Rachel's Coming Home (10 page)

‘We'll be on our way,' he said. ‘We want to look at the, er, tents over here, don't we, Amelia? Nice to see you. Goodbye.' He strode off, trying not to notice the hurt look on Rachel's face. She should stop being so interfering, then he wouldn't have to get annoyed.

He wondered what she was doing here with the vet. Charlie McArthur was perfectly pleasant, just not the right man for Rachel. Not that it was anything to do with him, of course.

Anthony was leaning against the pillars at the entrance to the hotel where Gemma worked. He had checked with the receptionist and knew she finished at four today, so, if he waited long enough, she was bound to appear.

He hadn't seen her for over a week, since the fiasco with Sergeant MacFarlane and her father. Initially he had been too embarrassed and annoyed to want to seek her out, and then he had doubted whether she would want to see him anyway. But he was bored, and he missed her. They had had such fun putting together the posters. Maybe she wouldn't want to speak to him, but he wouldn't know unless he tried.

When Gemma did appear she was accompanied by another girl, also in the waitresses uniform. The two were giggling together and Anthony scowled.

‘Hiya,' he said, pushing himself away from the wall.

Gemma hesitated and paused. ‘Oh. Hi. Were you looking for me?' She looked doubtfully at the other girl.

‘I'm just on my way. Mum's picking me up outside the Co-op.'

Anthony relaxed as she moved off. He remembered her vaguely from school. She had been in Gemma's year, rather loud and intimidating.

‘I wondered if you wanted to go for a walk or something,' he said, looking at the ground. ‘I've got my mum's car, I could give you a lift home after.'

‘Well, OK.'

They set off down the street towards the park. Anthony was hurt that she didn't seem more keen.

‘Was your dad really annoyed about us putting up those posters?' he asked. He supposed he should apologise. It had all been his idea.

‘Yeah, he was a bit.' Gemma smiled then, which showed she wasn't too cross with him. ‘He's a bit overprotective and I think it gave him a shock, seeing us in trouble with the police.'

‘We weren't really in trouble.'

‘No. That sergeant was quite nice, wasn't he? He could have been really nasty.'

‘He was OK. Shame the whole thing got into the papers though. I don't know how that happened.' He watched her to see how she reacted but she didn't seem guilty.

‘I don't know either. I didn't think we'd dropped any.'

Anthony decided not to ask what had happened to the leaflets in her bag. ‘Maybe I missed one or two. But that's no reason to mention the kennels by name in the paper.'

‘It was a real shame,' agreed Gemma sympathetically. Then she tossed the long hair over her shoulder and shot him a smile. ‘But you got good publicity in the next issue. I saw that article about your sister. Imagine rescuing a dog! She was really clever to recognise it.'

‘Lucky to be in the right place,' said Anthony, although secretly he was rather proud of Rachel.

They chatted more easily now, passing the park with its boating lake and on under the old railway line. There was a path that went through the town wood and then looped back past the caravan park and they took this.

‘Do you want to go for a coffee?' asked Anthony as they neared the town once again. He was in funds as his parents had paid him for white-washing some of the kennels.

‘I better not. Dad'll expect me to get the five o'clock bus which means I'd be home by half past.'

Anthony took a deep breath. He'd only asked out a couple of girls before and that was years ago, when he was a kid of fifteen. ‘I was wondering.' He paused, hoping he wasn't going to blush. ‘I thought maybe we could go out, you know? Go to a movie or something …' His voice tailed off.

Gemma wasn't looking pleased, or even embarrassed. She was just shaking her head. ‘No. I'm sorry, I can't.'

‘You can't?'

‘My Dad'd be furious. It's just been him and me since my Mum died when I was ten. Dad doesn't like me to go out much.'

‘That's ridiculous.' Anthony was suddenly grateful for his more easy-going parents. ‘You've got your own life to live. You said yourself he's going to have to get used to you being away when you go to university.'

‘Dad's had a bad time,' she said defensively. ‘It's not been easy for him.'

