‘Three-day eventing.’ Lottie tried not to scowl. ‘We event. It’s Dad that does the show-jumping.’ She liked the weddings because they were, well, contained. Usually. Apart from when they had the fire.
The bloody fire. She sighed and tried to keep her attention on Jamie and the closest thing to a survival plan that they’d got. ‘So there isn’t actually any polo?’
‘Well, yes, there is some.’ Jamie frowned. ‘But not much. It’s not a film about polo, more a love story.’
‘Do you really know?’
‘Well, not in detail.’ He shrugged and pulled the type of comical face one of the horses did when he could smell perfume, but minus the curled lip, which would have been very strange. ‘I am just the advance party. You’d get told loads more before you had to sign the contract, you know. All your questions answered. But Seb and Pandora have both seen pictures and they’re really mad about this place. Honest.’ He looked so sincere that Lottie felt guilty about not jumping in and shouting yes. ‘They’ll be gutted if you say no.’ She tried not to feel even worse. ‘And initially we’ll shoot the other stuff, without the horses, well, without the riding. The story is a kind of love-triangle thing. You know, the rock star wants a hideaway and his wife isn’t keen at first because she doesn’t want to be stuck in the sticks, but then she falls in love with the glamorous house. She gets a bit carried away, wants to do the whole ladyship thing, and then meets the real deal – a guy who’s old money, posh, not like her husband. He’s the polo-player. I think at first he comes to see if they can carry on playing polo here and they have an affair, but it all goes wrong. She realises she doesn’t belong here and goes back to the city. Or something like that.’
Lottie frowned. ‘With her rock star?’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’
‘So they aren’t actual polo-players, just actors?’ Lottie couldn’t put her finger on exactly why she didn’t like the idea, but it made her uneasy. In fact, it sounded worse now he’d told her more. It spoke of upheaval. And the fact that Elizabeth was all for it just made her even more suspicious.
Elizabeth would rather be penniless and have battles with the bank than let riff-raff into her beloved home. They’d been dodging the march of progress for years; it had been a major triumph when she’d finally got decent broadband installed and it didn’t take three days to download an eventing entry form. But the pipes were still gurgling, the moth-eaten rugs still lay on the woodworm-riddled floor, and she’d threatened the last property developer who’d suggested a theme park and open days with a shotgun. Which made the idea of her welcoming a film crew all very strange.
‘Well, there is one player. He advises and sorts everything.’
‘One?’
‘Actual polo-player. He’ll be advising on all the horse stuff, the rest are actors. It’s all going to be done properly.’
‘And you won’t be straying around the estate, or coming inside the house, or—’
‘Setting it on fire? Was that really a disgruntled groom, like the paper said?’
‘Well he said it actually, on his Facebook page. Said we were a load of stuck-up toffs who deserved what we got.’ Lottie frowned. ‘If you don’t mind, I’m getting rather fed up of discussing it.’
‘Sure. I guess the bit in today’s papers hasn’t helped?’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’ She really had to stop thinking about the past and move on to the solution. She glanced at Elizabeth, who hadn’t actually directly mentioned the latest reports, and wondered if she’d read them. She probably had. As Sam had said, very little got past her eagle eyes. ‘Well, I suppose this could be a good idea, as a one-off, of course.’
‘Splendid,’ Elizabeth pursed her lips as though she’d decided it was time to have the final say. ‘I knew you’d come round to my way of thinking, dear.’
‘So, it won’t be until Spring, I suppose, when the weather picks up?’
‘Oh no, dear. James came to me before Christmas, not long after we’d been in the papers with the fire. This Sebastian chap would like a meeting as soon as possible. I suggest that you invite him here next week and sort all the paperwork. Haven’t spoken to him myself. Thought I’d leave all that to you, seeing as you’re in charge, but I’m sure he’s a splendid chap. Seems keen to get a move on from what young James said.’
‘Next week?’ Lottie, who’d been feeling comforted by the ‘you’re in charge’ comment, sat down abruptly and took a large gulp of gin and tonic.
‘No use in dilly-dallying. We’ve had long enough with no income, and we are still no further forward, are we?’
Lottie wondered if that was the royal ‘we’, as in ‘her’, or if they were in this together. She opened her mouth, thought better about asking, and shut it again.
‘We really do need some more money coming in,’ Elizabeth paused and peered at Lottie, ‘before it starts going out.’
Ah, so that answered one question. Her grandmother did know about all the cancellations and demands for deposits to be returned.
‘Right, splendid. I think this warrants a toast. Do pour us all another drink, James.’
Jamie scrabbled up from his position on the floor and took Lottie’s empty glass from her frozen fingers.
Next week. She watched as he capably poured the drinks. Yes, it made sense. He hadn’t been awkward, he felt at home, he’d been here before (lots of times, no doubt) without her knowing. He’d just been embarrassed about the fact she didn’t know. Elizabeth had been planning this for weeks and biding her time to announce it.
‘I thought I was running the estate, Gran?’
‘You are, dear.’
‘But, you can’t just barge in and make new arrangements like that. You’re, you’re …’
‘Interfering? If you’d have had any real objection, then we would have stopped it. But,’ her tone softened, ‘we can’t wait any longer, can we? And this is just a short-term measure. What else can we do, Charlotte? You’ve done a splendid job with your business and, believe me, I would not even consider a project like this if we had an alternative. But we don’t, do we my dear? And I really think that newspaper article this morning proves that we’re not going to get any new bookings until we’re in a position to prove we can honour them, are we, dear?’
Lottie sighed. ‘Give me until tomorrow, I’ll talk to Rory.’ She doubted very much that her fun-loving husband would be able to magic another solution out of thin air. But who knew?
Rory Steel stared into the stable, which reflected the emptiness he felt inside perfectly. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to come clean with his wife.
They’d hit lows before and struggled through them together, but this time he had a horrible feeling they were well and truly sinking. Adding to the burden of responsibility that Lottie shouldered so stoically hadn’t been part of his plan at all.
Rory had always been known in Tippermere, and throughout the three-day eventing community, for his sense of fun, and, it had to be said, a certain irresponsibility. But, since he had taken the blind leap into matrimony he’d been surprised to realise just how important his wife was to him. He wanted to love and care for her, but it was more than that. He wanted to protect her, to share the responsibility of looking after the