Pink Flip Flops and Champagne

Pink Flip-Flops & Champagne By Deborah Durbin

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Published 2006 Second Edition Copyright Deborah Durbin 2005 Copyright of text belongs to Deborah Durbin 2005 The right of Deborah Durbin to be identified as the Author of the Work had been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Acts 1988. All characters, names and places in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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Acknowledgements I would like to thank all the people who helped me in the making of this book. Special thanks go to my daughter Rebecca for all her help with research

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Dedication This book is dedicated to my three beautiful daughters, Rebecca, Georgia and Holly. Never stop believing in you!

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CHAPTER ONE Bo Sanderson landed with a thump on the make-shift bed in her caravan-made-for-one. Crossing her long legs over each other, she tore open the embossed cream envelope in her hands. She had waited forever for the news from Hey Magazine and finally, she had the answer in her hands. To be fair, Bo had only entered the competition as a joke and to while away the boredom of waiting in the doctor’s surgery for an appointment. The high society magazine had been sandwiched between a copy of Country Life and a leaflet about in-growing toenails. Having worked her way through Country Life – what Bo didn’t know about the country life wasn’t worth knowing - and discarding the toe-leaflet to one side whilst admiring her own perfectly polished Peony Pink toenails, which matched her Peony Pink flip-flops, Bo leafed through the glossy magazine filled with equally glossy looking people. The pages of fabulous looking A-list celebrities, with their equally fabulous designer ripped jeans, made Bo chuckle. She too had ripped jeans, only hers were not ripped by some eccentric designer, they were ripped thanks to scrambling underneath scrap cars. The naturally pretty girl from the gypsy caravan park with the red curly hair and the pin-prick freckles loved who she was and knew that the majority of the faces staring back at her in the magazine were far from organic. The competition at the back of the magazine was inserted between an advert for breast implants and a 5

crossword for the intellectually challenged and Bo couldn’t help but smile when she read it. ‘I wonder…’ she thought out aloud. Without giving her brain time to digest the words and talk her out of it she asked the plump woman on reception for a piece of paper, a pen, an envelope - oh and a stamp. ‘Please?’ Bo asked most sincerely to the sourfaced woman who always wore beige. ‘I promise I’ll pay you back.’ Bo added. Old sour-face, who was used to the local gypsies making all sorts of demands whenever they visited the village surgery, handed over a supply of stationary to Bo, but was adamant she wasn’t going to hand over a smile as well. Bo was so engrossed in writing that she didn’t even hear the doctor call her name and missed her appointment all together. Never mind, she thought cheerily as she skipped past the post-box and popped the letter in it. The pain in her leg she’d suffered thanks to tripping over Tan, her German Sheppard dog the previous day, had miraculously disappeared anyway. Dear Ms. Sanderson…. The letter began and Bo screwed up her face – talk about formal. It is with great pleasure to inform you that you have been selected for the Hey Life Swap Challenge… Bo stared at the words in front of her and read them over and over as she sipped from a can of coke. She continued to read the rest of the letter informing her 6

of what was expected of her and the fee they were prepared to pay her. ‘Bloody Hell! Five thousand pounds!’ Bo gasped. ‘Five thousand pounds for …’ The caravan door banged open and a miniature whirl-wind flew in and stuck a Super-Soaker waterpistol up Bo’s noise. ‘Hand over the flip-flops or you’re dead!’ The small person shouted in as big a voice as he could muster. ‘Bugger off Kieran!’ Bo shouted as her five-yearold brother made a grab for her bright pink flip-flops. Squeezing her toes tightly to hang on to them, she flung her legs off the bed and roared at him. Kieran froze, dropped his weapons, which included Aunt Mo’s walking stick, which was a substitute to an AK47, and started to cry. ‘Oh I’m sorry honey. I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on, give me a cuddle.’ Bo’s Irish voice softened. ‘I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it.’ She cuddled Kieran to her, who in return dribbled yellow snot down her white gypsy-top – God, where on earth did all that snot come from? Bo wondered. ‘Wot’s that?’ Kieran asked between snotty snorts and sniffs. ‘This?’ Bo said, suddenly aware that she was still holding the letter in her hand and doubly aware that if Kieran found out it would be around the site in less time than it took Kieran’s nose to produce masses of yellow snot. 7

‘Oh this? Nothing, just a letter.’ She said folding it up and putting it in her back jean pocket. ‘Wanna play with me?’ Kieran asked, satisfied with his sister’s explanation. ‘Yeah sure, what do you want to play?’ Bo said. ‘Hunters.’ Kieran said excitedly. ‘Hunters’ consisted of running around the familyrun scrap yard with Super-Soaker water-pistols and shooting tigers – the tigers being anyone who happened to be within shooting distance. Bo adjusted her flip-flops, pulled her long red curls into a pony tail and secured her hair with a pink scrunchie. The scrap-yard, which was just off the caravan park, was fairly quiet of tigers today. The only victims were one-eyed Uncle Bob and a man in a grey business suit who was talking to him. ‘Whoops, sorry!’ Bo shouted her apology to the man in the, now rather wet, grey business suit. ‘Ere Bo, got a job for you.’ Uncle Bob shouted, ‘this ere bloke’s got a puncture, can you fix it?’ ‘What did your last servant die of?’ ‘Go on love, you know me eye-sights not up to much.’ Uncle Bob replied. ‘Not up to much? He’s got a glass eye. He can’t see a bloody thing!’ Bo laughed, ‘right. Where’s your car?’ The man in the suit looked at Bo with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. With Bo’s naturally cork-screw curly red hair and rosy skin she could get away with 8

wearing a bin-bag and still look stunning. Thankfully today she wasn’t wearing a bin bag, but a beautifully hand-embroidered white gypsy top – a wet-wipe had soon sorted out the snot stains - and her very faded and very ripped denim jeans. ‘Um, it’s parked out on the main road.’ The stylish man replied, slightly embarrassed that he looked as if he was desperately trying not to look as though he was completely intrigued by Bo. ‘You gotta pay mind.’ Bo said as they walked out of the scrap yard that was home to the empty carcasses of cars and on to the main road where a brand new dark blue BMW sat, complete with one flat tyre. ‘Fifty quid OK?’ The man replied, ‘I’m Gregory by the way. Greg.’ He held out a hand to greet Bo. ‘Yep, fifty’s fine. Nice to meet you, I’m Bo.’ ‘As in Boudicca? ‘As in Bo-Peep.’ Bo mocked. Without realising it, Bo found herself momentarily mesmerised by Greg’s deep blue eyes. Greg, who reminded Bo of a posh Brad Pitt –yum, yum - was equally mesmerised by the beautiful gypsy girl. Bo suddenly remembered why she was there. ‘Right, let’s get this car on the road shall we?’ she said and looked down at the airless tyre and catching in the pleasant aroma of Greg’s expensive aftershave. Having replaced the tyre with the new one from the boot and stuffed the fifty quid in her back pocket, Bo wiped her black dusty hands down her jeans. 9

‘See ya then.’ ‘Um, could I take you out for dinner sometime?’ Greg suddenly asked, taking himself and Bo by surprise. ‘Sorry, not allowed to date customers.’ Bo replied with half a smile and waved behind her as she walked back into the yard. Despite Bo being 24 years old the fact was she didn’t dare date anyone. With six brothers, no poor man ever stood a chance – especially an outsider. There was an ancient unwritten rule in the world of the gypsy that they married their own kind. Gorgy’s, as outsiders were known, were definitely frowned upon. The last time Bo had dated a guy from the village, her brother’s had scared him off by quietly informing him that they were the equivalent of the mafia – only Irish, and that if he ever upset Bo they would feed him to the dogs that roamed around the yard looking for scraps. Part of her idolised her protective brothers, but a part of her also wanted to wring their necks. She’d probably end up an old spinster just like her Auntie Mo – sitting in her handpainted Romany caravan, rocking backwards and forwards all day and talking to herself. Bo had lived as a traveller all her life and knew only the life of a gypsy. Of course she’d attended state education, but it never lasted very long. Every few months the family would move on again. But Bo enjoyed her carefree life. Being a gypsy was a way of life to her and she knew no other. So long as she helped out in the yard from time to time, she could come and go as she pleased - and she was the best 10

mechanic that you could ask for, even if she did say so herself. Having spent most of her childhood around cars, she had learnt all she knew from her dad Billy and had so far made a fair living from it, especially from female customers who much preferred to deal with a woman mechanic. Before long Kieran had tired of looking for tigers and had decided to play with some of his cousins at the far end of the camp. The council-approved site was a mixture of traditionally decorated wooden Romany caravans, which the elders had spent years traveling around the country in, mixed with several modern 40 foot caravans. Each home was a splendid wonder of workmanship, whether traditional or modern. The majority of travelers’ were, like Bo, of Irish decent and once word got around that the council had approved the site in Hewbury, relatives had pitched up all over the place. Now the site had more than 20 traveling families on it and everyone knew or was related to everyone else. Most of the residents lived on the site, but many used it as their base-camp for when they returned from traveling around the county for the summer selling their wares at festivals and fairs. Toddlers trailed their toy tractors through the mud, children ran wild and free and were only called upon when the sky began to get dark and it was time for a shower and bed. The elders of the families spent their days washing clothes, cooking meals, reading the Tarot cards and making crafts to sell in the near-by village.

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That was the good thing about all living together, you were never short of company, but it had its downside too – you were never short of company! The minute you sneezed, the whole camp knew about it and were banging on your door to offer herbal remedies of one kind or another. You couldn’t keep a secret even if you wanted to – everyone knew everyone’s business in the Hewbury Travelers’ Park. Still unsure of how she was going to tell her family that she was about to swap lives with some high society girl from London, Bo decided to go and see Granny Daisy in her caravan. Granny Daisy was Bo’s favourite of the elders to confide in whenever she had a problem. Despite being over 80, she was remarkably wise and sympathetic to the young people in the camp and was the one person Bo felt she could trust. Granny Daisy’s caravan was a true hand-painted Ledge Romany, painted in traditional bright blue and yellow and it was her pride and joy. Despite being a little on the small side, it was immaculate inside and out, from the brass steps to the intricate gold decorated wheel trims. Bo tapped on the blue wooden hatch door and waited for her grandmother to call out. ‘Hello Bo! Come in my dear.’ Came the reply. Bo stepped inside. ‘Hi Granny D.’ Bo greeted her with a kiss. Granny Daisy’s skin was soft but weathered like a chamois leather from years’ of wear and her eyesight 12

was not what it once was, but the old sparkle was still there. ‘Tell me all about it then, and put the kettle on while you’re up.’ The old lady smiled. ‘You want me to read your cards?’ ‘Please.’ Bo replied. Granny Daisy was one of a breed of original gypsy fortune tellers, known in the old community as the Drabardi, and had an uncanny habit of predicting exactly what was going to happen before it did. Most of the travelers’ had learnt their skills from Granny Daisy and it infuriated Daisy when she heard of the con-artists who set up shop in these New Age centres all claiming they were professional fortune tellers. As far as Bo was concerned Granny Daisy was the best at fortune telling and she wouldn’t trust anyone else to read for her. Bo placed the iron kettle on the stove and waited for the water to boil. ‘So what’s this all about then?’ Granny Daisy asked as Bo shuffled the well-worn pack of Ryder Waite cards in her shaking hands and gave them back to her grandmother. ‘I’ve had this letter Granny, from one of those glossy magazines.’ Bo pulled the creased letter out of her back pocket and handed it to her grandmother, who put her spectacles on and scanned the writing. ‘Posh paper.’ She observed. Bo picked out seven cards from the set which was fanned out on the small round table while her grandmother studied the letter. Granny Daisy looked 13

closely at them for a moment whilst Bo made them both a cup of tea. Bo’s grandmother looked like the stereotypical gypsy fortune-teller, with her snow-white curly hair, dark eyes, headscarf, white crochet shawl around her shoulders and expensive gold hoops in her ears. ‘Well, well my dear, this is interesting. A lifeswap and by the looks of it, a very well-to-do family you will be staying with. Kensington. London.’ She observed the letter again and smiled. ‘You should go.’ She finally said. ‘Now let me look at these cards for you.’ Granny Daisy paused for a moment as her eyes scanned the seven cards. ‘Well now, you didn’t tell me that you’re the subject of someone’s affections.’ She smiled. Bo looked astonished. ‘That’s because I’m not.’ She blushed – Bo hated talking about those kind of things at the best of time. It was traditional for gypsy girls’ to be married by the time they were 19, but this had never been on Bo’s agenda. She didn’t want to follow the crowd – meet another gypsy boy at a fair and marry him. ‘The cards don’t fib my dear.’ Her grandmother eyed her through her spectacles. ‘As for this little adventure of yours, if you want your life to change then you should go my dear and believe me, it will change your life Bo, more than you would think possible.’ It frustrated Bo sometimes that her grandmother often spoke in riddles. ‘In what way?’ 14

‘In every way my dear. In every way.’ The wise old woman continued. ‘I see love finding you and money coming your way. I can see sparkling gems for you and after a struggle you will win something Bo, but don’t ever forget where your roots are my darling. Now, you’ll be fine.’ She patted Bo on the leg, ‘and as for the family, you just leave them to me.’ She smiled mischievously at Bo. Bo hugged her grandmother to her, ‘but what if I don’t fit in Granny? What if I hate it there? God, do you know how posh these people in London are?’ ‘Oh I do.’ Granny Daisy chuckled. ‘Bo dear, you have to try new things in order to find out what it is you like and dislike and it is only for two weeks. And believe me Bo, posh doesn’t mean better. You’ll have no trouble fitting in. What’s the alternative? Living here in the camp forever and marrying someone like your cousin Sam?’ Bo pulled a face, ‘You know what it’s like Granny. It’s tradition isn’t it? Anyway, you still live by the old ways. You’ve always followed the Romany values, living in the camp, marrying Grandpa Jo and it didn’t do you any harm.’ ‘Ah, but I’ve experienced life Bo. Long before I settled here, I… I traveled all over the world. Live your life Bo, don’t waste it. Don’t spend the rest of your life regretting what might once have been.’ Bo spent the rest of the afternoon in the scrapyard, taking apart the engine of a Land Rover with Uncle Bob and trying to put off the moment when she would inform the family that a complete stranger was about to take her place for two weeks. The close-knit 15

family hated strangers coming to the site at the best of times and officials had learnt fast not to approach the site, unless they wanted to be shot at by Mad Sam – a distant cousin of Bo’s who was quite literally living with the fairies, and who sat at his post from dawn to dusk, dressed in combats and armed with a shotgun at the bottom of the muddy lane which led up to the site. Auntie Mo came out of her caravan to shout at the children for exploiting her walking stick by using it as a firearm and to announce that supper was about to be served. Bo’s mother Antoinette made a big thing about the family all sitting down for supper and woe be tide anyone who wasn’t at the table. The only person who was excused was Mad Sam – he usually had his supper delivered to him, because he often caused trouble at the dinner table. With such a large family, supper was served in the huge white marquee that had been erected in the middle of the site and housed several long wooden tables in rows. Although the marquee was home to all the residents in the camp, the Sanderson family always ate at nine o’clock sharp, when many of the other residents had already eaten. The family gathered one by one into the huge tent and sat at their usual places. Granny Daisy at the head of the table, followed by Bo’s mum and dad, Antoinette and Billy Senior – who was also known as The Gypsy King, on account of the amount of fights he had won as a professional boxer when he was young. Auntie Mo and Uncle Bob were next, 16

followed by Bo’s brothers; Cain and Billy Jnr, twins, Tommy and Jonno, Si and finally Kieran, who adored meal times. Bo’s mother, who was a larger than life lady, with a passion for food, always made a special effort with supper. During the day they could eat whatever they liked, but when it came to supper she liked to make an event of it. The whole family was expected to eat well and tonight was no different. Their supper consisted of roast pork with all the trimmings, followed by a huge bowl of home-made sherry trifle. ‘You’re not eating Bo.’ Her mother scolded in her harsh Irish accent, ‘eat up girl. Kieran don’t play with the peas, other people have got to eat them. Cain pass the apple sauce to Uncle Bob, he can’t see where it is. Bo, eat up girl!’ Every supper time was the same. Romany violin and lute music played quietly in the background and the ceiling of the marquee played host to thousands of glittering fairy-lights, which ran from a small generator outside. Any other night this would have been Bo’s favourite time of the day. Tonight she dreaded it. ‘Who was the bloke in the BM then Bo?’ Cain asked, looking suspiciously at Bo. ‘What bloke?’ Billy junior looked up. ‘Some bloke was chatting up our sis outside the yard today.’ Cain added. ‘He was not chatting me up, I was fixing his car, you idiot.’ Bo protested. 17

‘Better not av been chatting you up.’ Si butted in. Si who was a semi-pro boxer, smashed his clenched fist into his other hand. ‘He wasn’t chatting me up!’ Bo shook her head in disbelief. Her family could be quite insane sometimes. ‘Was too’ Kieran shouted. Kieran didn’t have a clue what he was shouting about but thought his brothers must be right anyway. ‘Be quiet the lot of you!’ Granny Daisy slowly stood up. ‘I’ve got something I want to say.’ The whole family fell silent as they watched Granny Daisy sit back down and push her plate in front of her. ‘Right you lot, Bo and I have some news.’ Bo felt her face flush. Please no, not like this, not a big family announcement. Granny Daisy winked at her. ‘A few weeks ago I thought it would be fun to enter Bo into a competition run by Hey Magazine, and guess what? She’s won it!’ Daisy smiled as all eyes turned to Bo, who just went red again. – God, she wished she could do something about this blushing. ‘Cool! What did she win? If it’s an X-Box can I av it?’ Kieran shouted. ‘What magazine? Since when did you start reading Hey magazine Granny?’ Antoinette asked, astonished that her mother would ever be interested in a high society glossy magazine. 18

‘Quiet!’ Granny Daisy shouted. ‘Right, it doesn’t matter where or when I read the magazine - It was in the doctors’ surgery if you must know. Anyway, the important thing is that Bo has won the competition.’ ‘What did she win? A bottle of posh perfume?’ Si laughed exhibiting a disgusting mouthful of food. ‘Or one of those fancy foot-spa’s that nobody ever uses.’ Billy Junior added, to which they all laughed. ‘I got your mother one of them and it’s true, she’s never used it!’ Their father laughed. ‘I have so!’ Antoinette replied, ‘Anyway, what were you doing in the surgery? You hate doctors. Are you OK mum?’ Antoinette asked anxiously. ‘I’m fine dear and no she didn’t win a playstation, a bottle of perfume, or a fancy foot-spa. She’s won the chance to swap lives with someone for two weeks.’ Daisy continued. Bo felt her face flush again as all the family looked at her. ‘Huh?’ Si and Billy Junior started laughing. ‘Who’s gonna want to swap with her?’ Granny Daisy shot the brothers a look and they immediately fell silent. ‘If I may continue? Bo has been invited to stay with a family in London for two weeks and in return the young lady she is swapping with will spend two weeks with us – although Lord knows why she’d want to do that.’ ‘Am I getting a new sister then?’ Kieran asked with wonderment on his face. 19

‘No! I’ll always be your sister.’ Bo said defensively, ‘this girl will only be your sister for two weeks, that’s all.’ ‘What do you want to go to London for anyway? It’s full of bloody Cockney’s.’ Bo’s father said between mouthfuls of roasted parsnip. Billy was a bona fide gypsy, following in his fathers’ footsteps and his father before him. Originally a professional boxer in the gypsy world, he didn’t take kindly to outsiders, especially those who came from the city. ‘And it’s such a big place Bo. What if you get lost? And who is this girl? We don’t know anything about her. You know what Mad Sam is like with newcomers.’ Antoinette added worryingly. ‘Besides, who says we want some stuck-up snob from London ere? Don’t we get a say in it?’ Tommy protested. ‘Yeah, we don’t want any city folk in our site.’ Jonno added – but only because his twin brother had spoken out first. ‘Not even for five thousand pounds?’ Granny Daisy asked. ‘Wot, five grand?’ Jonno’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s what they’re offering, if we allow Bo to go to London. Of course it’s Bo’s decision and Bo’s money,’ Daisy added, ‘so you will have to be particularly nice to her if you want a share of it.’ ‘Is that the letter you were hiding from me Bo?’ Kieran said, Bo felt her face redden again. 20

‘Good on you kid, go for it. At least you’ll be out of this dump for a while.’ Cain, who spoke for the second time that evening, patted his younger sister on the back. Being the eldest brother at 26, Cain was the most protective of Bo, but understood why she would be tempted to go to London. Bo was the only person who knew Cain and knew what made him tick. Beneath the hard exterior of the handsome, rugged gypsy, Cain was really a romantic who harboured dreams a far cry from the world he lived in. But he knew deep down his dreams would always remain dreams. At the age of 11, in standing with tradition, he was taken out of school to learn the family trade. He was expected to act hard and work hard in the scrap-yard until, like generations before him, the business would finally be handed down to him. Bo collapsed on her bed, her stomach empty from lack of food – she was too nervous to eat – and her head spinning – from the endless questions from her family about this ridiculous swap. That’s what it was, ridiculous, Bo thought. What had she been thinking? How could she, Bo Sanderson, common-as-beans-ontoast-gypsy-girl ever possibly survive in a world of people who ate with more than one knife and fork? Bo rolled over onto her side, dragging the quilted eider-down Granny Daisy had made around her, her thoughts turning to Greg, the man in the grey business suit. The man with the dazzling blue eyes. Gorgy or not, I bet he eats with more than one knife and fork, she thought gloomily. 21

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea in the first place. But then the prospect of five thousand pounds made it seem quite a good idea actually. The money would mean she could afford to start to advertise her handmade silver jewellery in the nearby village and even maybe hire a regular stall in the village market. Tired and confused from the day’s events, and still in her ripped jeans and gypsy top, with her pink flipflops still firmly on her feet, Bo closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

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CHAPTER TWO ‘There are three letters up there for you darling. They came in the post on Thursday.’ Isobel Barrington’s mother Crystal said between minuscule mouthfuls of French-toast, whilst mindlessly flicking through a copy of Vogue. ‘Ooh, now I like that style. That would suit you Izzy.’ She mused at a picture of Kate Moss in a mauve A-line skirt, ‘and don’t forget, we’ve got that charity thingy tomorrow evening. Don’t let me down darling. I’ve invited lots of important people along.’ ‘How could I possibly forget mummy? You must have reminded me umpteen times since I got back from Paris.’ Isobel huffed as she clipped across the marbled kitchen floor to the mantelpiece in her kitten heel, fluffy slippers. ‘Well I’m only saying. You know what a scatterbrain you can be darling,’ her mother added, ‘anything interesting?’ Isobel slit open the three envelopes with the silver letter opener. The first was an application form for a platinum credit card. ‘Got four.’ Isobel remarked and tossed the application on the floor. The second envelope contained an invite to a masked ball from some Duke. ‘Prior engagement.’ Isobel tossed that to the floor. The third letter had an embossed letter-head confirming it was from the upmarket glossy, Hey Magazine. 23

‘Oh goody!’ Isobel said as she unfolded the letter, ‘it’s from Hey.’ She added to her mother who was still flicking through Vogue and commenting to herself on this season’s latest styles. ‘It is with great pleasure….’ Isobel began to read out loud and then stopped, ‘oh mummy, look, they’ve chosen me to do that swap-thing I was telling you about!’ she squealed with delight. ‘Listen to this. You will be… spending the fortnight with a family of travelers? Ewee! Travelers? They’re gypsies aren’t they mummy?’ Crystal looked up at her daughter, ‘We’re not allowed to call them gypsies anymore darling, we have to call them travelers and I don’t know why you ever entered that silly competition in the first place, I mean Izzy dear, really.’ Her mother tut-tutted, ‘I can’t think for the life of me why that new editor ran such a silly competition in the first place. Beatrice would never have done that.’ ‘Yes, but Beatrice was booted off the magazine mother. And anyway you see it all the time on those reality TV shows. It’s all the rage now. And they’re paying five thousand pounds mummy, which means I can give that to my charity…’ Before Isobel could say anymore, her mother looked at her. It all made sense now. ‘Hang on one minute young lady, just when is this supposed swap to take place?’ Isobel hid her face in the letter. ‘Um, from next week?’ she whispered. 24

‘And isn’t that the same week that that you are supposed to be running for your charity Isobel?’ ‘Yes, but …’ ‘So you thought if you did this swap with this other poor girl then you would get out of doing the run - again.’ Crystal was not amused. ‘No, I completely forgot about that and besides I’ll be giving all the money to charity anyway.’ Isobel added, looking somewhat annoyed with her mother. ‘I mean God, I certainly don’t need it.’ The fact that Crystal was right and Isobel had absolutely no intention of ever running in a race for charity was beside the point. Okay, so she might have to slum it for two weeks’ in the middle of Hill-Billy country, but there was no way she was going to ruin her perfectly pedicured feet for some kids’ charity. ‘You won’t survive two days let alone two weeks.’ Her father Tristan chortled from beneath his broadsheet. ‘I will so!’ Isobel protested, ‘I can do slumming. I’ve been camping before and besides Charlotte says it’s easy, she paid £200 to sleep rough the other week for some homeless charity and she had a ball. And guess what? She even met a real-life tramp!’ ‘Izzy dear, you didn’t go camping. You stayed in a penthouse twenty miles from the camp-site.’ Her mother corrected. ‘Ah, but that was only because I twisted my ankle climbing those stupid mountains!’ Isobel replied. 25

‘Hills’ her father interrupted, ‘they were hills Isobel, not mountains.’ He laughed, ‘Besides, I think working for a living on a gypsy camp will be a darn sight harder than running in any charity race. Are you sure you still want to go ahead with this poppet?’ ‘You think I won’t do it, don’t you?’ Isobel huffed, pushing her chair behind her. ‘Well I can and I will!’ She pulled her pink designer silk robe around her and flounced out of the kitchen in a bad mood. Tristan smiled behind his paper. ‘Do you think she really will go ahead with this mad idea?’ Crystal asked her husband, who by now was engrossed in privately texting someone from behind the morning paper. ‘Humm? Oh Izzy, yes she will be fine dear. You know what she’s like, she’ll probably pay some poor waif and stray to take her place and end up going skiing in Switzerland instead.’ ‘I’d better get on to the agency to send Parker and a cook over if we’re going to be entertaining a guest for a fortnight.’ Crystal pondered. Isobel, who had overheard her father, stomped up the white spiral staircase to her apartment. I’ll bloody show them, she muttered to herself. By the time she had changed into a pink Chanel Tshirt and a pair of black Armarni trousers, Isobel was even more determined to prove her mother and father wrong. 26

At 24 Isobel had known all her life that she would never have to actually work for a living. Being an only child and heiress to the Barrington Empire, she made the most of the fact that the only thing required of her in life was to look good, be polite and attend a few charity functions every year. Her day to day life consisted of shopping, lunching with girlfriends, pedicures, manicures and regular Botox injections – Isobel didn’t have room for a job in her life even if she wanted one, and she didn’t, thank you very much. The only thing Isobel had ever achieved in life was being able to tell the difference between a fake Rolex and a real one. ‘What? You can’t even manage to muck out your own horses for fear of breaking your nails darling.’ Troy, Isobel’s fiancé laughed when she told him of her latest venture. ‘And anyway, you know nothing about living in a gypsy camp. You are funny sometimes Izzy.’ Isobel and Troy had been engaged for three years now and made the perfect couple – everybody said so. Izzy with her flawless model looks and gorgeous blonde hair; Troy, who was one of the best vets in the country, was also one of the most handsome bachelors a girl could ever wish to meet. His jet black hair set off his dark chocolate brown eyes, giving him the ability to make a woman melt like a chocolate tea-pot. ‘And besides all that,’ Troy continued, ‘what are you going to do about your beauty regime? You know what you’re like. And this girl, do I have to 27

sleep with her too? I mean if she’s going to be your replacement for two weeks…’ ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid!’ Isobel shouted down the phone. Okay so it was only thanks to her personal hair stylist Jean Pierre and some wonderful imported extensions that Isobel could manage to have the sleek blonde and very straight hair that was her trade mark – left to its own devises, the smooth glossy locks reacted badly to the first sign of humidity, which resulted in a really bad-hair day. ‘Well, I’ll just call Jean Pierre in to this camp place thing.’ Isobel said smugly. ‘They’ll probably eat him alive. And the sleeping with her bit?’ Troy questioned with a smile. ‘Don’t even think about it.’ Isobel answered. Even Isobel’s friends thought it was hilarious that the ultimate It-girl they all adored and modelled themselves on, was going to be living on a caravan site. ‘You can’t be serious Izzy darling!’ they chorused. ‘I can’t believe you would even contemplate it.’ Tara screamed and pulled a face as if Isobel had just announced that she was going in for a dog-poo eating contest. ‘Look Izzy, if you want, I’ll give you the money for the charity.’ Charlotte looked up from texting someone. ‘Err Durrh, that’s the whole point of it.’ Isobel said, ‘Instead of having to run an obtuse amount of 28

miles for charity, I’ll simply slum it for two weeks’ and give them the money. And besides, it might just be fun.’ ‘Oh yeah, great fun that sounds, being stuck in a bloody drafty caravan for a fortnight. I mean will your mobile even work there?’ Sophie asked, ‘do they even know what a mobile is?’ she added, ‘and shopping. I mean do they even have shops there?’ Sophie’s face was a picture of horror at the thought of her best friend having to spend a fortnight minus Selfridges. Isobel had to laugh at her friends, ‘Anyway, it’s not only me who is having a change is it?’ She mocked. ‘What do you mean?’ the girls chorused. ‘Well if I’m to swap places with this girl, then she’s going to be swapping places with me isn’t she? So, your new best friend is going to be a Hill-Billy gypsy-girl! That’s part of the deal.’ Isobel grinned, ‘she’s got to live my life and I’ve got to live hers.’ Sophie clapped her perfectly manicured hand to her equally perfectly Botoxed lips, ‘Like, Oh my God! And that also means that your parents are going to have to have this girl living with them!’ she screamed. ‘Oh yes, I didn’t think of that.’ Isobel smiled, ‘I don’t think they did either.’ She added with a laugh. The ‘charity thingy’ that her mother had reminded Isobel about was in fact a charity auction party for 40 people in aid of the NSPCC – Isobel’s nominated charity. Crystal Barrington was renowned for her elaborate parties and would invariably hold one at 29

least once a week in aid of some worthy cause or another. By way of justifying the millions of money the Barrington’s had in the bank, Crystal had hit upon the brainwave that they should each pick a charity to raise money for. Not only would they feel less guilty for having millions in the bank, it would also ensure that they were looked on favourably in the Press, Crystal had assured her husband and daughter. And so after a fun evening of writing charity names on tiny pieces of parchment and placing them into Tristan’s top hat, they each picked out a charity. Tristan had declared it as one of his wife’s best ideas yet – the multi-millionaire property developer had gone from being the Sheriff of Nottingham to Robin Hood almost overnight as far as the media were concerned. The auction had been a huge success and the conversation of the evening was predominately focussed on Isobel’s new venture to become a gypsy for two weeks. ‘I think you’re so terribly brave.’ Lady Penelope Winters said with a painful expression on her face, as if she’d just come out of the dentist. ‘I mean, it’s really such a selfless thing to do for such a worthy cause, you must be very proud of your daughter Tristan.’ ‘Huh? Oh yes, immensely.’ Isobel’s father said absentmindedly, ‘excuse me for a moment won’t you dear. Ah, Sir John, just the person I wanted to see.’ Tristan excused himself to speak to Sir John 30

Wimbourne who was making small-talk with Troy about the cross breeding of heifer cows. ‘Ah, I see you’ve met my future son-in-law.’ Tristan chortled and patted Troy firmly on the back. ‘When this young man comes to his senses and gets round to marrying my daughter, he’ll be joining us in the great Barrington Empire, won’t you my son?’ Troy, who never did feel comfortable in the presence of Tristan, smiled politely and sipped his glass of lemonade. ‘Now Sir John, about the Colton development, how are things going at the council?’ Tristan asked the portly man with the treble chin and abnormally red nose. Troy’s ears pricked up. ‘The Colton development? What, you don’t mean the Colton Sanctuary?’ Troy asked. ‘Of course, where did you think I meant dear boy?’ Tristan laughed, ‘this dear fellow is going to make sure that those protestors don’t get my plans opposed, aren’t you Sir John, otherwise I might have to persuade Counsellor Janet Hunter to ride with me on this one, if you know what I mean.’ Tristan, never one to disguise his desire of the opposite sex, chuckled to himself at the thought of it. ‘I’m sure Counsellor Hunter would be most obliging Tristan my old chap.’ Sir John laughed, ‘but I don’t think that will be necessary just yet. Although I have to say I’ll only help you on one condition – my glass gets refilled.’ He laughed again, handing out his glass to Crystal who just happened to be passing with a plate of caviar crepes in her hand. 31

‘Hang on. I thought the sanctuary was protected from development?’ Troy questioned. Troy knew for a fact that the horse sanctuary set up by the late Duchess of Colton was indeed protected. ‘My dear boy.’ Tristan tut-tutted, ‘once a vet, always a vet, hey?’ He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and laughed. ‘What this dear boy doesn’t understand is that we have ways of bending the rules, don’t we Sir John?’ Sir John nodded as he polished off four crepes and washed them down with another glass of Champagne. ‘Ah there’s Izzy, if you’ll excuse me.’ Troy said as he spotted Isobel in the distance looking incredibly bored talking to agent to the stars’, Simon Harrison. Izzy looked her usual incredibly beautiful self in a stunning three-quarter length silver Valentino dress, with tiny crystal straps, complimented by a silver and diamond tiara. ‘Ah here he is. Hello darling, please excuse us Simon. And I promise if I ever want to be the next Jennifer Lopez, you’ll be the first to know.’ Isobel politely excused herself to Simon who was constantly asking her if he could be her agent. ‘Phew, thanks for that, I thought you’d never come over and rescue me. That man just doesn’t understand the word no. I mean, if I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a million times, I don’t have to work. I don’t want to work. And as for being a pop star, well, I mean can you seriously see me as a pop star? I mean, can he be serious? Mind you if I was guaranteed a dressing room with Robbie Williams, 32

well, I might change my mind ... what’s the matter with you grumpy-face?’ Isobel finally paused for breath and noticed the look on Troy’s face. ‘Did you know about your fathers’ plans to develop Colton Sanctuary?’ He whispered to Isobel. ‘Colton? Oh the horse place. Yeah, daddy’s going to turn it into a health club. Which, my darling, will be great for us. Just think, we can go for all the treatments we like and it will be just around the corner.’ Isobel squeezed Troy’s arm tightly to her. ‘I mean The Pink Lady is lovely, but it is two cab rides away and …’ ‘A health club? But what about the horses?’ Troy interrupted. ‘Oh darling, you can be so sweet sometimes. Half of those horses are ready for the knackers yard anyway. God, you should know more than anyone. You’re always saying that you have to go up there to mend them, or whatever it is you do there.’ ‘Treat them Isobel. I treat them and make them better.’ Troy was not amused. God Isobel could be so ignorant sometimes. ‘Anyway, just think, when we get married, we’ll benefit from it. Okay so a few horses get shot, but you do it all the time. Hey maybe Daddy will ask you to do it.’ Isobel giggled. ‘I only shoot them to put them out of their misery Isobel. I don’t murder them.’ Troy was incensed that Isobel could see the funny side of what was the most appalling thing he had heard all night. Putting his 33

hand into the pocket of his trousers, Troy pressed a button, setting his bleeper off. ‘Talking of saving lives, that’s Greg.’ He looked at the small display screen on his bleeper. ‘Duty calls.’ He said, quickly kissed Isobel on the cheek and left the party. ‘Well!’ Isobel huffed to Charlotte who was desperately trying to remove herself from Reverend Churnton’s clutches. ‘It looks as though those stupid animals are more important than me.’ ‘God, that vicar’s had too much champagne!’ Charlotte gasped, ‘Well you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, so when you go off next week to live in the middle of nowhere, just think of Troy desperately wishing you were here.’ Charlotte grinned. ‘Do you really think so?’ ‘Oh God yeah. When I went to live rough on the streets, Rupert was beside himself with worry. I think he thought I was going to run off with a tramp! It was hilarious and he was soooo romantic when I got back. He went straight out and bought me those gorgeous drop-diamond earrings you like. Just you see, he’ll be just like that randy vicar of ours, he won’t be able to keep his hands off you and I bet you anything there will be a wedding date set by the time you get back! Oh God, here he comes again. I’m going to escape. Oh look there’s your daddy.’ Before the vicar could grab Charlotte again, Crystal intercepted by waving to him. Reverend Churnton made a sharp bee-line to the hostess, grinning like a 34

Cheshire cat. Charlotte on the other hand threw her arms around Isobel’s father in a big bear-hug. Having left a parting message on Troy’s mobile, Isobel surveyed the collection of matching luggage beside her bed. She hoped she had packed enough clothes – I mean, what if they didn’t have a drycleaners? Isobel pondered this question for a while as she lay on the silk covered, four-poster bed and drifted off to sleep.

