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 the moment you do not appear able to raise a round of drinks, let alone money.’
‘But I can’t organise big events like that.’ Lottie thought her point had been proved by the wedding, which was fairly small-scale. ‘Uncle Dom is so much better at being organised.’
Dom, who was trying to decide if it was worth attempting to fob Elizabeth off with pure tonic, concluded that doing so might shorten his lifespan considerably and instead settled for pouring a very small, but very strong, one.
‘Dominic might well be, he’s had lots of practice. All you have to do is oversee things. It’s the ideas that are the important part. And you are perfectly capable. William’s wedding may have been slightly unconventional, but it was a success.’
‘But nobody had to pay.’ Lottie felt herself shrivel inside when she thought about her father’s wedding and just how much the event had cost. It wasn’t just the flowers (most of which had been eaten by the horses), but the general destruction that came when a marquee and trestle tables were used for show-jumping practice. And an awful lot of champagne had been drunk after most of the guests had gone. And the poor Mr Music Man had been a quivering wreck, so she’d sent him home, clutching his laptop, with double his normal fee and a bottle or two to calm his nerves.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that the venue, Amanda and Dominic’s home, had come for free, the whole event would have cost Billy more than he’d paid out for his latest show jumper. She’d also been driven to showering the caterers with gifts, in the hope that they wouldn’t refuse to come anywhere near Tippermere ever again.
‘Do a little gymkhana at your father’s place for practice, dear, the pony club is always up for a bit of support.’
‘No.’ Dom and Lottie spoke together. Both horrified at the thought of chaos that could ensue if dozens of pony-mad children on spirited mounts had the run of the grounds.
‘You’ll think of something. Right, let’s have that drink. I feel much better already.’
‘How about a dog show?’ Pip, who had taken the role of observer, decided it was time to chip in. Elizabeth looked at her as though she had grown an extra head.
‘You know, start small.’
‘Have you ever heard the expression “going to the dogs” Philippa?’
Pip laughed.
‘I’m not convinced that inviting every dog owner in the county to bring their animals to defecate on the premises will raise enough money to fix the roof.’
Dom grimaced. So she did know about the roof.
‘I was just thinking of how Lottie can improve her organisational skills. Okay, if you don’t want people traipsing in and out every day, and you want a big fundraiser, how about a pop concert?’ Pip grasped on Elizabeth’s earlier comment, knowing it would be harder for her to dismiss it. ‘Not that Bob Dildo, or even Sir Bob, will come.’
Dom rolled his eyes heavenwards.
‘I saw that, Dominic.’ Pip was not in awe of Dom in the same way that Lottie was. In fact, she was rarely in awe of anyone. ‘You know, party-in-the-park type thing. If it’s good enough for royalty, then….’
‘Royalty did not exactly have everybody in the front garden.’
‘For the Diamond Jubilee it was Party at the Palace.’ Pip finished triumphantly. ‘As in Buckingham Palace.’ Just in case anybody wasn’t following.
‘Well, you may do it at my funeral, dear, but not before.’
‘It would make a lot of money.’ Lottie gazed thoughtfully at Dom, who was looking his most stern.
‘Charlotte you had enough problems trying to control your father’s wedding guests. How on earth are you going to co-ordinate a pop concert?’
‘Well, there won’t be any horses, for one. And Prince Harry did it.’
‘True.’ Pip was almost buzzing with anticipation. ‘And if he managed, I’m sure you could.’ She grinned encouragingly. ‘He’s nearly as daft as you are.’
‘Well,’ Elizabeth drained her glass and put it on the table with a clatter before levering herself out of the chair. ‘As we’ve all agreed that Charlotte does need to step up to the plate, I don’t think you need me here interfering, do you? I could always move out to the Lodge for some peace and quiet, which I am beginning to think I will need.’
‘You can’t do that.’ Lottie looked horrified, and Dom thought his mother was now going a step too far in her bid to show indifference. She was definitely up to something.
‘Nonsense
