blink away her double vision.

  ‘And then he looks at his watch and says “My magic watch says you’re not wearing any knickers”,’ Tash recounted. ‘So stupid me says “Yes, I am” and you know what he said Pip? You know what that slimy creep said?’ She leaned forward across the table, brandishing her drink. ‘He shakes his watch and says “Damn! This must be fifteen minutes fast”.’

  Pippa giggled. Tash looked affronted beneath her grin.

  ‘I mean, the audacity! Can you imagine? Did he really think a classy girl like me would fall for a line like – oh, hello.’

  Pippa followed Tash’s gaze as her friend sat up straight, her attention focused on the entrance. She laughed and shook her head as a couple of young good looking suits walked in. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she squirmed in her seat to pull it out.

  ‘Hello?’ she answered, still giggling at the smouldering looks her ‘classy’ friend was throwing to the new arrivals. She frowned when she couldn’t hear a reply and plugged her other ear with a finger. ‘Hello-o-o,’ she drawled.

  In the muffled background, she heard a voice.

  ‘Vous voulez autre chose à boise?’

  Pippa frowned and looked at her phone. She didn’t recognise the number. ‘Hello?’ she tried again.

  ‘Oh, God. Look who’s here,’ Tash interrupted.

  ‘Ollie!’ Pippa gasped. The three-tone cut-off beep pierced her ear as the caller hung up. She shook her head at the call’s minor disruption to her evening and focused on the much more interesting arrival of her ex. On his arm was a slim brunette girl.

  ‘Wonder who she is,’ she murmured.

  Tash shrugged and took a slug of her drink.

  ‘Dunno. An act
ress perhaps? Those boobs are definitely not real. She looks partially animated by Pixar.’

  Pippa snorted. Unaware of their presence, Ollie and the girl threaded through the crowd to the bar. Tash raised an eyebrow at Pippa.

  ‘Feeling okay?’

  ‘Yes, fine,’ Pippa replied. She gave her a genuine smile. ‘Seriously, I don’t feel anything for Ollie. I just wish that girl luck.’

  ‘Good, that’s just what I wanted to hear. Who was that calling you?’

  ‘Don’t know. Some heavy breather. Think they were in a French restaurant or something. I could hear them being offered a drink. Then they just hung up. Maybe it was a wrong number.’

  ‘Well, if you’re in the mood to be handing out your number, I could point out one person whom I think might like it.’ She winked at Pippa in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘Because one of those two dishes who walked in a moment ago hasn’t taken his eyes off you since they arrived.’

  Pippa looked over. A young, brown-haired man, propping up the bar, nodded towards her and smiled.

  ‘Time you got us another bottle,’ Tash announced, unceremoniously nudging Pippa off her barstool.

  He’s not bad, Pippa appraised him as she approached the bar. Young maybe, younger than Jack – no, stop thinking about Jack! She gave herself an internal shake and smiled at the man.

  ‘What are you ladies drinking over there?’ he asked as she reached the counter.

  ‘Champagne, but please don’t –’

  ‘No, I insist,’ he said, taking out his wallet from his back pocket. He flapped it in front of him. ‘On one condition.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘You tell me your name. I don’t like to buy drinks for strangers.’

  ‘Pippa. My name’s Pippa.’ She gulped. Had she really forgotten how to flirt? Had she ever flirted with Jack? How had she managed to fall in love with him without ever flirting – no, stop thinking about Jack!

  He smiled.

  ‘Ah, Pippa. Means lover of horses, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Or horse trainers,’ Pippa said beneath her breath.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled brightly. ‘It means lover of horses.’

  ‘Well, it’s my pleasure to meet you, Pippa. I’m Bryce. This is Jared,’ he said, gesturing to his friend.

  ‘Hi,’ she smiled awkwardly. She attempted a flirtatious line. ‘Does Bryce have any special meaning?’

  ‘Yes. It means speckled.’

  Pippa blinked. He didn’t have any freckles that she could see. She wondered what had prompted his parents to call him that. Where exactly was he speckled?

  ‘Oh.’

  Bryce grinned.

  ‘Mind if we join you? This place is a little short on seating.’

  Pippa kept the smile pinned to her face. She could do this. This was the first step towards healing a broken heart, she told herself. And it had to be done.

  ‘No, not at all,’ she replied. ‘We’d love you to join us.’

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ollie staring at her over a sea of heads. She raised her chin and smiled at him. His jaw dropped. She fluttered a wave in his direction.

  ‘Shall we?’ Bryce said, now supplemented with a fat bottle of champagne.

  ‘Yes, let’s.’

  The following week, Pippa and Tash walked away from the long nylon-cloaked drinks table at Kings Art Gallery with two glasses of wine.

  ‘Two glasses and no more,’ Pippa warned.

  ‘For you or for me?’

  ‘Both. I haven’t touched a drop since last Saturday and my body still hasn’t recovered.’

  Tash looked sheepish as they wandered around the gallery, their heels clicking on the laminate wood floors.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that. It seemed a good idea at the time.’

  Pippa tried to look stern, but ended up grinning.

  ‘Do you realise how embarrassed I was when I woke up the next morning on that guy Bryce’s couch?’ She giggled. ‘Poor dude. Thought he’d got lucky and all he really got was me going on about Jack then passing out before he could make a proper pass at me.’

  ‘Maybe you just need more time. Do you feel any less in love with Jack now? It’s been a month now.’

  Pippa bit her lip.