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CHAPTER THREE As the taxi passed by Holland Park Bo’s stomach did a somersault for about the hundredth time. Bo’s luggage consisted of one aged suitcase borrowed from Auntie Mo, a map of Kensington and fifty pounds stuffed in her back pocket. She hadn’t slept all night for worrying if she was doing the right thing and had endured an emotional farewell that morning with her family. Her mother had cried at the thought of her only daughter living in London for a fortnight. Her father had given her an illegal can of Mace as a going away present. Kieran had given her a crayoned picture of Buckingham Palace, along with a very snotty goodbye kiss and Granny Daisy had given her a string of Worry Beads and a knowing look. Mad Sam had simply fired a shot into the air and shouted, ‘and don’t come back!’ at her as she left the site, but the smile in his eyes told her that even he was going to miss her. Nervously, Bo wiped her damp hands down the front of her black jeans. The reporter who had visited her earlier that day, managing to get into the site without Mad Sam blowing his head off, had handed Bo several A4 notepads, a Dictaphone and a digital camera and told Bo to just be herself for the next two weeks. So that was what she was going to do – only now she’d got this far, the nerves were getting the better of her. Everywhere was soooo busy - busses rushing past, taxi’s honking their horns at cyclists in Lycra shorts - it was sheer madness in the heart of London. 36

Bo frantically fiddled with her Worry Beads as they drove by a middle-aged woman who had a strange orange complexion and was dressed from head to toe in Burberry. Bo wondered if she was somewhat underdressed for a fortnight in Kensington – Bo’s attire being her black jeans with the rip in the bum and an attractive oil stain, a short white t-shirt, which displayed a tiny gold stud in her belly-button, her long red curly hair cascading down her shoulders and of course, her bright pink flip-flops. Oh well, Bo thought, as Granny D always says, they’ll have to take me as they find me. Before she knew it Bo was standing outside the biggest Edwardian house she had ever seen. ‘Bloody Hell! Have you seen the size of this?’ She asked the taxi driver, who by now she knew answered to the name of Terry and who was disposing of her suitcase on the pavement – God, even the pavements looked posh, not a single crack in them. ‘Seen bigger.’ Terry replied, ‘you wanna go to Liz’s house, now that’s big!’ ‘Liz’s house? Oh you mean the queen.’ Bo laughed, ‘you often mingle with royalty then Terry?’ ‘I could tell you a few things that would shock you about the people who live around here my girl. They might well have a house costing three million, but the conversations I’ve heard in the back of my cab, you’d never believe. I’m surprised I haven’t been targeted by a hit-man before now.’ Terry chuckled.

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‘Now you just enjoy yourself my love and have fun.’ Terry winked. ‘Thanks Terry, I will.’ Bo smiled at the friendly driver, took a deep breath and pressed the brass doorbell marked T & C Barrington. The door to the colossal house was opened by a tall, thin gentleman in a dark blue pin-striped suit, who automatically bowed to Bo. Bo raised her eyebrows in return. ‘Good morning madam, and may I say what a fine morning it is. Please come this way. Mr and Mrs Barrington are not in residence at the moment but I will see that you are taken care of.’ ‘Oh. Umm, thanks. I mean thank you.’ Bo wondered if she should curtsey, then thought better of it. And anyway, who nowadays employed a bloody butler to open their front door? Couldn’t they do it themselves, or just leave the key under the mat like everyone else? Probably not important enough for them, Bo guessed. ‘Please, allow me.’ The butler took Bo’s suitcase from her before she had time to carry it into the grand white marble hallway. ‘Oh, thanks. I’m Bo, by the way.’ Bo held out a hot and sweaty hand to the charming man who simply and politely nodded his acknowledgement. ‘And you are?’ Bo enquired; after all, he must have a name whoever he is. ‘I am butler to Mr and Mrs Barrington madam.’ ‘Durrh, Yeah I know that, but you must have a name.’ Bo insisted, letting her eyes wander around 38

the vastness of the white marble hall, discerningly decorated with little gold cherubs. For a brief moment she felt like Lloyd Grossman and felt the urge to say in a nasal voice, ‘Who lives in a house like this?’ ‘You can refer to me as Parker, if you wish madam.’ ‘What sort of a name is that? What’s your proper name? You know what your mates call you?’ ‘Mates madam?’ Parker looked puzzled. Of course he was so busy pandering to the rich and famous that he probably didn’t have any mates, Bo thought. ‘Well, your friends. I mean you weren’t born Parker were you?’ For a terrible moment Bo wondered if he had been christened Parker. ‘Oh, my Christian name. It’s Charles madam.’ Parker replied. ‘Charles Madam. That’s a funny name.’ Bo giggled. Charles didn’t appear to get the joke. ‘Shall I show you to your apartment madam? Or perhaps you would like me to prepare you something to eat first?’ All this pandering was beginning to annoy Bo. ‘Look Charles, quit calling me madam. I’m called Bo and I’m sure I can find my own way around this place, as big as it might be. Go and get yourself a cup of tea and put your feet up. Oh, and I can carry my own luggage too.’ Bo pulled the suitcase out of his bony hand and stamped it on the hard floor. ‘Ah, ah. Leave it!’ Bo snapped as Charles tried to pick it up again. ‘Go on, off you go. Go and put the 39

kettle on. I take three sugars. Now which way is my room?’ ‘As you wish mad.. Miss Bo.’ Charles bowed his head. ‘Your apartment is up the staircase and to the right. Would you like me to…’ ‘Look, just bugger off to the kitchen and make the bloody tea, I’ll be down in a minute.’ Bo smiled, picked up her suitcase and flip-flopped up the staircase. God, what are these people like? Bo thought to as she lugged the battered suitcase up the three flights of stairs and came face to face with a white door with a brass plate proclaiming ‘Isobel Barrington’ stylishly engraved into it. This must be the place then. The apartment was very spacious and very pink. Everywhere Bo looked she could see pink. There was enough pink in the three room apartment to make Barbie green with jealousy. The pink four-poster bed took prominence in the middle of the first room along with the rows and rows of luxurious pink toy animals. It was like being in a giant pink zoo. Bo noticed the second room contained a mini-bar, a phone a fax machine and a pc – all of which were, naturally, pink. Bo was the first to admit to being a bit of a girlie fan of the subtle blend of red and white herself, but Jesus, this was a bit OTT even for her. Did this girl have anything that wasn’t pink? The third room played host to the biggest en-suite bathroom you had ever seen and Bo was relieved to see that it wasn’t pink, well not really pink. Not the 40

lurid Barbie pink, more of a pinky-white pink. The shelves adorning the walls were choc-a-block with lotions and potions most of which Bo couldn’t even pronounce, let alone would dare to inflict on her skin. The only cosmetics that went anywhere near her were made from natural recipes that her mother and Granny Daisy had handed down to her. Bo put her attire of jeans, t-shirts and combat trousers into the wardrobes, alongside the racks and racks of Dolce and Gabbana designer dresses and boxes of Jimmy Choo shoes – God, how many pairs of shoes did one girl need? Bo thought, looking at her humble footwear in the gold full-length mirror. Finding her way back downstairs, Bo found Parker waiting for her in the spotless marble kitchen. A pot of fresh Earl Grey had been made and a place for one set at the pine kitchen table. ‘Sit yourself down Charlie.’ Bo instructed. ‘Yes madam.’ The butler bowed his head and sat bolt upright in the chair opposite Bo. ‘Are you not having one?’ Bo nodded to the teapot. ‘Oh, I really shouldn’t madam.’ ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous! Come on, relax and have a cuppa with me. I’ll read your tea-leaves if you like.’ Bo smiled as the butler nervously brought another cup to the table and poured a second cup. This was certainly against protocol for a servant seen to be taking tea with a guest of the house, but the charming Irish girl was so insistent, making Parker feel quite unable to resist. 41

Bo pulled her knees up to her chest and clutched her arms around them. ‘So, how long have you been working for the Barrington’s then Charlie?’ She sipped the Earl Grey and pulled a face – she was more use to Tetley Tea Bags than Earl Grey. ‘I’m employed by an agency madam. Mr and Mrs Barrington hire me on a regular basis.’ ‘Ha! To show off I bet, and I told you, stop calling me madam, Charles. My name’s Bo.’ ‘Yes, mad... I mean Miss Bo.’ Bo threw her head back and laughed. ‘You are funny Charlie!’ ‘I’m glad you find me amusing mada.. Miss Bo.’ ‘Oh for goodness sake, look there’s no one here but you and me. You can relax you know.’ Charles, who was middle-aged and like a bean-pole in a posh suit, managed a slight smile, then regained composure and quietly sipped his tea, with his pinky finger sticking out. ‘So aren’t you the tiniest bit curious as to why I’m here?’ Bo asked. ‘It’s not my place to be curious Miss Bo.’ ‘But you must be wondering why an Irish gypsy girl is staying with such a posh family?’ Bo waved her arms around to emphasise the vastness of poshness in the kitchen, then tilted her head, trying to gauge Parker’s thoughts. ‘As I said Miss Bo. It’s not my place to question.’ 42

‘Okay, if you’re not going to question, I’ll just tell you. I’ve done a swap with the Barrington’s daughter for two weeks. I won a competition you see and here I am. Which reminds me,’ she added, ‘I’ve got to interview people. Can I interview you?’ ‘Well, mad.. Miss Bo. I’m not sure if that will be allowed. You will have to check with Mr and Mrs Barrington.’ Parker smiled. ‘Oh God, that reminds me. What are they like? The Barrington’s I mean?’ Bo felt hot. ‘I’m sure you will be quite suitable Miss Bo.’ ‘I’ll take your word for it. Now let’s have a look at your cup.’ Bo said enthusiastically leaning over the wooden table to take the butler’s tea cup from him. Bo turned the white china cup over into the saucer and spun it around three times. Placing it back upright, she peered into it. ‘Humm. Well you’ve got a car here. That means that you are going to travel Charlie my old boy and have a new lifestyle. And you’ve got a fairy. That means that romance is going to come a-knocking at your door.’ Bo smiled. Charles blushed. ‘Are you married?’ ‘Err, no Miss Bo.’ ‘Well I can see romance coming soon. Have you got a girlfriend?’ ‘No Miss Bo.’ ‘Boyfriend?’ ‘Certainly not Miss Bo.’ 43

Well, you had to be politically correct these days. Bo placed the cup back down onto the saucer. ‘Well the tea-leaves don’t fib Charles. You can expect great things to happen in your love life and it comes with travel too. Do you have a car?’ ‘A motorbike Miss Bo, a Harley.’ Charles said seriously. ‘Cool. Look, see that funny shape there in the middle? Looks like a piece of ivy?’ She pointed out. Charles nodded. ‘Well that means that you are going to have a true friend for life.’ A knock at the front door made Bo and Charles jump. ‘Please excuse me Miss Bo.’ Charles straightened his waistcoat and made his way to the front door. Bo sat up straight in her chair and practised sticking her pinky finger out as she sipped the rest of her Earl Grey. Moments later Charles returned with a slim middleaged woman, who was carrying a motorbike helmet in her hands. ‘Miss Bo, may I introduce Miss Clarissa Symmons to you. Miss Symmons has also been assigned by the agency. She will be cooking for you during your stay here.’ Charles introduced the pretty lady with coffee-brown skin, who shyly curtsied to Bo. Bo jumped up and shook her hand.

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‘Please to meet you Clarissa. And please, don’t feel you have to curtsey to me.’ Bo giggled - These Barrington people lived in another world. ‘You have a motorbike then I see.’ Bo observed. ‘Umm, yes. A Harley Davidson. I parked it round the side, I hope that was OK? ’ Clarissa said. ‘How interesting, Charles has one of those too. We were just this minute talking about it, weren’t we Charles?’ Charles momentarily forgot himself as his eyes lit up at the mention of another Harley. ‘Well I see you’ve already got something in common. Next you’ll be telling me you listen to ACDC Charles.’ Bo giggled, ‘I’ll leave you two to do whatever it is you do while I take a look around.’ Bo winked at Charles with a, see-I-told-you-so look. While Charles and Clarissa got acquainted – Charles masterfully showed the quiet woman where every appliance was cleverly concealed in the luxurious kitchen - Bo made herself at home in the spacious sitting room. God, she could probably fit five of her tiny caravans into this one room! The 40inch wide-screen TV was cleverly hidden in what at first appeared to be an old oak bookcase lined with the Classics. The fact that the fake-book-case door hadn’t been closed was the only give away that behind it hid a multitude of technology – DVD, TV, CD, Satellite box-thingy. When Bo finally discovered that the on/off button was hidden behind an attractive logo, she settled down on the cream leather sofa to watch a David Attenbourough documentary about the emperor 45

penguin. The cleanliness of the house temporarily put Bo on edge and her bum was hardly touching the seat of the sofa for fear of leaving a big oil imprint on it. Twenty minutes into the programme and Bo was lying across the pristine furniture, flip-flops kicked off, t-shirt riding up her tummy and she was helping herself to the frosted grapes from the fruit bowl, which someone had been considerate enough to put within easy reach. A combination of the soothing voice of Sir David and the fact that she had been travelling all day had sent Bo off into a deep sleep. It was only the unfamiliar smell of Hugo Boss aftershave, mixed with Chanel No 5, which made Bo’s nostrils twitch into life again. Bo awoke but kept her eyes firmly shut as she tried to remember where she was. The shadow looking over her was a bit of a giveaway that she was no longer alone with David Attenborough and his penguins. Suddenly realising that she had crashed out on her host’s couch, she winced and prayed she hadn’t dribbled all over the cushions in her sleep – a habit she really should grow out of. Well, you can’t pretend you’re asleep forever. You’ll have to wake up sooner or later. I mean, what if they think you’re dead and phone for an ambulance? Next thing you know you’ll be hoisted into a body-bag and carted off to the nearest morgue! Bo was contemplating how best to introduce herself to the heavily scented ones who were standing over her. Suddenly jump up and shout ‘surprise!’? Maybe not. Don’t want to give someone a heat attack on her first day. I could always do a Goldilocks job 46

and open my eyes and run screaming out of the house, never to be seen again? Bo thought. Probably not a good idea if she wanted a roof over her head for the next two weeks. Perhaps she should just lie there until they got bored and went away to play polo or something? ‘Of course, Izzy slept like a baby when she was little, didn’t she darling?’ A woman’s voice mused. ‘How would you know? You had a nanny for her. And she was a baby. Honestly Crystal, you can be dippy sometimes.’ A man’s voice replied. ‘Do you think we should wake her?’ The woman with the heavy perfume spoke again, ‘Oooh look at that Tris. She has one of those little belly-button things in her tummy.’ What’s wrong with that? Bo demanded quietly to her self. ‘No let her sleep. Poor thing’s probably exhausted.’ Jesus Christ, do these people have nothing better to do that to debate over whether or not to wake someone up? Bo wondered, impatiently wishing they would just bugger-off so that she could wake up and introduce her self to them in her own good time. What’s more, she was dying for a pee and couldn’t hold it much longer. If she continued to pretend to be asleep, she’d have more than an oil stain on the couch to worry about! Bo decided enough was enough and stretched as casually as possible, so as to impersonate a person just waking from a lovely dream. Boomph! 47

‘Aghhh!’ The woman screamed as she flew backwards across the antique coffee table. Bo jumped up quickly, mortified that despite her best efforts to resemble Sleeping Beauty, she’d managed to resemble Mr Bean and smacked Isobel’s mother in the mouth, sending her flying over the furniture. ‘Oh my God, I am so sorry!’ Bo leant down to help Crystal up from the floor. Her portly husband Tristan rushed over from the bay window to help his wife, who looked, well as if she’d just been smacked in the mouth and knocked over a coffee table. Her conservative blue skirt suit had risen up, showing off a pair of pink silk French-knickers – see, pink again, must run in the family - and her blonde bouffant hair now modelled a delicate scattering of frosted grapes. ‘Oh, my Goodness.’ Crystal, with a somewhat dazed expression, said as she was helped up by Tristan on one side of her and Bo on the other. Quickly brushing her skirt down and standing upright, she held a hand out to Bo. ‘You must be our guest Miss Sanderson.’ Crystal managed a flustered smile. Bo vigorously shook Crystal’s hand in return. ‘I am so sorry. I didn’t realise you were standing so close. Oh God, look what I’ve done to your lips!’ Bo look horrified at Crystal’s upper lip, which looked as though she’d been stung by a huge wasp. ‘Actually you didn’t do this dear, that silly beautician of mine at The Pink Lady applied too much polymer on my lip enhancement.’ Crystal 48

looked suitably indignant. Bo looked suitably embarrassed for her. ‘Well, we heard you were a bit of a Tom-boy.’ Tristan laughed and gave Bo a hefty one-of-the-boys punch on the arm - Ouch, that hurt actually, but it was probably not the best time to get into a scuffle with her host just now. Before you knew it, they would be throwing punches at one another all through the house, and besides, Tristan probably thought she deserved a thump in the arm for knocking his wife clean off her feet on their first meeting anyway. Oh God, this really wasn’t a good start to the fortnight.

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CHAPTER FOUR As the autumn sun shone down on the village of Hewbury, Isobel ignored the magnificent views of acre after acre of green fields, wondering instead where they had hidden all the shops. The journey down from London had been besieged with phone calls on her mobile and emails on her BlackBerry from friends and family all wishing her well, but now Isobel couldn’t get a signal on her phone and she’d forgotten to recharge the batteries on her PDA. Panic started to set in. What if she couldn’t get a signal for two weeks? ‘Great. That’s just bloody great.’ She muttered, waving her phone in the air in the hope that it would pick up a signal as the taxi turned right into a narrow, gravel lane. Isobel was the first to admit that she was a retailsnob. Having never had the need to invest in countrywear, she had spent the previous morning harassing her personal shopper at Harrods to find her a wardrobe suitable for a fortnight in the country. She was furious with Troy who hadn’t even bothered to come and see her off due to a prior appointment with a Shetland pony and the poor personal shopper had taken the brunt of her bad mood. Isobel had reluctantly come away with a green wax jacket, enough tweed to make Maggie Thatcher jealous, a pair of multi-coloured Pucci wellies, and a pair of bright yellow hip-waders – well one never knew how deep the mud was going to be in these places, and she actually looked quite good in the 50

vivid, thigh-length rubber boots, in a kinky sort of way, even if she did say so herself. To be in keeping with the whole gypsy/traveler image thing, Isobel had also invested in a pair of gold and ruby hoop earrings from Tiffanys and a red and white Chanel bandana, both of which she was currently wearing. Jean Pierre had kindly rushed over and twisted her hair into two long plaits either side of her head for a mere fifty quid and with her lumber-jack shirt, a pair of Paul Smith jeans and her Mukluk rabbit hair boots, she felt she looked well equipped for the countryside. ‘So how come you’re going to the gyppo site then luv?’ The taxi driver asked her between mouthfuls of a Ginster pasty. Isobel cringed, watching bits of meat and potato dribble out of his mouth as he spoke to her. ‘I’m doing something for Hey magazine.’ She said politely, although Lord knows why, this bloke had probably never read anything other The Sun before in his life. ‘Oh right, so wot’s that all about then? You want some?’ The taxi driver waved the pasty behind his head. ‘Err, no thanks, you keep it.’ Isobel wished the journey would hurry up so that she wouldn’t have to make small-talk with the moron of a driver who smelt of mince. You’d have thought Hey could afford to send her in a private limo, or even flown her down by helicopter or something to the middle of nowhere, Isobel thought crossly to herself. 51

As they turned into a small track, the pasty-eatingtaxi-driver slammed on his brakes. Isobel went flying into the back of the passenger’s seat. ‘Jesus Christ, be more careful!’ she shouted, retrieving the contents of her handbag from the floor of the taxi. ‘What are you stopping for now?’ ‘That’s all folks! You gotta walk from here. Burrp!’ The driver belched. ‘What?’ Isobel was getting seriously pissed off with the crude driver. ‘I ain’t taking you no further, I’ll get me ed shot off. Pretty as you are lady, even you ain’t worth that.’ He grinned a toothless grin at Isobel. ‘What do you mean, get your head shot off?’ Isobel panicked. Nobody told her that she was going to be shot! ‘See that bloke up there?’ The driver squinted and pointed across two fields at what looked like a tiny black dot in the distance. Isobel squinted too. ‘Yes, I think so.’ ‘That, my love, is Mad Sam. Armed to the teeth he is. Don’t like visitors and given the chance he’ll shoot you dead.’ The driver exaggerated a little and grinned an inane grin. ‘What? So you expect me to walk the rest of the way. Look at it! It’s bloody filthy out there!’ Isobel screamed, furiously punching numbers into her mobile, which still wasn’t receiving a signal. 52

Before Isobel could scream again, the driver had disposed of her collection of matching luggage on the muddy track and jumped back into the drivers’ seat. ‘Off you trot then petal.’ The driver nodded to the door. ‘You can’t be serious?’ Isobel’s face was red with indignation. ‘Look Luv, you either get out here or I take you back to the depot. I’ve got another shout to do, so make up your mind.’ If looks could kill the pasty-eating-slob of a taxi driver would be decomposing quite nicely by now. ‘Well on your head be it if anything happens to me, and I’m not your luv or your petal or any other term of endearment you may desire to call me. Just you wait until your superiors here about this!’ Isobel cautioned. ‘Whatever.’ The driver replied like a contemptuous teenager, as Isobel furiously slammed the door and started to retrieve her bags from the muddy track. Isobel heaved a sports bag onto her shoulder, picked up her vanity case in one hand, the heaviest suitcase in the other, and kicked a suitcase on wheels in front of her up the muddy track. This was definitely not a good start to the day. Nervously Isobel shuffled further up the track, kicking as she went. What a waste of £350, she thought as she surveyed the state of her rabbit hair boots, which now looked rather like a pair of muddy guinea-pigs attached to the end of her legs. 53

Without warning a shot rang out in the air and Isobel instinctively dived to the ground. ‘Fucking Hell! What was that?’ Crawling sniper-style in the mud, Isobel dared to put her head up to see just where the shot had come from. As she did she came face to face with the barrel of a sawn-off shot-gun. ‘Oh my God! Please don’t hurt me!’ Isobel winced, as she tried to place her hands above her head, but lost her balance and fell face first into the muddy puddle which was conveniently placed there. Great, just great. Maybe it was better to just stay where she was, she decided. ‘Who are you? What do you want? What are you doing ere?’ The owner of the shot-gun stuttered a succession of questions in a broad Irish accent. It didn’t take long for Isobel to register that this must be the mad-man the taxi-driver had just warned her about. ‘Umm, I’m Isobel. I’m coming to stay with you for two weeks.’ ‘You’re a bloody liar!’ Mad Sam shouted and pressed the shot-gun to the back of her head. ‘Sam! Stop it now you bloody idiot!’ A male voice in the distance shouted. Isobel mouthed a ‘thank you God’ to herself. The voice of her saviour belonged to Bo’s older brother Cain, who was running down the track towards them. Isobel dared to look up to the young, scruffy man, as he rugby tackled the mad-man, who 54

was decked out in black combats and a matching balaclava, to the ground, resulting in causing the gun go off again. ‘Fucking hell! What is this place?’ Isobel screamed as she scrambled to her feet, to witness Cain punching Mad Sam in the face. ‘Right, now be told! She’s the posh bird from London swapping with Bo, remember you bloody idiot.’ Cain shouted. ‘Oh. Right. Well, she should av said, shouldn’t she?’ Mad Sam said, rubbing his aching jaw. ‘Sorry about that. Gets a bit carried away, does our Sam. Ever since our old man told him to shoot anyone who comes on our land, well, he does.’ Cain smiled at Isobel. His tanned skin set off his brilliant white teeth and a small dimple showed in his cheek as he smiled. Definitely a gypsy boy, Isobel thought as she observed the small gold hoop in her ear – bet that didn’t come from Tiffanys - and the scruffy, shoulder length dark hair with that, just-got-out-ofbed-look. He could be quite good looking in a rough sort of a way - if he’d had a wash and put some decent clothes on. Certainly not my type though, Isobel thought, furious at the reception she had received by the Sanderson family. ‘Hi, I’m Cain. And you must be Isobel, right?’ Cain held out his hand and realised it was covered in oil. He spat on it, wiped it down his jeans and held it out to Isobel. Isobel pulled a face. 55

‘Nice to meet you, I don’t think.’ She snapped. Picking her luggage up, she started to walk further up the track. ‘Here, let me.’ Cain attempted to do the gentlemanly thing and grab the luggage from Isobel. ‘I can manage thanks. Just tell me where I can find a phone in this bloody hell hole.’ ‘What do you need a phone for?’ ‘To call my father and tell him to come and collect me, you moron!’ Isobel shouted, as she struggled with her cases. Cain admired her from behind as she wiggled further up the track. ‘What, you’re not staying?’ ‘You are joking. So far I’ve endured a horrendous journey with the taxi-driver from hell, been dumped in a bloody lane and been shot at. And just look at my bloody boots!’ ‘Oh that’s what they are. I thought you just had very hairy feet.’ Cain laughed. ‘Oh fuck off!’ Isobel yelled. ‘OK.’ Cain shrugged, ‘but I can’t guarantee you won’t bump into Sam again if I do.’ He called back, as he walked way in the opposite direction towards the woods. This sobering thought made Isobel stop in her tracks. God, what if the mad-shot-gun-bearing-psycho decided he was going to come back and finish off the job? 56

‘Wait!’ She called out. ‘Please!’ Cain stopped for a moment. ‘I thought you told me to fuck off.’ ‘Well, I did, but before you do can you just make sure I get to the site safely, so I can phone my father?’ Isobel fluttered her muddy eyelashes at Cain. ‘Please?’ she added. ‘Come on then, but you owe me one.’ Cain picked up the heavy luggage and walked slowly beside Isobel. He could smell the aroma of her perfume, a mixture of vanilla, cinnamon, and with a hint of muddy-track in it if he wasn’t mistaken. ‘I thought you’d be like this.’ Cain mused as they passed several horses in the adjacent field and turned in to the entrance of the site. Tan, the tethered German Sheppard dog started barking at them. ‘Shut it Tan!’ Cain shouted, silencing the dog. ‘What do you mean you thought I’d be like this?’ Isobel turned to face him. ‘Like a stuck up little girl, running home to daddy at the first sign of a bit of mud. You Londoners, I don’t know, you can’t hack it in the countryside can you?’ Cain laughed, ‘right here you go. That’s Bo’s trailer over there, and the guest’s bathroom is that iron shed next to it. I’m sure, if you ask nicely, me mam will show you where you can phone daddy.’ He smirked. With that Cain was gone. Isobel carefully opened the door to Bo’s caravan and peered inside. The interior of the 13 x 6 foot caravan was neat and tidy, if somewhat on the small 57

side, but Isobel’s heart sank when she looked at the size of the single bunk. Had she really traded in her gorgeous, four-poster and mini-bar in exchange for a bunk with a grotty hand-made quilt over the top of it? And the rest of it wasn’t much better. If she stretched her arms out she could almost touch either side of what was to be her home for the next two weeks. And the bathroom! Bloody tin shed more like. The socalled guest bathroom housed a toilet, a broken sink and a cracked showerhead which leaked all over the place when you turned the tap on. Isobel looked down at her mud-splattered clothes. Okay, well if Charlotte could rough it for a night on the streets, she was sure she could put up with living in a tin shed for a fortnight, she thought as she dumped her luggage on the bed, which replied with a creak. No sooner than Isobel had changed out of her wet and muddy clothes and into a matching tweed twinset and a pair of black Gucci boots, washed her face with a scented wet-wipe, and had a quick nosy into Bo’s cupboards, than the door to the caravan banged open. ‘Hi, I’m Kieran!’ the small and very muddy little boy announced, before aiming his Super-Soaker at her and drenching Isobel and her designer gear from head to toe. ‘Why you little… do you have any idea how much this outfit cost me?’ She screamed at Kieran, who suddenly dissolved into tears – not just small whimpers, but great big sobs, producing copious amounts of yellow snot to boot. He dropped his 58

weapon is despair. The fresh tear’s created from his chocolate brown eyes, produced white tram lines, clearing away the mud from his face. ‘Oh shit!’ Isobel whispered to herself. ‘Look stop crying like that will you? They’ll all think I’m murdering you. Stop it. Please?’ Isobel didn’t know what to do with the small boy, who was by now crying his own body weight in tears. Bloody kids - mental note, don’t have any. ‘Look it doesn’t matter. Stop crying and I’ll give you something nice.’ Well bribery always worked with her. Kieran’s tear’s stopped as quickly as they had started. He sniffed, wiped his hand across his face and held out his small very muddy and very snotty paw to Isobel. ‘Umm, right. What can I give you?’ Isobel quickly wondered, throwing everything out of the largest suitcase. There must be something in here a small, snotty person would want. ‘Ah, here you go.’ Isobel handed Kieran a silver plated Calvin Klein notebook and pen. Kieran was like a magpie in heaven as he observed the shiny object. ‘Wot is it?’ ‘It’s a notebook. You write things in it.’ Isobel said, relieved that the child had finally stopped crying – actually it was a bloody expensive notebook and pen. ‘I can’t write.’ 59

‘Well… maybe you can draw something?’ Still dripping wet, Isobel’s patience were wearing thin. She’d been here approximately 35 minutes and so far she’d been shot at twice. ‘What shall I draw?’ Kieran had made him self comfortable on Bo’s bed. ‘God, I don’t know. What about a cow?’ Isobel ventured. Living in the middle of the countryside with nothing but cows, the kid must have an idea of what one looked like. ‘Shall I draw you then?’ Kieran asked. ‘I beg your pardon?’ ‘You’re a cow. Shall I draw a picture of you?’ ‘I’m a what?’ Isobel fumed. ‘That’s what my brother Billy Junior said. He said that he bet’s you’re a right stuck-up cow.’ Kieran smiled. Great. This was going to be just great. Having pacified the small boy, who had now tired of drawing farm animals and had taken his posh notebook out into the yard, Isobel was standing in her lace bra and matching knickers, deciding what to change in to for the third time that day. She glanced at the four sheets of A4 paper that Bo had left, instructing her of her day to day life as a gypsy. The letter-head on the paper gave away fact that it had obviously been nicked from the local doctor’s surgery and Bo had handwritten her instructions as directed by the magazine editor. 60

Tend to horse – Note, Princess can be a bit temperamental, but otherwise OK. Help Uncle Bob in the scrap-yard – you’ll know who he is by the wonky eye. Help Granny Daisy with her shopping. If me mam’s busy, make sure Kieran gets to school on time. Isobel cringed as she read through the list. If she could get a bloody signal on her bloody phone, she’d call her bloody father and bloody-well scream, ‘I’m a bloody Londoner, get me out of here!’ Not one person, apart from the snivelling Kieran had even bothered to introduce themselves to her, Isobel thought as she looked out of the pokey window. It was as though she was invisible. Mucky children played war games outside, mothers shouting at them to put sticks down, dogs barking, horses neighing in the distance and here she was sitting in her underwear in, what was, when all said and done, the pokiest caravan in the world. Out of the blue, the caravan door burst open to reveal Cain smiling at her. Isobel jumped up and pulled the hand-made eiderdown she’d been sitting on around her. ‘So this is where you’re hiding. What you doing in your bra and knickers?’ Cain smiled and raised his eyebrows in approval.

