The Country Escape (44 page)

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Authors: Fiona Walker

BOOK: The Country Escape
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‘My eyes!’ Dawn wailed, thrashing around as she tried to tread water.

Panic rising, Kat untied the rowing boat and hauled it to the end of the jetty, posting
the dogs in before stepping in herself, the familiar terror already gripping her throat so tightly she could barely breathe.

As she began to row towards Dawn, who was now splashing blindly within inches of the angry goose, Kat heard another noise above the screeching, whooshing and honking: a plane engine.

Looking up, she saw an aircraft circling overhead, coming down towards the
landing strip. Maddie started to bark furiously.

Seth was not having an easy time piloting his VIP guest to his country retreat. He’d planned to fly Igor personally from Moscow to England, but Igor had protested that he had his own Boeing on constant standby with a full complement
of staff, so why would he want to cram them all into the Indian’s Bombardier? Eventually, he’d ungraciously accepted a lift from the London airport where his big private jet was now parked, sending his entourage ahead in a fleet of glossy black people-carriers. Seth, who would normally use a helicopter for such a short transfer, was eager to show off the plane he’d just had refitted with state-of-the-art
technology, but Igor seemed far more interested in Dollar. He had been trying to persuade her to become the fifth Mrs Talitov for the entire flight. She loathed the portly little Muscovite, with his bloodshot bullet grey eyes and Miniature Schnauzer beard, and was playing it with admirable professionalism as always, passing him Stoli Elit shots and brushing off his lascivious advances.
But Seth knew Dollar was volatile at the moment. She had been very touchy since he’d caved in to parental pressure and chosen his top three from the Brides List – a choice he would consolidate on this UK visit – and he was concerned that the Russian might just tip her over the edge.

Unusually for Igor – who generally travelled with at least a brace of glamorous girlfriends – he’d brought
nothing more feminine with him this weekend than cotton buds to clean his guns.

‘I am here for sport,’ he told Dollar, in his deep growl, hands creeping towards her rear end. ‘My expectations are high.’ His tarnished little bullet eyes targeted her buttocks.

‘You will find this an exceptional sporting venue,’ Dollar assured him coolly, her dark eyes deadly. ‘Please return to your
seat.’

As he did so, news came through that Igor’s support team was stuck in a convoy behind an overturned livestock lorry on the M50. He was still snarling furiously into a mobile phone when they came in to land at Eardisford. Seth and Dollar, who both spoke Russian and recognized a lot of ‘
dolbo yeb!
’ profanities, knew that it was more than his team’s lives were worth not to find the
quickest way around the three hundred chickens currently roaming the central reservation between junctions one and two, even if it meant driving straight over them.

Flying down over the estate, Seth hoped to distract his guest with the incredible beauty of the place – it was certainly making his own jaw drop: he had never seen it in its high summer glory or actually landed to inspect his
investment in person until now – but Igor was still shouting into his phone, apparently firing at least one driver: ‘
Chush’ sobach’ya, dobloed!

At last he threw his phone aside and peered angrily out of the windows as they roared low over the lake.


Ohooiet!
’ His face lit up. ‘That is a beautiful welcome, my friend.’

Seth relaxed. He’d always known Igor would love it. Eardisford
was the sweetener guaranteed to win him the deal.

But the Russian wasn’t looking at the house and parkland: he was gazing at a girl climbing out of the lake in nothing but a lacy red bra and panties, her hourglass body shimmering between the bulrushes.

‘You gave me Ursula Andress! This is good start!’

 

Closer to, Dawn wasn’t looking so hot. She had pond weed and algae
in her hair, insect bites all over her goose-bumped skin and goose feathers stuck to her arms. And she was almost blind as she scrabbled through the bulrushes.

‘Kat! Where are you? Did we make it to the other side?’

‘Right behind you, and, yes, you did it!’

‘Yay!
We
did it!’ Unable to hear the rhythmic stroke of the oars or a small dog barking over the engine roar, which she
took to be one of the JCBs, Dawn assumed her friend had swum in her wake.

‘I rowed.’

‘You rode the horse across!’

