Keeping the Peace (34 page)

‘Good luck.’

P
ippa couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face as she opened her emails. A haphazard photograph of the John McCririck impersonators she had met five days ago greeted her with a polite request for some Virtuoso memorabilia.

‘What’s so amusing?’ Jack asked, on his way out to watch the horses work.

‘Wait. Don’t go anywhere,’ Pippa said, shoving some gloss paper into her printer and switching it on.

Jack looked at her with suspicion.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked as she cropped the resultant photograph with her scissors.

‘This.’ She handed him the photo. ‘Can you write something nice on it for these guys?’

‘Who are these idiots?’

‘These idiots are the people who helped me get into Newbury on Saturday.’

Jack pulled a face.

‘Do I have to? I can’t even write a birthday card without getting stuck on the message.’

‘Please,’ she urged. ‘If they hadn’t bullied the guy at the gate, I’d have never got Virtuoso’s passport to you in time.’

Jack looked disgruntled.

‘I suppose we owe them then. What should I say?’

Pippa grinned.

‘They won us the Denman Chase. Just tell them that. They’ll love it.’

‘Correction:
Virtuoso
won us the Denman Chase.’ He held up his hands in surrender at Pippa’s imploring expression. ‘Fine, fine. I guess they played a hand in it too.’

He leant over Pippa’s desk and took a pen off her keyboard and after a pause, scrawled a message across the top of the photo.

Pippa stole a glance at his frowning expression, her pen lid clamped between his teeth.

‘How did yesterday go?’ she ventured.

‘Abbey Road Studios, you mean?’

She nodded.

Jack shrugged.

‘Okay.’

‘Just okay?’

‘Pippa, I can’t sing. Not even in the shower.’

Pippa felt herself blushing to her roots as a very vivid image sprung to mind. She knocked her computer mouse off the desk and bent to retrieve it in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. A fleeting glance at Jack saw a hint of amusement in his eyes.

‘It was very long,’ he said.

‘Pardon?’

‘The recording session. It went on for a long time.’

‘Oh! Oh, yes, of course. Yes, I suppose it would,’ she babbled.

‘Which reminds me. Have you got plans at lunchtime?’

Aware she was still tomato red in the face, Pippa shook her head, not meeting his eye. She didn’t like the way he was grinning at her.

‘Good. Be ready to go at eleven-thirty.’ He dropped the pen back on her keyboard and headed for the door.

‘Go? Go where?’

‘You’ll see,’ Jack said over his shoulder.

‘My mother always told me never to accept rides if I wasn’t told where we were going,’ Pippa said as she climbed into the Land Rover’s passenger seat beside Jack three hours later.

‘Doesn’t she mean strangers?’

‘Those too. She liked to cover all eventualities.’

Jack swung the vehicle round and they bumped down the driveway to the road, sunlight bouncing off the bonnet.

‘Were you a bit of a liability when you were younger?’

‘I don’t think so, but my parents did. They still think I am.’

‘Couldn’t argue with that,’ Jack grinned.

Pippa gave him a dark look, but couldn’t maintain it. To see Jack in such a good mood was too uplifting to get cross with him now.

‘My parents just err on the side of caution whereas I like to take a few risks, that’s all.’

‘How did they handle you keeping Peace Offering?’

Pippa shrugged.

‘I haven’t spoken to them much for the past few months. They’ve been away cruising. Whenever we do speak they pretend Peace Offering doesn’t exist.’

‘That’s a pity. Did they do the same to your uncle when he was around?’

Pippa chewed her lip.

‘He wasn’t the most popular with my folks. I think I inherited the same set of genes as him, whereas my father scooped his from a completely different pool.’

‘Dave was an eternal optimist,’ Jack nodded. ‘The same as you.’

‘Yeah, but not so great when you’ve got a gambling habit.’ Pippa watched the fields flash by through the naked trees and tried not to think about Dave Taylor and his errant lifestyle. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To help you out of Dave’s debts,’ he replied.

‘What?’

‘Have you ever heard of Aaron Janssen?’

‘Don’t think so,’ Pippa said after a moment’s thought.

Jack looked at her in mock surprise.

‘Really? A trendy person like yourself and you’ve never heard of him? He’s a fashion mogul who owns racehorses. He was at the recording studios yesterday.’