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‘Have you never heard of knocking?’ Isobel snapped, tucking the eiderdown as tight as she could under her legs to protect her modesty. ‘Oh I shouldn’t worry it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Why are you in your underwear anyway?’ ‘I was in the middle of getting changed if you must know. Your little shit of a little brother thought it would be a good idea to soak me with water.’ Isobel was still fuming about this. ‘Right,’ Cain grinned, ‘well me mam sent me to tell you it’s supper time and I should put some clothes on if I were you, you’ll catch your death wandering around in your pants.’ Cain smirked again. ‘Well tell your mother I’m not hungry, thank you very much.’ That wasn’t true. Isobel was starving, but she didn’t think she could face the entire Sanderson clan right now. ‘Can’t do that, she’ll kill me. Besides she’s made a special effort for you, she’s cooked a pheasant I poached yesterday.’ ‘Oh goody, can’t bloody wait for that.’ Isobel replied sarcastically. ‘Come on,’ Cain stepped inside the caravan and held out his hand, ‘I’ll help you to get dressed if you like and we can go up together.’ ‘You’ll do no such bloody thing. Wait outside and I’ll be ready in a minute.’ Isobel huffed.

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Cain smiled again and Isobel noticed for the second time that day the cute dimple in his cheek and how white his teeth were. Isobel had changed into a long Laura Ashley, pink and white cotton dress teamed with a pair of sturdy Jimmy Choo black ankle boots and a white cardigan. Her hair was still plaited and she didn’t dare undo the masterpiece Jean Pierre had created, even if she did still have splatters of mud and the odd twig in it. She would have to call him in the morning to come and sort it out, but she would worry about that later. For now she had to encounter the dinner from Hell. Cain was learning against the caravan, smoking a cigarette, when she stepped out and mockingly let out a low whistle of approval at Isobel’s taste in clothes. ‘Very nice, but I hope you’ve packed something more sensible than a flowery dress, you’re working in the scrap-yard tomorrow. Now come on or supper will be cold.’ Cain smirked and dropped his cigarette to the ground. ‘I am not working on any scrap-yard, I told you I’m going back home as soon as I can get to a bloody phone. And you shouldn’t be smoking. Don’t you know it’s bad for your health?’ Isobel scolded as they trudged through the camp towards the brightly lit marquee. ‘Well there’s gratitude for you. I thought you were supposed to be swapping with Bo for two weeks. You can’t even manage a day. But then I knew that all along. I knew you wouldn’t be able to hack it.’

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‘I could so hack it if I wanted to, I just don’t want to.’ Isobel protested. ‘Yeah, right. Here we are.’ Cain gestured, opening the front of the marquee, ‘after you my dear.’ Isobel peeped inside the huge tent to see the entire Sanderson family in full flow. The noise was drowning out the Romany music as the brothers argued about who was the best wrestler in the WWF – Rat-Faced Razor or Gobber Gordon. An elderly woman was hitting another young boy across the knuckles with her walking stick as he tried to pilfer a roast potato and a large man, at the head of the table, decked out in red braces and a matching red scarf knotted around his neck, was arm-wrestling a boy on his right-hand side. Well this looks great fun, I don’t think. Isobel took a deep breath and marched in as confidently as she could, trying to avoid noticing the dead pheasant that had been place slap-bang in the middle of the table. ‘Ah, here she is now.’ Granny Daisy said, pushed her chair back, stood up and held out her hand to greet Isobel. Isobel hesitated – boy, this woman must be at least 250 years old going by the amount of wrinkles on her face, she could really do with using some Clinique moisturiser, Isobel thought as she felt Cain gently push her in the back. ‘Go on, she won’t bite.’ He whispered. Isobel held out her hand and greeted the elderly woman. The family fell quiet and eyed Isobel with suspicion. 64

‘It’s nice to meet you at last my dear.’ The old lady smiled kindly at Isobel, making her feel more at ease. ‘I’m Daisy, Bo’s grandmother, they all call me Granny D.’ The elderly woman held on to Isobel’s hand and stared into her eyes, making Isobel feel slightly uncomfortable. ‘This is my daughter, and Bo’s mother, Antoinette. My son-in-law, Billy Senior. Auntie Mo….’ Granny Daisy continued to work round the table introducing Isobel to the entire family who in turn nodded or grunted at her. ‘And of course, you’ve met Bo’s brother’s Cain and Kieran.’ Kieran gave Isobel a huge toothless grin and waved the little notebook in the air to prove he had still managed to keep hold of his present despite rolling around in the mud all afternoon. ‘Hello, nice to meet you all.’ Isobel ventured. ‘Can’t say the same about you.’ Tommy whispered under his breath, but just loud enough to make everyone hear, including his twin Jonno, who started laughing out loud. ‘Sit down then girl, you’re making the place look untidy.’ The man with the braces, who Isobel now knew was Bo’s father, Billy Senior, remarked. Isobel hesitated, wondering where she was supposed to sit. ‘Come on girl, we’ve already been waiting for you to show up. The food’s getting cold.’ he grumbled. ‘I’m sorry, I ..’ Isobel was about to tell them that she didn’t actually realise that the loud banging of a walking stick on a dustbin lid signified that supper was ready, when Billy shouted, almost making her jump out of her Jimmy Choo’s. 65

‘Come on, come on!’ ‘Billy, don’t be so mean!’ Antoinette scolded her husband. ‘Take no notice my love, park yer bum over here by me and Granny Daisy.’ Isobel, by now pink with fury at the hostility of Bo’s father, did as she was told and sat down between the two women. The twins were still laughing at Isobel’s expense and egging each other on every time she opened her mouth and the evening was going from bad to worse. ‘So what do you do then, for money I mean? You got a job?’ Uncle Bob asked between mouthfuls of pheasant. Only Uncle Bob wasn’t looking in Isobel’s direction, so Isobel didn’t realise that he was speaking to her. It was only when the table fell silent – all bar a few sniggers from the revolting twins – that Isobel looked up to see one of Uncle Bob’s eyes looking at her and the other looking down at his supper. ‘Oh me? I’m sorry I thought you were talking to your dinner!’ Isobel laughed – well, she thought it was rather funny. This time even the twins fell silent. Oh shit, wrong thing to say! ‘Sorry? What do I do for money? Oh I don’t have to do anything. My father has a huge multimillion business – Barrington Property Developing, you might have heard of us – so I don’t have to work. Mind you I don’t know where I’d find the time to work to be honest.’ Isobel smiled. This was better, she was finally having a conversation with them. 66

‘Lucky you.’ Antoinette commented. ‘Well, you know what it’s like Antoinette. I mean you lot don’t work do you. Well not officially.’ Isobel added looking up and realising too late that this was probably one of those things she really shouldn’t have said by the look on the faces of the Sanderson’s. ‘Barrington’s, weren’t they the bastards who threw Cousin Jim and his family off their site a few years back?’ Billy Senior asked Si. ‘Yeah, that was them. Up London way wasn’t it dad?’ ‘That’s right.’ Billy Senior glared at Isobel. Oh fantastic, now she was being blamed for getting some cousin thrown off his site. This evening really wasn’t going as planned. ‘Anyway, it’s hardly Isobel’s fault is it? So let’s drop the subject shall we?’ Cain added, ‘shall I fetch the pud mam?’ ‘Yes, thank you Cain.’ Antoinette smiled at her son. Isobel smiled at him too and silently thanked him for sticking up for her, having had visions of being tied to a stake at dawn and roasted for tomorrow’s supper for the crime of sharing the same name as someone who had once thrown their cousin off his site. By the time supper had finished Isobel felt quite drained. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife it was so thick, and despite Isobel’s attempts at what she considered polite conversation, she seem to be frequently putting her foot in it. 67

‘Well, goodnight then.’ Isobel ventured as one by one the family returned to their respective trailers. ‘Be ready at six, we’ve got an early start in the yard tomorrow.’ Billy-in-the-stupid-red-bracesSenior called behind him. ‘What? Six o’clock in the morning?’ Isobel questioned, but it was too late, he was gone. ‘Come on, I’ll see you back to your van.’ Cain said, ‘you don’t want to be bumping into Sam again, not when it’s dark like this.’ ‘What, he actually lives here? On the site?’ the thought horrified Isobel. ‘Where do you think he lives, in a tree? Of course he lives on the site you daft mare. Mind you he does have a tendency to wander – thinks he’s a member of the SAS or something - so lock your door.’ Cain laughed. This just gets better and better doesn’t it, Isobel thought. First thing in the morning she was definitely going to ring her father. Having virtually tip-toed her way back to Bo’s caravan for fear of Mad Sam emerging from the bushes at any time, Cain hung about outside the caravan and waited for Isobel to lock her door. ‘Night then.’ Cain said. ‘Goodnight.’ Isobel replied leaning against the door. She had been tempted to ask Cain if he would stay with her – not because she fancied him, of course, just so that that stupid delinquent in-bred 68

cousin didn’t try to smash down the door and shoot her. But he had gone now and here she was all alone in the middle of a bloody field, on her own and her phone was still not bloody working. Having changed into a pair of Calvin Klein silk pyjama’s and made her self comfortable on Bo’s bed – well as comfortable as one could on a bed made out of books and a flat piece of wood – Isobel began writing her accounts of her first day of her life swap. Tired from the events of the day, Isobel’s eyelids started to drop. An almighty bang on the side of the caravan woke Isobel from a dream about being chased by a heard of green and orange cows and she jumped up out of the bed, banging her head on a book shelf she hadn’t noticed before in the process. ‘What the…’ Shaking with fear and trying to quickly remember where she was, Isobel wiped the condensation off the small window and peered out. Bang! The caravan shook again. ‘Shit!’ Isobel stared out of the window at the darkness. Suddenly a face reflected back, and it wasn’t hers. ‘Agghhhh!’ Isobel screamed as loud as she could. Suddenly the face had disappeared again. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Isobel shouted. ‘Fucking stupid, fucking place!’ 69

Once the tears started she couldn’t stop them coming.

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CHAPTER FIVE After the rather disastrous and humiliating introductions, Bo had made her excuses and spent the rest of the afternoon wallowing in the luxurious corner bath in Isobel’s apartment. Crystal had informed her, prior to going to do the floral decorations in the church for the afternoon, that she had invited some guests to join them for dinner so that Bo could get acquainted with them, and casually added that they usually dress for dinner. ‘Yes, it’s a bit chilly to be eating your dinner in the nude, even for me!’ Bo replied. Crystal wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not and muttered something about having to call Jean Pierre in to have her hair re-bouffanted - Bo was tempted to tell her to call the beautician in at the same time to fix her lips, but thought better of it. Tristan simply raised his bushy eyebrows in a, I-like-the-thought-of-nudedinner-parties, kind of a way. Bo pondered on what might be considered as suitable to wear for a dinner party. From the look of Isobel’s wardrobe, she was about the same dress size as Bo. She was sure Isobel wouldn’t mind her borrowing an outfit for the evening – the shoes however were quite a different matter. Isobel was a petite size 3, Bo a size and a half bigger. Even Cinderella would find it hard pushed to squeeze herself into these Jimmy Choo’s. At eight o’clock Bo heard the first of the guests arrive and glanced over the balcony to see Charles opening the door to a large woman with some sort of 71

dead animal wrapped round her neck, who was busily air-kissing Crystal and Tristan. The small and weedy looking man beside her - who Bo thought resembled an undertaker - dumped his overcoat and the dead animal into Charles’s arms, he in turn bowed his head – what a professional that man was, I’d have decked him if he just did that to me, Bo thought. Having applied a small amount of henna blush to her cheeks and clipped the sides of her hair back, Bo took a deep breath and confidently flip-flopped down the spiral staircases. The mingling and conversations of who was wearing last seasons colours and how the stock market was doing, came to an abrupt halt as Bo shimmied as best she could in the white figurehugging Versace dress, down the last set of stairs and into the hallway. Of the 12 or so guests, a few sniggers could be heard, which Tristan tried to courageously hide by coughing loudly. ‘Ah, here she is now everybody.’ He announced in a booming voice. The fact that everyone else in the house was dressed in either a designer frock expertly accessorised, with an equally expertly choice of shoes or an eveningsuit, didn’t bother Bo in the slightest. It obviously bothered Crystal though, who looked thoroughly pissed off that Bo had spoilt her rule of dress code. ‘Oh dear, haven’t you got any suitable shoes with you dear?’ Crystal said, her eyes lowering to the peony pink flip-flops on Bo’s feet. ‘Oh didn’t you know? These are this season’s must-haves.’ Bo replied with a confident smile and winked at Charles as she helped herself to a glass of 72

Veuve Clicquot from the silver tray he was holding. Charles desperately tried to remain professional, despite wanting to give her a round of applause. ‘Err, let me introduce you to some people Bo.’ Tristan intercepted the tension building between his wife and their guest and ushered Bo away. ‘Well, what can you expect? I doubt she’s ever been to a proper dinner party in her life Chrissie darling.’ Snotty dead-animal-wearer-woman whispered, fully aware that Bo had heard her. ‘Ah, Troy, let me introduce you.’ Tristan held out a welcoming hand and introduced Bo to his very tall and very handsome future son-in-law. Bo’s stomach took her by surprise and did an involuntary flip – she hated it when it did that. ‘This is our adorable little guest Bo Sanderson. She’s the one who has swapped with Izzy for two weeks.’ Tristan patted Bo on the bum. Troy looked Bo up and down and smiled – God, she felt like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady. ‘Nice shoes. How was your journey?’ Troy asked. ‘They are aren’t they? And the journey was fine thanks.’ Bo held out her hand and shook Troy’s. ‘So you’re the traveller girl we’ve been hearing so much about.’ Troy added – durrhh, talk about stating the obvious. ‘Yep, that’s right. I’m the poor little gypsy girl, venturing out into the big city all on her own.’ Bo pulled a face. ‘Oh I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be….’ 73

‘Patronising? Don’t apologise. I’m used to it. Right, when do we get to eat? I’m starving.’ Bo said loudly, making Troy stifle a laugh and Crystal look daggers at the pair of them. Following more small talk and more polite introductions Charles announced that dinner was indeed served – thank goodness, Bo’s stomach thought her throat had been held to ransom - the guests were shown to the grand dinning room and to their respective seats. Bo was placed between Troy and a woman called Arrabella, who had a loud voice and looked remarkably like a horse. To the left of her was Isobel’s best friend Charlotte, followed by Mr. Undertaker and Mrs. Dead-animal-wearer-woman. The local vicar was seated next to Crystal, followed by a space which nobody had occupied, then a few more guests which Bo had yet to be introduced to. Watercress consommé had been carefully prepared for the starter by Clarissa and everyone discretely watched as Bo pondered which spoon she should use. Troy tactfully nudged her side and picked up his soup spoon. Bo followed suit and smiled at everyone who dropped their eyes to their own soup dishes. The soup was cold and Bo pulled a face as she sipped the first spoonful. ‘Urrgh, this is cold.’ Bo looked at Charles who quietly shook his head at Bo in a desperate attempt to stop her from saying it. The entire room stopped making small-talk and started to chuckle. 74

‘It’s supposed to be cold.’ Troy whispered. Bo felt her self go red – if she had the money the Barrington’s had that’s the first thing she would do, get cosmetic surgery to stop her blushing. ‘Oh. Well I knew that. I was joking.’ Bo laughed the mistake off. Mrs Dead-animal-wearer laughed. ‘I imagine this is all new to you dear?’ She smiled at Bo – one of those smiles which wasn’t actually a smile but more of a sneer. ‘Oh yes, back home we have to hunt our food down first and eat it raw – fur and all.’ Bo replied. Troy smirked, Charlotte snorted and Mrs Deadanimal-wearer looked absolutely horrified. ‘So what business is your family in then Bo?’ Troy asked, sparing her any more blushes. ‘Scrap Metal.’ ‘And do you actually do any work Bo?’ Crystal asked. When what she really wanted to say was, well of course you don’t, you all sponge off the state, supported by us tax-payers. ‘Yes I do as a matter of fact. I’m a mechanic.’ Bo added. Everyone stopped slurping their cold soup. ‘Really? Gosh, actually that is really interesting.’ Charlotte said, ‘what, you fix cars and that kind of thing?’ ‘That’s right. Among other things.’ ‘Gosh I couldn’t do that. I mean what about your poor hands. I bet you have to have a manicure, like, 75

loads of times a week.’ Charlotte added, appalled at the thought of her hands being covered in oil and other yucky things. ‘A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.’ Bo added, becoming more and more tired with the conversation. Talk about feeling like a bloody goldfish. The chiming of the doorbell made Charles reluctantly abandon his post in the corner of the dinning room to answer it. Despite having only known Bo for a few hours, he had already grown quite fond of her and felt as though leaving her to fend for herself was akin to feeding her to the lions. ‘Mr Townsend madam.’ Charles announced as he re-entered the room with another guest. Bo, in midslurp turned her head to see a face she actually recognised. Spurting out the mouthful of soup – it was bloody horrible anyway, soup shouldn’t be cold for God’s sake – Bo looked up, shocked, but at the same time relieved to see a familiar face. ‘Bloody hell! What are you doing here?’ She laughed. Greg Townsend looked equally shocked, as did the entire table come to that. ‘Well hello there Bo. Sorry I’m late Crystal.’ He added as an afterthought. ‘Not car trouble again was it?’ Bo laughed. ‘You really should take a course in mechanics you know.’ 76

Greg sat himself down at the empty seat opposite Bo, while Charles busied himself with preparing his cold soup for him. ‘Do you two know each other?’ Crystal asked, somewhat surprised that Greg could ever possibly have anything in common with Bo. ‘You could say that. Bo fixed my car the other week for me. I was driving back to London from a conference down South and got a flat.’ Greg smiled at her. ‘Really?’ Crystal was quite lost for words. ‘Yes, this young lady was quite the hero. If it wasn’t for Bo, I would have been stranded in the middle of the nowhere.’ Greg added. Bo noticed once again those deep blue eyes sparkling back at her. Bo wasn’t the only one to notice either. Troy noted the exchange of smiles between Bo and his best friend and practice partner Greg and without realising it found him self feeling irritated with Greg for already having been introduced to Bo. ‘See he’s a hopeless man. Can’t fix a car, can’t arrive to a dinner party on time.’ Troy couldn’t help but take a dig at Greg. ‘That’s because what I need is a good woman to take care of me. Preferably one who can fix my car.’ Greg smiled at Bo, who duly blushed. Blimey, where did all that come from? She’d never had two men bidding for her attention before – mind you she hadn’t been in a situation where she had to eat cold soup before either. 77

By the time the main course was served, Bo had managed to steer the conversation away from her to the beautiful décor of the house. As she listened to Crystal blabbering on to everyone about how many times she’d had to call the designers back in, Bo realised that in all the excitement about where the gold cherubs were supposed to have been situated, her right flip-flop had flopped off her foot and was now somewhere under the table. Having unsuccessfully tried to retrieve it with her left foot, Bo discreetly peeped under the table. Try as she might Bo couldn’t find her flip-flop and it had now obstinately managed to wriggle its way out of her reach. With only the one flip-flop on – Bo vaguely wondered if one half of a flip-flop was a flip or a flop – she continued to poke her way through slippery salmon, followed by orange and sherry sorbet – this wasn’t proper food like she got at home. Bo and guests were immediately ushered into the sitting room for more champagne and small-talk. ‘So, like, do you really live in a caravan then Bo?’ Charlotte asked excitedly, jumping up and down like an uncontrollable chocolate Labrador. ‘Certainly do.’ Bo replied, trying to disguise the fact that she now possessed only one pink flip-flop by tucking her bare right foot behind her left leg. ‘But, like, what do you do for electricity and things? I mean how do you curl your hair?’ Charlotte, wide-eyed with amazement wanted to know everything about Bo.

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‘We do have electricity you know. We also have satellite TV and computers. And this is natural’ Bo pointed to her glorious red curls. ‘Gosh, really? Troy, guess what Bo has electricity in her camp-site thingy.’ Charlotte explained to Troy who was refilling Bo’s glass for the umpteenth time. ‘Well I’ve heard it’s not very nice on these gypsy sites. All sorts of things go on at these places – stealing, fighting, in-breeding, you name it.’ The dead-animal-wearing-woman warned Crystal who was passing around a silver platter of profiteroles to her guests. ‘Humm, I‘ve heard the same about people who live in grand houses too. Too much money, too many secrets.’ Bo replied with a smirk in Crystal’s direction. ‘Oh how true that is.’ Troy muttered under his breath. ‘So anyway Bo, do you do all that fortune telling stuff all gypsies are supposed to do. You know reading palms and all that sort of stuff?’ Charlotte asked between slurps of champagne. Charlotte couldn’t be more than 20 and sported long blonde hair extensions, which framed a long and rather pointy face - how come all the women in the room resembled a horse, Bo wondered. ‘Sorry? Palms? Yes, my Granny taught me to read them and tarot cards and tea-leaves.’ ‘Oh wow! Will you read mine for me?’ Charlotte gasped and started jumping up and down again, 79

making her silicon enhanced boobs juggle in her very tight fitting red and black dress. ‘Sure.’ Bo replied. ‘You’ll have to read my palm and tell me if I’m going to meet the princess of my dreams soon Bo.’ Greg said quietly over Bo’s shoulder, but loud enough for Troy to hear. ‘I don’t think Bo can perform miracles, can you Bo?’ Troy added, putting a protective arm around her in an attempt to guide her away from Greg’s clutches. ‘So Bo, seeing as you’re Isobel’s replacement, how about you come shopping with us tomorrow?’ Charlotte enthused. ‘Well… I..’ ‘That’s a date then. I’ll pick you up at ten sharp. Excuse me, just going to the little girlie’s room. I think all this champagne has gone to my head.’ Charlotte giggled and quickly disappeared up the stairs, leaving Bo in the company of Troy, Greg, Arrabella and Tristan. ‘Ah, if you’ll excuse me a moment, I must make a call to the States.’ Tristan glanced at his watch and also excused himself from the party. Arrabella started fishing for a free consultation about one of her mares being off her food. Troy and Greg, both being vets, made the appropriate sympathetic noises and nodded their heads in agreement as to what it could be. ‘She’s pregnant.’ Bo advised. 80

‘Don’t be so silly dear. My Tammy? She’s not pregnant. I think I would know if she was.’ Arrabella laughed and patted Bo on the head like a stupid child. ‘Oh well, think what you like, but I’m telling you she’s pregnant.’ Bo replied – bloody stupid name for a horse anyway. She was bored of this small-talk now and decided to excuse herself for a desperate pee. Climbing the spiral staircase to the second floor, Bo heard a familiar giggle coming from one of the bathrooms. Quietly tiptoeing on the thick plush cream carpet adorning the landing, Bo noticed that the bathroom door where the giggling was coming from was open a crack. Being naturally curious –okay, bloody nosy - Bo peaked through the crack to see Charlotte looking at her reflection in the gold-plated bathroom mirror. A man’s arm slid around her waist, making her giggle again. When she had returned from her visit to the bathroom, somewhat bewildered by what Charlotte was doing, not to mention who with, Bo took herself off into the garden to get some fresh air. To Bo, life in the city had so far been a confusing mismatch of overly pretentious people. The cool autumnal air washed over Bo’s hot face and was a welcome relief from the stuffy atmosphere inside. Having spent the entire time she had been in London being stared at and confined to four walls – grand walls they may be, but walls never-the-less she missed the freedom of roaming the fields at home and wandering wherever she wanted to wander. She already missed the sit-down family supper, Granny 81

Daisy, the wild horses. God, she even missed Mad Sam. ‘There you are.’ Troy made her jump. ‘I thought you’d had enough and done a runner.’ ‘No such luck. I just came out for a bit of fresh air.’ Bo smiled. A combination of the moon-light and the attractive garden lights, made Bo look even more stunning and mysterious, Troy thought guiltily. ‘So you know a bit about horses then?’ he said as casually as he could, sitting down beside her on the garden steps. Bo noticed for the first time, how Troy’s short, dark and spiky hair framed his sharp features, making him look strong and thoughtful. God, what am I thinking? He’s Isobel’s boyfriend! Bo mentally scolded her self. ‘I do as it happens and I’m telling you, that mare of Arra-wot’s-her-names is pregnant. You mark my words.’ Bo smiled defiantly, desperately trying to stop looking into Troy’s deep brown eyes. This guy was actually very good looking in a Huge Grant/James Bond kind of way. ‘How do you know that then?’ ‘Call it gypsy intuition.’ Bo replied. ‘So you’re a vet then?’ Talk about stating the bloody obvious – he’s already told her that both he and the very charming Greg were vets. ‘Certainly am.’ Troy grinned, showing off a set of Californian white teeth. ‘You’re not a very good one then are you? You of all people should know when a mare is pregnant.’ Bo laughed. 82

‘So Miss Clever-Clogs, how do you know she’s pregnant?’ ‘I told you, gypsy intuition. I’ve dealt with horses all my life. I know when a mare is pregnant or not.’ ‘What by not even seeing her? You’ll be telling me you’re psychic next.’ Troy mocked. ‘Maybe I am.’ Bo smiled. ‘I’ll have to show you the Colton Sanctuary while you’re here, before it gets demolished. If you like horses, you’ll love the sanctuary.’ Troy said his face turning from smiling to concern. ‘I’ve heard of it, but I thought it was a protected place?’ ‘It’s supposed to be, but that won’t stop Isobel’s father from getting his own way.’ Troy added. ‘What, Tristan’s going to develop on it? And you’re going to let him get away with it?’ He must be a bigger wimp than he looked, nice teeth, but a big wimp, Bo thought. Troy shrugged. ‘What can I do about it? He’s a powerful man in these parts is Tristan Barrington you know.’ ‘Ha, powerful my arse. He’s a bloody idiot that’s what he is. And you? I thought you’d have more balls than to let someone like Tristan Barrington get away with doing that. Obviously I was wrong.’ Once someone got on the wrong side of Bo, there was no stopping her. ‘Ah, I get it now.’ Bo smiled with a knowing look, ‘that’s it. The reason you won’t do anything about it is because you’ll soon be marrying 83

into the family. You’ll be just the same as the rest of them.’ ‘That’s not true.’ Troy stood up and defiantly put his hands in his pockets, as if standing up would somehow justify his protest. ‘I told you, you don’t mess with Tristan Barrington.’ The sheer determination in Bo’s small face made Troy’s stomach do a flip, something that had never happened to him before. But she was right of course. Bo knew it and Troy knew it. Troy couldn’t stand up to his future father-in-law. Troy’s life had been mapped out for him from the age of two – private education, university, vet school, practice, marriage, and a jolly good pension at the end of it all. Just like his father and his father before him. And this was the way Troy liked it to be. He had no time for spontaneity. He was too busy looking after all God’s creature’s great and small. Troy loosened his black tie a little. This girl was having a very peculiar effect on him. ‘Here you are Cinderella. You shall go to the ball’ Greg’s voice made Bo and Troy jump. Greg bent down and took her flip-flopless foot in his hand and placed Bo’s right flip-flop back on to her foot. ‘I wondered where that had got to.’ She giggled, ‘I’ve been hopping like a bloody frog out here.’ ‘So if you’re a frog and I kiss you, does that mean you turn into my princess then?’ Greg grinned. 84

‘You’ve been reading too many fairytales.’ Bo laughed at Greg’s attempts at being prince charming. ‘We were just getting some fresh air.’ Troy interrupted. Greg punched his best friend on the arm, ‘You want to watch this one Bo.’ He jokingly warned. ‘Maybe I will.’ Bo replied smiling. There was that unidentified stomach-flip thing again. Troy coughed. ‘Well we’d better go back in and be sociable.’ ‘So Bo, if you’re pretending to be Isobel for a fortnight, then I take it you’ll be running on her behalf in the charity race this week then.’ Mrs Deadanimal-wearer suddenly pointed out to Bo in front of all the other guests. ‘Charity race? No one told me about a charity race.’ Bo looked puzzled. ‘Oh whoops. Didn’t you know? Izzy does this charity thing every year for the NSPCC. You have to run half a marathon around Holland Park.’ Charlotte, who had evidently finished her business in the bathroom, said and smiled looking down at Bo’s flipflops. ‘Gosh we’ll have to sort out some Reeboks for you tomorrow darling.’ She giggled. Bo felt like sticking a Reebok up her giggling arse. ‘You can’t expect Bo to run half a marathon for goodness sake!’ Greg butted in. ‘I mean Izzy would never do it herself, she’d pay someone to do it. She always has done in the past.’ ‘She has not!’ Crystal protested. 85

‘Oh really? What about last year? She got that poor exchange student from Istanbul to run for her.’ ‘Ah, now that was only because she was helping her with her English tuition and wanted Agrilara to find out for herself what the words were for park and bench and that kind of thing.’ Crystal knew defending her daughter was unjust – Greg was right, if the truth be known, Isobel was a lazy little madam. ‘And the year before that?’ Greg challenged Crystal, who thought for a moment. ‘Oh, that was the year she broke her ankle. Don’t you remember Charlotte? Charlotte?’ Charlotte, who wasn’t listening, looked up. ‘What? Sorry Chrissie, what did you say?’ ‘Never mind dear.’ Crystal raised her very plucked and re-filled eyebrows to the ceiling. Greg put a protective arm around Bo and pulled her closer in to him. She could smell the familiar expensive aftershave wafting up from his white shirt. She was grateful for the support to stop her from falling over due to the excess champagne she had drunk, not to mention the fact that she hadn’t been able to get this close to a man in a long time without him having his head shot-off by a gun-wielding distant relative. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about Bo, I wouldn’t dream of letting them make you do anything you wouldn’t want to do.’ That thing in Troy’s stomach made its presence again and he experienced another twinge of irritation 86

at Greg’s presence, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. After all, Greg was young, free, single and downright good-looking to boot and Troy? Well, he was already spoken for. He was in love with Isobel wasn’t he? ‘Well that’s very gallant of you Greg, but I think I can manage to do a run for charity on Isobel’s behalf.’ Bo grinned – always one for a challenge, particularly from people who thought she couldn’t do something. It was one o’clock in the morning before the last of the Barrington’s guests finally left the house. As Bo lay in the pink four-poster bed in her FrankieSays-Relax-t-shirt-cum-night-shirt her head swam with the events of the past few hours and the amount of champagne wasn’t helping much either. So this was what it was like to live on the other side of the planet, she thought.

