‘Ursula thinks she is,’ Heather said, hurrying to catch up with them.
Lewis smiled knowingly. ‘There’s the problem.’
‘Have you got children, Mr Trevelyan?’ she added airily.
Ella’s gaped at Heather. Crikey – she was worse than Kate when it came to getting to the point of the matter.
‘None that I know of,’ he assured her. ‘I’m not married.’
Heather gave Ella a triumphant “there you are” look, before lagging behind again in order to continue her little chat with Simon.
‘You must work long hours,’ Ella said. Then wished she hadn’t, as it sounded like she was making excuses for him not being married.
‘So must you,’ he said, an amused smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. ‘All that mucking out and rising at dawn to feed the horses must put a damper on your social life.’
What social life, she felt tempted to say? But she didn’t. She merely smiled, and nodded. ‘I don’t have many late nights,’ she said.
‘I’m not surprised.’
They had reached the area that had been cordoned off for the film crew and their associates. Huge catering trucks stood side by side with caravans and trailers, and portable loos.
‘Won’t be a moment,’ Lewis said, flashing his pass to one of the security men stationed at the entrance. ‘I need to set things up with the team. Kenny will get you a cold drink while you’re waiting, won’t you Ken?’ He pointed over to one of the trailers. ‘You can tether the horse over there, if you like.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll hold him,’ Ella said.
‘Sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ she said. The last thing she wanted was Majesty being startled by all the unusual activity going on around him, and taking off in fright with a trailer attached to his lead rope.
She loosened her hold on the reins, and Majesty – ever one to seize an opportunity, lowered his head and began to munch quite happily on the flattened area of grass around them.
Ella rubbed her hand on his withers. ‘He’s being very calm about all this, isn’t he?’ she said. The brightly coloured trucks or the noise from the generators would have unsettled most other horses.
‘That’s the beauty of keeping him on a farm,’ Heather said, standing on tiptoe in an attempt to peer over the high security fencing. ‘Once he’d seen his first combine harvester and realised it wasn’t going to hurt him, everything else became acceptable to him – tractors, trailers, you name it – he doesn’t bat an eyelid.’
‘What about the lights?’ Ella said. ‘Do you think he’ll be all right with them?’
Heather peered at the huge floodlights, set up on scaffolding outside the arena. ‘Yes, he’ll be fine.’ She nudged Ella’s arm. ‘What about you, though? Are you all right about it?’
‘What?’
‘Riding with Simon, of course. Lucky cow,’ she added.
‘That’s going to be the easy part,’ Ella said. ‘It’s what happens next, that worries me.’
‘What do you mean? You’re not still concerned about Ursula, are you?’
‘A bit.’ Ella murmured, stroking Majesty’s neck.
‘For God’s sake, why? Heather spluttered. ‘She had no right to stop you coming here.’
‘Well, she didn’t exactly stop me.’
‘Rubbish. She made damn well sure you couldn’t come. You know she did.’ Heather shook her head. ‘All that talk about leaving you in charge. It was a ploy to keep you away. Honestly, that women,’ she seethed. ‘She makes my blood boil. She’s ruining the business for you and everyone else that uses the stables. She’s on another planet, Ella. It’s high time you opened your eyes and saw what she was doing.’
‘I know,’ Ella sighed. She straightened up and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘I do know,’ she added quietly. ‘I guess it was just easier to pretend not to.’
‘Ladies?’
One of the technicians peered his head round the high security fence and waved over at them. ‘Lewis says can you come through, now.’
‘This is it!’ Heather said, scrambling to her feet.
Ella gave her a weak smile. ‘I can’t help wondering what I’m doing here.’
‘Having your moment of fame,’ Heather said, looping the reins over Majesty’s head, and handing them over to her. ‘You go for it, girl.’
The scene behind the fence was one of frantic activity. Technicians were busy assembling a special track to mount the camera on. It was to run alongside the ramp of the horse trailer, where Simon De Silva would vault onto Majesty. A stand-in actor was playing the part as the various lights and cameras were erected, using a pile of hay-bales for the horse.
Simon, meanwhile, was sitting by one of the caravans, having his makeup hastily re-applied - a bloody gash on his forehead, and smudges of dirt on his brow.
‘Ella?’ He beckoned her over. She handed the horse’s reins to Heather, and made her way across the crowded set towards him.
‘You might need a touch of this,’ he said.
‘What, make-up?’
He nodded. ‘What do you think, Sarah? Does she need a bit of colour?’
The woman, who was dabbing blood spots onto the front of his shirt, glanced up at her and smiled. ‘She’ll look like a ghost if she doesn’t.’
‘Make-up it is, then.’ He grinned, and Ella suddenly saw why everyone was so besotted with him. He had the most gorgeous smile.
‘Ella!’ Lewis Trevelyan came striding towards her holding a clipboard and a sheet of paper in one hand.
(Whereas he, she thought shyly, was in a different league altogether.)