‘And he wants to pay for Dave debts?’ Pippa said dubiously.

‘
No
. Open up the glove compartment there.’

Pippa did as he instructed and pulled out a heavy camera with a fat lens which extended out about a foot when she switched it on.

‘He wants portraits of his horses done. I thought we’d go along and take some photos for you to get started from. They’re stabled not far from here.’

Pippa sat limp in her seat, staring at Jack, the urge to kiss him almost overwhelming. Inadvertently, she took a photo of his lap.

‘Hey, careful where you aim that thing. You’ll get me in trouble with Melissa.’

She bit her lower lip.

‘You got me a commission?’ she whispered, hardly hearing him.

‘A couple at least,’ he nodded, smiling at Pippa’s expression. ‘I know two of his horses are fairly decent. He’s still quite new on the racing circuit though.’

‘Thank you.’ She gave him her most sincere smile.

‘No problem. Don’t get too excited. It won’t be a huge amount, but it should replace a few roof tiles or something.’

‘Who is he again?’

‘Aaron Janssen. Only met him recently when Melissa dragged me to another of her dinner parties. She’s trying to sweet talk him into combining both their labels in some big fashion show coming up.’

Pippa might not have been terribly fond of Melissa, but she had respect for anyone who did their best to succeed in their business.

‘That’d be good if she gets it,’ she said. ‘Do you think she will?’

Jack grunted.

‘I don’t know. I think Janssen likes her because she’s ambitious. When she goes after something, it’s rare that she doesn’t get it. She’s strong like that.’ An unmistakable note of pride and respect marked his tone. ‘He strikes me as being very similar so she might get her big break, you never know.’

‘Did she introduce him to horseracing?’

‘Nah. I don’t think she’s known him personally that long. I don’t know that he even likes horses that much. I mean he’s a nice enough guy I suppose, but judging by the names he gives his horses it’s more of a marketing ploy for his fashion label than anything else.’

Pippa giggled.

‘Really? What does he call them? Naomi and Kate?’ She imitated a racing commentator’s voice. ‘
And it’s Naomi and Kate on the run in, stride for stride. Kate gets her head in front, but wait! Naomi won’t go down without a fight! Here comes the finish! Naomi pushes Kate off her line! Kate stumbles! Naomi wins, but there’ll be a stewards’ enquiry on this one too I expect – possibly a suspension or community service at the very least
.’

Jack’s shoulders shook as he laughed.

‘No,’ he said. ‘The two that I know of and that he wants portraits done of are Trendsetter and Skylark.’

‘Skylark?’ she said, the name jarring in her memories.

‘Yes. Heard of him before?’

She opened her mouth to recall the evening they had spotted Finn and Cara Connolly at the Moulin Raj, but stopped herself. Finn wasn’t the most popular with Jack at the moment after his three-day ban over the weekend. Telling Jack about him fraternising with the opposition wouldn’t be doing him any favours.

‘Kind of. Isn’t he running in the Gold Cup against Virtuoso?’

Jack nodded.

‘And in the Grand National against Peace Offering by the looks of things.’

‘Really?’ Pippa pulled a face. Winning the Grand National seemed so much simpler when she wasn’t aware of who they would be up against.

Jack glanced at her.

‘They’re two very different races, don’t worry. Even if Skylark is good enough to give Virtuoso a run for his money in the Gold Cup, it doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be as big a threat in the National.’

He gave her a heartening smile, his usual frown erased.

In a moment of recklessness, Pippa pointed the camera at him and snapped a picture, wanting to capture this unusual event. Jack’s frown reappeared with a vengeance.

‘Pippa, do you mind?’

She grinned.

‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist.’

Despite his reassuring words, Pippa’s doubts over Peace Offering’s Grand National bid resurfaced when a tall handsome chestnut horse was led out of a stable for them to look at. In stark contrast to Aspen Valley Stables, Bracken Fields was home to a large American-style barn, with two rows of steel-barred stables on either side of a walkway. Pippa, who hadn’t known yards to be any different from the traditionalism of Aspen Valley, felt over-awed by Bracken Fields’ ultra-modern features, only enhanced by Skylark’s considerable presence.

The horse pawed the rubberised floor with a soup plate hoof and Pippa moved closer to Jack. A wizened-face groom stood beside Skylark, waiting for both of them to pass judgement.