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CHAPTER SIX Isobel awoke to the sound of children shouting outside. Having sat bolt upright for most of the night, with her long legs tucked up into her chest and shaking with fear at the thought that whoever shook the caravan during the night might return, exhaustion had eventually overcome her and she finally fell asleep sometime in the early hours of the morning. She glanced at the Rolex on her thin tanned wrist, blearily making out that it was somewhere between nine and ten in the morning – that was the trouble with designer watches with no numbers, if you were hung over or in Isobel’s case, suffering from sleep deprivation, you couldn’t tell the difference and could only vaguely guess as to what hour of the day it might be. The tap on the caravan door made Isobel jump. ‘Who is it?’ she asked nervously. ‘It’s me.’ The small, but strangely familiar voice replied. ‘Go away!’ Isobel shouted, praying she wasn’t about to have a repeat performance of yesterday and get Super-Soaked again. Mind you, it could be worse. It could be Cain at the door, Isobel thought. She knew she must look a state. Having removed the plaits sometime during the night, her hair resembled nothing short of a ball of tumble-weed. Her eyes looked like, well just like someone who had only had a few hours sleep, and her chin was sore where she had evidently dribbled in the sleep that she did have. 88

‘Can I come in?’ Kieran shouted through the door. ‘Not right now Kieran.’ Isobel said summering the strength to sound normal, but silently wishing that the snotty kid would just bugger off and leave her alone. ‘Please?’ Kieran pleaded. For some reason, no reply amounted to a, ‘yes come on in’ as far as Kieran was concerned. So he did and quietly shut the door behind him. Before Isobel could muster the strength to shout or throw something at the scrawny child, Kieran placed his hands on his tiny hips and looked at her for a moment and then tut-tutted. ‘You look like shit.’ He observed in all seriousness. ‘And you shouldn’t swear, it’s not nice.’ Isobel replied, shaking her head in despair. ‘Do you want me to get an ambulance?’ ‘An ambulance? What do I need an ambulance for?’ Isobel looked up trying not to laugh at the serious little face looking back at her. ‘Cain said you were probably sick so you couldn’t come to work this morning.’ Kieran thought again, ‘or should I call a doctor?’ ‘I don’t need a doctor or an ambulance thank you Kieran.’ Isobel smiled. Kieran placed a small, muddy hand on Isobel’s forehead and waited for a moment as he quietly counted to ten. ‘Humm, I fink you got a bit hot in your head.’ He diagnosed. Isobel was touched that he cared. 89

‘I’m fine, really, Doctor Kieran. Anyway, why are you not at school?’ Isobel said throwing the quilt off her. ‘You was ill and I’m not allowed to go on my own. Those roads are busy you know and I’m only five. Me mam is looking after Old Jack who is dying and dad was busy at work.’ Kieran replied casually. ‘Dying?’ Isobel gasped. ‘Yeah, he’s real old. He’s about 306, I fink. He lives in that tent at the far end of the camp. He’s not allowed to be left on his own when he’s dying, otherwise the bad spirits will infect the camp.’ Kieran proudly relayed what he had obviously heard the grown-ups talking about. ‘I’m sorry, I should have taken you.’ Isobel said. ‘It don’t matter, I don’t like it there anyway. The other kids’ tease me coz I’m a gypsy.’ Kieran confided. Isobel knew exactly how it felt to be teased at school having suffered years of torment at the all girls’ boarding school she’d been sent to. ‘Well I’d better get up then and earn my keep I guess.’ Isobel stood up and put her hands on her hips. ‘I’ll help.’ Kieran obliged and dived straight into one of Isobel’s suitcases and pulled out two pairs of silk knickers. ‘Which pants do you want? Pink or white? I can put my own pants on all by myself, can you?’ He asked, holding up the underwear, trying to decide which pair would most suit Isobel. 90

By the time Isobel had dressed – with a little help from Kieran, who decided that she should wear a pair of black Paul Smith jeans, a pink cashmere sweater and her bright Pucci wellies – it was gone 11 O’clock. Fascinated by her tumble-weed hair, Kieran had painstakingly brushed it down straight – okay so Jean Pierre would be throwing a fit if he saw what Kieran was doing, but it was a slight improvement on what it looked first thing this morning. Having encountered a psycho peeping-tom the night before, the last thing Isobel wanted to do was to work, let alone in a scrap-yard of all places, but she was determined to prove to everyone that she could do this stupid swap thing. When she arrived at the yard Cain was bent over the bonnet of a car accompanying Robbie Williams’ Let Me Entertain You on the radio. His bum wiggled in his tight fitting jeans which clung to his muscular legs, making Isobel momentarily wonder if he worked out in a gym, or was naturally blessed with an athletic figure. His singing wasn’t all bad either. The yard was absent of one-eyed Uncle Bob due to a court appearance and Billy Senior was talking to Si about a forthcoming boxing match, stopping midsentence when he saw Isobel. ‘And what time do you call this lady muck? You’re not on bloody holiday you know, you gotta earn yer keep here.’ ‘I’m sorry, I…’ ‘Yeah whatever. Save it for someone who cares.’ Bo’s father grunted – God, talk about an arrogant, supercilious, conceited, and downright rude man! 91

‘Right, first things first, you gotta bring that Mondeo out the front and round into the yard, strip it, take out the engine and give it to Billy Junior to crush.’ Billy Senior grinned, showing a mouth absent of many teeth. ‘But I can’t drive.’ Isobel shrieked, ‘I’ve always had someone to drive me around. I don’t do driving. I mean, God, can you imagine driving around London?’ She shuddered at the thought of it. ‘Then it’s about time you learnt, aint it?’ Billy Senior grinned again and threw her a set of keys, with a miniature furry dice attached to them. Isobel caught them and looked at them. Ewee, the furry dice had seen better days. Holding the set of keys between her French-polished, not to mention beautifully manicured, nails as if they were infected, she walked out of the yard. Isobel sat in the battered K-reg Mondeo with ‘OnTow’ sprayed in orange across the rear view window and looked around her. Right, where’s the stupid key thing to start the stupid car then? She wondered, pressing several buttons, including the horn, which made her jump out of her skin. Frowning as she tried to force the ignition key into the heater vent, a tanned muscular arm brush against her own, taking the keys from her hand. ‘Here, allow me.’ Cain said, inserting the key into the ignition and turning it. ‘Put your foot on that pedal and press it …’ Verroommm! 92

‘…gently.’ Cain added. ‘Hang on. I’ll get in with you.’ Cain went round to the passenger side of the car, booted the door, which magically opened and got in next to Isobel, who was still frowning at the multitude of switches, dials and buttons on the dashboard. It looked more like an airplane than a car, she thought. ‘Right, put your left foot on the clutch. No, your other left foot. That’s it. Now, this is the gear stick.’ He added pointing to the long black, knobbly thing sticking up. ‘This is first gear, second, third, and so on. Press the clutch down and push it into first. No, that’s the break. That’s the clutch.’ Already totally confused, Isobel did as she was told and the car started to move forwards. ‘Wow! Look I’m doing it!’ She squealed with delight, ‘look! Cain look, I can drive!’ She exclaimed as the car inched forwards again. ‘Very good, now, rev her up a bit.’ Cain smiled, wondering how much more excitement Isobel could take in one day. ‘Rev her up?’ ‘Push your right foot down on the accelerator – gently. No that’s the break again. That’s the accelerator.’ Cain added. Voomph! The car lurched forward, jumped and then stalled. ‘Shit! What happened? Have I broken it?’ Isobel cried. 93

‘It’s already broken. No you just stalled it. Try again. Put her in neutral and start her up again.’ ‘Eh?’ Isobel responded with another puzzled look on her face. ‘Come here.’ Cain leant over Isobel, waggled the gear stick and turned the key in the ignition. Isobel’s stomach did a flip as Cain brushed up against her. He really was very good looking in his own way. The scent of oil wafted up from him and to Isobel’s surprise it was not too unpleasant – certainly different to Troy’s aftershave, but not totally disagreeable. Having managed to successfully steer and drive the car the 50 yards into the site, Cain opened the bonnet and began showing Isobel what was under it. ‘And that’s your carburettor.’ He pointed out. ‘Oh right. And what’s that thing sticking out?’ Isobel pointed under the bonnet. ‘Dip-stick.’ Cain replied with a smile. ‘I beg your pardon?’ ‘That’s what it’s called, a dip-stick. It tells you how much oil you’ve got in the car.’ ‘Oh, right. Sorry, I thought you were calling me a dip-stick.’ Isobel laughed making eye contact with Cain for the first time that morning. ‘So you didn’t sleep too well then last night?’ Cain held her gaze for a little too long for people who had only recently met. ‘How did you know that?’ Isobel looked shocked. ‘It was you wasn’t it? Jesus! Of all the low-down, 94

dirty, rotten things to do to someone!’ Isobel shouted, standing upright with her hands on her hips. ‘How could you do that to me? You knew I was scared! You knew I hated this stupid bloody place and you go and play a trick like that.’ She continued. ‘Well, I should have expected something like that of you. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was you who told that moron to shoot at me as well.’ Cain looked blankly at her. ‘I can’t believe you would do something like that! But then I don’t know why I’m at all surprised…’ Isobel continued to rant and rave at him. ‘Will you just shut up for one minute?’ Cain shouted above Isobel’s screeching and grabbed hold of her flaying arms. ‘I don’t know what the bloody hell you’re going on about.’ He added. ‘Oh I think you bloody well do. So you didn’t sleep too well then?’ Isobel mimicked Cain. ‘You knew I didn’t sleep very well because you made sure of that by banging on the bloody caravan and staring through the window at me, and scaring me half to fucking death, didn’t you? Trying to get a cheap thrill no doubt.’ Isobel screamed in his face, ‘and let bloody go of me!’ Cain threw his arms up in the air in despair. ‘Look lady, don’t flatter yourself. You’re nothing special you know. I only knew you didn’t sleep very well because I saw your light was still on at three o’clock this morning. So I haven’t got a bloody clue what you are talking about? The caravan banging and someone staring through the window?’ Cain looked bemused. 95

‘What it wasn’t you?’ Isobel was quite out of breath after her little outrage. Cain shrugged his shoulders. ‘It wasn’t me. Cross my heart and swear to die. On my Grandmother’s life. Dib-dib-dib and all that.’ ‘Yeah, OK I get the message.’ Isobel tried very hard not to smile. ‘Well who the bloody hell was it then?’ she demanded. They both looked at each other and chorused, ‘Sam.’ ‘Just wait until I get my hands on him.’ Cain said, ‘don’t worry, I’ll sort him out. By the way, I got you this, this morning. Although I don’t know why I bothered, the way you spoke to me just then.’ Cain added. Digging about in his trouser pocket he produced a new Nokia mobile phone. Isobel gasped. ‘It’s not stolen is it?’ She couldn’t help but ask. ‘I’m hurt.’ Cain pretended that he’d just been stabbed in the heart. ‘We’re not all thieving bastards you know. Anyway seeing as you said you wanted to call your father and seeing as yours isn’t working, I thought… well, anyway, here you are.’ Cain blushed and handed the phone to Isobel. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ Isobel replied. ‘Thanks will do.’ ‘Thanks.’ Isobel smiled. Even with a blob of black oil on her face and her hair less than perfect, she still looked stunning, Cain thought to himself. 96

‘So you gonna phone him then?’ Cain asked as he detached the spark plug leads from the engine, silently praying that she would say no. ‘Maybe later. I’ve got a car to strip first.’ Isobel smiled. The engine stripping had gone surprisingly well Isobel thought, considering she’d never even sat in the driver’s seat of a car before, let alone taken one apart. Despite thinking that the staff at The Pink Lady were going to despair at the state of her not so French-manicured nails and Jean Pierre would be having kittens by the state of her hair – Lord knows how he was going to get black oil out of it – Isobel had found to her amazement that she’d actually enjoyed learning about how a car was put together. She sat back in one of the car passenger seats that Cain had pulled out from the Mondeo and admired her handy work. The steering wheel, mirrors and all manner of switches were in one pile ready to be recycled. The seats and engine had been ripped out and all that was left was the carcass of what was once someone’s pride and joy. Cain had gone to make tea and tell Billy Junior to crush what was left of the car. ‘Here you go. One cup of tea, not your Earl Grey admittedly, but there you go.’ Cain smiled, handing Isobel a grey chipped mug, minus its handle, which looked as if it had seen better days. ‘Thanks.’ Isobel tried not to pull a face – God, how could he drink out of a mug which looked as though it had been used as some sort of digging utensil by Kieran? 97

‘You can take a break now if you want.’ Cain added between loud slurps, ‘I’ve got to go with me old man and pick up a breakdown. Will you be alright here?’ ‘Of course I’ll be alright.’ Isobel smiled, daring to take a sip of tea – Cain was right, it wasn’t Earl Grey, but it wasn’t that bad actually – or maybe she was just so bloody thirsty that she would drink dishwater. She’d probably end up with rickets or some other horrible disease because of it mind you. ‘Right, I’ll catch you later, if you’re still here of course.’ Cain smiled, showing off those brilliant white teeth and that cute little dimple again. With nothing to do in the yard, Isobel wandered around for a while looking at the various homes of her new family. Some of the residents’ of Hewbury Travellers Park obviously had a bob or two by the look of the stylish 4x4’s and top of the range BMW’s parked outside their respective homes. She stopped for a moment outside a beautiful old fashioned original Romany caravan and admired the intricate gold paint work. ‘Come in dear.’ A voice from behind the small wooden door invited. Isobel pushed the door a jar and peeped inside to see Granny Daisy smiling back at her. ‘Come.’ She beckoned with an elegant crooked finger, as Isobel quietly closed the door behind her. Given her height, Izzy had to bend over so as not to bang her head on the very low ceiling. ‘Are you at a loose end?’ Granny Daisy asked. 98

‘Just a bit.’ Isobel replied. ‘How about a cuppa then and I’ll read your cards for you?’ Isobel prayed that Granny Daisy kept her cups cleaner than they did in the yard. She sat down in a small wicker rocking chair opposite Bo’s grandmother, who put the kettle on the tiny wroughtiron stove. ‘So how are you getting on? I hear you’ve done good work in the yard this morning.’ Granny Daisy smiled. ‘Oh, yes, it’s been OK.’ Isobel replied. ‘Homesick?’ ‘No, not homesick. It’s just…. Well they don’t seem to like me very much here.’ Isobel nudged her head to indicate outside. Granny Daisy smiled again. ‘It’s not that they don’t like you dear.’ She said, ‘they’re not used to newcomers here. They’re a bit wary that’s all. It’s a gypsy thing. You have to remember we’ve always lived on the fringes of society and unfortunately some of the travellers have given us a bad name, and it reflects on the rest of us. Don’t take it personally dear.’ Isobel did take it personally though, especially when someone wanted to scare the living daylights out of her in the middle of the night. ‘Now here, drink your tea and shuffle these for me.’ Granny Daisy handed Isobel a cup of tea in a pretty pink cup, compete with saucer – this was more 99

like it, she thought, at least it came complete with a handle attached to it. Isobel did as she was told and handed the cards back to the elder. ‘Now pick out seven cards, anywhere from the pack.’ She added. Isobel picked out the seven cards and handed them to Granny Daisy, who popped her glasses on and studied them for a moment. Isobel nervously stared at her. ‘Don’t look so worried my darling. I’m not going to tell you anything awful. You must remember the cards are not set in stone. They can’t change a persons own free will.’ Granny Daisy smiled. ‘Humm, now you’ve got travel highlighted quite strongly in your future cards, but you won’t be travelling alone. You will be travelling a long way away with someone you love.’ ‘Oh that will be my boyfriend Troy. We’re going to get married soon and I do want to travel the world. I mean, obviously I’ve already travelled quite a bit.’ Isobel babbled on. ‘Humm, but I don’t think you’ll be travelling with him. The cards show that this is someone else, not your current boyfriend.’ Granny Daisy added. ‘Well I don’t know anyone else and I’m certainly not in love with anyone else.’ Isobel protested. ‘The cards don’t fib my dear.’ ‘Well they must mean Troy then.’ Isobel was adamant, ‘what else do they say?’ 100

‘Well, I’m afraid all is not what it seems within your family. Be careful of at least one person you are close to trying to pull the wool over your eyes Isobel.’ ‘Like who?’ Isobel said wide-eyed. Granny Daisy just shook her head. ‘What else do they say?’ Isobel insisted, trying to fathom out how Bo’s grandmother could tell her fortune by looking at the pictures on some cards. ‘Well, you’re never going to need to worry about money, that’s for sure.’ ‘Oh God, I know that.’ Isobel laughed. ‘Ah, but, the money isn’t going to be as important to you as it once was Isobel. You are about to experience something like you’ve never experienced before and like the caterpillar, you will transform into a magnificent butterfly. What was important to you will no longer be. And..’ The elderly lady added, ‘I see a big wedding ahead for you.’ She smiled. ‘Oh goody! Troy is going to ask me to marry him. My friend Charlotte said he would.’ Isobel gushed. Granny Daisy just smiled at her with a knowing look. Having finished her tea with Granny Daisy, Isobel wondered what she could possibly do now. The yard was absent of the Sanderson men, who had obviously not returned from the breakdown recovery job and the site was quiet, apart from the occasional barking of Tan and the crunching sound from the scrap crusher. 101

Isobel didn’t dare to venture off the site to see if Selfridges had suddenly decided to set up shop in the middle of a field, for fear of being shot at by Mad Sam again. She decided to go and see Bo’s horse Princess, which was tethered to the fence in the adjoining field. Isobel had been around horses all her life, mainly for foxhunting with the hunt and considered herself to be a bit of an expert with the four-legged creatures, despite her lack of interest in mucking them out. She confidently walked into the field and patted Princess, Bo’s pure white mare. ‘You want to go for a ride girl?’ She asked. The horse responded with a nostril snorty kind of noise. ‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’ Isobel smiled and mounted the 14 hand horse. More used to riding thoroughbreds than something that looked more suited for Steptoe, Isobel smiled at the make-shift, rope reins. The view of acres and acres of fields were magnificent as the low autumn sun shone over the landscape. Isobel kicked the flank of the horse, which eagerly obliged with a canter up the hill. Before Isobel knew it she was on top of the hill looking down at the caravan site. The trailer’s looked like a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. Out of habit she scanned the surrounding area to see if she could see anything resembling a retail outlet of any description, but all she could see were fields upon fields – what did these people do when they ran out of loo roll? Isobel wondered absentmindedly. 102

Obviously content with the exercise, Princess snorted a healthy snort again and bent her head to chew at some grass. ‘That’s a good girl.’ Isobel patted her neck, as she took in the view before her. Who’d have thought that she, Isobel Barrington, would be spending her Monday afternoon sitting on a horse and looking down on a caravan site? Any other Monday and she would be at The Pink Lady, enjoying a glass of icedtea and being quaffed and beautified with Charlotte, Sophie and Tara or shopping in Harvey Nicks. Hearing a rumble coming from the yard, Isobel looked down the hill to see the old Ford Mondeo car that she had stripped – with a little help from Cain, of course - being guided into the scrap crusher by Cain’s brother Billy Junior – now that was one bloke she could very easily detest. He was the loudest and most crude man on the planet Isobel decided. Even louder and cruder than his father, and that was saying something. Isobel peered closer, wondering what on earth was scurrying about under the crusher. It looked like a small animal of some sort. She looked again, shielding her eyes with her hand to block the sun. ‘Shit!’ Isobel whispered under her breath. The small object scuttling under the huge crusher was Kieran, trying to retrieve something shiny which looked remarkably like a mirror. ‘Kieran get out of there!’ Isobel shouted as loud as she could, but she knew he was never going to hear her. ‘Shit! Shit! Shit! Come on girl, dinner times over. As fast as you can.’ Isobel kicked Princess, who was 103

busy having her mid-morning snack of grass and jumped up on her hind legs with fright. Isobel clung to the rope around her neck and kicked again. ‘Go you stupid horse!’ The mare whinnied her protests and galloped down the hill towards the yard. Not hesitating to consider whether jumping the six foot fence would be a problem, she flew over it with Isobel hanging on tightly for dear life with her arms and legs. ‘Billy! Stop!’ Isobel shouted as she and Princess galloped into the yard. Billy Junior couldn’t hear her over the noise from the crusher and continued guiding the scrap car into the huge jaws of metal. ‘Kieran! Get out of there!’ Isobel screamed as she desperately tried to make Princess go faster. Kieran looked up to see Isobel and horse hurtling towards him at a zillion miles an hour. Letting go of her grip and flinging her left leg over the horse she dismounted Princess and careered towards Kieran under the crusher. ‘Aghhh!’ Kieran screamed, his eyes as big as saucers. Isobel crashed into him, pushing him out of the way and sending him flying to the ground. At that moment Billy Senior and Cain came around the corner towing a broken down camper-van. Seeing Isobel rolling under the crusher towards Kieran, Cain sounded the horn of the recovery truck. Billy Junior looked up to see the crusher coming down towards the pair. ‘Shit!’ 104

Billy Junior jumped up into the cabin and slammed his hand down on the emergency stop button. Looking up to see a huge metal plate just inches above them, Isobel managed to throw Kieran from under the crusher and towards Cain, who scooped him up in his arms. She started to roll on her side after him – if her friend Simon ever got a call for Raiders of The Lost Ark, she would be first to sign up. Unfortunately for Isobel, she wasn’t quite as quick, or as lucky come to that, as Harrison Ford might have been and the crusher, not quite as modern as she would have liked, took what seemed forever to actually come to a halt. ‘Aghhhh!’ Isobel screamed as the metal plate came to a slow halt on her left arm. Isobel pulled with all her might and dragged her arm out of the vice like grip of the metal plate. Cain handed a shocked Kieran, who was clutching the silver-plated notebook to his chest, to his father and ran to Isobel’s side. ‘Shit, are you Ok?’ he asked, scooping her up into his arms – my, he was as strong and as fit as he looked. Isobel looked paler than Snow White. ‘Tell Kieran I might need that doctor after all. I think my arm’s broken.’ She winced. ‘You’ll do anything to get out of work won’t you?’ Cain smiled, ‘come on, let’s get you to hospital. And as for you, you stupid bastard! I’ll deal with you later.’ He shouted back to his younger brother Billy. 105

CHAPTER SEVEN Having consumed a healthy breakfast of freshly baked croissants, orange juice and French-toast cooked by Clarissa and served by Charles, Bo was ready to hit the town with Charlotte and co. Crystal had emerged, tending a major hang-over, looking far from quaffed and bouffanted, and had decided to return to bed. Tristan had left early to go to a golfing tournament-cum-business-meeting. ‘So, how did it all go last night then?’ Bo asked Charles who was clearing the breakfast table. ‘I think you did exceptionally well Miss Bo.’ Charles replied. ‘Not me silly, you and Clarissa.’ Bo whispered. Charles blushed and ran a long finger along the collar of his starch-pressed shirt – thank God she wasn’t the only one who blushed, Bo thought. ‘I’m not sure I quite understand Miss Bo.’ Charles apologised. ‘What are you like? God Charles, you’re never going to meet Miss Right if you don’t make the first move you know. You’ve got a bike, she’s got a bike, why don’t you both go out for a ride sometime?’ Bo scolded. Charles blushed again. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very good at…well, you know what I mean. Would you care for some more orange juice Miss Bo?’ ‘No and don’t change the subject. You like her don’t you?’ Bo asked. 106

‘Miss Symmons is a very charming lady.’ Charles muttered as he cleared away the china teapot. ‘You are hopeless Charles.’ Bo laughed. The sound of a horn beeping signalled that Charlotte was waiting outside for her. ‘I’ll sort you out later Mr Parker. Now I must do what I hear Isobel does best, and go shopping!’ Bo pinched another piece of French-toast as she shot out of the front door. Having been left a note and a gold credit card from Crystal, instructing her to ‘buy yourself something decent to wear with this dear’ Bo decided to do as she was told for once, despite feeling somewhat put out that Crystal thought she looked like a bag lady. ‘So guys, I thought we’d go to Sloane Square first and then we’ll pop into Harrods and then have a look around Chelsea. Then we’ll do lunch and go to The Pink Lady and shop some more. Like, this is going to be sooo much fun!’ Charlotte squealed, addressing the four girls who were sitting comfortably in the black limousine, three of whom nodded in agreement. Bo just looked bewildered. Do lunch? How do you do lunch? She wondered. What do you do to lunch? I thought you were meant to just eat it, not do it. Bo was once again apparently underdressed for the occasion, sporting a pair of black combat trousers, a black French Connection T-shirt and her trusted pink flip-flops. Charlotte, Sophie, Emma and Tara were suitably colour coordinated and accessorised, all wearing knee length black boots, short kilt skits and 107

t-shirts with cute slogans, such as ‘Daddy’s Little Princess’ and ‘Cheeky Monkey’ emblazoned across them. They all carried matching microscopic purses and slim mobile phones the size of a credit card, and they all had the same hairstyle – long blonde hair, accessorised with cute ribbons. Bo wondered if they’d all been cloned overnight. ‘Okay guys, so introduction time.’ Charlotte squealed excitedly and clapped her hands together. Bo wished she would stop calling everyone ‘guys’. ‘Guys, this is Bo, Isobel’s replacement and our new best friend for the next fortnight. Bo, that’s Emma on your right.’ Bo smiled at Emma who grinned inanely at her. ‘To your left is Sophie.’ Sophie grinned, equally inanely. ‘And last, but not least, that’s Tara.’ Tara glanced up from her mobile phone, looked Bo up and down and decided she wasn’t worthy of a smile. ‘Well nice to meet you all.’ Bo ventured. ‘Charlotte said you’re like a real gypsy. Can you really tell people’s fortune?’ Sophie spoke excitedly. ‘I bet.’ Tara muttered. Bo ignored the comment and smiled back at Sophie. ‘Yep, I brought my cards with me.’ She patted the black rucksack she had brought along with her. ‘Oh super!’ Emma shrieked, ‘will you do mine first?’ ‘Sure. When we do lunch I’ll do them for you.’

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‘So we’ll all be told we’re going to meet tall, dark, handsome strangers then.’ Tara commented, sounding bored already. Despite wanting to ram her bloody mobile down her throat, Bo kept her thoughts about Tara to herself. More accustomed to buying from the high-street in Bath, rather than Harvey Nick’s, Bo quickly grew bored of being a coat-hanger. Hew new ‘best-friends’ however were not. As fashionable as the next 24 year old girl, Bo’s clothes shopping had always been for practicality rather than anything else and the maroon Dries Van Noten slashed frock, which looked as though someone had taken a pair of scissors to it and that Emma had forced Bo to try on, was not something that could be considered practical. Bo felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, with Charlotte being her Richard Gere – everyone was desperately trying to make her into something she wasn’t and didn’t want to be. Adjusting the spaghetti straps to cover the white marks left over from her not-all-over summer tan, Bo stared back at her reflection. If Trinny and Susannah were here right now they would be shouting ‘Maroon dress and bright pink flip-flops DO NOT GO TOGETHER!!’ Charlotte and co, who had been weaned on designer labels, may well have money to burn, but they sure as hell didn’t have any dress sense, or taste for that matter. ‘How’s it fit?’ Squeaked a voice from behind the luxurious fitting room, which was considerate enough to have mirrors in ever conceivable space, to ensure one could see just how large one’s bum looked. 109

‘It’s too…’ Shit?, Thought Bo. God, who in their right mind would pay £650 for this? ‘…small.’ Bo replied. ‘Oh, OK, I’ll ask for a bigger size.’ Ever-pleasing Emma shouted back. ‘No!... I mean, It’s OK. Let’s go somewhere else.’ Bo added. ‘Like Asda?’ Tara muttered under her breath. ‘Shhh, she’ll hear you.’ Sophie giggled. ‘Yes, she will.’ Bo smirked as she opened the fitting room door and threw the dress at Tara. ‘Somewhere else’ actually translated into another seven designer shops, which would only let you in if you looked like you could afford their clothes and you wouldn’t dream to glance at the price tag. Bo spent another hour being pushed into fitting rooms with armfuls of garments costing more than a small town-house. Tired from taking her combat trousers and t-shirt on and off, Bo sat down on the small stool in the fitting room, waited for a minute and then threw a garment back over the top to Emma, shouting things like, ‘too small’, ‘too big’, ‘too tight’. ‘Look, I’m not being funny, but these clothes just aren’t me.’ Bo finally said, returning everything that Sophie, Emma, Tara and Charlotte had chosen for her to the personal shopper who was waiting patiently outside the fitting room. Sophie looked as though she was going to burst into tears. ‘She’s a real gypsy girl.’ Charlotte explained. The Harrods personal shopper nodded sympathetically, as 110

if that was the reason why Bo didn’t like any of the stores clothes. ‘Mind you, I suppose your lot are more used to jumble sale shopping.’ Tara commented, looking bored. ‘My lot?’ Bo raised her eyebrows. The personal shopper panicked. ‘Oh take no notice of Tara, she’s just in a mood because she didn’t get laid by Thomas.’ Emma said, trying to make light of the comment. ‘For your information I don’t feel the necessity to spend thousands of pounds on clothes that are a) impractical, b) uncomfortable and c) make you look like a drag-queen. Money doesn’t buy you class you know.’ Bo retorted. ‘Oh I’ve had enough of this let’s-pretend-to-befriends-crap. I’m off to the polo match. Are you coming?’ Tara instructed Sophie. ‘Umm, I… No I think I’ll stay here.’ Sophie bravely muttered. ‘Suit yourself.’ Tara huffed and clip-clopped off out of the store. Bo smiled at the personal shopper who seemed to be either highly intrigued or highly embarrassed at having her in her store. ‘Did you want something?’ Bo asked tiredly. ‘Umm, excuse me for asking.’ The middle-aged and very well presented lady replied. ‘I couldn’t help but notice your adorable necklace. May I ask where you bought it?’ 111

Bo placed her hand upon the silver and turquoise pendant around her slim neck. ‘What this? I made it.’ She replied. ‘You made that?’ The woman, Charlotte, Emma and Sophie chorused. ‘Yes, I sometimes design and make silver jewellery. My mother taught me.’ Bo added. ‘It’s just beautiful.’ The personal shopper said. ‘May I?’ Bo unclipped the clasp and handed the necklace to the woman who examined it closely. ‘And you sell these?’ She asked. ‘Oh no, this is just a one-off. I don’t sell any. I’d love to of course, but Hewbury isn’t really the area for one-off designer jewellery.’ Bo laughed. ‘No, but London is.’ The woman exclaimed. ‘If I was to ask you to make a few items, you could do that?’ ‘What to sell? Here?’ Bo was somewhat taken aback that someone would actually be interested in buying her designs. ‘Yes. I think these would go down a treat. Traditional Romany Jewellery.’ She pictured it in her mind. ‘Mind you I’d have to have a word with our buyer and she won’t be back from Japan until tomorrow. Could I borrow this to show her?’ Charlotte, who was taking it all in, suddenly took charge. ‘She will require a security deposit.’ She said. 112

‘Of course. Will £1’000 be OK? I’ll make sure you get it back just as soon as our buyer has seen it.’ Bo’s mouth dropped open. ‘That will be fine.’ Charlotte added in a business like voice and handed the woman her card informing her of where she could get hold of Bo. Having walked the length and breath of London, Charlotte and co insisted they pay a visit to the famous Pink Lady – a health and beauty salon, favoured by women with more silicone than sense. Bo had been forced to sit for another hour being probed, prodded and plucked, until she could take no more comments about her eyebrows, her nails and her corkscrew curly red hair. Actually she quite liked her just the way she was, thank you very much. Despite agreeing to a manicure and a muddy face-pack thing, she drew the line at another Charlotte look-a-like suggesting she straighten her hair, and have it highlighted with blonde streaks, just like them. ‘Well,’ Bo said as they sat down for lunch at the exclusive Isola restaurant, ‘I can’t quite believe what happened in there.’ Charlotte waved her hand to a waiter and instructed him to bring a bottle of wine to the table. ‘Gosh, I didn’t know you could design jewellery like that!’ Charlotte gushed, ‘just think, if that buyer in Harrods wants it, you’ll be laughing. Of course I’ll deal with all the business side of things for you if you like, I’m good at things like that…oh, hang on, got another voice-mail.’ Charlotte put her mobile to her 113

ear again and smiled to her self – God, this girl was a pushy-pants! ‘Well I think it’s just wonderful.’ Emma gushed in awe of Bo, ‘now to celebrate. What are we going to have to eat?’ Considering it was an Italian restaurant, it would have to be something Italian, such as Gnocchi de Spinancia e Ricotta, whatever that was. Bo would rather have a Big Mac, but seeing as the restaurant didn’t have a big yellow M across its door, and her companions would probably scream themselves to death at the thought of the it, she settled for the strange titled dish, which turned out to be a mixture of spinach and cheese, with a little pasta thrown in for good measure. Emma and Sophie ordered pasta bows with salmon and dill, because they, ‘just adored the pretty little bows!’ and Charlotte opted for something called Polo al Succo Diva – but only because she liked the fact that it had the word Diva in it. Isola had floor to ceiling plate glass windows and for the second time that week Bo felt like a goldfish in a bowl as she picked at her lunch. ‘So come on,’ Sophie said between mouthfuls of pasta, ‘tell us our fortunes.’ ‘What, here?’ Bo said, wishing now that she had said she’d left her Tarot cards back at the Barrington’s. ‘Yes, here.’ Emma said excitedly like a small child, whilst admiring a tiny pasta bow on her silver fork. Bo shrugged, 114

