Keeping the Peace (27 page)

‘Smoking Ace now takes the lead as they jump the last in the back straight,’ cried the commentator, a renewed urgency creeping into his voice. ‘Town Crier blunders! Back in third, Pastiche is gaining. Silver Rock is upsides him. Next is Lumberjack – Lumberjack falls!’

Pippa moaned as the runners made hasty manoeuvres around the horse and jockey as they climbed to their feet, unharmed. Peace Offering, now in fifth was far enough back to avoid the pair without being hampered.

‘Now they enter the home straight for the last time!’ yelled the commentator. ‘Smoking Ace is all out and leads by four, make that five lengths. Town Crier is spent, He’s dropping back! Pastiche now moves into second as they take the third last – he’s given that fence a hefty clout! Peace Offering is battling it out with Silver Rock for fourth place…’

‘Come on, Peace Offering!’ Pippa cried, unable to contain herself any longer. ‘Go on, Finn! You can do it!’ She jumped up and down as the distance and strong early gallop now started to tell on the runners’ weary legs.

Peace Offering’s stride was lengthening. With the freedom of a loose rein, he stretched out his neck, eating into the gap between him and the three horses in front. In giant strides, he passed a wobbling Town Crier. Smoking Ace jumped the second last, brushing through the top and stumbled on landing. Pastiche wasn’t much more fluent. Finn sat tight on Peace Offering, keeping him balanced as he tackled the fence.

Behind them, Pippa was vaguely aware of other tired horses being pulled up or making such ghastly mistakes that their riders were tossed over their shoulders and into the ploughed up turf. The last jump loomed and the gap between Peace Offering and his two rivals ahead dwindled as he went into overdrive. Smoking Ace got in tight, but cleared it. Pastiche, a length behind, did the same. Another two lengths back, Peace Offering, feeling the sting of Finn’s whip, took off a stride too soon and paddled his way through the birch.

Pippa gasped and clung to Ollie’s arm for support. Finn sat back in his saddle, pulling on the reins and threw out an arm to keep from overbalancing. The bay horse scraped his nose along the churned up ground as he fought to keep his feet.

With a sigh of relief, Pippa watched them regain their balance and set off after the leaders once more. But their momentum was gone. After galloping three miles, it was an impossible task for them to build it up again with less than a furlong more to go.

The favourite, Smoking Ace, pulled further ahead and to the welcoming roar of the crowd, passed by the winning post two lengths clear of Pastiche. Another four lengths back, Peace Offering crossed the line, his neck stretched low and his nostrils curled wide to gulp in the cold air, out of gas, but still full of heart.

Pippa sagged, exhausted, and looked at Ollie.

He looked disenchanted.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

‘How much do we win?’ he replied.

Pippa shrugged.

‘Prize money won’t be huge. Maybe a grand then there’s jockeys’ and trainers’ percentage to be taken off that too.’

Ollie shook his head and Pippa exhaled with resignation. Was she going to get another lecture on how racehorses were a waste of money? Didn’t he understand? Couldn’t he see what a huge achievement a third place was! She felt a hand close over her right shoulder, a brief reassuring squeeze. She looked behind her. Jack gave her an almost indecipherable nod. She’d almost forgotten he was there. She smiled, but didn’t know if he caught it. The Penningtons were already hustling him away so they could go greet their winner.

P
ippa and Ollie strolled along the Bristol Harbour promenade, whiling away the time before their appointed dinner reservation. Bundled in her coat, Pippa huddled against Ollie for warmth as they stopped to admire the night time view. Misshapen reflections from the lights of bordering restaurants and pubs rolled in the rippling black inkwell of the tide. The boats, floating weightless on the water, thudded against their moorings like dozy hobbled donkeys, the occasional flap of a canvas sail catching the night breeze like an indolent flick of the ear. Nearby, a dull heartbeat of musical bass pulsing through its nightclub’s soundproof walls lured the Saturday night revellers to its hub.

‘So pretty, isn’t it?’ she murmured. ‘I wish I could paint this.’

‘It’d be a bit dismal, wouldn’t it?’ Ollie said. ‘I mean it’s so dark it wouldn’t exactly brighten up somebody’s living room, would it?’

‘Hmm,’ Pippa agreed half-heartedly. ‘On a sunny day, it’d be lovely.’

‘I’m getting sea-sick just looking at those boats. Come on, let’s go find this restaurant. Rich says it’s where all the cast from
Casualty
hang out. Maybe we’ll spot a few faces.’