‘No, I rowed a boat.’ Kat clung to the sides of the little dinghy as the plane roared lower, its dark shadow crossing overhead as it lined up with the landing strip alongside the lake.

‘You got across. That’s what counts. What’s that noise?’

‘The
new neighbour’s just arrived. We have to get you out of here.’ Kat was still almost paralysed with fear, wobbling her way towards the marshy banks. The dogs raced around on board, thinking they were about to get off, unbalancing the boat as she tried to angle it alongside the rushes so her friend could get in. ‘Hang on, I’ll –’

‘I’ll drive you both,’ insisted a sharp Scottish voice, as
a figure in a flat cap loomed amid the reeds and irises to swathe Dawn in a checked blanket and whisk her away before the plane landed. ‘Get out of the boat, Kat.’

But Kat was floating rapidly back out to open water on a conveyor belt of ripples.

The plane was on the grass now, engines screaming as it braked.

‘I’ll see you back at the farm,’ she called. Rowing across the lake
as fast as she could, catching crabs all the way, she was behind the cover of one of the islands when the steps were lowered on the newly arrived plane.

She let the boat drift for a moment, exhausted. There were still twenty yards of lake to cross before she reached the jetty. Now she saw a figure standing on the rickety wooden planking, the sun behind him, his hair a halo of gold.

‘Swim it! I dare you!’ called a persuasively husky voice.

In the boat, Maddie went into a frenzy of barking as she spotted her chum Quiver admiring his reflection in the water.

Kat stared at Dougie’s square-shouldered silhouette, butterflies rising through her so fast she was surprised they didn’t jet propel the little boat straight across the lake and on to the jetty. Her heart
was going crazy, like a guitar tremolo. She could hear it strumming, ringing, pounding in her ears.

Equally excited, Maddie bounced around at the prow of the boat, claws skittering against the wood as Quiver yipped in greeting. With a loud plop, she threw herself in to swim to him, quickly followed by a less elegant splash as ever-faithful Daphne flew in her wake with a Dachshund belly-flop.

‘Shit!’ Kat stood up in a panic and the boat gave an almighty lurch, making her sit down again. The ringing in her ears was coming and going and she was terrified she was about to pass out.

The dogs were already halfway to dry land, pursued by an irate Canada goose.

‘They’re fine and so will you be!’ Dougie laughed, scooping Quiver up and stooping down to fish the elderly terriers
out as they paddled up, grateful for the cool dip in the evening heat. He gazed across at her. ‘Just trust yourself.’

Kat gripped the sides of the boat, wobbling to her feet, telling herself that that she could not be outdone by a pair of deaf and incontinent dogs.
I am going to do it.

The ringing in her ears was back. Then, as she looked across to the jetty to gauge the distance,
she realized Dougie’s high-tech mobile satellite phone was ringing, stopping and ringing once more.

She sat down again gratefully.

‘You can do it, Kat!’

‘Answer your phone!’

‘It’ll go to voice mail. I want to see you swim.’

‘It could be an emergency.’

Wearily, he plucked it from his pocket and looked at the screen. Then he held it out and let it fall into
the lake.

‘What did you do that for?’

‘It’s a dropped call.’

‘You idiot!’

‘Idiotic indeed,’ carped a dry Scottish voice.

Kat squinted across the lake as another silhouette joined Dougie on the jetty, shorter and squatter with a shadowed cowpat of a flat cap on his head.

‘That phone is not your property, Dougie,’ Dair berated him. ‘Your friend’s in the
house, Kat!’ he called, across the lake. ‘I’ve lit the range.’ He turned back to Dougie, eager to gather his stray team member. ‘We’re needed, Everett.’

‘I’m not interested. I’m watching Kat swim.’

‘This is not the time to enjoy bathing diversions. Come with me.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Your job depends on it.’

‘Tell them to stuff the job.’


My
job depends on it.’

‘Ha!’

‘I’ve heard the rumours. We all know what you’re doing to Kat. Leave her alone.’

‘What’s he doing to Kat?’ Kat yelled from the boat.