‘Well if you insist.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a well-worn pack of Tarot cards. ‘Oh look, they’re like really ancient looking, just like in that film. What was it? Oh I can’t remember now. I loved that film.’ Sophie gasped dreamily. Having informed Emma that she was indeed going to meet someone special – although he was not going to be tall, dark and handsome as Tara had wrongly predicted – and Sophie that she was gong to get married twice and have two children of her own, plus one step-child and that her future husband would be in the medical profession, Bo frowned when she looked at Charlotte’s cards. ‘Charlotte, I’ve got someone here who is having an affair.’ She said – well might as well come straight out with it. ‘What? Me? No, of course not!’ Charlotte said a bit too quickly for Bo’s liking. The blushing was also a good giveaway. ‘Humm, Okay, well whoever this person is in the cards, you’ve met him before, but you’re being advised to stay clear of him. The cards are telling you he’s trouble Charlotte.’ Bo looked concerned. ‘What Rupert?’ Emma gasped, ‘Rup’s harmless. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ ‘Charlotte’s boyfriend.’ Sophie explained. ‘This person is someone who is older than you.’ Bo said. ‘Well that’s wrong for a start. Rup’s the same age as me.’ Charlotte replied. 115

‘Well this man isn’t Rupert then. This man is much older than you, and by the looks of it he’s already spoken for.’ ‘Well that’s all wrong because the only man I have eyes for is my Rup.’ Charlotte snapped. Her phone signalled that she had another message and she chucked it in her purse without looking at it. ‘Maybe I’ve got it wrong then. But there’s definitely an older man in these cards.’ Bo replied, but she knew she hadn’t got it wrong. Bo’s discrete tarot readings had caught the attention of a young waitress passing by with a bottle of wine. ‘Excuse me?’ The pretty waitress interrupted. Bo blushed. ‘Oh, sorry. We were just…’ ‘It’s OK. I just wondered if you could read my cards for me? I’ve never had a proper reading before.’ The waitress, whose name badge read Olivia, said. ‘Well, I…’ Bo hesitated. ‘Of course she will. She’s a real gypsy you know.’ Charlotte said, glad that the attention had been taken off her. Having returned home with a pair of Sergio Tacchini trainers, – which despite their price were incredibly uncomfortable - an Issey Miyake dress that cost hundreds of pounds and which Bo would probably never wear and a pair of Paul Smith jeans, Bo slumped on the sofa. Isobel was right. All this shopping wore a girl out. It was no wonder she didn’t have a job. 116

The appearance of Charles at her side holding a cordless telephone in his hands made Bo jump. ‘A call for you Miss Bo.’ Charles handed the phone to Bo and smiled. ‘Oh thank you Charles.’ Bo said. ‘Hello?’ ‘Where have you been all day then?’ The familiar voice said down the phone line. ‘Troy!’ Bo said and sat upright. ‘I’ve been shopping with Charlotte and her friends.’ ‘Lovely.’ Troy replied with a hint of sarcasm to his voice. ‘Yes, my thought’s exactly.’ Bo smiled. ‘So why are you not making little puppies better then?’ Bo asked. ‘I phoned to tell you, you were right.’ Troy said, ‘Arrabella’s mare? She is pregnant.’ ‘Ha! Told you so!’ Bo laughed. ‘ ‘Arrabella didn’t know what to say. She reckons it was a lucky guess on your part.’ Troy added. ‘That’s just because I was right and she was wrong. So now you can both apologise to me.’ Bo laughed again. ‘I can do better than that.’ Troy said, ‘Greg’s doing the afternoon surgery, so I thought I’d take you to see Colton Sanctuary. That’s if you still want to go?’ ‘I’d love to.’ Bo smiled. That was another thing she had missed since being in London, the freedom of riding Princess whenever she wanted to. 117

‘Good, I’ll pick you up in twenty then.’ Troy replied. Dressed in her new black Paul Smith jeans, white gypsy-top and the new, and uncomfortable, training shoes, Bo smiled at the magnificent view as she got out of Troy’s Range Rover. You could see acres and acres of green land with grazing horses dotted around, for as far as the eye could see. ‘Look how beautiful and free they are.’ Bo gasped at the sight. ‘Aren’t they just.’ Troy replied leaning on the fence, smiling at her response. ‘You know they’re from all over the world. Spain, the States, they’ve even got some from Japan here.’ He added. Troy was also sporting black jeans, teamed with a blue polo shirt, beneath a green wax jacket. He pushed a hand through his dark, freshly cropped hair. Troy was so pleased that Bo had accepted his invitation and she looked as beautifully mysterious as the first time he’d been introduced to her at the Barrington’s house that night. ‘So you want to go for a ride then?’ Troy smiled. ‘You bet I do.’ Bo said. ‘Come on then, I took the liberty and asked at the stables to get two ready for us.’ Bo looked down to where the stables were. A small group of people could be seen waving placards and banners. Troy intercepted her thoughts. ‘The demonstrators.’ He nodded in their direction, ‘they come here everyday. No one ever knows when 118

Tristan and his business cronies are going to turn up.’ His jaw tightened. ‘So why aren’t you down there with them protesting?’ Bo asked. ‘I have a job to do young lady, remember? And besides, can you imagine it if I turned up down there, shouting Save the Sanctuary?’ Troy laughed. ‘Yes I can actually.’ Bo said, with a mischievous look on her face. Having ridden two of the most beautiful black horses from the sanctuary for an hour, Troy and Bo sat down on the wooden fence surrounding the fields. The late sun shone down, warming their backs. ‘So, how come you got involved with the Barrington’s daughter if you’re so opposed to them developing on protected land then?’ Troy shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Well Isobel is hardly the one doing the developing is she? Besides I didn’t know that her father was a property developer when I met her.’ Troy didn’t know who he was trying to convince more, himself or Bo, or even why he was even defending Isobel – guilt maybe? ‘Oh come one. I don’t believe that for a minute.’ Bo heard her self saying. ‘You’ve been engaged to the girl for three years! Even I’ve heard of the Barrington Empire and I live in the middle of nowhere. He’s managed to destroy a lot of people’s lives in the past and word soon gets around. Mind you, I have to admit that had I known I would be 119

staying with him and his family, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place.’ ‘But that doesn’t mean that I’m the same as him.’ Troy said. ‘So it doesn’t bother you in the slightest that you’re going to marry into all of this then?’ Bo pushed a red curl out of her eye and stared at him. He was so good looking, but there was a sadness in those gorgeous brown eyes of his. ‘Well, you know what they say. Sometimes your life’s mapped out for you.’ ‘That’s rubbish too.’ Bo smiled, ‘as far as I’m concerned, life is what you make it.’ ‘Maybe, maybe not.’ Troy shrugged. A few bronze and red leaves flew past them and Bo’s gaze followed their journey. ‘OK, put it this way, if I was your fairy Godmother and I granted you three wishes, what would you wish for?’ ‘You’re far too young and far too pretty to be a fairy Godmother.’ Troy laughed. He said I was pretty, Bo thought, her stomach doing that horrible flip-flop thing again. ‘No, go on. What would you wish for? Really wish for?’ For some reason Bo found her self intrigued to know how this handsome, but unhappy mans mind worked. Troy picked at a loose splinter of wood on the fence and thought for a moment. 120

‘Truthfully?’ he asked. ‘Truthfully.’ No one had ever asked Troy what he really wanted. ‘Well, I’d like what most people would like I suppose. To be rich and happy with someone I loved.’ ‘And you’re not with Isobel?’ Bo’s heart began to thump faster, daring to ask the question. ‘Well, yes, I guess so, but… well she’s….’ ‘Very different to you?’ Bo added. ‘Yes. Very different.’ Troy mused. ‘Okay, second wish.’ ‘Humm, second wish. You know what? I’d love to have somewhere like this.’ Troy smiled, waving his arms out wide to emphasise the vastness of the sanctuary. ‘Mind you, I can’t see Isobel being happy with mucking out horses for a living, can you?’ Troy laughed at the thought of it. ‘And three?’ ‘To be healthy and content, like everyone else, I guess.’ Troy said shrugging his shoulders once again. ‘Okay your go.’ ‘Me?’ Bo thought for a moment. ‘Okay, well firstly I’d be quite happy to sell my designer jewellery to the millionaires who frequent Harrods!’ she laughed. ‘It’s possible.’ Troy said, admiring Bo’s elegant bronze neck which was now minus the turquoise and silver pendant he’d admired at the party. 121

‘I’d like to have enough money so that I could provide for my family.’ Bo added, wondering for a moment what her family were up to right now and how they were getting on with Isobel. ‘And thirdly?’ Troy asked. Bo blushed and dropped her head down. ‘I’d… oh it doesn’t matter.’ She hesitated. ‘Go on. I told you mine.’ Troy tickled Bo’s side where her gypsy-top had risen slightly. ‘Well,’ what Bo wanted to say was, I would really, really like to kiss you right now, ‘I would really like to be able to go out with a man who my awful brothers actually approved of.’ Bo laughed. ‘And do you think they would approve of me?’ Troy found himself saying without thinking. Bo blushed again. ‘Oh I don’t know about that. Come on, we can’t sit here all day. I’ve got a race to run tomorrow and these bloody trainers are already killing me!’ Oh, now that was a really stupid answer to give Bo Sanderson! Shit, why didn’t you just say what you wanted to say? Bo scolded her self. As they walked back to the stables, Troy saw Tristan’s silver BMW parked up. ‘Great, that’s all I need.’ Troy said. Tristan had already spotted the two of them and came bounding over. ‘Well, well, well, what have we here then?’ He smirked at Bo and Troy. 122

‘Hello Tristan.’ Troy said, moving slightly way from Bo, ‘what are you doing here?’ ‘Well I could ask you the same question.’ Tristan said, ‘Not thinking of joining the protestors are you Troy?’ ‘No. I was just showing Bo the sanctuary.’ Troy replied. ‘And it’s beautiful.’ Bo added, ‘Why you would ever want to develop on this is beyond me Tristan.’ ‘There’s no money in keeping knackered horses my girl.’ Tristan put his chubby arm around Bo. ‘But there’s plenty in destroying them and building some sort of health club is there?’ ‘Of course there is my dear. I’ve told Troy, it’s all very well you animal lovers getting on your soap box but that won’t keep the economy going you know. Err, away from the car please.’ Tristan turned round to confront one of the protestors, who approached him. ‘You’re nothing but a piece of shit Barrington!’ The youth with a pierced nose and waving a placard with Save the Sanctuary hastily written on it, shouted in his face. ‘Yeah, yeah, save your breath son.’ Tristan turned to face his future son-in-law and his new house guest. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift back to the house.’ He patted Bo’s bottom, making her jump. ‘So you’re a bit of an animal lover then?’ Tristan asked Bo as they drove back to the house. 123

‘Of course I am. I’m a gypsy and I live in the middle of the countryside don’t I?’ Bo said, ‘And I think you’re making a big mistake in knocking down the Sanctuary.’ Tristan laughed, ‘Oh you young girls. I don’t know. No business sense.’ He laughed again. Patronising bastard, Bo thought. The tune of God Save the Queen rang out in little melodic bleeps, signalling that Tristan’s mobile phone was ringing. Glancing down at the screen he quickly switched it off. ‘Don’t mind me.’ Bo said, staring out of the car window. How she wished Tristan hadn’t shown up when he did. ‘Oh it’s only business stuff.’ Tristan coughed. ‘Right here we are. You go on in. I’ll be in, in a minute.’ Bo jumped out of the car and did as she was told. Tristan was behaving very oddly, but then, so far, everything about this trip had been a bit odd. And he wasn’t the only one behaving oddly either. When Bo reached the kitchen, Charles was standing behind Clarissa, expertly showing her how to fold a white napkin into a swan. Maybe she would just pop upstairs to her room instead of getting a cup of tea.

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CHAPTER EIGHT With her left arm in plaster, Isobel could do little else than rely on Cain to help her into his black Levellers t-shirt. Her pink cashmere sweater was well and truly ruined thanks to diving under the crusher, not to mention having to have the sleeve cut off to enable the nurse to set her arm in place. Izzy silently thanked God that Kieran had had the foresight to choose matching and very expensive under wear for her this morning. She shivered, unsure whether this was due to the shock, the cold autumnal breeze wafting in from the automatic doors in the hospital waiting room, or Cain’s hands on her back as he carefully pulled the, ‘one size fits all’, t-shirt over her head. Cain pulled her long blonde hair out of the shirt and smoothed it down. ‘There. Good as new.’ He smiled. ‘You OK now?’ Isobel nodded. Now dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans and black Doc Martin boots, Isobel found it hard not to stare at Cain’s very muscular and very tanned torso. This was one seriously good looking guy – in a scruffy sort of way, Isobel thought. ‘We’d better get back so I can return your shirt.’ Isobel said, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and childlike. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m strong, I can take the cold.’ Cain smiled, ‘besides, we’ve got to wait for your prescription to be made up.’ 125

Cain looked down to his feet for a moment. ‘That was a brave thing you did today. Thanks. Kieran had lost the notebook you gave him under the crusher. That’s why he went under there.’ ‘Kids eh?’ Isobel smiled. The notebook had obviously meant more to Kieran than she realised. ‘So I guess that’s it then.’ Cain said. ‘What do you mean?’ Isobel looked up at Cain who shrugged his bare shoulders. ‘Well I doubt you’ll want to stay here now, what with a broken arm and all.’ ‘What and have everyone say, I told you so? I don’t think so.’ Isobel protested, despite the thought of lying in her own four-poster bed and being pampered by everyone being a very appealing thought right now. Cain’s stomach felt like a flock of butterflies had just invaded it. ‘Right. Well… that’s good then.’ Cain tried to sound as if he didn’t care one way or the other if Isobel got the next taxi out of there. ‘Besides I could do with you giving me a hand at the market tomorrow.’ ‘Market?’ ‘Yeah, it’s where we sell all our produce. We take things the elders have made and sell them there.’ Cain explained, helping Isobel to her feet. ‘Oh. So is that your kind of business then? I mean, it’s what do you do for money? Do you get a salary or an allowance?’ Isobel asked as they made their 126

way back to the recovery truck parked in the Ambulance Only bay. ‘A salary? An allowance?’ Jesus kid, you’ve got a lot to learn about how we live haven’t you?’ Cain laughed. ‘What we earn as a family gets put into the pot.’ Cain explained. ‘All gypsies work for themselves. When you’ve got a big family like us, you help each other out.’ ‘Gosh! But what do you do if you need something? A pair of shoes for example? I mean, do you have to OK it with all the family first?’ Isobel, who was used to having never-ending amounts of credit cards and cash every week, couldn’t quite contemplate having to actually ask someone for money. ‘Well yeah, I guess.’ Cain shrugged, helping Isobel into the passenger seat. ‘Gosh that’s awful. I mean how old are you? And you’ve got to ask your family for money to buy a pair of shoes. I can give you money if you need it.’ ‘Look, don’t pity me Isobel. We don’t all have a rich daddy to rely on you know. I do alright on my own thanks and I’m not a charity.’ Cain snapped as he turned the ignition. Isobel realised that she’d touched a raw nerve and decided to refrain from the subject anymore. As they pulled up into the yard, Kieran, whose little angelic face now sported some nasty red scratches, jumped up and down with excitement. Cain tooted the horn and waved at him. Within seconds residents came out of their respective homes to 127

welcome them home. Uncle Bob and Billy Senior opened the passenger door and lifted Isobel high up into the air and on to their shoulders. Antoinette ran out from the laundry annex with her arms outstretched. ‘Isobel!’ she shrieked as Uncle Bob and Billy Senior carefully placed Isobel on the ground. Antoinette threw her arms around her and smothered her in her ample bosom. God, her bras must be made by British Steel! Isobel winced as her left arm got crushed again. ‘How can I ever thank you?’ She said in her strong Irish accent. ‘The good Lord has sent us an angel Billy.’ She smiled and cupped Izzy’s face in her hot chubby hands. ‘And look at you?’ Antoinette looked her up and down, ‘You’re so skinny. We must feed you up my girl, so we will have a party tonight. You eat as much as you can. You dance a jig and you enjoy a traditional gypsy party, yes?’ Isobel nodded, wondering where all that had come from. Two days ago they couldn’t stand the sight of her and said she was a stuck-up cow. Today she was the hero of the hour, which was quite nice actually. For the first time Isobel felt like she belonged to a real family, with real family values – even if it was only for two weeks. By the time Isobel had managed to change into a light blue sleeveless Valentino dress and put a pair of gold sandals on with one hand and a little help from Kieran, the party was in full swing. ‘Wow!’ Isobel exclaimed as she entered the marquee. 128

Thousands of blinking coloured fairy lights covered the ceiling and walls of the make-shift room and anyone and everyone was there dressed in all their finery – men in pristine white shirts, cravats and red braces; women in long colourful flowing skirts, gypsy tops, lace-up boots and enough gold between them to re-stock Tiffanys should it ever need restocking. A band consisting of two violinists, a saxophonist, a guitarist, a drummer and a harmonica, were getting everyone into the spirit of things by playing a traditional Irish jig. A cheer suddenly erupted in the room as someone spotted Isobel. ‘She’s here!’ Isobel screamed, as people she’d never met before, swarmed towards her. Within seconds she was hoisted high up into the air and carried towards the stage in the middle of the room. As she was carefully placed on the stage, the crowd of relations erupted again at the sound of someone shouting, ‘Hip, Hip Hooray!’ Isobel looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights as hundreds of flowers and shreds of glittered ribbon showered down on her. ‘Quiet!’ Billy Senior shouted to the crowd. The music came to a sudden halt and the congregation fell silent, staring in awe at the ‘Gypsy King’. Isobel blushed as everyone looked in her direction. ‘I would like to make an announcement.’ Bo’s father shouted, placing his hands placed on his ample hips. 129

‘As you are aware, our little Kieran had a very near accident today and it’s only thanks to this young girl’s quick thinking and actions that he is still with us today.’ Isobel blushed again – God, her cheeks were hot. The man, who only hours earlier, was so rude and obnoxious towards her, put a hefty arm around Isobel and pulled her close to him. She tried not to choke as she inhaled his cheap aftershave. ‘With this in mind, we are holding this party in honour of Isobel and we welcome her into our family.’ Billy grabbed Isobel’s shocked face in his sweaty hands and kissed her hard on both cheeks. Stunned, Isobel silently prayed her face wouldn’t come out in a shavers’ rash or bruise marks, or both, the following morning. She equally prayed that the kissing on two cheeks didn’t mean she would wake with a horses head next to her in her bed. ‘And as a token of our thanks and by way of a traditional gypsy welcome…’ Billy beckoned some children to the front of the stage. Isobel bent down as a little blonde girl placed a garland of, what looked very much like willow branches and dead leaves with a few red roses entwined into it for good measure. ‘It goes on yer ed.’ The blonde girl whispered. ‘Oh right, um, thank you.’ Isobel replied – she would have preferred something gold and shiny, but this was obviously of some significance to this culture. 130

A cheer shot up again as Isobel placed the garland on her head. ‘Right, let’s not waste any more time. Let the party begin!’ With an almighty cheer, Billy grabbed Isobel’s hand and charged towards the dance floor as the band struck up with a fast jig. Isobel couldn’t help but laugh as Bo’s father swung her round and round by her one working arm in time with the music. Before she knew it, the dance floor was heaving with family and friends, all dancing, drinking and having a thoroughly good time. As Isobel twirled around for the umpteenth time, being careful not to bump her arm, she caught sight of Cain, standing in the middle of the stage with a violin in his hands. The fairy lights dancing across the ceiling highlighted his tanned skin. Dressed in a black shirt and black trousers he looked like a model about to walk confidently on to the catwalk. Isobel’s stomach did a flip as Cain looked up from placing the microphone into its holder, caught her gaze and winked. God, why did he do that? Isobel suddenly felt an emotion she had never felt before – guilt? In truth she hadn’t thought about Troy once since she’d been here – mind you, to be fair, she had been busy, what with avoiding being shot at, stripping old bangers and saving children, but still… Cain’s voice interrupted Isobel’s thoughts as he shouted, one, two, three, four, and the band started playing Beautiful Day by The Levellers. As he sang, ‘It was on the fifth of November’ all the women, nieces, aunts and young teenage girls screamed in 131

adoration as Cain smiled and sang his heart out. Gosh, he was actually very good, Isobel thought as she watched him play to the gathering at his feet. Half way through the song Cain picked up his violin and began playing solo. The mini-crowd screamed again as he closed his eyes and played the instrument as fast as he could. Isobel couldn’t believe her eyes. Although she’d never heard of the song – she was more a Kylie fan than folk-gypsy-music – he had a charisma that she’d never seen before. He was passionate about his music and it showed. The crowd, the majority albeit being distant relatives, were going mad for him. Any minute now, Isobel thought, and they’d be throwing their knickers at him! As the song came to an end, Cain flashed a smile at Isobel, who couldn’t help but smile back. For the strangest reason she suddenly felt so proud of him standing up there on the make-shift stage. Cain shouldn’t be recovering break-downs for a living. He should be wowing crowds at Wembley Arena. ‘Thank you!’ Cain bowed modestly with his violin and thanked the rest of the band as everyone cheered. ‘Cain, over here! I’ll get you a drink!’ A young girl, dressed in little more than a bikini and high heels shouted, as she blew kisses to the stage. Slut! Isobel thought, silently praying that he wouldn’t take up the girl’s offer. Gosh, was that a pang of jealousy? ‘Yeah, in a minute Heidi.’ ‘Give us another Cain… and a song!’ Another girl shouted in his direction. Cain laughed, showing that 132

cute dimple in his cheek. Isobel fumed inside. God, those girls couldn’t be much older than 16 or 17 and they were throwing themselves at him. Bloody tarts! ‘He’s good isn’t he?’ Billy senior said to Isobel. ‘Yes, very good, and popular too.’ Isobel added, nodding in the direction of the young girls’ who had gathered around him. ‘Humm. Girl’s from the village. Our Cain’s never short of companionship, if yer know what I mean.’ Billy laughed and nudged Isobel. ‘Come on, food time. We’ve got something for you to try over here. Roasted hedgehog, you’ll love it.’ Bo’s father enthused. ‘Hedgehog?’ Isobel cringed, looking over her shoulder to try and see who Cain was talking to, as she was escorted to the buffet table by Billy Senior. Having reluctantly sampled the roasted hedgehog, which just happened to be considered a delicacy in the Sanderson clan and tasted very much like roast chicken, Isobel scanned the room to see if she could see Cain. She could. He was laughing and joking with the two tarts from the village. Heidi giggled as Uncle Bob accidentally dropped a green olive down her bikini top. ‘Want to get that for me Cain.’ Heidi smiled and thrust her chest out to Cain. God, talk about offering yourself on a plate, Isobel thought. Anyway, what did she care? Another week or so and she’d probably never see Cain again anyway. Besides, it was up to him if he wanted to behave like some over-grown playboy. 133

As she was the guest of honour, Isobel thought it only polite to talk to mingle and soon found her self backed into a corner talking to Auntie Mo about tractors. Isobel nodded politely as Mo proceeded to tell her about the ‘good old days’ when all they had to farm with was a Shire horse and track. Isobel nodded in all the right places and pretended to appear interested – she hadn’t gone to finishing school for nothing. As Auntie Mo drifted off mid-sentence, Isobel took her chance to make an escape. Her arm was hurting and she was feeling drowsy from the pain killers she’d taken. Isobel left the marquee unnoticed, or so she thought. Sam, sporting a fresh black eye and a cut lip, watched Isobel return to Bo’s caravan and switch the light on. Isobel winced as she pulled her dress over her head and changed into a new pair of silk pyjamas. It had been a long day and she really didn’t feel like making her diary entries tonight. All she wanted to do was go to sleep, which is exactly what she did. Isobel was mid-way through a dream about a huge beef tomato rolling down a hill after her, when a strange smell made her nostrils twitch. She brushed her nose with her hand and rolled over on to her side. Must get away from that tomato before it was too late. What was that smell? Despite desperately wanting to get away from the huge tomato the strong smell was beginning to interrupt her dream. Isobel’s nostrils twitched again. What was it? Smoke? Burning? Shit! Burning! Isobel sat bolt upright and 134

banged her head. Despite opening her eyes, she couldn’t see anything in front of her. Thick grey smoke swirled around the tiny caravan. If she was still dreaming, she’d better wake up now she thought to herself and quickly shook her head. Nope, she wasn’t dreaming. So if she wasn’t dreaming, then why was the caravan full of smoke? And why was the floor of the caravan warm underfoot? ‘Oh my God! It’s on fire!’ Isobel screamed. Cain came out of the marquee for a cigarette. He hadn’t seen Isobel since he’d spotted her talking to Auntie Mo and was wondering where she’d got to. Blowing a stream of white smoke into the cold night air, he glanced up to see Sam running out of the site at a rate of knots. ‘Sam?’ Cain shouted after him. Sam looked over his shoulder and ran down the track and into the darkness. Cain shrugged his shoulders – bloody weirdo. He inhaled another puff of his cigarette and looked up at the bright moon. His gaze wandered around the site as he contemplated life. The marquee was buzzing with children shouting, women singing and dancing and the men propping up the make-shift bar. They’d be calling him in to sing another song any minute he thought as he threw the cigarette to the floor and extinguished it with his boot. Cain’s thoughts reluctantly returned to Isobel again and he looked towards the site of row after row of caravans. A trail of smoke seemed to be coming from one of the trailers. Probably one of the elders lighting a fire, Cain guessed. 135

Hang on, all the elders were at the party and that wasn’t the slim trail of smoke that you would get from a small fire. It was actually quite a significant amount of smoke, from something other than the burning of a few apple wood branches. The type you would get if something was actually on fire. ‘Shit!’ Cain shouted and started to run to where the smoke was coming from. As he ran into the site he immediately saw where the smoke was coming from - Bo’s caravan. Cain suddenly felt sick. The caravan, which by now was surrounded by a thick grey smoke, was engulfed, with flames flicking up from beneath it. Suddenly one of the small windows smashed and he saw a tiny hand reach out of it. ‘Shit! Isobel!’ Cain cried. ‘Hang on kid!’ he shouted as he ripped his black shirt off, dunked it in the kids’ paddling pool and threw it over his head. Heidi, who had come out of the marquee in search of Cain, caught sight of the flames overwhelming the top of one of the caravans and ran back inside to get help. Cain ran towards the caravan door and could hear Isobel screaming for him. Pulling at the melted door handle, the handle came off in his hands. The overwhelming smell of petrol wafted up from the ground. ‘Unlock the door Isobel!’ he shouted as loud as he could. ‘I can’t! Help me Cain!’ Isobel screamed. Isobel had never been so frightened in her life when the sudden realisation hit her that she hadn’t locked 136

the door behind her, meaning that someone else had. Screaming she stood next to Bo’s bed as the heat and smoke rose around her. Was this how she was going to die? Overcome by the smoke Izzy slumped down on the bed. Was this really how she was going to die? Battling the flames lapping their way around the caravan, Cain started to kick the door to the caravan. ‘Here Cain!’ Si, who had raised the alarm, shouted and threw Cain a sledgehammer. ‘Cain, come back!’ Antoinette shouted after her son. ‘Isobel’s in there!’ Cain shouted back as he raised the sledgehammer above his head and brought it crashing down, smashing the door into melted pieces. ‘Isobel!’ Cain shouted as he stepped inside the smoke-filled van. He couldn’t see anything for thick grey smoke and felt his way around until he found a silk covered leg. ‘Come on kid.’ He said pulling Isobel on to his shoulder. Running out into the yard with Isobel thrown over his shoulder, Cain looked back. ‘Get back!’ he shouted to the small crowd that had gathered in the site. The explosion of the caravan made everyone scream and run for cover. Cain lay Isobel down on a blanket his mother had fetched out and felt her neck for a pulse. ‘She’s breathing.’ He looked at his mother. ‘Look after her for me a minute mam.’ ‘But, where are you going?’ Antoinette asked. 137

‘To find Sam.’ Cain snapped. Cain knew exactly where he would find Sam. He might think himself an ex-SAS solider, but the delinquent cousin of his wasn’t blessed with the same intelligence. Cain spotted Sam standing underneath a tree. Despite being dressed from head to toe in black, the red glow from his cigarette was somewhat a give away that it was Sam. Cain crept quietly around to the other side of the tree and pulled a length of bindweed from the ground. Sam inhaled his cigarette and blew out the smoke. As he did so he started to choke. Not from the smoke, but from the tightness pulling around his throat. Cain pulled the bind weed tighter around his neck, dragging Sam to the floor. ‘Aghhh!’ Sam choked as he brought his hands up to his neck and wrestled with his attacker. ‘Right, you start giving me some answers you little bastard or that will be the last fag you ever have!’ Cain warned. ‘I don’t know nothing.’ Sam choked. Cain tightened his grip. ‘Don’t lie to me you little shit. I saw you running away from the site. You set fire to Bo’s caravan with Isobel inside didn’t you?’ Cain yanked even harder at the twine around Sam’s neck. Sam, wide eyed and frightened, shook his head. ‘I didn’t. Honest. I didn’t do it.’ He coughed. ‘I said don’t lie. You were there. I saw you.’ Cain spat in his face. 138

‘I swear. On Granny D’s life, I didn’t do it.’ Sam said. Cain relaxed his grip slightly. ‘Who did it then? Who set fire to the caravan Sam? You know you’ll be going back to that detention centre after this, don’t you? That’s if the others don’t get hold of you first. You’ll never be able to show yourself around here again. You’ll be hunted down like an animal.’ Cain snarled, ‘now tell me who set fire to Bo’s caravan.’ Cain released the rope around Sam’s neck and placed his boot on his stomach. Petrified, Sam didn’t dare move. ‘I promise you Cain, It weren’t me that set fire to it. I swear. I was….’ ‘What? You were what?’ ‘I saw Isobel go in there and I was gonna give her some flowers I picked, to say sorry for…. you know, shooting at her when she first arrived and…’ ‘And what?’ ‘I… when I got there the place was on fire.’ Sam stuttered. ‘Don’t talk crap!’ Cain shouted. ‘You did it, didn’t you?’ ‘No! I didn’t. Honest Cain.’ Sam replied. Cain brought his foot up and pushed it into Sam’s throat. ‘It wasn’t me Cain. It was…’ ‘Who?’ ‘It was… I can’t say.’ 139

‘You either tell me who it was or I’m going to hand you over to the family. They’ll make mincemeat of you Sam. You know they will.’ Cain snarled. ‘It was Jim. Cousin Jim.’ Sam finally said. ‘What? Jimmy?’ Cain looked puzzled for a moment. ‘He doesn’t even live here. He lives up London way.’ ‘He knew that Isobel was a Barrington and when he heard she was living here… well he said he was coming down to sort her family out once and for all for getting them thrown off their land.’ Sam explained, rubbing his sore neck. ‘So you’re telling me Cousin Jimmy came all the way down here to get revenge on the Barringtons?’ Sam nodded. ‘I thought he was joking, but when I saw him on site setting fire to Bo’s caravan, I panicked. You don’t mess with Jimmy. You know that Cain.’ ‘Oh yes I do.’ Cain replied, throwing Sam back to the ground. When Cain had returned, Isobel was wrapped up in blankets and fast asleep on his bed with Kieran smoothing down her long blonde hair. ‘I thought we’d better get her led down and warm.’ Antoinette stood over the pair of them and smiled. ‘The doctor’s been to look her over and says she’s fine. A little smoke inhalation, but nothing serious.’ ‘Thanks mam.’ Cain smiled. 140

‘Is she gonna be alright?’ A worried Kieran looked up at his brother. ‘She’ll be fine. Now go and get some sleep.’ Cain reassured. Cain sat next to Isobel for the next few hours talking to her – well talking to himself actually, seeing as she was fast asleep. ‘I’m sorry kid.’ He whispered. ‘Sorry you got hurt. It wasn’t your fault, it was that fucking half-wit. But don’t you worry, coz I’m gonna sort him out. He’ll be sorry he’s messed with you.’ Cain licked his thumb and wiped a smudge of black from Isobel’s cheek. ‘You know you’re alright as it goes – for a Londoner that is. It can’t have been easy for you, coming into all this. We’re a weird bunch.’ He laughed. ‘Anyway I expect after all this you’ll be going home tomorrow. God knows what your family’s gonna say about all this’ Cain sighed. ‘I’ll come with you if you like?’ He half-joked, pulling the blanket up around Izzy’s neck he turned his back to her. ‘I bet you’re sick of the sight of us all by now. What I’d give to be able to just up sticks and… and be with you. I think… Shit, this is madness.’ Cain rubbed his face. ‘You know I don’t fall for anyone. I’m my own man and all that. But… well, I think I’m falling in love with you.’ Cain whispered to himself. Isobel opened her eyes and smiled to herself.

