Not that he was any expert at digging for facts, he was more visual, which was why he loved the job he was doing.
‘I’m a location scout,’ he told Lottie.
‘Found him loitering in the grounds in the middle of the night, didn’t we, Bertie?’
Lottie raised an eyebrow and Bertie gave a single thump of his tail. ‘What were you doing out in the middle of the night?’
‘She was in her nightie. I thought she was a ghost.’ He leapt on the opportunity to deflect attention.
‘Gran!’
‘I was quite alright, dear, had Bertie with me, couldn’t sleep.’
‘But … but … you met him, anything could have …’
‘Oh, he’s harmless.’ She waved a dismissive hand.
‘And she had a shotgun.’ Jamie didn’t want to get side-tracked onto the rights and wrongs of old ladies wandering out in their nightwear on a winter’s night.
‘Gran, you promised not to go out shooting.’
‘I wasn’t shooting, Charlotte.’
‘You had a gun.’
‘Nonsense, carrying a gun and going out shooting are two totally different things. You, of all people, should know that. I went out prepared. And Bertie doesn’t sleep properly these days, now he hasn’t got Holmes, he gets restless, poor chap. Now stop fussing and let this young man explain.’
Jamie opened his mouth and there was a loud whine. ‘That wasn’t me.’
Lottie giggled. The noise came again, along with a sound like scrabbling rats. ‘It’s Harry, he’s found me.’ There was a loud bark as the dog heard his mistress’s voice, followed by more frenzied scrabbling at the door interspersed with snuffles and whimpers.
Elizabeth pursed her lips and frowned.
‘Shall I?’ Jamie moved towards the door.
‘I wouldn’t—’
It was too late, he’d thrown it open and been swept off his feet by an ecstatic spaniel and a whirlwind of brown and white fur. After trampling over the visitor’s body in his rush to see Lottie, Harry went back, his back end wagging to apologise. Followed by the terriers, who, rather than apologising, treated the boy as an obstacle to run over and round. Harry then set off again, his nose to the ground, the pack following in his wake.
‘He’s good at sniffing things out.’ Lottie shrugged apologetically as Jamie sat up, rubbing a bruised elbow. ‘He doesn’t like me leaving him.’
‘Seb is never going to believe this place.’
‘Seb?’ Lottie passed him a gin and tonic, which he rather felt he needed, and started to prepare a new one for Elizabeth.
‘He’s my boss, Seb Drakelow. I check out places to film for him, well, really I’m just an intern, which is another word for dogsbody.’ He stayed where he was, sat on the floor. It felt the safest place to be. ‘He needs a location for this drama he’s making with his wife.’
‘His wife?’
‘She’s an actress.’ One who can’t get any parts because she’s such a bitch, he thought, but didn’t say so aloud. Talk about ‘fake it until you make it’, she’d got it down to a fine art. He was pretty sure that the only part she had nailed was that of ‘prima donna’. But she’d always treated him okay, and if it hadn’t been for her help he might never have spotted the potential of Tipping House, so he really shouldn’t have any gripe with her. She just made it so difficult to like her though. ‘Pandora Drakelow.’
Lottie was looking at him blankly. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t really watch much television.’
‘She’s quite, er, well known.’ Or she had been very briefly, but that was some years in the past. In fact, he reckoned he’d probably been at school when Pandora was in the one production that had achieved popular acclaim, and now she was struggling to reach those lofty heights again.
But she had tried to help him this time – he had to give her credit for that. And if he delivered on this one he had a proper job in the bag, plus Pandora’s appreciation, which was always useful. ‘The setting is a country estate.’
‘Oh, so it’s like Downton Abbey?’
He didn’t like to say no, because she was actually looking like she might be mildly interested. But he had no choice. ‘Well, no, not really. I mean I don’t know all the details, but it’s like modern-day stuff. It’s about a rock star and his wife, who buy a country pile,’ he glanced from Elizabeth to Lottie, who didn’t seem offended, ‘you know, escape to the country and all that, and she’s kind of bored with nothing to do, then decides to learn to play polo.’ Lottie was staring at him with a blank expression. ‘Well, she falls for this polo player and persuades him to teach her because she thinks it’s all glamour and thrills. That’s where you come in.’
* * *
Lottie suddenly realised that they were both staring at her expectantly. ‘But we don’t play polo here. We haven’t got a ground.’ She looked from Jamie to Elizabeth in confusion. ‘I’m not quite sure what this had to do with us, and it really isn’t the right time of year in this country, I mean the season doesn’t start for ages.’
‘He wants somewhere majestic,’ Jamie was clearly warming to the subject, ‘but warm, you know, that centuries-old lived-in thing.’
Lottie nodded, but wasn’t sure she did know.
‘It kind of glows, this place, if you know what I mean?’
She did get that bit. In fact, as they all knew, it had glowed literally not so very long ago, which wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on. It left a hollow feeling of dread in her stomach.
‘I saw this place in the papers, you know, after the fire and knew it would be totally amazing. Polo on your front, er, lawn. So cool, you know?’ She half-expected him to add ‘wicked’ or ‘awesome’ on the end, like Tab would have done. And he was, she thought, around the same age as their part-time groom. ‘So I, er, decided to come and have a look, and met …’ he glanced at Elizabeth.
‘Very fortuitous. They will pay, Charlotte, which is sadly more than your business is doing at the moment. Look on it as a temporary measure. It will fill a gap until you can start to take bookings again.’
‘But I thought you didn’t want people here, Gran? And they will,’ she didn’t want to offend Jamie, but she had to say it, ‘be traipsing everywhere. You said that no way would you let me open the place to the public.’ Not that she wanted to.
‘James?’
‘We’ll only work outside. We just want the grounds for shooting. The rest is all sorted.’ Jamie didn’t look offended.
‘But there will be people and catering vans … burgers!’ Lottie finished triumphantly, knowing her gran abhorred everything fast-food related.
‘I’m sure there wouldn’t be food in wrappers, would there?’
‘No, definitely no, I mean not. We have a very good catering van, with, er, plates and forks and everything.’ His voice tailed off as he looked from Elizabeth back to Lottie, then back again. ‘Proper forks. No plastic and lots of bins. And people to tidy up.’
‘There.’ Elizabeth tapped her stick on the floor, which was usually followed by a ‘that’s settled’.
‘But we need money now, not when the polo season starts, Gran.’
‘We’d want to shoot now – well soon. You know, all the setting-up shots. It’s not just polo. And,’ he paused, ‘you’d get some kind of payment as soon as