Country Affairs. Zara Stoneley
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he never knew he possessed and now she was his priority. Along with his unborn child.
‘Thank heavens for that. Finally somebody who will talk some sense.’ Elizabeth’s backbone visibly straightened as Pip, with a wink in Dom’s direction, waltzed into the room. ‘Pour me a drink Philippa, and you,’ Elizabeth glared at her son, Dominic, ‘can take the dogs out for some exercise if you want to be useful.’ Bertie, the portly Labrador, picked precisely that moment to wander into the drawing room, a very fat but very dead rabbit hanging from his soft mouth.
Pip grimaced. Dead things, especially in the house, were something she could never quite get used to. She might have grown up surrounded by fields, but that was a Welsh mining village, where very little moved and very little died apart from the elderly residents.
She wrinkled her nose and sloshed a generous measure of gin into the nearest tumbler. Dom frowned and raised an eyebrow.
‘It’s for me. I need a drink.’
Dom wasn’t convinced. He’d asked Philippa along to the discussion because he knew his mother liked her. They had an unexpected affinity, which he could only put down to a shared interest in mischief-making, and maybe loneliness. They were of a type: fiercely independent, smart and undemonstrative. Elizabeth had never been one for shows of affection, but Dominic knew that beneath the surface she was as kind and caring as they came. But she wasn’t about to lay herself bare to anybody.
He sometimes wondered about his parents’ relationship, if his mother had ever truly opened up, even to his father. And he hoped very much that he was different. That he could share everything with Amanda, the woman he’d never expected to find. But his upbringing and genes meant it didn’t come naturally. But, there again, unburdening oneself and breaking down wasn’t always a good thing.
He studied Pip, who was sipping her gin with a look of mischief on her fine features. He didn’t trust them together, but he would use any means at his disposal to aid his attempt to get his mother to hand over the reins to her granddaughter. Going on as they had been was no longer an option. He was spending far too much time meeting with the new bank manager, who didn’t have any of the understanding of the old one, who had helped manage their money for years. He couldn’t explain the situation to Elizabeth and risk damaging her health even further. He’d been told to avoid stressing her. Although, he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly how dire the situation was, and had decided to ignore it. Something Lottie was very good at.
Although Lottie’s most recent attempt at organising an event, her father’s wedding, had not exactly been a success in the conventional sense, he was still convinced that she had to start to shoulder much more of the responsibility, had to prepare to be Lady of the Manor. And hopefully work out how to save it in the process.
And, although it made him feel very selfish, Amanda needed him. He’d never, until he met his wife, had anybody really need him. But he had now, and he wasn’t going to let her down. His caretaking duties had to come to an end sooner or later, and as Charlotte showed no inclination to get married and follow the path of inheritance, she could at least start to assume responsibility. It was all going to be hers one day soon, and sooner if she didn’t help him find a way to get the bank off their backs.
Pip opened her blue eyes wider, a hint of a smile wrinkling the corners. ‘Well, you said Elizabeth wasn’t allowed.’
‘She isn’t. But I don’t expect that will stop the two of you.’
‘I am not dead yet, you know, unlike that animal Bertie’s got. Where on earth did you get that from, you naughty animal? Do get Cook to hang it in the kitchen, Dominic. And Philippa, come and sit down.’ Elizabeth patted the seat next to her. ‘The pair of you can stop talking about me as though I’m not here. I’m beginning to sympathise with that Mark Twain fellow, who was presumed in his grave before his time, even if he was American. I take it we’re all gathered, so you can persuade me it’s time to take a back seat?’
Dom looked at his mother and wished, not for the first time, that she wasn’t so shrewd, just a nice old lady in her dotage. ‘Yes.’ He sighed, prepared for the fight.
‘Well about time too. Why you haven’t got Charlotte sorted before now is beyond me. The girl is more than ready.’
‘What do you mean, sorted?’ Lottie chose just that moment to arrive, swiftly removing the rabbit from Bertie’s jaws and dangling it out of his reach as she looked from Elizabeth to Dom and back again.
‘You need to organise things, dear. Now get rid of that carcass and pour us all a stiff drink. Your Uncle Dominic spends all his time trying to hide bank statements from me, but he appears to have forgotten that you need to feed and water the living.’
Dom opened his mouth to respond, then wondered why he was bothering and shut it again.
There was something wrong if Elizabeth was being compliant. She must be up to something, which probably involved getting her hands on a large gin and tonic.
Lottie wondered whether she could just shove the dead animal under the table, then decided to give it to Dom instead, before eyeing up the drinks suspiciously.
‘That’s Philippa’s G&T. Come on now, before we all expire. And pour your uncle a brandy. He’s looking a bit peaky.’ Lottie picked up the bottle and was staring at the assortment of chipped cut glass, trying to decide how much brandy was a good measure, when Dom returned from his disposal duties.
‘Let me.’ He took the bottle and ignored his mother’s gimlet stare. Intending to take charge was one thing, but he now had a horrible feeling that his plans were about to be hijacked, and pouring drinks might well be the most useful contribution he could make.
‘Now Charlotte, I’m sure Dominic will show you all the boring bank statements later, and those awful spreadsheet things. Damned confusing if you ask me, when all you need is a bottom line.’ The clearing of Dom’s throat was audible.
‘He’s already shown me some.’
‘Yes, well, I’m sure he has, dear, but he hides a lot of them, thinks I’m losing my marbles.’ She looked at Dom as though challenging him to comment, which he wisely didn’t. ‘We are in a bit of a mess, but nothing that you can’t deal with, I’m sure. When I took this place on things needed doing, but we muddled through and so shall you, dear. All you need to know is that I’m not having the general public tramping through the place and sticking that nasty chewing gum everywhere, so you can scotch that plan. When I’m dead and buried you may do as you wish, but as I am far from it,’ she shot Dom another glance, ‘I do want you to maintain standards. But I will not interfere.’ There was a splutter from the direction of her son. ‘And I don’t want the grounds destroyed. None of those yuppie hunting and fishing events. Just raise some money, dear,’ she had one eye fixed on Lottie and the other on Dominic and the bottle of gin, which he was being far too careful with, ‘young people do it all the time these day for charity, so if long-haired pop people like that Bob Dildo can raise a million or so, then why can’t you? He doesn’t even look particularly attractive. Dirt under his fingernails, I imagine.’
‘Do you mean Bob Dylan?’
‘Whatever you say, dear.’
‘Isn’t he all religious, or something, these days?’ Lottie was confused.
‘Charlotte.’ Dom decided things were going off-piste. ‘Can we concentrate?’
‘But, Bob Dylan?’
‘Bob Geldof.’ Intervened Pip with a grin, already enjoying herself.
‘Oh.’ Lottie paused. That made slightly more sense. ‘Isn’t he Sir Bob now?’
‘He certainly is not.’ Elizabeth looked at the bottle of gin pointedly. ‘He has a KBE and let that be enough.’
‘You knew all along it was him and not Bob Dylan, didn’t you?’
‘Charlotte, darling,’ Elizabeth as was her norm, didn’t deign to answer the question. ‘At