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CHAPTER NINE It was the morning of the charity race and Bo emerged from Isobel’s bedroom to face chaos downstairs in the kitchen. ‘Parker! Come here!’ Crystal was shouting from one side of the room to the other where Charles was helping Clarissa to prepare breakfast. ‘I thought I told you to answer the door, not help her! I don’t pay you to do the cook’s job you know!’ She tut-tutted, waggling a perfectly manicured finger in front of Charles’s face. Charles, who was so obviously used to being spoken to like a piece of dog-poo, bowed his head and retreated to answer the front door. ‘Are you going to let her speak to you like that?’ Bo whispered as she passed Charles in the hallway. Charles simply smiled at Bo. ‘Now Bo dear, come and have some breakfast and then get changed. We’ve got the press arriving in half an hour.’ Crystal ordered from the kitchen chair, as a very flamboyant man re-quaffed her hair for her. ‘I am changed.’ Bo smiled, grabbing a piece of toast from the silver toast rack. Crystal peered at Bo from beneath her glasses. ‘You are not serious?’ she laughed, looking at Bo’s attire of denim shorts, a white vest top – minus bra - and her new Tacchini trainers – minus socks. ‘Why? What’s wrong with this?’ Bo asked. Crystal raised her eyes to the ceiling and then looked at the hair stylist who was frantically trying to do 142

something with her hair and who gave Bo a look of pity. ‘That will never do. Look there’s a DK tack-suit in that bag for you. Put that on.’ Crystal ordered. The door bell rang out again. ‘Oh that will be the Reverend.’ Jesus, how many more people were coming to this event? Bo thought through gritted teeth as she grabbed the silver bag with DKNY embossed across it and headed back upstairs to change. Looking rather like the pink panther in the Barbiepink designer track-suit, with DKNY emblazoned in silver across the back that Crystal had forced her to wear, Bo stood at the edge of Holland Park and took a deep breath. The new trainers were already killing her feet and, being the middle of autumn, it was bloody cold too. ‘Right, come along people.’ Crystal ordered clapping her hands at everyone in their group. ’Charlotte dear, go inside and tell Tristan to get a move on. The Press are waiting to take their photographs. Parker, go and get the video camera and tell Clarissa I want refreshments out here now!’ she bellowed. Bo tried running on the spot in a bid to keep warm, but every time she attempted to run, her trainers pinched her feet. How on earth was she going to manage to run 13 miles? An arm flew around Bo’s neck. It was Crystal, hugging Bo towards her and smiling for the photographer who was saying professional things like, ‘Lovely. That’s it lean into the camera.’ And, ‘you’re a natural Mrs Barrington.’ 143

The commotion of the morning had enticed the medical students out of Kings College, along with the members of the squash and tennis courts. The charity race itself consisted of thirty or so contestants, all running for their nominated charity. Bo’s nominated charity – well Isobel’s actually – was the NSPCC. Bo’s thoughts turned to Kieran and she wondered how he was coping with a new older sister in the camp. ‘Are you all ready then?’ The voice made Bo jump. ‘Greg! What are you doing here?’ ‘I thought you could do with a bit of moral support.’ Greg put his arm around Bo and pulled her close to him. ‘So where’s Troy?’ Bo asked, secretly wishing he was here too to cheer her on. ‘Oh he’s on call this morning. So you’ve got me all to yourself.’ Greg smiled as those deep blue eyes lit up. ‘Gregory!’ Tristan’s voice boomed out across the park. Tristan, decked out in a bright orange florescent track-suit with white piping down the arms and legs, bounded over like an excitable tangerine, slapped Bo on the back and jogged vigorously on the spot with his hands on his hips. Smiling and waving at the camera’s, Tristan lent over towards Greg and whispered something out of Bo’s earshot. Greg nodded and Tristan bounded off back towards the house. 144

‘What was all that about?’ Bo asked. ‘What?’ ‘Tristan. What did he want?’ ‘Oh nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Come on, they’re at the starting line. You’d better line up.’ Greg escorted Bo by the arm to the Kyoto Japanese gardens where the starting point was. ‘Can I have your attention please?’ A rather plum, middle-aged woman shouted through a whistling microphone. ‘First and foremost, thank you all for coming here today. This charity run has been organised by the delightful Ms. Isobel Barrington in a bid to raise funds through sponsorship for your nominated charities. Unfortunately for us, Isobel can’t be with us today...’ No, she conveniently managed to get out of this one, Bo thought as she winced her way to the starting line. ‘But in her place we have a young lady by the name of Bo Sanderson who is going to run for Isobel’s nominated charity, the NSPCC. You may have heard of Ms. Sanderson. She’s the one who Isobel courageously swapped lives with for two weeks.’ Everyone turned to face Bo whose face went as pink as her track-suit. The idea of the charity run was to run the equivalent of 13 miles around the parameter of the park – not quite the London marathon, but long enough. Despite the majority of the runners, all decked out in matching lycra shorts, sweat-bands and trainers, and setting off at an almighty pace, Bo 145

decided to settle on a gentle jog – okay, so the fact that the footwear wouldn’t allow her to break into a sprint didn’t help matters, but a gentle jog was good. ‘Catch you when you come round again!’ Greg shouted after her, as Bo jogged after the other competitors. ‘Okey-dokey.’ Bo winced as every step she took felt like she was being stabbed in the foot with a sharp dagger. By the time she had completed one lap of the park, Bo was in agony. The rest of the competitors were already on their third lap. At this rate she was still going to be running at midnight. ‘Just look at her Chrissie, she’s never going to do it.’ Mrs Dead-animal-wearer laughed as Bo limped past them. ‘Poor Izzy. She will be so disappointed. Mind you, it doesn’t surprise me. They’re renowned for being lazy, that lot.’ The woman added. With tears stinging her eyes, Bo stopped for a moment at the refreshments bar where Charles and Clarissa were handing out glasses of fresh orange juice. ‘I don’t think I can do this Charles.’ Bo cried, brushing her hair from her face, ‘my feet are killing me.’ ‘Would these help, Miss Bo?’ Charles produced Bo’s pink flip-flops. ‘Oh Charles! You are a darling!’ Bo kissed Charles on the nose. Charles blushed. Clarissa giggled. 146

‘Right! You want me to bloody run? Then I’ll show you how it’s bloody done!’ Bo snapped at Crystal and her friends. Slamming the glass of orange juice to the ground, she pulled down her pink tracksuit bottoms, to reveal her slender, denim-short clad legs. Bo kicked off the stupid designer trainers and threw the track-suit jacket to the ground, revealing her white vest crop-top. ‘What are you doing?’ shrieked Crystal, quickly picking up the pink track-suit. ‘Do you have any idea how much this cost?’ She shrieked. ‘I can’t run in that crap. If you want me to run, then I’ll do it my way. Bye!’ Bo shouted behind her as she started to sprint around the park. In no time at all Bo had caught up with the other competitors and was now two laps ahead of them. Every time she went pass Crystal and her cronies, Crystal would look daggers at her. Charles and Clarissa quietly applauded and Greg just smirked. Bo had caught the attention of everyone in park even the peacocks showed their appreciation, by fanning their feathers as Bo zoomed past them. This was more like it, Bo thought as she over-took a thin woman who was dressed from head to toe in green lycra and looked very much like a sprinting runner bean. The runner bean cursed Bo. Bo laughed as she ran. This was much more like it. As she shot past Holland House for the sixth time, Bo realised she had only one more lap to do and she was finished. Putting everything she had in it, she sprinted as fast as she could. The medical students, the woods, even the peacocks, all became a blur as she focussed only on 147

the rhythm of her footsteps pounding the concert beneath her. ‘Go on Bo, you’re in the lead. You’re nearly there!’ a voice shouted. Bo looked up to see Troy at the finishing line. He made it, she gasped to herself. He made it! He came especially to see me! With every last ounce of energy in her, Bo ran with all her might towards Troy. God it was good to see a real friendly face. Flashes from camera’s sparkled as she ran towards the red ribbon that was the finish line. Boomph! Bo ran slap bang into Troy’s open arms as she cut through the ribbon. ‘Ouch!’ Troy laughed. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry!’ Bo gasped. Red curls had strayed from her pony-tail and framed her glistening pink face. Not for the first time, Troy noticed her eyes sparkling with joy. The mini-crowd cheered and applauded, Bo blushed again. ‘Don’t be. It’s my pleasure.’ Troy whispered. ‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on call.’ A disgruntled Greg said to Troy. ‘That’s what we’ve got these for.’ Troy smiled, showing Greg the bleeper in his hand. ‘Bo! Over here!’ A press photographer shouted as Bo turned and gave him her best pose. ‘Bo? How did you manage to run in a pair of pink flip-flops?’ A reporter shouted as he shoved a dictaphone under her nose. 148

‘Bo? Do you think you’ll want to stay here in London?’ Another reporter asked. ‘What? Oh no thanks!’ Bo laughed. ‘I think this young lady needs a rest if you don’t mind.’ Greg pounced in and interrupted the series of questions being fired at Bo by the local press. He pushed everyone out of the way, including Troy and put his jacket around Bo’s hot slender shoulders. ‘So are you two an item then?’ The reporter persisted. ‘No, they are not!’ Troy snapped. ‘Might be.’ Greg grinned. ‘I’m going to get a shower.’ Bo said exhaustedly and waved her arm behind her. Crystal could be heard singing Bo’s praises and saying how proud she was of her – well of course she would be, she came first didn’t she, and in a pair of pink flip-flops, Bo thought as she crossed the road to the house. Five minutes peace and quiet, Bo thought as she flopped down on a chair in the kitchen, among the disorder of hair-rollers and setting lotion. Well that was a job well done, even if she did say so. Bo had no idea how much her run had raised for Isobel’s charity, but just to see the look on Crystal and Mrs Dead-animal-wearer’s face was enough to satisfy Bo, she thought and smiled. Bo heard what sounded remarkably like a groan and immediately took her feet off the kitchen table in case Crystal had decided to follow her home. There it was again, and besides, Crystal couldn’t have come 149

home or she would have heard the front door close. What was that noise and where was it coming from? Nosiness getting the better of her, Bo had to find out where the quiet grunting and groaning was coming from. She tiptoed into the hall and peeped around the living room door. Nope, nothing in there. The quiet groaning noise suddenly became heavier and louder and Bo swivelled her head round to face Tristan’s study. That’s where the noise was coming from. Oh my God! What if Tristan’s had a heart attack and is lying in pain? Mind you, the groaning sound didn’t sound like it belonged to someone who was undergoing cardiac arrest. It might have been a while, but Bo recognised the type of groan that was coming from the study. Scared of what she might see, but dying to know what was going on, Bo got down on her hands and knees and quietly pushed the study door open ajar with her head. Well I never! Without making a noise, Bo quietly shuffled backwards on all fours and tiptoed quietly out of the house. The race was still going with a few runners finishing their laps. Crystal was distracted by the vicar and everyone else was cheering the green runner bean on. ‘Pssst! Charles!’ Bo whispered from her hiding spot behind a rather large Japanese Maple tree. ‘Parker!’ Bo whispered again, thinking that he would probably respond better to being called Parker. Charles turned his head around. ‘Miss Bo. What are you doing behind that tree?’ 150

‘Shhhh!’ Bo whispered, ‘Charles, have you still got the video camera?’ ‘Why yes Miss Bo. It’s here.’ ‘Quick, give it to me.’ Bo shot her arm out between two branches. Charles looked bemused. ‘Come on Charles. Camera!’ Bo said through gritted teeth. Charles handed over the pocket-size camera and Bo disappeared again. Bo prayed that she would still have time to get some good footage and shuffled quietly back though the hall on her hands and knees. Pushing the study door slightly she pointed the camera, first at the discarded orange track-suit and white designer underwear on the floor, then at the couple who were sprawled out in a naked embrace on the mahogany desk. ‘It’s show-time.’ Bo whispered under her breath. ‘I just phoned to say congratulations.’ Troy said. ‘Are you okay? I thought you would be coming back to the race after you had a shower.’ Bo smiled as she threw herself backwards onto Isobel’s bed. She knew she should have returned to the post-race party in the park, but she had more important things to concentrate on, so she made her excuses to Charles, saying she had a headache and was going to bed for a few hours. ‘Yes, more than okay.’ Bo replied. ‘So the headache’s better then?’ Troy laughed. Bo imagined those pearly white teeth smiling as he laughed at her. 151

‘Oh yes and I’ve got some information which might be useful to you.’ Bo whispered. ‘For me? What?’ ‘Well.’ Bo paused for a moment to make sure no one was listening behind the door. Having gone out of the front door and back in again, making sure she slammed it behind her, Tristan had breezed past her, shortly followed by Charlotte, who waved and had her mobile attached to her ear in a bid to look as though she was making a very important call. ‘You know what we were talking about the other day? Tristan and the Sanctuary?’ Bo continued. ‘Humm.’ Troy answered. ‘What if I was to tell you that I could guarantee that Tristan won’t be demolishing the Colton Sanctuary?’ Bo smiled. ‘I know you’re a bit wild, but I don’t think even you have the power to stop Tristan Barrington.’ Troy laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it. With the information I’ve got here, I can make sure that Tristan Barrington won’t ever develop on Colton Sanctuary.’ Bo glanced at the small camcorder in her hands and pressed the play button. ‘What information?’ Troy questioned, intrigued by what information Bo might have in her hands. Plus, he just wanted to keep talking to this mysterious woman. As long as she was talking to him on the phone, Greg wasn’t pawing himself all over her. 152

‘I can’t tell you now. Will the protestors be there tomorrow?’ Troy shrugged, ‘Well, yes, I think so. They’re there every day as far as I know. No one ever knows when Tristan and his cronies are going to turn up, so I think they have a rota system. Why?’ ‘Fancy joining them tomorrow?’ Bo sat upright. Even though she was dressed in just her t-shirt-cumnight-shirt and her award winning pink flip-flops, Bo felt determination rise up in her. World domination had nothing on her. ‘You are kidding! Tristan would slaughter us!’ Troy sounded nervous at the thought of his future father-in-law discovering that he had joined the protestors. ‘On no he won’t. Look I’ve got to go. Meet me at the Sanctuary tomorrow morning at 10.30. I know Tristan has a meeting there at 11. I looked in his diary.’ ‘Look Bo. I don’t think this is ….’ ‘Oh well, if you’re all talk and no action then forget it. I’ll go on my own.’ Bo snapped and hung up. The following morning Bo got up before anyone else in the house had stirred and made sure she had everything she needed ready. The roar of a motorbike signalled that Charles was arriving to prepare the breakfast table. Bo peered out of the kitchen window. Well, well, not only was Charles arriving to work, Clarissa was too – riding pillion on Charles’s Harley. 153

Bo smiled. No time for match-making today she thought. I’ve got a protest to get to. Much as she was thankful for the experience of living in a huge posh house and to the Barrington’s for putting her up, she had to draw the line at sitting back and watching someone destroy animals for their own pure greed. Tapping out the phone number for Travel Well Taxi’s, Bo instructed the operator to where she needed picking up from. The taxi pulled up just down the road from the house as instructed and Bo, dressed in a pair of green combat trousers, a black t-shirt and her pink flip-flops jumped into the black cab. ‘Where to Luv?’ ‘Terry!’ Bo squealed. ‘Ello you!’ Terry smiled at her through the rearview mirror, ‘how’s it all going then living the high life?’ Bo rolled her eyes to the ceiling and proceeded to tell Terry all about her eventful stay at the Barrington’s and why she was taking a taxi to Colton Sanctuary at such an hour in the morning. Terry nodded and when he could finally get a word in edgeways he spoke. ‘Well Luv, if you need any help, I’m your man. Don’t forget, I know a lot of what goes on around here.’ He winked at Bo. ‘Thanks Terry, but I think I’ll be okay.’ Bo patted her bag and smiled. 154

Troy was right, the protestors were there, with there banners and flasks in hand. ‘Mind if I join you?’ Bo asked a thin young man with multiple piercing’s in his face. ‘Be my guest. Aren’t you the one who was here the other day? You know Tristan Barrington right?’ Bo nodded, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not the enemy. I want this to remain a sanctuary as much as you do.’ ‘Cool.’ The young man replied. By the time Tristan Barrington rolled up an hour later in a flash dark blue Mercedes, Bo was more than ready to tackle him. There had been no sign of Troy and Bo was disappointed that the one person she thought she could trust and count on for support, was too chicken to help her when she needed most it. Well sod him. If she had to do this alone, then so be it. ‘Oh no, we won’t go!’ The group of protestors began to chant as soon as Tristan got out of the car, closely followed by three other men in expensive suits. Tristan just laughed at the sorry site of protestors – the skinny lad with the piercing; his pregnant girlfriend; a woman who resembled a bag lady; a middle-aged woman who had handcuffed herself to a fence and Bo. Bo? Tristan looked twice and then laughed out loud. ‘I don’t believe it! What are you doing here petal?’ 155

Tristan cupped Bo’s red face in one chubby and sweaty hand. ‘This is the little gypsy waif and stray who is staying with us.’ He enlightened the three men behind him, who in turn laughed at her. ‘Don’t tell me you’re protesting against the development too little Bo Peep?’ He roared with laughter. Bo placed her hands firmly on her hips, trying to stall for time because the script she had spent the previous night rehearsing her speech word perfect, had annoyingly gone completely out of her head. God, he was an ugly man, Bo thought and I wish I could remember what I was going to say. Tristan spoke for her. ‘Well little missy, maybe you can just move your little group of protestors over there to do your protesting while me and the surveyors get on with our work.’ ‘Oh I don’t think so Tristan.’ Bo found the words coming out of her mouth. Once she had started, she couldn’t stop. ‘There is no way you’ll be developing on this land.’ ‘Oh is that right? And how do you think you will stop me?’ Tristan could hardly contain his amusement at Bo. ‘With this!’ Bo announced holding up her bag. ‘With a bag?’ Tristan laughed. ‘No, not the bag. With what’s inside the bag.’ Bo smiled and put her hand into the black bag. ‘I know 156

all about your little liaison with Isobel’s best friend Charlotte and so will your wife if you don’t stop development plans on this site.’ Bo fumbled around in the bag. Shit! Where was the camera? Where was the tape? Feeling her face go on fire, Bo began to panic. Shit! The camera must have fallen out of her bag in the taxi. ‘Charlotte?’ One of the men in a pin-stripped suit asked, ‘What Andrew Jennings daughter?’ Tristan roared with laughter. ‘Well my dear, I don’t know what you’re playing at or quite what you’re talking about. Me and Charlotte Jennings? Please. And what exactly do you have in that bag Bo?’ Tristan grabbed hold of Bo’s bag and pulled it from her shoulder. ‘Ah, just as I suspected. Nothing.’ Tristan laughed and showed the empty bag to everyone. ‘Now maybe you should run along now and let the men get on with their work.’ Tristan patted Bo on the head. ‘Why you patronising…’ ‘Bo!’ a voice shouted from the side of the road. Troy and Terry the taxi driver were standing waving the silver camcorder in the air. ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’

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CHAPTER TEN With her chest sore from smoke inhalation and her arm still in plaster, Isobel awoke and winced with pain. The early morning sun streamed through the small windows of Cain’s 30 foot trailer. Her new abode was much more to her liking. With the white fascia outside, it resembled more of a small homely bungalow than a caravan. It was spacious, warm and cosy, with fur rugs adorning the floor. Okay, so it was still a bloody caravan, but at least it didn’t resemble a tin can like Bo’s. God, that was a point, Bo didn’t actually have a caravan to call her own anymore, did she? Isobel’s thoughts returned to the previous night’s events. Who would hate her so much that they would want to set her on fire? She peeped under the mockfur blanket that had been placed over her, shocked to see that she was no longer wearing her silk pyjamas. She was wearing nothing but a black t-shirt that was miles too big for her. Cain’s? Isobel suddenly remembered the words he said to her last night – that he was falling in love with her. She hadn’t been dreaming it, had she? No, he definitely said he thought he was falling in love with her. The question was though, was she meant to hear it? Probably not. Before she could dwell on it any further the caravan door opened. ‘Welcome back sleeping beauty.’ Cain smiled as he kicked the door shut with his foot. ‘How are you feeling today?’ 158

Cain was carrying a large basket of logs in his arms and looking incredibly beautiful, in a rugged sort of way, Isobel thought. Dressed in a pair of black Levis, black boots and a grey t-shirt, his dark hair had been tousled by the wind outside. ‘Not too bad, thank you.’ Isobel smiled. ‘Good. Right, let’s get this going. It’s a bit cold out there.’ Cain placed some of the logs into the small fireplace, took out a box of matches from his pocket and lit one. Isobel gasped as she stared into the flame of the match, her face froze with fear. Cain glanced over his shoulder. ‘Shit!’ he said, looking at the distraught expression on Isobel’s face. ‘God I’m so sorry.’ He panicked, stamping out the small flames that had started in the fireplace, ‘I didn’t think.’ Fresh tears ran down Isobel’s face, which was still tainted with grey smoke. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ Cain said, rushing over to the bed to console her. He placed his arms around Izzy and cradled her to his chest, rocking her to and fro. ‘I don’t know what I did wrong.’ Isobel cried, ‘why would someone want to kill me?’ She cried again. ‘I tried. I really tried to fit in. I know I was a complete and utter pain in the arse to start with, but I’m not used to living like this.’ She wiped the back of her good hand across her nose – a wipe Kieran would have been proud of.

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‘It wasn’t anything you did.’ Cain pulled her in closer to him. Despite the aroma of smoke from the fire, he could still smell Isobel’s trade mark scent. ‘So why did someone set fire to Bo’s caravan – with me inside? They locked the door Cain and I couldn’t get out.’ Isobel felt like a small child all over again and moved closer into Cain’s chest for comfort. ‘It was because of your dad.’ Cain thought she had the right to know. ‘My dad?’ Isobel looked up, ‘what’s my father got to do with it?’ ‘You dad’s Tristan Barrington, the property developer isn’t he?’ Isobel nodded. ‘He got one of my cousins evicted from his site up London way. Joined forces with the council and got the whole family evicted. This was his way of paying him back.’ ‘What to try and kill me?’ ‘Certainly looks that way. I’m sorry. But the police are after him. It won’t be long before they catch up with him. When someone upsets the family, they don’t get away with it and I doubt very much if anyone will hide him from the cops.’ Cain smiled at Izzy and brushed a single tear away that was rolling hopelessly down her cheek. Isobel looked up at him, feeling helpless and small. ‘I’ll call your dad in a minute and tell him what’s happened. Ask him to come and pick you up.’ Cain 160

whispered in her ear and smoothed her hair down the side of her face. Isobel looked up at him, her eyes wide, glistening with tears. ‘I don’t want to go home. Not just yet.’ She sniffed, ‘okay so I’ve been shot at, shouted at, broken my arm and nearly set on fire this week, but… well I just don’t want to go home yet.’ Cain stared down at the beautiful and yet at the same time petrified little face looking up at him, moving closer to his. Without hesitating Isobel placed her good arm around Cain’s neck and pressed her lips gently against his. Cain held her tightly in his arms as he returned the passionate and lingering kiss. God, he hadn’t realised just quite how much he had wanted this and now, any differences between them, their families and their lifestyles, were quickly forgotten. All he wanted, more than anything in his life, was for this kiss to last forever. Isobel clung tightly to Cain. The kiss was electrifying. She had never felt safer than she felt right now. Suddenly her eyes opened. Oh my God! What about Troy? ‘Oh no!’ Isobel said, putting her hand to Cain’s mouth. ‘I…. I can’t do this.’ Cain looked shocked for a moment. ‘I’m sorry.’ He hung his head. The gypsy-boy, who always looked as though nothing would ever upset him, now resembled a wounded man. ‘I’m sorry.’ Cain said again as he let go of Izzy, got up and headed for the door. 161

‘Cain. Wait!’ Isobel whispered, but it was too late, he had disappeared out the door again. After a few minutes the door to Cain’s caravan opened again. Isobel sat upright in anticipation that Cain had decided to return after all. ‘Can I come in?’ a small voice asked. It was Kieran, dressed in a smart uniform of grey trousers and a burgundy V-neck sweater. ‘Kieran!’ Isobel cried and opened her arms to greet him, ‘look at how smart you look young man!’ She admired the little boy who shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his little shoulders. ‘Me mam says I gotta go to school today, else they’ll send the officials round again.’ He said glumly. ‘And you don’t want to go?’ Isobel asked. ‘Nope! I wanna stay here with you. They don’t like me there, at that school. They’re all bloody horrible to me.’ Kieran sniffed. ‘Don’t swear Kieran. It’s not nice.’ Isobel smiled as Kieran scuffed his new black school shoes on the floor. ‘If it’s any consolation, I didn’t like school either.’ ‘Yeah, but you don’t av to go now do you? I do. Me mam says I gotta learn to read and rite.’ Kieran protested, ‘I gotta go till I’m bloody 11!’ he added. ‘Don’t swear Kieran, it’s not nice and anyway I think you might have to go a bit longer than that.’ Isobel laughed. 162

‘No,’ Kieran protested, ‘all gypsies leave school at 11. We men go and help our dads and learn the family trade. I’ll be working with me dad and Cain in the yard and then when I’m older it will be my business.’ Kieran said proudly. ‘Oh, right. Well, in that case, you haven’t got long to wait then have you?’ Kieran tut-tutted and raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I’m only five years old you know!’ he said. Isobel so wanted to make him happy again. Okay, so she wasn’t the maternal kind of girl and as a rule detested small, smelly, noisy children, but Kieran was…well different. He had an old head on young shoulders and Izzy felt an affinity with him, which had taken her by surprise. ‘Tell you what.’ Isobel said as she kicked the blanket off the bed and threw her legs down, ‘what about if I come to school with you?’ ‘You? You’re too old.’ Kieran laughed, his big brown eyes sparkling at the very idea of it. ‘I’m not that old!’ Isobel said, ‘and besides, I’ve already done school, so I can show you what to do. And…’ she smiled, ‘we can sort out those bullies once and for all.’ ‘Wot? You’ll punch them in the face for me?’ Kieran looked excited at the prospect of Isobel getting into a fight with the kids who endlessly made fun of him. ‘What with my broken arm? I don’t think so, besides I might get detention. Come on, you go and find me some clothes, I think all mine got destroyed 163

in the fire, so make sure you find me something nice to wear, and I’ll wait here for you and we’ll go to school together. Deal?’ ‘Deal!’ Kieran spat on his hand and shook Isobel’s. Kieran returned ten minutes later with a bin liner full of clothes. Isobel dreaded what she might find in there, but she wasn’t too disappointed. Okay, so it was a far cry from your Gucci or Armani, but the bag contained some nice high street clothes from places like New Look and Next which would suffice until she could call Harrods and get them to send some stuff over to her. ‘Me mam got them for you. She said she guessed what size you were, so she hopes they’re alright.’ Kieran put his little hands on his thin hips. Isobel was touched that Kieran’s mother went to the trouble of finding some clothes for her, even if they were from places she would never shop in a million years. With Kieran’s help Isobel dressed into a pair of Next black boot-leg trousers, a black Dorothy Perkins v-neck sweater and a pair of black riding boots, which were a size and a half too big and which, as Kieran pointed out, were in fact Bo’s, but she never wore them. ‘Right, let’s go get them then. We’re a bit late, but we’ll get there.’ Isobel said and taking hold of Kieran’s hand they walked out of the camp and down the lane towards Hewbury village. 164

Their first port of call was the headmistress’s office. Isobel felt extremely tall in comparison to the hundred or so screaming small people that occupied the concrete playground. Kieran clung tightly to her hand as they waited for the head to finish her conversation on the phone. ‘Right, sorry about that. Hello Kieran, nice to see you. Do you think you’ll manage a whole day today?’ The plump middle-aged woman dressed from head to toe in mauve smiled. Kieran looked down at his shoes. ‘Now, how may I help you?’ ‘I’m Kieran’s… um, aunt and I want come to school with Kieran today to make sure he’s not being bullied.’ Isobel smiled and held tightly to the youngster’s hand. The woman, with a penchant for mauve, tried to stop herself from laughing. ‘I’m sorry dear, but don’t you think you’re a little too old to be coming to primary school?’ She mocked. ‘Look, don’t patronise me. The reason I’m here with Kieran is because he is too frightened to come to school on his own. He’s been bullied ever since he started at this place and I’m not having it. So, if that means I have to come here every day with him, then so be it.’ The headmistress looked dumbfounded for a moment. ‘Well I don’t know what young Kieran has been telling you Miss?’ ‘Barrington.’ 165

‘Miss Barrington, but I can assure you that we have a strict code of conduct within out school with regards to bullying. We pride ourselves on our …’ ‘Yes, I’ve heard it all before and it doesn’t wash with me. The fact of the matter is, if you want Kieran to come to school on a regular basis, then someone from the family will be coming with him, until you sort out the situation.’ ‘Well, this is a most unusual request Miss Barrington. I have to say, I don’t think I’ve met you before.’ The headmistress looked Isobel up and down. ‘That’s because I come from London. Now Mrs…. Sorry, what was your name?’ ‘Matthews. Mrs Matthews.’ ‘Now, Mrs Matthews, let me put it like this. You obviously can’t stop Kieran from being bullied, so unless I’m allowed to sit in with him in class and make sure your anti-bullying procedure is up to scratch, then I will personally make sure that the LEA are informed and an investigation into discrimination is applied for. I will also ensure that every school governor is informed of this. The very governor’s who employed you my dear.’ Isobel smiled. Wow! That felt good she thought, remembering all the times her own headmistress made her feel two inches tall. Mrs Matthews on the other hand didn’t feel quite so euphoric. In fact, she was bloody furious. ‘Well, as long as you do not disrupt the class, I will agree to it just this once.’ She hissed. 166

Isobel sat at the back of the class, on a chair far too small for her long legs and listened to Kieran’s teacher talk about The Great Fire of London. London. I wonder what everyone’s doing in London right now, she thought. I wonder if Bo’s getting on better than I am. I wonder if she’s broken any bones, or managed to scare any eligible bachelors off recently. Isobel’s thoughts turned to Cain. He was so… so... No, it just wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. I mean, they were from completely different backgrounds for a start. She was used to hoping on a plane to Paris. He was used to driving to the market in the village. And what about Troy? Okay, so it was never going to be the romance of the century with her and Troy and they both knew they were only together because neither of them could be bothered to go out there and look for Mr or Miss Right. ‘Perhaps Miss Barrington can tell us something about London as it is today.’ The teacher at the front of the class interrupted Isobel’s thoughts. ‘What? Oh, sorry. Umm…’ she stuttered, as 30 small faces turned round to face her. By the time they strolled hand in hand into the yard, Kieran was giggling and grinning like a Cheshire cat. They had spent the entire walk home playing I-Spy. Isobel laughed when, frustrated that she couldn’t guess Kieran’s I-Spy clue of, ‘It begins with D’ – Duck? Dirty mud? Dangerous road? – She finally discovered it was in fact a cloud in the shape of a dinosaur. ‘I can’t see a dinosaur up there!’ Isobel said. 167

‘Well it was there, but you took so long bloody guessing it’s gotten blown away now!’ Kieran tutted. ‘Don’t swear Kieran, it’s not nice.’ Isobel reminded him. Isobel saw Cain’s legs sticking out from beneath a car. She really should speak with him about this morning, but what if he didn’t want to speak to her again? ‘Go and tell your mum what you’ve been doing today at school. I just want to see Cain a minute.’ She persuaded Kieran, who shot off to his trailer with his new school bag in hand. ‘Cain?’ Isobel bent down and looked underneath the car. Cain didn’t reply. Oh bugger, he wasn’t speaking to her. She leant against the old Ford Fiesta. Right here goes. ‘Look I’m sorry, you know, about this morning. It… well, it just took me by surprise, that’s all. I mean I do like you and all that, but well, I’m not here for long. Once I go back home we’ll probably never see each other again. I mean, you’re not going to want to come all the way up to London are you and, well much as I like you, and appreciate you saving my life and all that, I really can’t see myself living in the middle of nowhere and… well I forgot to mention, I… I also have a boyfriend back home. Troy. He’s a vet and…’ Isobel’s thoughts returned to Troy. Okay, so he didn’t even bother to see her off and he did leave her in the middle of the charity auction, and he was never around these days, and he seemed more interested in his bloody animals than 168

being with Isobel, but he was still her fiancé. Wasn’t he? ‘Look, I don’t know what else to say.’ Isobel was getting frustrated at talking to a pair of legs and getting no response. ‘I mean like you are so not my usual type. I mean… well we are just so different. We’re like salt and pepper, night and day, the sun and the moon,’ Isobel tried to think of more analogies to emphasise the point that they were complete opposites. ‘But the thing is, I, well, I… really do like…’ ‘You looking for me?’ The voice made Isobel jump and she looked up to see Cain striding up from the caravan site, smiling and with his hands shoved in the pockets of a pair of oil-stained blue overall’s. Isobel gasped. ‘What are you doing there?’ ‘Huh? I’ve been talking to me mam. Kieran said you were in the yard looking for me.’ ‘But if you’re there, then who…?’ The pair of legs swivelled out from beneath the car. ‘Alright?’ Cain’s brother Tommy, dressed in the same style jeans as his brother Cain had been wearing this morning, smiled at Isobel, ‘Do carry on, I was enjoying that. You were saying?’ ‘You! Why didn’t you tell me you were under there? And why aren’t you under there?’ Isobel screamed at Tommy and Cain in turn. Red with embarrassment, she stomped off into the site. 169