‘They may recognise you too,’ Pippa said, giving him a teasing nudge and linking her arm through his.

Ollie smiled modestly.

‘Maybe.’

Pippa blinked as they entered the restaurant, the galaxy of ceiling lights making her shy away after the soft darkness of the harbour. They were met by the maître d’.

‘We have a table booked for seven-thirty under Oliver Buckingham,’ Ollie said.

The woman referred to her reservations book and gave them a thin smile, reminding Pippa of her old boss, Jayne.

‘I’m afraid your table won’t be available until the appointed time. Perhaps you would like to wait in the lounge for the remaining twenty minutes,’ she said, gesturing to a long glass-fronted room overlooking the harbour.

They stopped en route at the bar and ordered some wine before weaving their way between the brown leather lounge chairs to find vacant seats.

‘I think we might have to stand at the bar,’ Pippa said, casting her gaze over the fashionable clientele.

‘Look! Over there,’ Ollie hissed.

‘Where? Can you see some spare seats?’

‘
There
,’ Ollie nodded his head sideways. ‘I can’t point. I’m sure that’s Jess Heffernan from
Casualty
.’

Pippa refrained from rolling her eyes.

‘Ollie, we’re meant to be looking for seats. Let’s head back to the bar.’

‘No, wait! Isn’t that whats-his-face?’

‘Ollie, please. My feet are killing me. At least let me prop myself up on a bar stool,’ Pippa groaned.

‘No. It’s your boss or your trainer or whatever he is.’

Pippa whirled back and scanned the room.

‘Jack?’

‘Yes. I’m sure it’s him. There, with some blonde woman.’

Her stomach lurched as she realised he was correct. Jack was indeed relaxing into an armchair, one ankle crossed casually over his knee. Opposite him was the striking figure of Melissa Mardling.

‘And look!’ Ollie went on. ‘They’ve got a spare couple of seats at their table. Let’s go join them.’

‘What? No –’ Pippa tried to grab Ollie’s arm, but he was already walking purposefully across the room. ‘Ollie, no,’ she muttered, hurrying after him.

‘Evening, folks!’ Ollie said in a loud jovial voice, coming to a standstill above the couple.

Jack looked at him blankly. Melissa looked bemused.

Pippa sidled up next to Ollie.

‘Hello, Jack, Melissa,’ she said awkwardly.

Jack spilt his beer on his thigh.

‘Pippa! And yes, of course, Ollie. Sorry, wasn’t expecting to see you here.’

‘Just treating Pippa to a decent meal,’ Ollie beamed. ‘Mind if we –’

‘Sorry to have disturbed you,’ Pippa interrupted and gave his arm a subtle yank. ‘We were just on our way to the bar.’ She gave them an apologetic smile and tried to guide Ollie away.

‘No, please. Have a seat,’ Jack said, half-rising in politeness.

‘We really don’t want to intrude,’ she insisted.

‘Don’t mind if we do, thanks,’ Ollie grinned, stepping around the table to an empty chair.

Pippa hesitated. She noticed a small frown flit across Melissa’s unlined forehead as Ollie passed her and the woman tilted her nose to sniff the air. Pippa cringed. She’d almost forgotten about the potential matching cologne issue. Jack didn’t appear to have noticed. He was busy dabbing the wet patch on his thigh with a paper napkin.

‘Pippa, are you going to sit down? I thought you said your feet were hurting.’

Three faces looked up at her in expectation. Feeling like she was about to step into a minefield, she took her place next to Ollie.

Jack cleared his throat.

‘Melissa, you remember Pippa, my secretary? And this is Ollie. Ollie, Melissa.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Melissa conceded. ‘I didn’t realise you had a
boyfriend
, Pippa.’

‘Ollie still lives in London,’ she explained. She glanced at Jack, trying to gauge his reaction to them crashing their party. His expression was of controlled neutrality.

‘And what do you do in London?’ Melissa asked.

‘I’m an actor.’ Ollie smiled modestly at the impressed raise of her manicured eyebrows. ‘One of my co-stars on
Holby
City
, Rich Holden, recommended this restaurant. What line of work are you in?’ he continued, sensing a potential fan.

Melissa gave a nonchalant wave of her hand and re-crossed her long legs.

‘Fashion. I design clothes. Not a huge label; I prefer to cater for the select.’

This time it was Ollie’s turn to look impressed.