‘I don't see why that should stop you having a boyfriend. Unless you're just using it as an excuse? You probably don't want to go out with me anyway.'

Gemma sighed and didn't deny this. Anthony realised belatedly that he wasn't doing his case any good by arguing with her.

‘I need to get back,' she said.

‘I'll give you a lift, like I said. You'll have to take it now, the bus will have gone.'

The journey passed almost in silence and Gemma made him stop just before the entrance to her farm track. She wasn't joking about not wanting to be seen with a boy – or was it not wanting to be seen with him?

Rachel couldn't stop giggling as she returned from taking the phone call. This was so preposterous!

‘Who was that?' asked her mother. She had been sitting at the kitchen table, supposedly doing paperwork, but mostly frowning out of the window at her husband who had insisted on doing a little gardening in the raised beds at the back. Now her attention was caught by Rachel.

‘That was the organiser of the Boroughbie Show.' Rachel sank down into a stare and shook her head. The Boroughbie Show was the local agricultural show, a major event every August.

‘Barney Johnstone?' asked her mother, who knew all the locals. ‘What did he want?'

Rachel grinned. ‘He wanted to ask me if I would open the show for them this year.'

Her mother smiled doubtfully. ‘You're joking, I presume? I'm sure I heard they'd got that presenter from Border Television coming to do it.'

‘They had, but she's just had a bad fall from her horse and has had to pull out. It's very much last minute as the show is a week on Saturday. So for some unknown reason, they thought of me! They must be mad.'

‘I'm sure you'd do it very well,' said her mother loyally. ‘But why you?'

‘I think it was that whole saga over Jinty. Apparently Sarah Stretton, the journalist who was involved in the crash, is on the organising committee for the show, and she suggested it.'

‘Are you going to do it?' asked her mother, still torn between pride in her daughter and surprise that she should be asked. ‘Oh, just a moment, your father's trying to lift that bag of peat, I told him he wasn't to do anything that might risk him falling again.' She limped over to the conservatory door and opened it to chastise her husband.

Rachel watched with a smile on her face. Her mum would never stop her dad doing things now he was feeling so much better. Personally she was glad to see him so full of life.

‘He's coming in for tea,' said her mother, looking pleased with herself. ‘Now, you haven't answered my question – did you say yes?'

‘I said I would help out if they were desperate, but only if they really couldn't get anyone else. After all, I'm hardly a real celebrity, am I? I'm sure all the farmers won't want to be presented with their prize trophies by someone like me.'

‘I don't see why not,' said her mother immediately.

‘Well I suggested they contact a real local celebrity – Philip Milligan. Lots of people know him from the television. So Barney has gone away to make some enquiries.'

‘What a shame,' said Mrs Collington. Now she had got over her initial surprise she seemed quite keen to see Rachel thrust into the spotlight. ‘You'd look lovely doing it, you're such a pretty girl. And that nice vet Mr McArthur would be bound to see you there which wouldn't do any harm at all.'

‘Charlie and I are just friends.'

Mrs Collington ignored that. ‘Here's your father. Tell him all about it whilst I make the tea.'

‘You tell him. I'll make tea.' Rachel jumped up. She was a little worried about how slowly her mother was moving just now. Her medication had been changed at her last out-patient appointment and this one didn't seem to be working so well. She didn't want to make an issue of this now, but if there was anything she could do to ease the burden she was determined to do it.

Chapter Eight

Philip wasn't sure why he had agreed to help out the organisers of the Boroughbie Show. It wasn't as if agricultural shows were his kind of thing. Yet somehow, when he heard that Rachel Collington had recommended him, he had found himself agreeing to be their guest of honour. With the proviso that Rachel herself should also be involved to help him present all the prizes.

Now he was looking forward to seeing her again. There was no denying that she was bossy and interfering, but she was also – interesting. And the fact that she was very pretty didn't do any harm. He wondered if that rather dull vet would be around, and hoped devoutly that he wouldn't be.