  ‘Would you be exasperated if I said no? It’s not something I can just switch off. I just wish...’

  She stopped herself. No matter how many times she told herself Jack was not going to come after her, she couldn’t help but hope that might change tonight. He might not have known where she was before, but there was a chance, just a tiny chance, that Emmie might have told him that her exhibition was on tonight. He would know where to find her then. If he was going to emulate Richard Gere in Pretty Woman and An Officer and a Gentleman, tonight would be his perfect opportunity.

  She gazed at the glass doors. All she could see was her reflection standing forlornly in the distance.

  A willowy figure passed in front of her and she gasped.

  ‘Tash, look!’ she hissed.

  ‘What? Oh, crikey!’

  ‘That’s Cara Connolly.’ Pippa darted a quick look around. She didn’t see Finn anywhere. However, she did become aware of a couple standing nearby looking at her. They looked vaguely familiar.

  ‘See, Julien. I told you it’s her,’ the young woman said in a hushed voice. Seeing Pippa look their way, she smiled and walked towards her and Tash.

  ‘Mm-hmm,’ Tash murmured in appreciation, giving the man a once over.

  Pippa elbowed her discreetly.

  ‘It’s Pippa, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Pippa rummaged through her memory to place the couple.

  ‘Good evening, ma’amoiselle,’ the man said. ‘You perhaps do not remember us. My good friend, Jack Carmichael let us winter our horse at Aspen Valley. I am Julien Larocque –’

  ‘Of course!’ Pippa exclaimed, half in relief that she genuinely did recognise them. How could she have forgotten that French accent and those beautifully moulded features? ‘And Ginny Kennedy, right? Caspian’s the horse, I remember. Still favourite for the Derby?’

  Ginny glanced at Julien anxiously.

  ‘Joint favourites now,’ she said. ‘He got beat in the 2,000 Guineas last weekend. Some new competition has suddenly popped up this season.’

  ‘Well, good luck with that.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ginny smiled. ‘How is Jack? We haven’t seen him since Caspian came back into training a couple of months ago.’

  ‘Okay, as far as I know.’ Pippa tried to keep her tone light. ‘I left Aspen Valley about a month ago. Painting full time now.’

  ‘Something which we are very grateful for,’ a voice interrupted. A woman appeared by Pippa’s side and squeezed her shoulder. Pippa gave her a grateful smile. Deidre Forrester beamed at the party, her gaze lingering on Julien Larocque for a moment too long. Pippa noticed Ginny’s jaw tense. ‘Pippa does equestrian art, has she told you?’ Oblivious to the frosty look from Ginny, she turned to Pippa. ‘Julien trains a few horses for my husband, Basil. He’s especially fond of the colt. Shanghai Dancer, isn’t it, Julien? Yes. I’m sure he’d love a portrait of him done for his birthday.’

  ‘He’ll have a bit of a wait,’ Ginny said. ‘All thoroughbreds celebrate their birthday on the first of January.’

  Deidre gave her a patient smile.

  ‘Basil’s birthday, darling. Not the horse’s.’

  Pippa grinned.

  ‘I’d be happy to,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe Pippa can do us a painting of Caspian if she’s not too busy?’ Ginny said, holding Julien’s arm and looking at him imploringly.

  Julien closed his hand over hers and smiled. Pippa had to stop herself from heaving a sigh. The Frenchman was so obviously in love.

  ‘Of course, ma cherie. Perhaps your father would also like a picture for his mantelpiece, non?’

  By nine o’clock, Pippa couldn’t decide whether she was enjoying her evening or not. Four of her six painting
s had SOLD stickers on them and she had three definite commissions lined up. She wished she’d had the foresight to print out some business cards for herself as she’d instead had to resort to writing her contact details on paper napkins for the few other people who were interested in using her services. At the same time, she was very much aware that the evening would soon be coming to a close.

  Pippa was beginning to think it more likely that Richard Gere would turn up than Jack. She handed over a napkin business card and smiled as a potential customer departed. Before the door could swing closed though, it was thrust open again. Pippa choked on her mineral water.

  ‘Finn!’

  ‘A thaisce!’ Finn hurried over to her and bundled Pippa into his arms.

  ‘It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you,’ she said, surprised by how much she meant it.

  ‘Aye. Your company has been missed as well,’ he replied. ‘I wondered if I was going to bump into you here. I’da come earlier, but for riding at Ascot. I’ve come to pick up Cara though.’

  Pippa fidgeted in her shoes and swirled her drink around the glass. She remembered why exactly they hadn’t seen each other for so long.

  ‘I heard you quit Aspen Valley,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, I had to, really. You know how it is.’

  ‘Yes. It’s tough workin’ with a broken heart, is it not?’

  ‘Finn, I’m sorry –’

  ‘Agh, don’t be feeling bad for me, Pippa.’ Finn shooed her away with his hand. ‘I brought it upon myself, so. You’ve nothin’ to feel ashamed of.’ He grinned at her. ‘What did Jack tell you?’

  Pippa frowned, embarrassed.

  ‘Um, well, he said that you thought you were in love with me.’

  Finn chuckled.

  ‘No wonder you’re lookin’ like you’ve drowned a litter of puppies by mistake then.’ He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and spoke confidently. ‘Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, a thaisce, but your man Jack might have been leanin’ on exaggeration a bit.’

  ‘Oh!’ Pippa looked at him, her eyes wide with relief and confusion. ‘But why?’

  ‘Why aren’t I in love with you or why would he be leanin’ on exaggeration?’