‘And no doubt you’re very good at it,’ he replied, nodding in appreciation at her stylish woollen twill outfit. ‘Have you ever thought about acting? The camera would love you.’

Pippa’s eyes widened at his blatant flirting and darted a panicked look towards Jack. The trainer sat, very still and watchful, reminding her of a hunter awaiting its prey.

Melissa laughed, placing an elegant hand at the base of her throat and fingering her necklace.

‘Pippa,’ she smiled, a trace of misguided pity in her tone making her feel even more humiliated. ‘Jack tells me you’re quite the artist. Do you intend to make a business of your talent?’

With an awkward chuckle, she shrugged.

‘I don’t know –’

‘It’d be a pretty precarious business, wouldn’t you say?’ Ollie snorted. ‘When was the last time you sold a painting?’

‘Not so long ago, in fact,’ Jack spoke up. ‘She did a commission just before Christmas.’

For a moment, Ollie looked wrong-footed.

‘You never mentioned it,’ he said, frowning at Pippa.

‘Didn’t I? It was the one of Black Russian on the Gallops.’

‘Ah, that name rings a bell. Dan Cameron’s horse, wasn’t it?’ Ollie directed his question at Jack.

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Bet he won’t be commissioning Pippa to paint any more of his horses if that’s the outcome,’ Ollie chuckled.

Jack remained silent, a muscle now jumping in the hollow of his jaw.

‘Why don’t we go see if our table’s ready yet?’ Pippa suggested.

Ollie waved her away.

‘No, they said at least twenty minutes. Look how full this place is. Anyway, please pass on my condolences to Dan, won’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Jack nodded.

‘You don’t happen to know what projects he’s got in the pipeline, do you? I mean, they’ve extended my role in
Holby
City
indefinitely, but it’s good to know what else is on the card.’

Jack took a long level sip of his beer before answering.

‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. I’m not in the habit of delving into my owners’ affairs. My interests in them only go so far as their horses.’

‘Well, maybe next time he calls, Pippa can do a bit of delving,’ Ollie beamed.

Pippa closed her eyes, wishing her chair would swallow her up.

‘Ollie, I don’t think that’d be such a good idea.’

‘Why not? You roped him into letting you paint his horse, didn’t you?’

Pippa’s ears burned, but Jack intervened before she could reply.

‘That painting was commissioned by me actually.’

Pippa’s focus swung from Jack to Ollie via an entertained-looking Melissa.

Ollie regained his composure and chuckled. He looked at Melissa and threw a thumb towards Pippa beside him.

‘There’s your answer then about making a business out of her paintings. Pippa, you can’t seriously consider making a living out of it when it’s friends and family who buy your stuff.’

Pippa clenched her teeth. Ollie’s pride, which Jack had just dented, was becoming a bit too precious for her patience.

‘I didn’t say I was going to –’

‘She’s more than capable of earning a living off her art,’ Jack said quietly.

Pippa gulped.

Jack’s eyes had turned indigo.

Oh, God, she knew that look more than any other.

‘I think we should go check on our table,’ she blurted. ‘Like you say, they’re very busy. We wouldn’t want to miss our booking.’

‘No, don’t go. Twenty minutes hasn’t gone by that quick,’ Melissa said, sounding almost genuine.

Pippa was surprised to see open amusement on her face. She was actually enjoying the encounter. Ollie, misinterpreting the request for sympathy, relaxed back into his chair.

‘Quite,’ he replied, his feathers soothed. He took a gulp of his wine then held up the glass to reflect on its empty contents.

‘Why don’t you go get us another drink then, Pippa, if you’re so keen to go?’ His mouth twisted into a nasty smile.

Pippa set her jaw. She would not make a scene in public, especially in front of Jack, but by God she was going to have it out with him when they got home later.

‘No, I think we’d best wait until we’ve had some food. You probably haven’t eaten since you left London this morning and we’ve already had a couple of drinks at the races.’

Ollie’s eyes glittered dangerously, but he didn’t argue. Instead he placed the empty glass on the table then lounged back, linking his hands behind his head.

‘I have to say hats off to you, Jack, for taking on Pippa.’

Jack frowned.

‘And why do you say that?’ he said quietly.

Pippa was past caring why. She recognised the solemn tone of Jack’s voice, which others fortunate enough not to have been on the receiving end of his temper might not. It was like earth tremors which are only felt by animals. The imminent earthquake would hit the unaware all the harder.