‘He’s very big,’ Pippa said.

‘Very strong too,’ Jack said, casting an experienced eye over the horse’s body. ‘Needs to be to carry that frame. Can we take him outside to take these photos?’ he asked the groom.

‘Right, y’are, Mr Carmichael,’ he nodded. He led a jig-jogging Skylark past them, making Pippa step back. She felt a reassuring hand on her back.

‘Don’t be frightened. Joe here has been looking after horses longer than I’ve been training. He won’t let Skylark get loose.’

Pippa gave him a pathetic smile and shrugged, finding comfort more from his hand than his words. They followed Joe and his charge out into the crisp sunshine in which the horse’s chestnut coat fairly gleamed with health. She wrestled with the camera strapped around her neck, trying to focus its protruding lens.

Jack reached over and adjusted the zoom for her, his calloused fingertips brushing against her hands. She gulped and gave herself a talking to. She wouldn’t allow her gratefulness to transpose into any other type of attraction. It was easily done, but gratefulness was all it was, she told herself firmly.

‘Are you going to take any photos or are we just going to pretend?’ Jack’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

‘Sorry. Was just – um – trying to decide on angles and – um – stuff.’ She hoisted the heavy camera to eye level and smacked it against the bridge of her nose. ‘Ow, fuck.’

Aware of Jack laughing quietly at her, Pippa got to work, walking around the horse, snapping him from this angle and that before asking for him to be turned to face a different light.

A voice from behind them made her pause.

‘Ah! Jack! Good to see you could make it.’

Walking towards them was a rotund middle-aged man with thinning fair hair, dressed in a tailored violet-stitched suit and purple velvet waistcoat. He held out his arms in greeting.

Jack held out a hand in return.

‘Aaron, thanks for having us. I’d like you to meet Pippa Taylor, the equine artist I was telling you about. Pippa, this is Aaron Janssen, Skylark’s owner.’

It felt to Pippa as if her hand was being swallowed by a lump of dough, cool but comfortingly soft as it was enveloped by Aaron Janssen’s paw.

‘Pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for commissioning these pictures to me.’

‘Not at all. You came very highly recommended,’ he replied.

Pippa shot Jack a grateful smile.

‘I see you have already met Skylark,’ Aaron went on. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’

‘Yes, very,’ she agreed. ‘And not small either.’

‘In my experience, small is a downfall. No offence.’ He patted her arm sympathetically. ‘But tall has always done well for me.’

Pippa smiled.

‘None taken. You’re in fashion, after all.’

‘In today, out tomorrow, darling. You have to do all you can, not just to keep up with the trends, but to
lead
them. Skylark will have a specially-made winner’s rug put on him if he wins the Gold Cup. But it’s all marketing. There is meaning behind the madness.’

‘As long as you don’t give him a handbag and a pearl-studded noseband I think you should be okay,’ she replied.

Aaron laughed, again touching Pippa’s arm.

‘A handbag? Darling, that’s priceless! I like the sound of the noseband though. Hold that thought.’

Pippa darted a look of uncertainty towards Jack who gave a brief shake of his head.

‘I think I’ve taken all the pictures I’ll need for Skylark. Perhaps we could see Trendsetter now?’ she asked.

Joe nodded and led the horse away, leaving Pippa aching to get her paint brushes out immediately so she could capture the sun bouncing off the horse’s copper-coloured coat.

Beneath the glare of artificial lighting, Pippa sat on her stool, an inviting blank canvas in front of her. Her fingers, balancing a broad ochre-tipped brush, hesitated before making contact with the sheet. Puccini’s
Manon
Lescaut
punched the musty air in Hazyvale’s spare bedroom-cum-studio. Pippa glanced at the photographs she had printed off before leaving work that evening. Skylark stared back at her and again she went to dab the first spot of paint on the clean canvas. She frowned when her fingers refused to comply. A restlessness forbade her from focusing on the horse.

With a sigh, she surrendered the brush to a jar of water and picked up the photos from the table beside her. She flipped through them, pausing over the last one. Her agitation calmed. She bit her lip. She hadn’t intended to print this particular picture, but when she’d imported all the others, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She had stuffed it into her bag after a guilty look around before carrying on as before.