Tilly
– head of the terrier trio that accompany Rory everywhere.
Harry – Lottie’s spaniel.
William ‘Billy’ Brinkley – Lottie’s father. Former superstar show jumper, based at the equestrian centre.
Victoria ‘Tiggy’ Brinkley – wife of Billy. As friendly, shaggy and eternally optimistic as a spaniel.
Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe – owner of Tipping House Estate, lover of strong G&T’s. Meddler and mischief maker. Lottie’s gran, Dominic’s mother.
Bertie – Elizabeth’s black Labrador.
Dominic ‘Dom’ Stanthorpe – dressage rider extraordinaire. Uncle to Lottie, son of Elizabeth, slightly bemused and frustrated by both. Husband to Amanda.
Amanda Stanthorpe – Elegant and understated, delicate and demure. Owner of Folly Lake Manor and Equestrian Centre.
Alice Stanthorpe – Dom and Amanda’s 3 year old daughter.
Tabatha Strachan – Rory and Lottie’s groom. Horse mad, smitten by Rory, but suitably unimpressed by most other things.
David Simcock – England goalkeeper, resident of the neighbouring Kitterly Heath.
Sam Simcock – wife of David. Lover of dogs, diamonds and designer delights.
Roxy Simcock – Sam and David’s 3 year old daughter
Rupert – Roxy’s pony
The Film Stars & Crew
Pandora Drakelow – scheming, sneaky, man-eating star of the film. Seb’s wife.
Seb Drakelow – Pandora’s husband. Producer/Director. Hates the countryside, all things four legged and furry, or feathered, and anything North of Stratford-Upon-Avon.
Jamie Trilling – intern, location scout and general dogsbody.
Xander Rossi – Pandora’s half-brother. Dashingly handsome polo player. Adviser on the film set.
Ella – Xander’s Wire-Haired Dachshund.
Jamie Trilling had worked on enough film sets to know the sound of a shotgun being closed. It was a heavy clunk. Distinctive. The type of sound that vibrated in the still night air.
His fingers froze mid text.
Before he even had time to look up from his mobile phone there was the metallic echo of a safety catch being released and he knew he had to move. He couldn’t. His tongue stuck to the parched roof of his mouth, and his throat – along with the rest of his crouched body – tightened with fear.
The shotgun barked out an unmistakable message, peppering his hands, his face, his hair with a shower of dark, peaty earth, and sending a rush of adrenalin that shocked him out of his stupor.
Jamie dived straight into the nearest rhododendron bush, catching a brief flash of a ghostly figure shimmering in the moonlight before his body hit the ground and the breath was knocked out of him.
For a moment all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, then the crisp snap of twigs told him that whoever, or whatever, had shot at him was about to get a second chance.
He was too young to die, and if he did have to go he’d not planned on it being under a bush in the middle of nowhere. His mother would never forgive him.
Jamie swallowed hard. If this was the movies he’d be rolling his way out of trouble and have his assailant in an arm-lock and disarmed before the next bullet had been loaded. But it was real life and his arm bloody hurt from landing on an exposed root. Lying paralysed in the greenery was so pathetic though. And for what? If he hadn’t relied on bloody Pandora he’d have arrived in daylight and knocked at the door, not been skulking in the undergrowth, in the middle of night, with only a camera for company.
There was another crack of brittle wood, alarmingly close this time, and a rustle of leaves and Jamie shut his eyes.
‘Damned ramblers. I’ll give you the right to roam, you buggers.’ The unmistakably posh, and female, voice was unexpected. ‘Think you own the blasted countryside.’ There was the sound of a path being hacked out between him and her. He opened one eye, and through the shrubbery could just make out a green wellington boot. Not a ghost, then. ‘Come out and show yourself, man, before I pepper your backside with shot.’
It was a turn of events he really hadn’t expected, and it was all beginning to feel a bit surreal. A bad dream. Except it would take a better imagination than his to conjure up the painful throb in his elbow.
Jamie groaned. Two minutes earlier he’d been crouched in the undergrowth gazing at the image on his camera display like some self-satisfied goon who’d won the lottery. Now he was about to die. Or worse.
* * *
If he was honest, it had been a pretty weird kind of day, the strangest part being that his boss’s wife, Pandora, was actually being helpful.
‘Ignore Seb, dear. He’s just anxious,’ she’d remarked, swanning into the room just as Seb Drakelow had stormed out, after ripping a strip off him with the type of sarcasm you had to be born with. ‘I can help you get back in his good books, if you like?’ She’d said it disarmingly enough, but it still made him feel uneasy. Pandora was never nice to anybody. Feeling he hadn’t really got much choice, he’d nodded. ‘I do rather like you. It would be a shame if you were sacked so soon after starting, like the last boy.’ She smiled, as sympathetically as her Botox-frozen features would allow. ‘He’s rather impulsive. It’s his artistic side, I’m afraid. Now, what was it he asked you to do?’
Without Pandora’s help Jamie would have been in trouble. Location scouting was fine when you had time on your side and knew what you were looking for. But he’d been dropped in at the deep end, with a ridiculously tight deadline, after the site his predecessor had arranged had fallen through at the last minute.
‘Don’t worry, I know exactly what type of place we need.’