It was only when he and Amelia were on their way to the show that he realised he should have given some thought to the child. It wouldn't be much fun for her on her own whilst he was performing his duties. Situations like this were constantly tripping him up. Alison didn't realise how unsuited his life was to looking after a young child. He sighed. One good thing was that Alison was at least truly on the mend. And another was that he and Amelia were no longer quite so shy with each other.

But that didn't solve the problem of what to do with her today. He looked around as they arrived at the Show Ground. He saw a young man who looked vaguely familiar.

‘Don't I know you?' he asked hopefully, and realised immediately that he did. ‘Rachel's brother! Of course.' He wished he could remember his name.

‘I'm Anthony,' said the youth, smiling faintly as though he realised Philip's predicament. ‘And this is Gemma, a … friend of mine.'

‘Pleased to meet you, Gemma,' said Philip, shaking hands and giving his most charming smile. ‘This is Amelia, my niece. We were just looking for Rachel. And a Mr Johnstone?'

The slim, dark-haired girl smiled, but more at the child than at him. ‘They're over there,' she said with a wave of her hand, and then turned to the youngster. ‘Have you ever been to Boroughbie Show before?'

‘No,' said Amelia in her usual faint tones.

‘You'll have a good time,' said Philip rallyingly.

‘Gemma and I were just going to watch the show-jumping,' said Anthony, making to leave, but Gemma seemed to notice a quiver of interest in the child.

‘You could come with us,' she said. ‘If you want.'

‘I like horses,' said the child.

That decided Philip. These youngsters could look after his niece perfectly well, it would be pleasant for her and very useful for him. ‘If she would stay with you for the next half hour,' he said, ‘I'd be very grateful.' He fluffed the child's hair and moved rapidly away. He saw Anthony and Gemma exchange worried looks but they didn't actually object.

He strode over to join Rachel and the tall, emaciated, tweedy man he assumed was Barney Johnstone. ‘Wonderful to meet you,' said the man in patrician accents. ‘Time we made a start.' He led them over to the make-shift stage. Rachel shot Philip a nervous smile.

‘I feel such a fraud, being here,' she whispered to him. ‘No one has ever heard of me, why should I be part of the opening?'

Only a few weeks ago Philip might have resented having to share the limelight with someone else, but now he said, ‘Probably more of them have heard of you than of me. Your rescue of the little Westie made quite a splash in the local paper.' He realised this was true and was pleased he had said it. Rachel pulled her pretty face into another grimace, but they were climbing the steps to the stand now and there was no time for further discussion.

Anthony was beginning to get bored. He had never understood why people found show-jumping the least bit interesting. He had tried to keep his views to himself as Gemma clearly thought otherwise, but now he was starting to resent the fact that not only was she fascinated by the spectacle, she also found the child they now had in tow much more appealing than she found him. He wasn't sure how long Gemma would be willing to remain in his company. Her father was busy in the cattle show ring just now, but that wouldn't last for ever.

‘Do we really have to keep her with us?' he hissed, indicating the child with a nod of his head.

Gemma frowned. ‘I think Mr Milligan's a bit busy just now, and she's a sweet little thing.'

‘I wanted to walk around, see some of the stalls,' said Anthony mutinously. He had been amazed when Gemma agreed to spend some time at the show with him, but it wasn't working out as he hoped.

‘Well, we can do that. Let's just see how the last horse does. If it gets less than eight faults it wins, but I doubt it'll manage, it's a hard course.'

‘Mmm,' said Anthony, wondering how she knew it was a difficult course. Was she interested in horses? There was so much he didn't know about her.

‘You can go off without us if you want, we'll catch up with you.'

‘Oh, no, I'm quite happy to wait.' Anthony wasn't going to let her escape so easily.

The child at Gemma's side touched her hand shyly and said, ‘Look, the chestnut horse is coming now. I hope it wins, I do hope it wins.' And the two of them were engrossed again, holding their breath at each twist and jump, groaning when the horse refused at the triple and applauding when it reached the finish with one second to spare.

‘Right, can we get going now?' he said as soon as their celebrations had calmed down. He frowned at Amelia as she clung to Gemma's hand, swinging it gently. He wanted to be the one holding her hand.