Page 90 of A Change of Location
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“Every night this week I’ve seen them at The Huntsman’s Horn,” Poppy informed Martin when he was guiding Jewel through the agility course. “After filming—they sometimes carry on till evening—the crew and some of the cast head for the pub. Not the stars.”
“Clever girl!” When the dog dashed out of the nylon tunnel, Martin handed her a treat.
“Did you hear what I said about Hannah and the Scotsman? They always leave together. He drives her back to the hotel in Newbridge.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
“Aren’t you concerned?” She glared at him, chin lowered and hands on hips.
“That bloke stole her job, Popster.”
“He isn’t stealing anything nowadays. Looks like he’s getting what he wants.”
“That’s slanderous.”
“Not if it’s true,” she shot back.
Martin kept his eyes on Jewel, seated at his feet and waiting for the next hand signal.
“You went to Maine. You met her parents. I suspect Isobel’s already deciding what to wear to the engagement party and the wedding. Take my advice. Pop into Huntsman’s tonight and see for yourself what’s going on.”
“I’ll meet you there. What time?”
Her head swung back and forth. “I’m wanted at The Peacock. Andy needs backup while Jack’s in Weston-Super-Mare with Chloe. They go every September, before term starts. He asked me to help keeping things running smoothly at the pub. If the kitchen gets busy, I’ll have to do the odd fry-up.”
“There’s a reason to keep clear of the place.”
She retaliated by lobbing a ball at him. It landed on the grass. Jewel promptly retrieved and returned it.
“What’s today’s location, do you know?” he asked.
“The river, on the Milver St. Mary side. First thing this morning, they closed the bridge. I’ve taken lots of calls from aggrieved villagers.” Poppy watched him work the dog, and after Jewel completed another series of jumps, she asked, “Have you auditioned for the role of village idiot?”
“I’ve grown camera-shy in my dotage.”
“Here’s more movie gossip. Étoile and Meg might end up on the silver screen instead of you. The horse master—mistress—asked Shona if she knew of an attractive animal capable of carrying a lady on sidesaddle. For some reason the gelding for Caroline Bryden was withdrawn. Meg’s owner is a member of the Sidesaddle Association and competed in their annual show, and uses her for teaching. I let her be checked for health and temperament, and she passed with flying colors.”
“Do we have the owner’s permission?”
Poppy affirmed it. “I’ve already forwarded paperwork to sign and return. Your cousin has started sidesaddle practice. Because Étoile is comfortable with Meg, Lucas Daltrey might ride her. Lucky girl.”
“Presumably we receive a fee.”
“Of course. The firm that hired out the carriage horses and the shires gave me an estimate of what we should charge. We can set Meg’s payment against her boarding expenses, and whatever Étoile brings in goes towards oats and hay. Dr. Allason’s assistant is the on-set vet, and having the time of his life. I must say, despite the hardships this production brings, it does wonders for our local economy. As you’ll discover tonight at The Huntsman’s Horn.”
After Jewel’s training session, he changed into running gear and hung the lanyard with his identification badge around his neck. He trotted across the Home Farm acres towards Milver St. Mary. The air was heavy and humid, no clouds shaded the sun. His t-shirt and the laminated card he’d tucked inside were sticking to his chest. Beyond the cordon erected around the film set, crew members gathered at long tables. He had no trouble finding the person he’d come to see—the only one in costume, she was surrounded by hangers-on.
“Martin!” Handing her plate to an assistant, Caroline Bryden hurried to meet him as hastily as her long, full skirts allowed.
He held up his hands to ward off an embrace. “Don’t touch. I’m damp.”
“Me, too. Impossible to keep dry inside this tent I’m wearing. I’m surprised you recognized me in this misery of a wig. How long has it been?”
“Years. But I’ve seen you more recently, on the cover of Posh.”
“And I saw that article about you. I’m too weighed down with fabric to walk to my caravan and felt too famished to wait for a cart to take me there. Why don’t you get some food from craft services and join me? I’m at the table under the trees. They said I’d feel cooler in the shade. They were wrong.”
