Country Rivals. Zara Stoneley
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love Tigs. She’s good for Dad. He was such a grumpy bugger before.’
Sam giggled. ‘I’ve been trying to get Tiggy to come with me and get her roots done. I mean, nobody actually wants to have all them grey bits on their head, do they? My hairstylist, Bobby, would make her look ten years younger, and I reckon a bit of Moroccan oil would work wonders on her hair. Look what it’s done for me.’ She held a blond strand out for inspection. ‘I don’t think them people in Morocco should have kept it a secret from us for so long, it’s amazing. Anyhow, she keeps saying she’s busy. Run off her feet she is.’
Lottie knew Tiggy was no such thing, but wasn’t surprised at the tactics. Her step-mother, AKA ‘Tatty Tiggy’, was more than happy in her own skin and Billy loved her just as she was, with her bohemian clothes, wild hair, and ample bosom. Whilst Lottie was pretty sure that nothing in life ever horrified Tiggy, at a guess she did, no doubt, think the idea of a Samantha-style makeover a huge joke. She was still trying to work out whether there was a tactful response or whether she’d be better just smiling, when a shriek of laughter made them all turn round.
‘Lottie, Manda, Mummy look, look at me.’ Roxy had found an old cushion and was sitting on it sliding down the stone steps that led up to the balustrade, where they were supposed to be watching the fireworks from. She was nothing if not resourceful.
‘What is she like? Bless her. Davey, Dave hun, be a babe and bring her back. My heels are hell walking up and down these steps. Get one caught in a crack and I’ll be A over T again, won’t I?’
‘I thought your au-pair was supposed to be here, Sam?’
‘I’ve given her Christmas off, babe. So she can see her family, back in Croatia or wherever it is. Where’s she from, Dave?’ She carried on without waiting for an answer. Dave was busy turning his daughter upside down so that she squealed and her dress covered her head. Lottie watched worriedly as he put her on his shoulders. She was only three and he was the size you’d expect to be an England goalkeeper to be – six foot and quite a lot. Roxy, though, was fearless.
‘But it’s New Year now, Sam, shouldn’t she be back?’
‘Aww I know, babe, but it’s a long way, isn’t it? We can manage, can’t we Davey? And I thought a proper Christmas holiday, just us,’ she linked her arm through Lottie’s, ‘would be amazing. We’ve helped each other out, haven’t we, babe? And the kids love being with you and Rory.’
Hmm, I know they do, thought Lottie, waiting for the inevitable subject to crop up again. Just when she’d been trying to forget about it.
‘Your turn next eh, hun? Don’t want your eggs getting past their sell-by date, do you? You’ll only be fit for making omelettes, as my mam used to say.’
Lottie smiled. Sam was as bad as Gran; once she had an idea she was like a bloody terrier. There was no letting go, but this was one decision that Lottie wasn’t going to be bullied into. It wasn’t just that they couldn’t afford it – it was more than that. The whole idea scared her: all that responsibility, just her and Rory and a tiny defenceless baby. She glanced down at Alice, who had slipped her small hand into her mother’s and was standing quietly at her side.
What she’d said to Sam about Alexa was true. She’d never really known her mother, as she’d been a toddler when Alexandra had died, leaving just her and Billy. She loved her father and she knew he loved her, but she also knew she’d changed his life. Thrown a burden of responsibility on the young show-jumper that had altered the course of his future. Even now, when she was supposed to be all grown up, she still remembered those feelings she’d had as a teenager. She’d hated her mother, the woman she’d never known – truly hated her with a strength that had left her feeling sick and guilty – for leaving and turning their lives upside down.
Her only real memories came from photographs, of a laughing carefree girl, forever young. A girl who’d flitted away, abandoned her. They’d got by, but she dimly remembered the many heated arguments she’d overheard between Billy and Elizabeth, and the frequent occasions when a groom had picked her up from school. ‘I wish I was a better dad,’ he’d said when he rang her from yet another show-jumping event, apologetic that he’d missed a parents’ evening, a sports day. But he had been a good dad, a good dad trying to be a mum as well. Struggling to be everything, when her mother should have been there. How could she even think about being a mother herself when she didn’t know what one really was? She’d either be stupidly over-protective or resent the whole idea of motherhood and carry on as she always had.
‘I do love this terrace.’ Amanda ran a hand along the stone balustrade, trying to change the subject, glancing up at her through long eyelashes with a worried frown.
But there was no need. Sam had already been distracted.
‘Bloody ‘ell, look at that.’ She was staring across the grass towards the dark figures of Rory and Mick, suddenly illuminated as a Catherine wheel sprang into life, sending them dashing for cover as it spat out an uneven shower of light in all directions, like water from a hosepipe with kinks in it. ‘Girls, come here, quickly, Alice, Roxy, come on Davey.’
The fireworks had started with a bang, well, a splutter. Davey galloped up the steps, little Roxy clapping her hands in delight at the turn of speed, the giggles turning to a wail as a huge rocket exploded like a cannon, scattering an enormous shower of sparks into the black night sky. She burst into tears, while Alice clutched Amanda’s hand tightly in both of her own and looked up at her aghast.
‘They won’t get you, darling, they’re in the sky, like the stars.’
Alice’s brow was creased in a frown as she listened to her mother earnestly, and Roxy stopped the noise while she considered the new revelation.
‘If they’re stars why do they disappear? Stars stay until I go to sleep.’
‘Only a few more,’ Lottie glanced at her watch, ‘then it’s midnight and there’ll be one big bang and all over.’
‘Friggin’ hell.’ The yell from Rory carried clearly across to the terrace. ‘Run Mick, the whole bloody lot’s about to go.’ The two men started sprinting towards the house, still carrying their torches and their audience watched open-mouthed. ‘Maybe not.’ Rory ground to a halt and grinned up at them from the bottom of the steps. ‘False alarm, folks.’ But he’d spoken too soon, as with a terrific squeal the firework show started in disorganised earnest.
‘You stupid eejit.’ Mick was laughing as he doubled over, trying to get his breath back. ‘I told you to put the lid on.’
‘Lost it.’ His words were drowned out by the noise as more fireworks lit the night sky.
Roxy had forgotten her tears. Hands on hips, she stood at her mother’s side looking down at Rory, then she waved a finger. ‘I’m,’ bang, ‘vewy’ double explosion, ‘disappointed. You’ve,’ bang, ‘wuined everything.’ And with that she folded her arms and, marching to the back of the terrace, sat down.
Mick laughed. ‘God knows why I agreed to help you, you idiot.’
‘I think it’s pretty spectacular, actually.’ Rory rolled over and lay on the damp grass, staring up at the sky. ‘Synchronised displays are for sissies.’
‘Anybody for a glass of bubbly? Close enough to midnight, by my reckoning.’ Dom popped the cork as the last of the fireworks fizzled out and Lottie passed the glasses round, saving Rory’s to last.
‘Happy New Year, darling.’
She stared into his eyes and what shone back was pure optimism, love of life, and love for her. It was going to be alright. This year would be fine. They’d sort something out, work out how to raise the money they needed to keep Tipping House going until the wedding business was back in full flow. They’d come up with a plan together, and he was happy with the time he spent with Roxy and Alice. No responsibility, just fun. ‘Happy New Year, Rory.’
‘Stop worrying.’ His kissed the end of her nose and grinned.