‘Yes, what am I doing to Kat?’ Dougie growled at Dair.

‘The whole village is talking about it. How you took a bribe to try to make her marry you.’

As both men squared up to one another on the narrow jetty, eclipsing
the sun, an aggrieved moan came from the lake and Usha bobbed towards them, horns full of pond weed, defending her territory. Such was her bulk, the rip tide curved back to Kat’s little boat, causing it to sway back into the island, ricocheting off a fallen tree. She flattened down in the jolting hollow, her head swamped with flashbacks. The blackout, ear-ringing fear was overwhelming now. All she
could see was cold, breathless darkness, although she could clearly hear two men shouting above the lowing of a distressed water buffalo.

‘Kat knows exactly what I was asked to do!’ Dougie yelled.

‘Leave her alone.’

‘That’s up to her to decide, not a bunch of interfering locals.’

‘You have been warned of the consequences, Dougie.’

‘I’m just here to get her to
swim, nothing more.’

Right now Kat did not want to swim anywhere, and Dougie making her heart explode for no better reason than his desire to see her do a Rebecca Adlington across the lake was no help when she was in the middle of a panic attack. She just wanted silence and a chance to regroup.

‘Don’t be so fucking selfish, Dougie!’ Dair bellowed. ‘Think of your colleagues.’

‘I am not tipping my cap to a fucking Russian hood.’

‘That’s enough!’ Kat wailed, boat rocking. ‘Both of you go! You’re not on estate land. You are trespassing. GO AWAY!’

Dougie and Dair stopped glaring at each other and turned to the mass of red hair and white knuckles in the little boat.

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Dougie was already kicking off his shoes and turning to
dive in past Usha. ‘I’m coming to get you.’

‘I do
not
want to be rescued!’ Kat held up her hand. ‘I’m very happy right here where I am. And stop stressing Usha out!’

‘You heard the girl,’ Dair said, with satisfaction, stepping forward to block Dougie’s path. ‘Let’s go. We were due at the security briefing five minutes ago. You’ll get a formal warning for this, Everett.’

‘Get
lost,’ Dougie snarled, but he stepped back and called across to Kat. ‘You’re really okay?’

‘I’m fine, Dougie! Jolly boating weather. It’s all part of the therapy. Please just leave me to it. I mean it.’

Usha was bellowing her head off now.

Casting a final worried glance over his shoulder, Dougie turned to leave.

Dair raised his arm to Kat in farewell as he hopped after
Dougie, protesting furiously that he was insufferable and probably working with Russ’s undercover vigilantes, his voice trailing away.

Kat wasn’t listening. She was just relieved to be able to cling to her boat and find breath eking back into her lungs.

‘Wimp, wimp, wimp,’ she berated herself, pressing her face to the sun-warmed wood of the plank seat, breathing creosote and sun-cream.
Knowing they were gone, she slumped down with relief, harvesting all her will-power to make it to the safety of the wooden jetty.

 

It took Kat half an hour of loin-girding and prayers to get back into Lake Farm, by which time she was astonished to find the house sweltering from the roaring range and Dawn ensconced in the bath.

‘Dair lit it,’ she called, through the bathroom
door, when Kat tracked her down. ‘He’s incredibly practical, isn’t he? He had to dash off for a meeting with Seth – man, it sounds so glamorous in that house. He’s hired a clutch of supermodels just to drift around looking pretty this weekend, like rented floristry. I can’t wait to hear all the gossip. I said I’d buy Dair a drink in the pub later as a thank-you. I’m hoping I might get us tickets
to the Bollywood bash. Do you have any eye drops?’

She had taken the last glass of wine up to the bath with her and the lurchers had stolen the steaks, leaving Kat with little choice but to take her friend to the pub if they wanted to eat more than beans on toast and goose eggs, yet she felt jumpy at the prospect of village scrutiny. She needed a long heart-to-heart with Dawn: she wanted
to unravel her confused feelings and figure out what to do. But Dawn was on a mission.