‘I’ve got one of the scriptwriters doing a quick rehash of that scene. Should take about thirty or forty minutes. Then we’ll be ready to rehearse the shot. Miles isn’t happy about it,’ he added. ‘But he realises it’s our only option if we want to finish filming today.’
‘Thirty minutes?’ she said.
‘Is that a problem?’
His eyes glanced sideways at her, and Ella felt her stomach quiver under their thoughtful stare. Why was he having such an effect on her? She wasn’t a silly star struck teenager. And yet she felt weak just being near him.
‘Um…no,’ she said. ‘Well, not really. I mean…’
‘What?’ His thoughtful gaze continued. Ella thought she was going to faint, or keel over, or do something equally stupid.
‘It’s Majesty,’ she blurted. ‘He needs to be kept moving.’ She sucked in a deep breath. This was ridiculous. She had never felt like this before. ‘I need to keep him warmed up.’
‘Ah, right,’ he said. He smiled, almost knowingly, and Ella felt a surge of heat flood through her veins.
‘I’ll take him to the practice arena. Do a few circuits with him,’ she said, in as matter-of-fact a tone as she could muster. ‘We’ll come back in, say,’ she looked at her watch, ‘twenty five minutes?’
Lewis nodded. But as she turned to walk away his hand on her arm stopped her in mid-stride. Ella felt her heart leap to her throat as she glanced back at him.
‘I really appreciate what you’re doing for us, Miss Johnson,’ he said.
She blushed. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Oh, it’s far from that,’ he said softly.
His gaze lingered on her as she made her way back to the horse. ‘Far from that.’
‘Lewis!’
Distracted, he glanced round. Matthew was sauntering towards him munching a hot Suffolk sausage in a home baked bun, (courtesy of one of the farmer’s stalls in the Food Hall.) ‘I gather you’ve found your rider,’ he said.
‘Better than that,’ Lewis said. He pointed to where Ella was swinging up into the saddle. ‘That’s her,’ he added, jabbing him good-humouredly in the ribs. ‘And you owe me fifty quid. She’s agreed to be filmed with Simon.’
‘When?’
‘In about thirty minutes.’
‘You’re kidding!’ Mat hew gulped back the last mouthful of his sausage. ‘Have you fo
rgotten about the competition? Lewis,’ he groaned. ‘This is not going to look good. There are still a dozen or so riders to go. You can’t pick a winner before the event finishes.’
‘Who can’t?’
‘Lewis. We agreed…’
‘I know what we agreed, Matthew, but Miles won’t wait,’ he said. ‘You heard what he said to Lucy. He wants to finish the shoot today. I’ve found him the perfect girl, and the perfect horse.’
‘So what happens to the winner of the competition?’
‘She’ll get a part,’ he said. ‘Any part – just not this one, okay?’
Matthew grimaced. ‘The public won’t like it.’
‘The public won’t know.’ Lewis lowered his voice. ‘They won’t, Matt. There’s no reason why they should. As long as we stick to our promise made in the publicity flyers that the winner gets to appear in the latest Simon De Silva movie, we’re home and dry.’
‘And you’ll honour that,’ Matthew said, jerking his head in the direction of the Grand Ring, where Vanessa Johnson was about to make her entrance on the striking grey Arab, ‘no matter who wins?’
‘Of course,’ Lewis said. Though whether the shot got past the cutting room floor was neither here nor there.
Matthew thought about it for a moment, his brows furrowed, and then he reached inside his jacket pocket for his wallet. ‘Suppose I’d better pay up, then,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Lewis said, holding out his hand. ‘I suppose you had.’
Chapter Sixteen
Ursula Johnson was almost beside herself with excitement as she watched Vanessa trot into the arena on Minstrel. After the disappointing performance from Caroline, she was pinning all her hopes on her other daughter.
She crossed both sets of fingers, and everything else she could think of. A silent prayer wouldn’t go amiss either, she thought.
‘And now we have Miss Vanessa Johnson riding Minstrel,’ came the announcement over the tannoy. Ursula felt a surge of pride.
‘Very nice,’ observed the immaculately dressed woman in the scarlet dress and matching hat sitting alongside her.
‘That’s my daughter,’ Ursula blurted. She couldn’t help herself. Her cheeks felt as if they would burst under the pressure of her beaming grin. Vanessa had popped over the first jump as if it had been a pole on the ground. Minstrel was flying round, as sure footed as they come.
‘Quality blood line,’ said an elderly gentleman in a bowler hat a little further along the rail. ‘You can tell that with Arab’s. Pure class.’
The crowd gasped as Minstrel nudged the top pole in the double, but it stayed put. An audible sigh echoed round the arena.
Ursula was on her feet and clutching at the white railings as horse and rider headed for the water. ‘Come on, come on,’ she hissed, her knuckles pinched white under her skin.
Minstrel cleared it with ease, and Ursula let out a sigh. The horse was magnificent. That’s where they’d been going wrong all these years. She’d been putting the girls on sub-standard animals – ones that had no hope of a clear round. Why hadn’t she realised it before now? It was all Stella Watkins fault. Using the horse for dressage when it clearly excelled at show jumping. She would be having words with her.