‘What was all that about?’ Cain asked his brother, looking puzzled. ‘Dunno, but I think she’s got the hots for you.’ Tommy laughed. Having felt suitably humiliated, Isobel decided to go and visit Granny Daisy. ‘Come in dear.’ The soft familiar voice beckoned. Isobel pushed open the door to Granny Daisy’s caravan. ‘How are you now my dear? Feeling any better?’ The old lady smiled. Isobel shrugged. The truth? She felt bloody awful, but not because of the fire or even her broken arm, or even the fact that she hadn’t had a decent bath for over a week, having had to settle for the broken shower instead. ‘I’m okay.’ She lied. ‘That’s good. Now tell me how you really are.’ Granny Daisy said, patting the small wicker rocking chair beside her. Isobel sat down next to her and sighed. ‘Are you okay?’ Isobel looked at the old lady’s weathered face, which seemed to look older that it had done yesterday. Granny Daisy placed her hand on her chest for a moment. ‘I’m fine dear. Just a bit of indigestion, that’s all. Now, you tell me what’s wrong.’ Isobel smiled. There was no getting away from it. It was like she had radar. Cain’s grandmother knew instantly when something was wrong. 170

‘You need another reading?’ The old lady tilted her head to one side. Isobel nodded. ‘I think I might.’ Granny Daisy bent over the small table and took hold of the worn Tarot cards and handed them to Isobel who duly shuffled them as best she could with one hand and returned them to Granny Daisy. Picking out seven cards from the fan shape that had been placed on the table, Isobel placed them back on the table for Granny Daisy to read. ‘See, you’re already getting used to them.’ She smiled as she observed the cards. ‘God, I wouldn’t have the first clue as to what these all mean.’ Isobel laughed. ‘Well,’ Granny Daisy patted her hand, ’I’ll teach you if you like. Let me look at your cards first.’ She paused for a moment while her eyes scanned the cards. Her wrists played host to two gold charm bracelets with dozens of tiny little charms hanging from them. Her delicate fingers decorated with four gold rings. ‘Hummm, Well you are in a bit of a muddle aren’t you? You’re torn between two choices or two paths. Look, you see this one?’ Isobel nodded. ‘It shows that you’re not sure which way to go in a situation. Now this one, look, it shows the lovers. This means that it’s a romantic choice. Am I right?’ Isobel blushed and nodded. Granny Daisy placed the cards down on the table and looked at her for a 171

moment. ‘You must follow your heart Isobel dear. I told you before, things will change for you and what was once important to you will no longer be so.’ ‘Yes, but I don’t know what to do. I thought I loved Troy. I thought… well, I just assumed that we would get married and have babies and all that, but now… well I just don’t know what to do now.’ Granny Daisy smiled. ‘Has this anything to do with a certain young man in our family by any chance? My lovely grandson Cain perhaps?’ Isobel hesitated and then nodded. ‘He’s a good boy Isobel, but he’s not happy where he is.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘He’s a young man. He should be travelling the world, not spending his days here, breaking down cars. Oh, I know its family tradition and I’m the first to stick to tradition, but sometimes you have to be a little bit selfish in life. You’ve heard how well he sings?’ ‘He’s very good.’ Isobel smiled, remembering the previous night at the party. ‘He’s always loved to sing, ever since he was a little boy. He should be doing something with that, instead of living here and being loyal to the family. He’s got other brothers who are less talented and can do that. It does seem such a waste of talent. And he is a good boy Isobel, but you have to remember Cain’s a gypsy at heart and always will be. I don’t think you 172

would find him happy in a two up, two down.’ Granny Daisy laughed. ‘He likes you though.’ ‘Really? What, has he told you he does?’ Isobel’s eyes sparkled. ‘He doesn’t need to tell me. I just know.’ ‘So what should I do then? Should I tell Troy the engagement is off? Should I tell Cain I think I’m in love with him?’ ‘Well are you?’ ‘That’s it. I just don’t know.’ ‘Then listen to your heart and follow it.’ Granny Daisy smiled. ‘Now, enough of that. How about you pop that kettle on and I will show you how you can read your own cards in future.’ Isobel smiled, she knew deep down what she was going to do. ‘Right, so all cup cards relate to emotional things then?’ Isobel scanned all the Tarot cards Granny Daisy had placed on the table. Blimey, for a girl whose life consisted of shopping, beauty treatments and … err, more shopping, and more beauty treatments, she wasn’t doing too bad at all. ‘That’s right. Well done.’ The elderly lady was impressed with this funny city-girl. ‘Now, ouch!’ Granny Daisy clasped her chest again. ‘Oh! I just thought of something!’ Isobel said as she turned over the next card. ‘You know you said about Cain wasting his talents? I’ve got a friend called Simon back in London. He’s an agent and is always on at me to find new talent. If I gave him a 173

call I could introduce him to Cain. Do you think he might be interested?’ ‘I’m sure he … ouch!’ ‘Daisy, are you all right?’ Isobel looked up from studying the cards with their funny pictures on them, to see Granny Daisy’s face pale and in pain. ‘Yes dear, it’s just…’ ‘Daisy? Daisy?’ Isobel looked in horror as the elderly woman collapsed backwards in the chair. ‘Daisy?’ Isobel shook the woman, who remained motionless. ‘Oh shit!’ Isobel scrambled to the door, ‘quick, someone help!’ She shouted from the door of the caravan.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN ‘I didn’t think you were going to come.’ Bo said as she sat in the passenger seat of Troy’s Range Rover. Troy smiled as he steered the car around a corner and pulled into a small lane. ‘What have you stopped for?’ Troy nodded in front of him. ‘My castle awaits madam.’ He smiled. Bo gasped and put her hand to her mouth to prevent herself from laughing as she took in the view of the tiny picturesque cottage which resembled something off a box of fudge. ‘What’s so funny?’ ‘That! You! I mean, I’m sorry to be rude and all that but a big strapping man like you and well … a…’ Bo tried so hard to stifle the laughter. No it was no good… ‘Cottage!’ She screamed with laughter. ‘What? What’s wrong with my cottage?’ A dejected Troy demanded. ‘No, no, nothing. I’m sorry, it’s just …’ Bo couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the image of Troy, this gorgeous, tall, Adonis of a vet, living in a cottage that even the seven dwarfs would be entitled to ask for their money back, on the grounds that it was too diminutive. ‘It’s a lovely cottage!’ Troy protested. 175

‘Yes, yes it is. Very… lovely. It’s just I didn’t imagine you would be living in a place like this.’ Bo did her best Lloyd Grossman impression. ‘No, it really is very lovely.’ Bo composed herself and wiped a tear from her sparkling eyes. ‘Well where did you think I lived? In some bachelor penthouse apartment I suppose? That’s very stereotypical of you Miss Sanderson. I thought you were an open-minded kind of girl.’ Troy mocked. Troy was right. Although Bo hadn’t really given it much thought, she just assumed being a single guy that he would be living in some modern, minimally decorated apartment in the middle of the hustle and bustle of London. Telling her that this six foot two hunk of a man lived in a cottage, better suited to her grandmother’s taste… well, enough said. ‘Besides,’ Troy smiled, showing off his pearly white and perfectly straight teeth. ‘I could hardly drive you back to the Barrington’s could I? So unless you want to spend the night in their shed, I suggest you stop taking the piss out of my adorable little cottage and get your butt inside young lady.’ Troy laughed as he pushed Bo out of the passenger door. ‘Oh God, I know!’ Bo cringed at the thought, ‘did you see Tristan’s face when he saw you with the camera in your hand? I thought he was going to have a heart-attack there and then!’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh no, I just thought. What’s he going to tell Crystal about me not going back to their house?’ ‘I shouldn’t worry. Tristan’s a property developer. He’s used to lying and cheating his way through life. He’ll probably say you’re staying with Charlotte or 176

another of Isobel’s friends. What I’m more worried about is what he’s going to say to me.’ Bo hadn’t thought about how all this was going to affect Troy. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’ Troy shrugged his famous shrug for which Bo had become familiar with. ‘He put a lot of money into the practice when me and Greg qualified, but hey, if he wants it back then so be it. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ ‘What I don’t understand is how you managed to get the camera back?’ Bo said as they walked up the narrow winding gravel path which led up to a small blue wooden door framed with holly and ivy. ‘I overslept, but I called round to see if you needed a lift, but Parker…’ ‘His name’s Charles.’ ‘What?’ ‘Parker. He has a name and it’s Charles.’ ‘Sorry, Charles told me you’d already left. As I was leaving a cab pulled up. The driver…’ ‘Terry.’ ‘What?’ ‘The taxi driver. His name’s Terry.’ Troy shook his head. Did this girl have an obsession with names or what?

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‘Right, well Terry asked if I knew you and naturally I said I’d never seen you before in my life. I don’t mix with such common people…’ Bo punched Troy hard in the arm. ‘Ouch! Anyway he explained you’d left the camera in his taxi and he was returning it, so I got him to drive us back there and just in time by the looks of it.’ ‘Ah, my hero!’ Bo mocked as Troy lowered his head and opened the front door for her. ‘Well what would you have done if I hadn’t turned up there and then, tickled Tristan to death with your flip-flops?’ ‘I’ll have you know these flip-flops could take a man’s eye out at 50 paces if I so choose. These flipflops, my dear man, are a lethal weapon not to be messed with.’ Bo stamped her feet, just to emphasise just how lethal her flip-flops could be. ‘Get inside you loon.’ Troy laughed. Bo looked appreciatively around the petite cottage with its traditional low ceilings, decorated with traditional low eaves. Despite being a bachelor, it was remarkably clean and tidy. Being a true gypsy girl Bo liked clean and tidy. No gypsy girl would tolerate a messy home. The living room played host to two small blue settees, a portable TV, and a huge pine coffee table, which dominated the room. ‘You’ve got it looking nice.’ Bo said, ‘I didn’t know you were so domesticated.’ 178

Troy laughed as he took his jacket off and hung it up in the closet. ‘I’m never here long enough to make a mess. So have you never lived in a proper house?’ ‘Nope, never. I don’t think I could either, not on a permanent basis. Once a gypsy, always a gypsy. I was born in a caravan and will die in a caravan.’ Troy looked puzzled. ‘It’s like you probably couldn’t change from living in a house – albeit a small one – to living in a tent.’ Bo added with a laugh, ‘it’s not natural to you, just as it’s not natural to me to live in a two up, two down.’ ‘I expect you’re hungry by now. You want something to eat?’ Troy asked. ‘My God, you cook as well? Isobel is a lucky girl.’ Bo shouted from the living room. Troy so wished she hadn’t mentioned Isobel’s name again. Every time he thought about her a rush of guilt would rise up inside him. Not that he had anything to feel guilty about, he reminded himself, but he found that when he was with Bo, he didn’t even think about Izzy or what she might be doing right now. Whenever Bo mentioned her name he felt guilty for not missing her. After all he was supposed to be marrying the girl and when she got back she would be expecting a date set, the invitations ordered and St. Paul’s Cathedral booked no less. Bo’s presence behind him made Troy jump back from the fridge. 179

‘Umm, not that lucky I’m afraid. I don’t have anything in, unless you can think of a recipe consisting of half a lemon and some crispy seaweed?’ Bo wrinkled her freckled nose. Nope, couldn’t think of anything that included half a lemon and crispy seaweed. Since she hadn’t eaten since the previous night and had spent the entire day helping out at Colton Sanctuary - preferring that to going back to face the wrath of Tristan, who had incidentally stormed off the site, shouting into his mobile - her stomach was telling her that it was way past time it had something to digest, otherwise it was going to make some very embarrassing noises. ‘Tell you what. I’ll drive into town and get us a take-a-way. You do eat take-a-way food?’ Troy asked slowly as if he was talking to an alien who had never heard of take-a-way. ‘A take-a-what? Hell no, we only eat grass in the country.’ Bo said in a Hillbilly kind of way. ‘I’m sorry. I meant, what do you prefer, Chinese, Indian, Mexican?’ ‘Anything, I’m so hungry I would actually eat grass right now. I’d offer to go halves on it, but…’ Bo shrugged her shoulders. She hadn’t thought beyond actually blackmailing Tristan Barrington, so consequently hadn’t thought to bring any money out with her. ‘No worries, my treat. I know you probably won’t be comfortable, but make yourself at home. Have a bath… you have used a bath before?’ ‘Durrr, of course I’ve used a bloody bath before.’ 180

‘Oh, sorry. You know I didn’t, you know.’ ‘Think?’ ‘Yeah, sorry. Anyway…’ Troy wasn’t making a very good job of making Bo feel at home. ‘I know, make myself at home. Go on, don’t worry about me. I’ll just try and get this thing to work…’ Bo tapped the top of the TV. ‘I’m kidding. Go on, before I die of hunger.’ Bo smiled as Troy put his jacket back on and dashed out of the door. Bo looked down at her green combats and black tshirt. Covered from the sawdust in the stables, she wished she’d had the foresight to have brought a change of clothes with her. Perhaps she could chuck them in Troy’s washing machine while she had a bath? Yes, she’d do that. He’d be gone for a good half hour at least. Bo tiptoed up the narrow staircase, which played host to a display of water-colour paintings. At the top of the stairs there were three white doors, all closed. It was at times like these that Bo wished people would put up a plaque declaring where the bathroom was. Oh well, might as well have a nosy while she was there. The first door contained a small blue painted bedroom, sparsely furnished with IKEA flat-packed furniture. Bo felt like Goldilocks. The second room was indeed a spacious bathroom, decorated in primrose yellow and white with wall candles decorating the four walls. Before throwing caution to the wind and actually running a bath, Bo thought it 181

only right to satisfy her curiosity and see what was behind the third door. Naturally Troy had to sleep in one of the rooms and as the bed in the first bedroom had yet to be put together, then by process of elimination, the third room must be Troy’s. It was. The iron double bed dominated the middle of the room and was surprisingly rather feminine with a white cotton throw thrown over an embroidered cream duvet. Bo wondered if Isobel had chosen the décor for this room. Well obviously. I mean she must sleep here with him sometimes. How many men did she know who would buy an embroidered cream duvet? A small silver photo frame was the only object on the bedside table and Bo was relieved to see that it held a photo of a middle-aged couple and not Isobel and Troy in some lovey-dovey-couple-on-holiday-clinch. The sound of the wind blowing a flower-pot around the garden made Bo nervously close the door again. Bo ran the water from the old-fashioned bath taps and poured in some bubble bath. It was quite ironic, she’d spend her entire life having showers and in the space of nine days she’d had a bath everyday of the week, sometimes two or three. In the old Romany community it had always been considered unclean to lie in a bath of water and that any true gypsy should always wash in running water, hence why all the old traditional caravans had no baths installed. Bo didn’t much care for this tradition and although she didn’t own a bath, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let some tradition stop her from having one.

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Carefully folding up her clothes, Bo popped them on the toilet seat, which she noticed was placed down – good sign - and stepped into the white bubbles. Her mind wandered to the past weeks’ events. What a strange world the Barrington’s lived in. What with Crystal and her obnoxious friends and Tristan lying and cheating his way through life, she wondered if they were really happy. Was anyone really happy? If she was 100% happy, why would she have even considered swapping lives with Isobel in the first place? Bo sunk further down into the bubbles as she wondered how everyone was getting on back at home and how the boys’ were taking to Isobel, when she heard the click of the front door downstairs. She sat bolt upright. Shit! She hadn’t realised Troy was going to be quite so quick. ‘I’m having a bath. I hope that was OK.’ She called out, quickly untying the scrunchie from her hair and wiping the bubbles from her face. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’ She yelled. He must be in the kitchen, Bo thought, reluctantly pulling her self from the warmth of the bath and placing a fresh white towel around her body. As she bent down to gather up her clothes, Bo heard footsteps on the stairs. ‘Sorry, I thought it would take you longer. I won’t be a minute. It’s a lovely bathroom you have. You know I was just thinking how I could quite get used to having all these baths. I’ll have to get my dad to install one when I get …’

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Bo stopped mid-sentence as she noticed the footsteps had stopped outside the bathroom door. Bo placed her hand on the round doorknob and turned it. ‘I was just saying … Oh, it’s you!’ Bo said surprised to see Greg standing at the top of the stairs. ‘Hello Bo.’ Greg smiled and looked her up and down. ‘Oh, sorry I thought you were Troy. He’s gone for a take-a-way. I was just having a bath. What are you doing here?’ Bo crossed her arms over the towel for fear of it falling down around her ankles – now that would be embarrassing and definitely a reason to blush. ‘I was looking for Troy.’ Greg said. ‘Oh he’s …’ ‘Gone for a take-a-way. Yes you said.’ Greg lent his arm across the landing and examined the paintwork. ‘You see, the reason I was looking for Troy is that I’ve had a call from Tristan. You know Tristan Barrington,’ Greg moved towards Bo, who stepped back into the bathroom, ‘the man who kindly put you up in his home, fed you, made sure you fitted in. The same man you thought you would blackmail with your little video show?’ Greg moved closer to Bo, who stepped back against the bath. ‘Well, he wanted to play dirty. He knows full well that that sanctuary is protected and he’s using every trick in the book to get that place demolished.’ Bo shrugged. 184

‘And I’m sure you know all about playing dirty don’t you little Bo.’ Greg kicked the door shut with his foot. The man who Bo originally likened to be a posh Brad Pitt - suave, sophisticated and with those beautiful deep blue eyes, now looked more like a psychopath. The piercing blue eyes looked daggers at her. Bo looked down and noticed the bulge in Greg’s black jeans as he walked slowly towards her. ‘Because that’s all you really are, aren’t you Bo? A dirty bitch putting on this poor little gypsy-girl act, flirting with every man in sight, when deep down you’re nothing but a devious, interfering little whore!’ ‘How dare you!’ Bo snapped, holding tightly to her towel. ‘The only reason I blackmailed Tristan is because he was using every trick in the book to demolish Colton Sanctuary and why are you so bloody concerned anyway, you’re supposed to be a vet. You’re supposed to care for all creatures’ great and small. Remember?’ ‘And you just love to cause trouble.’ Greg drawled moving closer to Bo until she was pressed up against the sink. ‘You’ve been fluttering your little eyelashes at me since you got here. So come on.’ Greg grabbed hold of the towel protecting Bo’s body and ripped it from her clutches. Bo screamed as Greg pushed himself against her and began kissing her neck. ‘Get off me you bastard!’ Bo shouted as she struggled against the weight of the man she once thought so charming.

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‘Putting up a fight are we? Want to play some games eh Little Bo Peep?’ Greg grunted as he pushed against her. ‘Get off me!’ Bo shouted. His arms loaded with a cardboard box, containing their Chinese meal, Troy fumbled in his jacket pocket for his key. Bugger. Wrong pocket. Changing the box into his other hand, he fumbled around the chewing gum wrappers in his other pocket eventually finding the front door key and opened the door. Before he could put the cardboard box down in the kitchen, Troy immediately sensed something wasn’t quite right. The TV had been switched on, but Bo wasn’t watching it. Cilla Black was having a lorra, lorra laughs and talking to herself. ‘Bo?’ Troy called out. Oh God, he hoped she hadn’t changed her mind and decided to go back to the Barrington’s, or worse, back home. ‘Bo?’ He called out again, only this time the silence was punctured by the sound of breaking glass coming from upstairs. Troy threw the box containing the Chinese meal for two to the floor and raced up the narrow staircase. As he got nearer to the top of the stairs he heard Bo shout. ‘Get off me you bastard!’ Another smash. ‘Bo!’ Troy shouted as he turned the bathroom handle. The door budged slightly but something was preventing it from opening. ‘Troy! Help me!’ Bo screamed. 186

Troy took a step back and aimed his shoulder at the bathroom door. With one almighty thud he flung himself at the door. Ouch! The door moved just enough to him to squeeze himself between the door frame and the gap in the door – see, he knew all that rugby playing would come in handy one day. Troy stumbled over the body lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. Staring at Bo, who was now sitting on the edge of the bath, with a towel partially covering her and looking in a state of shock. Debris of glass crunched under his boots. Troy instinctively knew what had happened when he saw that it was Greg who was lying on the floor. Removing his jacket, he wrapped it around Bo’s shoulders. Her red, wet curls cascaded down her back as she trembled with a mixture of fear, shock and cold. ‘Is he dead?’ Bo whispered into Troy’s warm collar bone as he cradled her into his arms. ‘If he’s not he will be when I’ve finished with him.’ Troy couldn’t help the anger in his voice. The very thought that his best friend and partner was responsible for attacking this beautiful woman repulsed him. He always knew how easily Greg could charm his way through women, but the fact that he had done it to Bo made Troy angrier than he had ever thought possible. Greg moaned from the pain inside his head due to the six inch glass Buddha Bo had dropped on him in a bid to fight him off. Troy looked up to the ceiling from the living room. 187

‘Sounds like he’s woken up.’ Bo, now wrapped in one of Troy’s shirts, froze with a pair of chopsticks in her hand. ‘Oh no.’ ‘Don’t worry.’ Troy smiled, ‘he’s not going anywhere.’ This was true. Having escorted Bo into his bedroom and made sure she was comfortable, Troy had run downstairs, taken some cable-ties, which were used to hold distressed animals down, out of his bag, and had secured Greg’s hands behind his back and tied his legs together. ‘You finish off your meal. I’ll go and sort him out.’ Troy said. The last thing Bo felt like was eating but she knew if she didn’t at least eat something she would keel over. She picked at the duck in plum sauce as she listened to Troy’s footsteps on the stairs, followed by shouting between the two men. ‘She was coming on to me man!’ Greg shouted. Bo’s eyes stung with fresh tears. ‘Don’t talk crap Greg. We all know what you’re like. You’ve been after her since the day she got here and to try and rape her? Well, I always knew you were a low-life, but that’s low, even for you.’ Troy snapped. ‘She deserved everything she got. You do realise that little bitch you’re so fond of may well have destroyed Tristan’s chances of developing at the sanctuary. Do you know how much money we’ve… he’s lost over that?’ Greg spat. 188

‘We’ve?’ ‘I mean he. Tristan.’ ‘You said how much we’ve lost.’ Troy smiled. ‘I get it now. You were in it with Tristan all along. That’s why you were so opposed to me going down there with Bo this morning wasn’t it?.’ It all clicked into place now. ‘And you and your stupid gypsy-girl have ruined everything. You do realise what this means to us don’t you? Tristan will want all his fucking investment back. Including the money he invested in the practice.’ Troy shrugged his shoulders. ‘He’s welcome to it.’ ‘What?’ ‘He’s welcome to it and you for that matter. I don’t want any part of your dodgy dealings and I don’t want to be part of anything Tristan Barrington is involved in. Now get out of my house!’ Troy shouted. Bo heard two sets of footsteps thud down the stairs and then the front door slam. Troy appeared at the living room door. ‘It’s okay, he’s gone.’ He ran is fingers through his ruffled hair. Bo looked down the Chinese carton in her hands. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She whispered. ‘For what?’ Troy sat down beside her, ‘it wasn’t your fault Greg’s a complete dick-head, or Tristan’s a 189

scheming, lying son of a …. Hey, what’s the matter?’ Troy noticed tears rolling down Bo’s face. ‘It’s all my fault. I should never have come here. I should never have agreed to this stupid swap. You’ve lost your best friend. God, you might have lost your job! What if Tristan wants all his money back?’ Bo couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Troy put a comforting arm around her. ‘Listen. It is not your fault. None of this is your fault. In fact you’ve done me a favour. Since you’ve been here, I… well I’ve seen things differently I guess.’ ‘I don’t understand.’ Bo looked up through glazed eyes. ‘You’ve shown me just what is important in life and the likes of Greg and Tristan aren’t.’ ‘But what about your practice? You’re not going to give that up are you?’ Troy shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m a vet. People will always need vets and besides with your help saving the sanctuary, I can always find work there.’ ‘Ha! We don’t even know if it will be saved yet.’ Bo said, ‘you know as well as I do how underhand Tristan can be.’ Bo paused for a moment, ‘and what about Isobel. She’s not going to be best please about all of this is she?’ Troy looked down at the cold egg-fried rice. For some reason he wasn’t hungry anymore either. He shrugged his famous shrug. 190

‘You do still want to marry Isobel, don’t you Troy?’ How stupid a question was that? Bo thought. Of course he still wants to marry Isobel. I mean why wouldn’t he? Did she really think that just because she’d spent some time in his company, he was really going to dump Isobel in favour of her? And did she really want that? I mean she knew nothing about this guy, other than he was gorgeous and loved animals of course. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’ ‘No, not at all.’ Troy looked at Bo for a moment. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do at the moment. I mean it’s highly unlikely that I’m going to be welcomed with open arms back into the Barrington family after all this is it? I knew that Greg and Tristan were up to something, but I didn’t realise that Greg was quite so devious. And as for Izzy… well, she’s a nice enough girl, but…’ Troy paused for a moment, ‘if you hadn’t done this swap thing with her…’ ‘You’d still have your practice, you would still have your partnership and best friend and you would be making wedding arrangements instead of rescuing me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess your life up.’ Bo really was sorry for everything and wished she hadn’t agreed to this stupid swap in the first place. ‘Oh God don’t be sorry. Yes I may well have my practice and be making wedding arrangements, but sometimes you need something…or someone to give you a push in life.’ Troy stared into Bo’s sparkling green eyes, longing to scoop her into his arms and 191

kiss her ‘I think you were that someone Miss Sanderson.’

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CHAPTER TWELVE Isobel sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair, holding Granny Daisy’s hand as she lay unconscious in the pristine hospital bed. Having taken the obligatory first-aid course at finishing school, Isobel had guessed correctly that Daisy had indeed had a stroke and needed to get to a hospital immediately. Unable to get a signal to call an ambulance – bloody phones she ran out into the yard to see if one of the boys could help her. Everyone apart from Antoinette was out and even she was in so much of a tizz and so reluctant to move her mother, that it was a case of Isobel thinking fast on her feet. ‘Come on Antoinette!’ Isobel cried, ‘your mother’s had a bloody stroke. We need to get her to a hospital now.’ ‘But she hates hospitals. She’s always said if she falls ill she wants to stay in her home. She doesn’t want any do-gooders messing about with her. Get her to bed and we’ll get the doctor in to see her. She likes the doctor.’ ‘The doctor’s no good. We need to get her to the hospital and she’s hardly in any fit state to object, is she? What do you suggest we do, leave her to die?’ ‘That’s what we do Isobel. We look after our own. We don’t want anyone else interfering in our lives.’ Daisy’s daughter informed her. ‘It may be what you do but it’s not what everyone else does Antoinette! Now, can you drive?’ Isobel asked. Antoinette shook her head. 193

‘Shit. Okay, right, where’s a car I can drive?’ Isobel looked around to see Billy Senior’s dark green BMW parked outside his and Antoinette’s home. ‘Have you got the keys?’ ‘Oh, I don’t think…’ ‘For Christ sake Antoinette, just get me the fucking keys will you. We don’t have time to think.’ Isobel shouted. With one arm still in plaster and only ever having had one driving lesson in her life, which consisted of stalling the vehicle more times than she drove it, Isobel had no idea how she was going get Daisy to hospital, but she was damn well going to try. Having persuaded Antoinette to hold on to her mother’s legs while she lifted under her arms, between them they bundled Daisy onto the back seat of the car and Isobel jumped into the driver’s seat. ‘Right, where’s that gear thingy Cain told me about?’ she asked. ‘I think it’s an automatic.’ Antoinette called out. ‘Right, that means I don’t have to use the gear thingy, isn’t it? Good. Right, here we go. Are you coming?’ Antoinette shook her head. ‘I… I can’t. I have to pick Kieran up from school.’ ‘Right, well get hold of Cain and Billy and tell them I’ve gone to the hospital.’ Isobel shouted back as the BMW came to life and she wheel-spun out of the yard. 194

It had only been a while ago that Isobel was in the same hospital having her arm mended and yet it seemed a million miles away right now. How she ever managed to actually get the car to the hospital was anyone’s guess. She’d jumped three red-lights and almost knocked a cyclist off his bike, but by some miracle she had managed to follow the blue signs directing her to the local hospital and parked the car in an Ambulance Only bay. ‘Ere, you can’t park there Luv.’ A hospital porter shouted. ‘Oh shut your face and get me a doctor, now!’ Isobel shouted back as she pulled on Daisy’s legs to get her out of the car. A young nurse stood by the side of the bed and recorded some figures from the machines Daisy was hooked up to on to a chart. She smiled at Isobel. ‘Is she going to be alright?’ ‘We’re doing all we can. You did well to get her to us in time.’ Isobel smoothed Granny Daisy’s brown weathered skin on her hand. ‘Come on Daisy, don’t give up now. You’ve got plenty of life left in you.’ Isobel smiled to herself. Two weeks’ ago she wouldn’t have given someone like Daisy the time of day – old people and children were something Isobel did not like very much - and yet here she was sitting by her side, silently praying to anyone who would listen that the old lady would wake up. 195

The tap on her shoulder made her jump. ‘How is she?’ Cain asked, looking down at his grandmother. Isobel shrugged. ‘I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything.’ ‘You did well to get her here on your own kid.’ ‘I only did what anyone else would have done.’ Isobel smoothed Daisy’s snowy white curly hair out of her eyes. ‘Do you want to get off? I’ll stay if you like.’ Cain smiled. ‘No, I’d rather stay. I want to know she’s going to be okay. You could get me a coffee though.’ Okay, so it wasn’t the Starbucks she was used to ordering, but it didn’t seem to be important right now. ‘Sure. It’s just like old times isn’t it?’ Cain smiled that fabulous smile, showing off that equally fabulous dimple in his cheek. ‘Only this time I don’t have to borrow your shirt.’ Isobel remembered fondly the last time that they were at the hospital when he stripped off his shirt and lent it to her. Cain laughed and headed for the coffee machine. Isobel and Cain sat with Daisy until the nurse told them to go and get something to eat. Although Daisy was stable, she was still unconscious and not very likely to wake up any time soon. Reluctantly, the two of them handed over sitting-by-the-bed duties to Billy Senior and Jonno who had rushed noisily through the ward demanding to know where Daisy was. 196

‘Well done girl.’ Billy patted Isobel on the back, ‘but don’t you ever drive my bloody car again. You’ll knacker the engine driving like that.’ ‘Come on, let’s go and get you something to eat. I bet you’re starving.’ Cain smiled as he linked Isobel’s arm. Cain and Isobel sat on a bench outside of the hospital, kindly donated by some family members in memory of someone called Alfie, who had ‘departed peacefully in his sleep’ at the aged of 82. I wonder if he really did die peacefully in his sleep, Isobel pondered the question as she caught her reflection looking back at her in the brass plated memorial. Her eyes looked tired and her face pale. Having lost the majority of her belongings in the fire, she had been without her expensive moisturiser and make-up for days now. And Lord knows what they were going to say about the state of her hair when she got back home. Home… Soon she would be going back to her ivory tower in Kensington. Back to her pink fourposter bed. Back to civilisation. Where she wouldn’t get shot at or set on fire and where she would be able to have a decent bath and a regular beauty routine. Back to a life of… of what? Shopping for a living? God, is that what her 24 years of life amounted to? Being an expert in shopping in Harrods? ‘You OK?’ Cain asked as he handed Isobel a vacuum-packed packet of Chinese Chicken sandwiches and a can of diet coke. ‘Me? Yes, fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.’ Cain ripped open the packet of prawn cocktail sandwiches he’d purchased from the vending 197

machine in the hospital lobby and lent back against the bench, concealing Alfie’s plaque. ‘Do you think she’s going to be all right? Daisy I mean?’ Isobel said looking down at her sandwiches. ‘Yeah, she’s a tough old bird that one. She’ll be okay. She’ll be up in no time bossing them all around and demanding that she’s discharged, you’ll see.’ Cain smiled. ‘Anyway, how come you were with Daisy when she was taken ill?’ ‘I…’ What Isobel wanted to say was that at the time she was trying to confess her feelings for Cain, but little did she know that she was in fact baring her soul to his horrible younger brother and she was so mortified with embarrassment that she took refuge in Granny Daisy’s caravan. ‘Granny Daisy was teaching me to read the Tarot cards if you must know.’ Isobel smiled, she wasn’t about to make a fool out of herself again. ‘Well, well, we might make a gypsy-girl out of you yet.’ Cain laughed. ‘Oh I don’t know about that. I don’t think I could ever live in a caravan for the rest of my life.’ ‘Yeah but you’ve got to admit that it’s a fun way of life.’ Cain said. ‘Fun? It’s certainly different, I’ll give you that.’ Isobel laughed. ‘I guess it’s just what you’re used to.’ Cain shrugged. ‘I guess.’ 198