‘Dair couldn’t have been kinder. I think you’ve got him all wrong,’ she insisted, as she wriggled into a strappy dress, covering her reddened eyes with dark glasses. ‘You don’t mind him being there tonight, do you? I know you two have recent history, but I always think it’s best to move swiftly on from
these things, don’t you? It’s only a quick drink.’

‘I’d hardly call it history.’ Kat pulled on a pair of jeans and trailed into the bathroom to clean her teeth. ‘Constance used to call him the Highland Bull, which she pretended was to do with his flat cap looking like a forelock, but you can guess the real reason.’

‘He’s hung like one?’ Dawn asked hopefully, shivering with anticipation.

‘I think it’s more to do with the crap that comes out of his mouth.’

Dougie was furiously bowling a tennis ball against a wall in one of the old carriage houses, making Quiver spin and yap as he leaped in the air trying to catch it. He was aiming at one discoloured brick at wicket height, the angry
repetition the only thing that was stopping the coiled spring in his mind over-winding to breaking point. He was sparring for a fight – the desire to knock Dair’s block off earlier had been almost overwhelming – but he could hardly march into the main house and start swinging punches at Seth and his VIP guest, which would only make him look more of a prize idiot and probably get him killed by a bodyguard
before he’d rescued the girl and driven off into the sunset. In his head, he had a legion of heroic feats he would enact to prove to Kat that he wasn’t a total numskull moron, but in his heart he couldn’t shake the belief that he was never going to slay a dragon so well armed and connected. It would take a cleverer head than his. All he had was forty hours, then forty overs of cricket.

He struck the discoloured brick square, imaginary wicket flying, before bad light stopped play, the last rays of red sunset flooding through the arched doors.

Dougie guessed his armour was pretty tarnished, and Kat clearly had no truck with heroic stunts, which rather limited his repertoire. He probably wouldn’t impress her by bowling out the entire village for ducks, but he was still determined
to acquit himself with honour and help his team to victory.

Having been handed the task of captaining a cricket team for the Gough Memorial Trophy match, Dougie had enlisted the help of one of the estate groundsmen, Vic, who had once tried out for Gloucestershire and was among the few remaining Eardisford staff from Constance’s era. Vic knew everybody and was such a friendly, chatty soul
that he had no difficulty in hoodwinking some of the newer employees into the first eleven, which both men were convinced was a crack team. Guest and entourage, it was assumed, would have nothing to do with the lowly village match, but Dougie hadn’t forgotten Seth’s passion for the game.

As he bowled again, he heard a step behind him. ‘Cricket is the only reason you are still here.’

The ball was wide, ricocheting off the mortar and disappearing overhead towards the open doors where Dollar caught it. She continued reading an email on the tablet she was holding with the other hand.

‘You will have to do better than that on Sunday. It is a very good thing that we have brought professionals, I believe.’

He turned to look at her, magnificently out of place in
a tailored red linen dress and high heels that emphasized her aggressively toned slenderness, chital eyes kohl-rimmed and huge. Rack the kennel man was hanging over a half-door nearby, open-mouthed. Equally entranced, little Gut was pressure-hosing the cobbles a few feet behind her, not noticing that the nozzle was pointing at his own feet. The water spray catching in the evening sun cast a rainbow
over her head.

‘Are you talking about hunting or cricket?’ Dougie asked, wandering across the dusty flagstones to collect his ball.

‘Cricket, of course. Seth has no interest in hunting, luckily for you.’ To Dougie’s surprise, her eyes glowed with warmth when they finally looked up. She tucked the tablet under one arm and pressed her hands together in a
namaste
greeting. ‘Where is
your phone? I’ve been calling, but there is no answer.’

‘It fell in the lake.’

‘No matter. We will replace it.’ She pulled out her tablet again and tapped a note into the screen. ‘This stableyard is looking most impressive. The horses are very fit, I take it?’

‘They’re getting there. They’ll be hard-core by the start of the season.’ Dougie stepped out into the courtyard. He
was nonplussed by her upbeat attitude, having fully expected her to be in Kali warrior-goddess mode, ready to read the Riot Act and pull out her gun, demanding that he show respect and gallop after muntjac, bowstring drawn.