Vanessa had reached the final turn and was heading for the last jump. Ursula felt her heart thumping madly against her chest. ‘Please do it,’ she prayed. ‘Please, please do it.’
The roar of applause from the crowd as Vanessa sailed over the jump and galloped for the finish had everyone out of his or her seats.
‘Oh my God!’ Ursula shrieked, punching the sky with her fist. ‘She’s done it. She’s done it!’
The woman in the red dress gave her a disdainful stare. Such unsightly shows of exuberance were not the done thing in the chairman’s stand.
Ursula couldn’t care less. ‘Wasn’t she brilliant?’ she enthused. ‘My goodness, that girl’s got talent. It’s in the genes, you know. Her stepfather was a champion show-jumper.’
‘Then it’s hardly in her genes,’ the woman retorted crisply.
Deflated, Ursula gave her a withering glare, before snatching up her bag, and pushing her way through the rows of interested spectators. ‘Excuse me…excuse me.’ She shoved her way out of the seating area, and made towards the arena’s main exit.
The commentator was still talking as she left. ‘That’s a clear round for Vanessa Johnson riding Minstrel. We now have three riders in the jump-off. Let’s see if we can make it four. Our next competitor is number 217 – that’s Hilary Frampton on Pegasus…’
Ursula had reached the collecting ring, where Vanessa was draping a sweat rug over the steaming and snorting Minstrel.
‘Mother!’ Vanessa practically threw herself into Ursula’s outstretched arms. Her face was scarlet from her exertions. Beads of sweat trickled down her neck and into the stock of her shirt. ‘We did it!’ she shrieked. Her voice was on the verge of hysteria. ‘We did it! We did it!’ She slapped Minstrel heartily on the side of the neck. ‘Did you see him jump? Mother, he was magnificent. Oh my God,’ she panted breathlessly. ‘I don’t believe it. Mother, we’re in the final.’
‘Well done, darling,’ Ursula said.
‘Yes, well done,’ muttered Caroline, somewhat begrudgingly, as she toyed with Minstrel’s reins. Even she had to admit that her sister had done better than anyone expected her to do. The chances were that she could now win this competition. And if that were the case, she had better keep on the good side of her.
‘Could you sponge him down for me?’ Vanessa said sweetly.
‘Yes, of course.’ Caroline said. She’d do anything, if it gave her the chance to meet Simon De Silva. Of course, if she’d been given a better horse to ride herself, instead of that stupid Jasper, she might have done equally as well. It wasn’t fair the way Vanessa had got the best horse. She brooded sulkily as she filled a bucket of water and carried it back to the still sweating Minstrel.
‘Who’s riding now?’ Vanessa asked, as she shook her hair free from the sticky confines of her hat, and loosened the buttons on her neat fitting show jacket.
‘Jessie Mason,’ Ursula said, peering through the gap in the arena fence. ‘But she’s got four faults already. Whoops – that’s another four. One hoof in the water.’
‘And there’s about six riders left to compete.’ Vanessa took a long swig from a bottle of chilled water, and sprinkled some of it on her hands and sweaty brow.
‘Yes, but so far you’ve got the fastest horse,’ Ursula assured her. ‘The others aren’t a patch on Minstrel when it comes to speedy turns.’
‘Oh my God!’ Vanessa thumped herself down on a straw bale, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. ‘I could win this, Mother.’
‘You could,’ Ursula said, beaming. Her smiled faded slightly as she patted her on the shoulder. ‘In fact, for the sake of the stables, I really think you must.’
Caroline smirked. ‘No pressure there, then,’ she observed dryly.
‘Oh do shut up,’ Vanessa snapped. ‘You’re only jealous. But I’ll show you. In fact, I’ll show everyone.’ She stood up and brushed the straw from her show breeches with the back of her hand. ‘I’m going to win this competition,’ she announced proudly. ‘You see if I don’t.’
A mobile camera unit was filming in the Grandstand as Ella rode Majesty into the collecting ring. Miles had wanted plenty of crowd scenes and background shots which would be cut into the main action. To this end, he had despatched small teams of cameramen and sound technicians to all areas of the Showground.
‘Capture the atmosphere of the event,’ he said, peering at a preview of some of the days’ rushes through a small monitor. ‘I want loads of close-ups. We’re after tension here – the drama and excitement of the show jumping circuit. Good – yes, that’s excellent.’ He paused to examine a still of one of the riders falling at the water jump. ‘Get me more like that, Adam,’ he said, waving his hand at one of the crew. ‘I can use those shots before we switch to the
first-aid post. And talking of first-aid posts, how’s Simon doing?’
‘Still in make-up,’ came the reply.
‘How long before we shoot?’
‘Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.’
‘Right. Jason? Can someone find me Jason?’
Ella was oblivious to the fact that she was being filmed as she trotted Majesty round the practice ring. She was more concerned about bumping into her stepmother, or one of her stepsisters.
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