‘Seth is very much looking forward to the cricket match,’ she told him, a hint of a smile touching her wide, scarlet-painted lips.

He groaned when she broke the
news that two professional Indian international cricketers had been invited to guest in the team – to be passed off as members of Seth’s staff – and were staying at the local spa hotel, awaiting Dougie’s instructions.

‘Please tell me this is a joke.’

‘Why would I joke? Seth takes cricket and business very seriously,’ she informed him, smile vanishing, dark eyes studying his physique
and noting the changes with approval: his body had hardened with physical work and tanned deep butterscotch in the sun, which had bleached near-white streaks in his tousled hair. ‘You are in better shape, although your personal grooming still lacks finesse. We must get your hair cut before Seth sees you.’

Dougie resented being assessed like a show horse, but that was nothing in comparison
to having his cricket team hijacked, and he refused to be side-tracked. ‘We can’t put hired ringers in the estate side. The village is mutinous enough as it is. I need to speak with Seth about this.’

‘That isn’t possible. He is fully occupied with his guest tonight. There is a very precise schedule of entertainment.’

‘Don’t tell me he’s flying in Elton John and Rihanna, or is he
saving them for tomorrow?’

Dollar cleared her throat, not looking at him, and he realized he was far closer to the mark than he’d imagined. ‘Tonight is just a select gathering. Tomorrow evening, as you know, we have a Bollywood theme and three hundred guests have been invited. Sunday will be devoted to cricket. We hope that the estate will be preparing for victory.’ She studied her screen
again. ‘Seth himself will bat third.’

Dougie’s team line-up was now in disarray. ‘Why didn’t you say he wanted to play too?’

‘Of course he will play. It is good PR. Igor and the rest of the party will be kept fully entertained by Dair’s team throughout the weekend so Seth can be available to play on Sunday afternoon. He would like to keep his identity very low key until the end of
the match, when he intends to make a small speech to introduce himself before the trophy presentation.’

‘Won’t the villagers recognize him from the party?’

‘He will be anonymous there too. Seth is a very modest person. He feels it is important to make a positive impression on the local community before he reveals who he really is.’

Dougie looked up at the sky. ‘He won’t do
that by buying his way to victory, no matter how many mango cocktails he hits the locals with the night before, especially as they’ll be at the “servants’ party”.’ He looked at Dollar, blue eyes imploring. ‘Didn’t he learn anything from the point-to-point fiasco? This isn’t a computer game you can beat with a cheat code, demoting everyone else to drones.’ He ran his hands through his hair despairingly.
‘I suggest we offer the village team one of the pros and call them “international guest stars”, and we can probably rescue this with full honours.’

‘Seth will not be prepared to do that,’ Dollar said matter-of-factly. ‘He wants to win the match.’

‘In that case, tell him I quit. Cricket was a reason for staying here, and this definitely isn’t cricket.’

For once her face betrayed
her, dark eyes widening to saucers. ‘This is most unwise. Your contract cannot be verbally terminated, Dougie. I have already had to work
very
hard to gloss over your reluctance to honour it in recent days. There will be very severe consequences if you insist on leaving us completely, on this weekend especially.’

‘You hired the wrong man.’

Glancing over her shoulder to see Rack still
gazing at her in mute wonder and Gut pressure-hosing the same few inches of cobbles, Dollar stepped closer to him, lowering her voice to an undertone: ‘I would s
trongly
advise against this. You have a lot of ground to make up, it is true. Your start has been unsatisfactory, and the business with the girl is very disappointing, but we can still turn this around.’

‘I can only hunt within
the law,’ he hissed. ‘And I’m not some fucking gigolo.’

‘You should have thought of that before you signed the contract.’

‘I was in no state to sign that thing, as well you know.’

‘Indeed.’ She stared at her screen again, her deep voice little more than a whisper. ‘You are not alone there. I should have warned you, but my curiosity and attraction were too great.’

‘What
are you talking about?’

‘I will come to the mill later. We can only talk about killing contracts in complete privacy.’

Put like that, it sounded worryingly lethal.

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