‘So I can’t tempt you to stay here then?’ Cain looked down to the ground, unable to meet Isobel’s eyes, knowing exactly what she was going to say. ‘Just like I couldn’t tempt you to come and live in London.’ Isobel replied. God, this was hard work! Why couldn’t she just say what she wanted to say to him? Why was this so difficult? It was never this difficult with Troy. I mean with Troy it was so simple. They had come across each other, thought each other was attractive, dated, end of story. Okay, so it wasn’t love at first sight, but Troy had prospects and prospects were good in Isobel’s world back in London. But now, well things were … getting complicated. Oh why did things have to get complicated? Isobel thought frustratingly. And why did Cain have to be so damn gorgeous? Cain interrupted her thoughts. ‘So you want me to come to London then do you?’ He smiled. Isobel stared at the Chinese Chicken in her sandwich. ‘I don’t really understand what you’re trying to say.’ Cain added. ‘God!’ Isobel looked at him, ‘do I have to spell it out to you?’ ‘Yep,’ Cain shrugged his shoulders and then smiled at her. He was going to make her say it if it killed him. Surely that kiss meant something to her? Surely she felt the same as he did? ‘Look, I think I’ve fallen in love with you okay, you stupid idiot.’ Isobel blurted out. ‘And before you say it, yes, I know we’ve got nothing in common, and yes, I know we’re nothing alike and I also know that I 199

shouldn’t be saying any of this because I have a boyfriend back in London whom I’m supposed to be getting married to, but I can’t help it. I’ve tried to hate you and I can’t. I’ve had the shittiest week I’ve ever had in my life, but I still can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried to tell myself that it’s just another whim, like wanting the latest outfit from Prada…’ ‘Gee thanks.’ ‘…but it’s not like that. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.’ Isobel was near to tears, ‘And the more I think that I’m leaving all this behind in a few days’ time, the more I don’t want to go. And it’s got nothing to do with your family and the way you live, God, I couldn’t live the way your family does on a permanent basis. It’s to do with you Cain. There, I’ve said it. Are you happy now?’ Isobel put her head in her hands, too embarrassed to look Cain in the eye. Cain on the other hand was ecstatic. ‘Me? I’m more than happy.’ He smiled and swung an arm around Isobel’s shoulders. ‘I’ll tell you what, what about I take you back to the camp? We’ve got to get Granny Daisy some clothes anyway and we can talk there.’ Cain placed a finger under Isobel’s chin and lifted her face up to face him. Her tear-stung eyes stared into his. Gently cupping her small and soft elfin face in his rough hand, Cain placed a delicate kiss upon her cold, pink nose. ‘Come on.’ He placed his arm around her and escorted her to the passenger seat of the pick-up truck. Isobel and Cain returned to a quiet camp. By now most of the family had heard about Granny Daisy 200

being taken ill and had headed off to the hospital to find out what was going on. Only Antoinette was left, busying herself with washing Kieran’s school uniform in the laundry annex. Isobel stood in the doorway watching Cain wrap his strong arms around his mother. ‘She’s going to be all right mam.’ He whispered, brushing his mother’s hair from her eyes. Antoinette didn’t say a word, she just nodded. ‘Do you want to go and see her?’ Cain asked, ‘I’ll take you now if you want to go.’ Antoinette shook her head. ‘Okay, but we’re in my trailer if you need us.’ That simple statement of ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ sounded alien to Cain, who had always been very careful about maintaining his freedom where women were concerned. His mother simply nodded again and folded another small white school shirt and placed it in the pristine pile of clothes. Cain walked along the tarmac path with Isobel by his side. Their hands swung in unison brushing against each other and he instinctively caught hold of her hand. Isobel smiled up at him. God, so this is what it felt like to fall head over heels in love with someone then. Sure she’d had her fair share of boyfriends in the past – Ralph the doctor; Thomas the polo player; Edward the lawyer; Troy the vet; but her previous relationship had always been based on three things; how much his suit cost him; how much he earned, and whether or not he could support Isobel in the lifestyle she had inherited. Well that philosophy had just been blown right out of the window hadn’t 201

it? Cain wouldn’t know the difference between a pair of Jimmy Choo’s and a pair of green wellies if it jumped up and bit him on that very nice bum of his and he certainly couldn’t afford to keep Isobel in the lifestyle she was used to. And yet that didn’t seem to matter anymore. The thought of returning to London and never seeing Cain again now filled her with nothing but dismay. By the time they arrived at Cain’s caravan, Cain had his arm around Isobel’s waist. She had her good hand tucked snugly in the back pocket of his black jeans. Cain held the door open for her as Isobel stepped in to the warm and welcoming home. Deep down they both knew what was going to happen next. Cain held Isobel tightly in his arms under the mock-fur blanket. Her skin tingled as their entwined limbs wrapped around one another. Suddenly conscious that she hadn’t waxed her legs for well over a week and they were probably sprouting shoots all over the place, Isobel moved her legs away from Cain’s – God, that was another thing, her eyebrows! She must look like a bloody gorilla and she didn’t even want to think about her bikini line! She’d bet everything was growing faster than a bloody forest. In fact, her legs probably looked like the Forest of Dean and any moment now campers would be running up and down them in the search of somewhere to pitch their tents. Isobel sighed to herself. ‘What’s the matter?’ Cain asked, lifting himself onto his elbows and looking concerned at her. ‘Didn’t you… you know, enjoy it?’ 202

‘No, God no, it was perfect. Everything’s fine.’ Isobel smiled, replaying the last 30 minutes in her head. Not only was Cain fit, he instinctively knew all the places on her body that would send her into ecstasy - even the part just to the right of her bellybutton. ‘No it’s not. Why did you move away?’ Isobel pulled a face and glanced under the covers. Cain looked too. ‘What?’ He looked confused. ‘It looks perfectly fine to me.’ ‘Hair.’ Isobel blurted out. ‘Hair? What hair? What are you talking about?’ Isobel sighed again, this time out loud. ‘My legs. My… well look! Hairy!’ Cain laughed so loudly that Isobel had to put her hand over his mouth. ‘Shhh, someone will hear you!’ ‘You are funny. Listen if you were as hairy as a chimpanzee I’d still fall in love with you, you daft cow.’ Cain pulled her on top of him and kissed her. By the time they’d finished making love it was beginning to get dark. The rest of the camp would be coming home soon and they still had to take some clothes back to the hospital for Daisy. ‘Come on, we’ve got things to do.’ Cain said jumping up. ‘Oh that’s not fair. I want to stay here forever.’ Isobel moaned. 203

Cain pulled the blanket from her, revealing her slender tanned body. ‘Come on, up you get. I promise you can get back in later on, but for now we’ve got to get back to the hospital and see how Granny D is getting on.’ Cain pulled on his jeans and t-shirt and handed Isobel her Next blue hipster jeans and black t-shirt. ‘Come on, I’ll help you.’ He said as he carefully slid her poorly arm through the sleeve of the t-shirt. ‘See, I’m an invalid. I should be allowed to rest.’ ‘You weren’t much of an invalid just now from what I can recall.’ Cain smirked. Isobel hit him with her good arm. ‘Right, you go into Granny D’s trailer and see what you can find to take to the hospital.’ Cain ordered. ‘Why can’t you?’ ‘Well I don’t know what she’ll need, do I? That’s girls stuff. And besides, I’m sure she would much prefer you going through her knicker draw than me.’ Cain had a point, but all the same Isobel felt a little uncomfortable at the prospect of going through someone else’s belongings. ‘Antoinette could do it.’ Isobel ventured. Cain shook his head. ‘She’s taken Kieran out to McDonalds. I saw them go off down the lane just now. Go on. Nothing’s going to jump up out of her drawers and bite you.’ Cain laughed. 204

Isobel made her way across the path to Granny Daisy’s tiny caravan. The icy wind whipped around her and she folded her arms around her for warmth. She wished she’d put a cardigan on. She had left Cain tidying up his caravan. It was amazing how much mess could be created in an hours worth of passion. She now wished that she had asked him to come with her. It was not only cold, but it was quite eerie out in the dark, in the middle of nowhere. Isobel pushed open the door to the caravan and peeped around the corner. She didn’t know why she was peeping or what she expected to find in there, but it seemed appropriate to peep nevertheless. The tiny original Romany caravan was just as they had left it when Granny Daisy had been taken ill. The pack of tarot cards was still on the small round table and the two china cups, where they had left them half full of tea. Isobel shuddered as she remembered how pale and lifeless Daisy had looked. ‘Right, what to take?’ She muttered to herself as she looked around the small abode which was decorated with various brass ornaments, several horseshoes, family photographs of gypsies in various camps and a collection of hundreds of tiny porcelain thimbles. A small free-standing chest of drawers stood next to the immaculately made single bed, along side that there was a matching bedside table. Both had been had been hand carved, painted in white emulsion and decorated with tiny hand-painted pink roses. A matching single wardrobe had been placed at the end of the bed. 205

Isobel started on the chest of drawers, that’s where most women would store things like their underwear and nightdresses. Granny Daisy could give Bridget Jones a run for her money on the amount of big pants she owned and Isobel folded several pairs into a pile and then searched the next drawer down in aid of a nightdress. The light was going, making it hard to see in Daisy’s caravan. Isobel switched on the small table lamp standing on the bedside table. She reached into the second draw and scrambled about in search of something suitable and warm for Daisy to wear to bed in hospital. As she did so, her hand brushed against something at the back of the drawer. Pulling out a yellow and rose-bud flannelette nightdress, Isobel reached to the back of the drawer and felt around again. Her hand collided with what felt like a stack of papers. Becoming more inquisitive as to what it was, Isobel stretched to reach the bundle. She Grabbed hold of the small parcel and pulled it towards her. In the dim light she could just about make out that the bundle was a pile of letters, all hand written in blue ink and addressed to a Miss D. Taylor. A long red ribbon and a bay leaf were tied tightly around the parcel securing the letters together. Isobel looked over her shoulder. She knew she should have put the letters back straight away, but something stopped her from doing so and before she knew it she had pushed the caravan door shut, untied the red ribbon and was reading the first of the fifteen or so worn, yellow letters, by the light of the lamp. 206

My Darling Daisy… Written in the same handwriting as the envelope, the first letter began. I was overjoyed at seeing you the other night and I apologise that we didn’t have much time together, but you understand how things are and how they have to be. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you at the fair and I only wish that things were different and that we could be together forever. Unfortunately that will not be so, so the time we do manage to spend together is so very precious to me. I hope it is the same for you… As Isobel read the letter tears welled up in her eyes. These were Daisy’s love letters. The man who wrote such wonderful words was besotted with her, Isobel realised. She continued to read to the end of the first letter, which ended with, forever in my heart R.B. Ahh, how lovely Isobel thought as she folded up the worn letter and put it to one side on the bed. The second letter, again from R.B., quoted poetry of love and passion. Whether these were the author’s own words or one of the great poets, only R.B. would know, but the words danced off the page, leaving Isobel feeling quite overwhelmed. Lost in the words of the letters from R.B., Isobel continued to read each letter in turn, which declared the charming man’s undying love to Daisy. This was one lucky girl, Isobel thought. By the sixth letter, Isobel noticed a story emerging. R.B. explained that he had made enough money from the sale of some land. He had just spent 207

four pounds on a plot of build a house on it and forever in it. He didn’t anymore, he said. His wonderful to read.

land and he was going to they would live together care what others thought devotion to Daisy was

By the eleventh letter however, things took a turn for the worse. My darling Daisy… the letter began. I don’t know what to say or what to do about this appalling situation. The child you are carrying, my child, our child. It means the world to me, you know that, but you also know as well as I do that if ever this got out it would destroy both of us. You must do as your aunt suggests. Marry Joseph and live the life you know. You know that we could never be with one another now that this has happened and if word ever it got out, our lives would not be worth living. I love you and I always will. R.B. Oh no! Isobel thought, he can’t end it like that. It was like reading a romantic novel. Isobel quickly looked in the pile for the next letter. The following letter was more formal than the previous one. Dear Daisy Obviously I am not cowardly enough to dispose of my responsibilities and I want to help you as much as I can. Please find attached a cheque to help with things for the baby. You know you must marry Joseph and bring this child up as his own. Sincerely R.B. Attached to the back of the letter was a large green cheque made out to Miss D. Taylor, for two hundred 208

pounds. You couldn’t buy a decent pram for £200 nowadays Isobel thought. She glanced at the signature at the bottom of the cheque, which resembled a three-year-olds’ scribble. Glancing down at the writing below the signature, she read the words… Signed for and on behalf of Rodney Barrington. Isobel looked again at the signature and then again at the print below it. Rodney Barrington? ‘No. I can’t be. It must be someone else called Rodney Barrington.’ Isobel gasped for breath as she frantically unfolded the remaining letters. The next letter, dated the 21st December was informing Daisy that Rodney was going away and wouldn’t be in contact for a while. The last letter was typed on letter headed paper, congratulating Daisy on her marriage to Joseph and the birth of her little baby girl. This letter was headed and confirmed to Isobel what she had already worked out for herself. Rodney Barrington, Land Owner & Property Developer. Kensington, London. W1. Daisy’s secret lover was Rodney Barrington – The very same Rodney Barrington that was Isobel’s wealthy landowner grandfather.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN Despite wanting to do nothing but kiss Bo, Troy and Bo sat up all night talking about anything and everything. They laughed a lot, Bo cried a lot and continued to blame her self for all the current chaos she had created in Troy’s life. ‘For the last time, you haven’t done anything wrong. If anything it was all Tristan’s fault. If he hadn’t been so bloody greedy in the first place…’ ‘Yes, but if I’d kept my bloody nose out of things instead of getting involved none of this would have happened.’ Bo yawned miserably. Troy put his arm around Bo and pulled her closer to him. ‘You weren’t being nosy. You were helping the sanctuary the best way you knew how. Thanks to you that sanctuary might just be saved.’ ‘I shouldn’t bank on that. You know as well as I do that Tristan will do anything to secure a deal. I doubt very much that the sanctuary will be saved. It was a stupid thing to do. I should never have come here in the first place.’ Troy placed a finger under Bo’s chin. ‘Well I for one am glad you did.’ Troy moved in closer to Bo. Bo closed her eyes. How many times in the past few days had she dreamt of this very moment? As Troy’s lips brushed against hers, Bo placed her arm around his neck.

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The ringing of the phone made both Bo and Troy spring apart and look at the telephone hanging on the wall in the hallway. ‘Hang on, don’t go anywhere.’ Troy said as he leapt up and headed to the hallway. Bloody phones! Whoever it was couldn’t have picked a worse moment to call. ‘Hello?’ Troy frowned, ‘Tristan. Yes, she’s here with me. Why? What do you want her for? Well I’m not sure she wants to speak to you right now.’ Troy looked in Bo’s direction and mouthed the word Tristan to her. Bo felt herself go hot and cold all at the same time. ‘Right. Hang on and I’ll ask her.’ Troy put his hand over the receiver, ‘Tristan wants to speak to you. I’ll tell him you don’t want to if you don’t feel like talking to him?’ Bo rose to her feet, popped them into her flipflops and pulled Troy’s shirt tightly around her. Suddenly she felt cold again. ‘No it’s all right, I’ll talk to him.’ Troy handed the phone to Bo and sat down next to her on the bottom step of the stairs. Bo took a deep breath, she really didn’t want to talk to Tristan at six thirty in the morning, but she would have to speak to him at some point. ‘Hello?’ Her quiet Irish voice spoke softly into the receiver. ‘Bo dear. It’s Tristan here. How are you now?’ ‘What do you mean how am I?’ Bo asked suspiciously. Why would Tristan be calling her at this 211

hour and asking how she was? Greg surely wouldn’t have told him he’d attacked her, would he? ‘I mean after our little misunderstanding yesterday morning. I’m sorry about that. Now listen, I really do need to see you. Today.’ Tristan added. I bet you do, Bo thought. ‘What for?’ She asked, knowing full well that Tristan would be wanting the video tape of his little liaison with Charlotte. ‘Well, I’d… I’d rather not talk about it right now. Could you come over to the house? For about eight o’clock? Bo frowned. Troy mouthed, ‘is everything all right?’ Bo nodded. ‘Okay, eight o’clock it is then.’ Bo replaced the receiver and looked at Troy. ‘What was all that about?’ ‘You tell me. He wants me to meet him at the house at eight o’clock.’ ‘Do you think he wants the tape?’ Troy asked. ‘Well I don’t think he’s inviting me for breakfast do you?’ ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Bo shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s very wise, do you?’ ‘Humm, maybe not. I could wait outside for you though?’ 212

‘Would you? That would be nice. Oh no, what am I going to wear? I’ve only got my combats and t-shirt here and they’re still in your washing machine.’ Troy thought for a moment. ‘I’ve got an old medical coat left over from my days at vet school if that helps? You could always tie a belt around it and wear it as a dress?’ Troy ventured. ‘In this weather? It’s bloody freezing out there!’ ‘Well you can hardly go out in that shirt can you? I’ll tell you what, I’ll personally dry your clothes for you… assuming of course I can remember where the tumble dryer is kept and how you switch it on.’ Troy smiled. I could get quite used to this, Bo thought. Bo had changed into her freshly dried clothes and tried to run Troy’s comb through her hair, which had naturally got stuck, resulting in Troy spending the next twenty minutes trying to untangle it from the untamed mass of red curls. That was the problem with naturally curly hair, it just didn’t do as it was told, no matter how much you bribed it. Troy looked concerned at Bo as she stepped out of his Range Rover. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?’ ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll throw one of Crystal’s cut-glass vases out of the window if I’m in trouble.’ Bo smiled, shoved her hands in her pockets and walked up the path to the Barrington’s house. 213

‘I’ll wait for you here!’ Troy shouted out. Before she could ring the doorbell, Tristan had appeared at the front door – grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘Bo! Come in, come in.’ He said, gesturing to her with his arm to enter the hallway. ‘Please go through to the kitchen.’ Humm, this was very odd. Tristan was being nice to her. Why? After all, she did try to sabotage his plans to redevelop Colton Sanctuary. Why was he being so nice to her? There were two kinds of people in this world – those you could trust with your life and those you couldn’t trust to look after a hamster. She wouldn’t trust Tristan to look after an ant, let alone a hamster. Bo walked through to the kitchen where the familiar aroma of fresh-baked croissants and percolated coffee filled the room. ‘Sit down, sit down.’ Tristan ordered and pulled a chair out for Bo to sit on then sat himself down opposite her at the kitchen table. ‘Coffee? Orange juice?’ Tristan offered. ‘No, I’m fine thank you.’ Bo said warily. Knowing Tristan he would have planted poison in the coffee pot and razor blades in the croissants in anticipation that Bo would be writhing around on the floor in agony. ‘Croissant? French toast?’ Tristan ventured again. ‘No. Thank you. Where’s Crystal?’ ‘She’s gone to church to do the flowers.’ 214

Tristan poured himself a cup of coffee, all the time smiling at Bo and making her feel very uncomfortable indeed. What was he up to? ‘Look Tristan.’ Bo ventured, ‘I’m sorry about… well, you know, yesterday. I shouldn’t have poked my nose into your business. But you don’t seem to realise just how many lives you will be destroying if you go ahead with the development plans at Colton Sanctuary. It’s not only the animals, but all the staff and …’ Tristan waved a hand dismissively at her as he sipped his coffee. ‘Oh, let’s just forget that nonsense.’ Tristan laughed. What was he up to? Bo wondered. Was he going to offer her money to keep quiet? If so, he could stick it where she sun doesn’t shine. Bo did okay for money, and she certainly wasn’t about to accept anything from Tristan Barrington. Besides, she only had to stick this out for a few more days and she would be £5’000 richer and if the woman from Harrods phoned to say she wanted her jewellery designs, she could well be on her way making a nice few quid. Tristan rose to his feet and pulled up a chair next to Bo. Bo looked slightly fearful. He was acting most peculiar. Tristan took hold of Bo’s hands. Bo pulled them away quickly. God, he wasn’t going to be another Greg was he? He was always patting her bum and dropping innuendos into the conversations they’d had. What if Greg was hiding in the cupboard and they were both about to attack her? 215

‘Bo dear.’ Tristan said. Dear? Bo dear? This, coming from the man who only yesterday she tried to blackmail and ruin his development plans? What was going on? ‘Now listen. I have something to tell you.’ ‘Look if you’re trying to get your way out of what you were doing with Charlotte it won’t work. And if you think that by sending Greg Townsend to attack me worked, well it didn’t and I will be reporting it to the police, you can be assured of that. And…’ Bo added, ‘Troy is waiting for me outside. I only have to give him a sign and then you’ll be in big trouble.’ She blurted out. ‘Attack? Greg? I’m sorry I don’t know anything about that. It’s got nothing to do with Charlotte, Greg, or Troy for that matter. It’s to do with your grandmother Daisy.’ Bo suddenly felt sick and held on to the table for support. ‘Daisy? Why what’s happened? Is she all right? What’s happened to her?’ The succession of questions came tumbling out of her mouth. ‘Isobel phoned me last night. You grandmother has been taken ill Bo. She’s in hospital. They think she’s had a stroke.’ Bo put her hand to her mouth as tears filled up in her eyes. ‘Oh my God! I’ve got to go and see her. Why didn’t you tell me this before? You idiot!’ Bo shouted, getting up from the chair. 216

‘Sit down Bo. The hospital said she’s stable and needs rest. There’s nothing you can do right now by running back there... and there’s something else I need to talk to you about.’ Tristan added. Bo sat down again, perching on the edge of the chair. What other devastating news was he going to tell her now? Tristan frowned for a moment as he collected his thoughts. ‘I don’t really know how to put this.’ He muttered. ‘What? What is it Tristan?’ ‘Okay, now listen carefully.’ Tristan took a deep breath. ‘As I said, I had a phone call from Isobel last night.’ ‘But she’s not allowed to phone you. That was part of the deal.’ Bo said. ‘I know, but this was important. Now, it appears that it was Isobel who found your grandmother and got her to the hospital in time. Now, your brother, Cain is it?’ Bo nodded. ‘To cut a long story short, your brother Cain asked Isobel to look for some clothes to take into hospital for your grandmother.’ Bo nodded again, but she wasn’t really listening to him. All she could think of was how Daisy was, how her mum was, how Kieran were… Tristan took another sip of coffee and continued. ‘The thing is Bo, while Isobel was looking for some 217

fresh clothes for your grandmother she came across some letters in a drawer.’ ‘Letters, what letters?’ ‘They were, um… love letters, from an old boyfriend of Daisy’s.’ Tristan coughed. ‘So?’ Bo said, and what was Isobel doing rummaging through her grandmother’s belongings anyway? ‘The love letters were from a man called Rodney.’ ‘And?’ Bo said feeling more frustrated at the way the conversation was going. ‘They were from a man called Rodney Barrington. The same Rodney Barrington as is my father.’ Tristan added. Bo’s mouth dropped open. Rodney Barrington? The Rodney Barrington? ‘Well there must be hundreds of Rodney Barrington’s around. You must be mistaken. I mean my grandmother was married to my Grandpa Jo since she was 18. And anyway, even if this person was your father - not that I would think for a moment that my grandmother would ever get involved with someone from your family – she was quite entitled to have a boyfriend when she was younger you know.’ Bo said defensively. Tristan held Bo’s hands to stop them from shaking. ‘The thing is Bo I haven’t quite told you the full story.’ 218

What there’s more? Bo thought. ‘The letters reveal that my father and your grandmother had a child together. We believe that child… we believe that child is your mother Antoinette, Bo.’ ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous! I don’t believe you. How can my mother be your father’s child? It’s not possible. My grandmother would never have done that to my grandpa.’ Bo’s mind replayed the words, slotted them into order and still they wouldn’t register properly. ‘You’re nothing but a liar and a cheat and I bet if I went home now, my grandmother would actually be fine. You’re just doing this to get back at me for ruining your stupid pathetic plans!’ Bo shouted, standing up and slamming her hands down on the table. ‘Bo, please. I’m not lying. I promise you. On Isobel’s life, I’m not lying.’ Tristan said. Bo sat down again and held her head in her shaking hands. ‘Bo?’ Tristan asked. ‘Just a minute, I’m thinking.’ Bo hid the tears in her eyes with her hands as the words rang round in her head. How could Granny Daisy have had anything to do with Tristan’s father? And to get pregnant by him! God, that would mean that her own mother and Tristan were… half brother and sister! And where exactly was Grandpa Jo when all this was going on? Bo knew that Daisy was pregnant before she married Grandpa Jo. It had been the talk of the community, but Daisy would never have betrayed her 219

husband-to-be. They were the closest couple you could ever have wished to meet. Jo and Daisy went everywhere together. They were never apart. Bo remembered the stories Granny Daisy would tell her about their travels and the old Romany ways. Granny Daisy was devastated when Jo died from pneumonia. Although Bo was only about ten years old when he died, she still remembered the tiny wooden hut where her ill grandpa stayed until he passed away. No children were allowed in and Granny Daisy sat by his side day and night. When Grandpa Jo finally passed on, the wooden hut was burnt to the ground, as tradition stated it should be. ‘I want to see him.’ Bo said suddenly. ‘Who?’ Tristan looked blankly at her. ‘Your father of course, who do you bloody think, The Prince of bloody Wales?’ ‘Oh. Um… right. Well of course you do. I’ll phone him. I’ll ask him to come over right away.’ Tristan stuttered, unsure of what Bo was going to do next. Bo stood up again and took a deep breath. Okay, so she’d just been informed that the very man, who she didn’t like one little bit, might possibly be her mother’s half brother… her uncle! Yuk! Which also meant that she and Isobel, the girl whose life she had been living, but whom she had never actually met, were… well, whatever they were, it meant, that if any of this was true then they were distantly related in some way. 220

Bo looked out of the kitchen window to see Charles and Clarissa pulling into the back drive. Charles was riding pillion on the back of Clarissa’s motorbike and they were both wearing black leather jackets. They removed their helmets and Charles gave Clarissa a kiss on her cold nose. Composing themselves they stood up straight and walked towards the back door. Bo thoughts suddenly turned to Troy. She wondered if he was still waiting up the road for her. If anyone knew what to do, Troy would. ‘Ah Parker, Clarissa, um…’ Tristan stuttered as they walked into the kitchen. ‘It’s okay Tristan. I’ve got to see someone.’ Bo said, ‘call your father and tell him I’ll be back here at ten.’ Numb with a combination of shock and the cold morning air, Bo walked slowly towards Troy’s Range Rover, which was still parked up where she had left him over an hour ago. Troy was listening to Oasis playing on the CD player and jumped when Bo opened the passenger door. ‘God, are you all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’ Troy said. It only took one look at Troy’s face to set her off again. ‘Hey, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. If he’s done this to you, I’ll…’ Troy leant over the gear stick and pulled Bo into his arms. This gave Bo permission to cry her eyes out. ‘I’m sorry.’ Bo sniffed, after ten minutes of uncontrollable sobs into Troy’s jumper. 221

‘Hey, don’t worry. You want to talk about it? If that bastard has done something to upset you, I’ll bloody kill him.’ Troy felt the anger well up inside of him. Bo shook her head. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s …. I’ve …’ Oh God, the tears were coming again. Bo paused for breath after telling Troy the whole story. ‘So that’s what’s happened. Suddenly I’m being told that I’m related to Tristan bloody Barrington! I mean of all people to be related to!’ Troy scratched his head. ‘Have you thought he could be making the whole thing up?’ Bo nodded. ‘I thought about that, but why would he do that?’ ‘To get revenge?’ Bo shook her head again. ‘How would he know about Daisy? He knows nothing about my family.’ ‘Well then the first thing to do is to meet Tristan’s father, Rodney Barrington.’ ‘And phone my mother.’ Bo added. This was one thing Bo was definitely not looking forward to doing one little bit. I mean what if her mother knew nothing about all of this yet? What was she going to say? ‘Hi Mam, it’s me Bo and by the 222

way, did you know that Grandpa Jo wasn’t actually your father? It happens to be Isobel’s grandfather, Rodney Barrington!’ Boy, that was going to go down well, wasn’t it? If it was true, how was her mother was going to take it? Antoinette had always been especially proud of her gypsy heritage and had always maintained the traditional values of the Romany gypsy as best she could in a modern world. Antoinette also loved her father – or the man she had believed to be her father for 50 years – very much. To be told that someone she had never heard of before was her father, well, it would destroy her. ‘You can’t phone her yet. Not until you’ve got all the facts.’ Troy advised. ‘I know.’ Bo nodded, ‘and what about Granny Daisy?’ Bo suddenly thought. ‘I’m going to have to go back and see if she’s all right. God, what if she…’ Bo couldn’t even say the word. Troy felt as thought he’d just been punched in the stomach. He felt like shouting, ‘No! You can’t go back now, not when I’ve just met you!’ But he didn’t think it was quite appropriate right now. Troy decided not to say anything. Bo looked at the clock on the dash-board. It was five minutes to ten. ‘I’d better go back and see Tristan.’ ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Bo patted Troy’s leg. He really was a sweet man and how she wished this wasn’t happening right now, just when they were getting to know each other. But it was happening, wasn’t it. 223

When Troy pulled up outside the house for the second time, a brand new Bentley was parked outside. ‘It looks like he’s here.’ Troy nodded in the direction of the house. Bo pulled her hair back and secured it with a scrunchie. ‘Right, here goes. You will wait for me won’t you?’ Troy smiled that dazzling smile which Bo was now so fond of. ‘Of course I will.’ Charles answered the front door, looked back over his shoulder to check that no one was watching, and embraced Bo with a tight hug. He had obviously been updated with recent events, Bo thought. ‘Are you okay Miss Bo?’ ‘I’ll be fine Charles – thank you.’ Bo replied and walked towards the kitchen full of anticipation as to what was about to greet her. She turned back to Charles. ‘I’m so pleased about you and Clarissa. See, I told you love would find a way.’ She smiled, ‘right, let’s get this show on the road shall we? Charles blushed and composed himself to the role of butler once again. An elderly man dressed in a dark blue suit was leaning over the kitchen table talking to Tristan. Tristan saw Bo standing in the doorway observing them. 224

‘Ah here she is. Dad, may I introduce you. This is Bo Sanderson… Daisy’s… granddaughter.’ Despite being somewhat reluctant, Bo smiled at the old man and held out her hand. ‘Please to meet you Mr Barrington.’ Rodney Barrington got to his feet and held out his hand to Bo. ‘On the contrary my dear, It is me who is pleased to meet you. Come, come, sit down.’ He gestured Bo towards a chair. In spite of a crop of white hair and a multitude of wrinkles, Bo could see that Rodney Barrington was once a very handsome young man. His sapphire blue eyes sparkled with tears of joy. Rodney Barrington stared at Bo for a moment. ‘You look exactly like your grandmother did when she was a young woman.’ This simple sentence brought tears to Bo’s eyes again. The thought of her grandmother lying in hospital made her want to cry. But she mustn’t. She had to find out what was going on and how Rodney Barrington had bulldozed his way into her grandmother’s life and left again. That’s if this whole story was true of course. Bo wouldn’t put anything pass Tristan Barrington. ‘So how do you know my grandmother?’ Bo asked, defiantly staring back at the old gentleman. Tristan poured them both a cup of coffee. Rodney reached out for Bo’s hand and held it between his own. 225

‘I met Daisy… your dear grandmother in 1938 Bo. I was 19 at the time. We met at a fair in Southampton. I was on leave from the Navy. Your grandmother was telling fortunes in a little tent next to the Big Wheel.’ That sounded like Granny D, Bo thought. ‘So I went into this little tent – obviously just to see what was in there – and there she was. All gold hoops and long bright layered skirts…’ That definitely sounded like Daisy. ‘She was as pretty as a picture.’ Rodney continued, the sapphire blue eyes misting over, ‘I… I guess we just fell in love and…’ ‘And you got my grandmother pregnant and then dumped her.’ Bo snapped. ‘No, no, it wasn’t like that. Bo you’ve got believe me. I didn’t dump your grandmother. was… well it was complicated. You have remember it was a long time ago, not like it today…’

to It to is

Rodney’s face was pale and anxious. ‘Bo?’ Bo didn’t know what to say next. ‘How do I know you’re not lying? How do I know you’re not making this whole thing up with him?’ Bo pointed at Tristan. ‘Does your grandmother wear a tiny gold ring on her little finger? It’s got two gold hearts intertwined.’ Rodney Barrington said. Bo nodded. Her grandmother did indeed have a ring on her little finger with two gold hearts entwined in it. She had 226

always told Bo that it was very old and had been a gift from someone for her 18th birthday. ‘I gave that ring to your grandmother for her birthday. She swore she would never take it off. And her birth name is Yayna, not Daisy.’ That was true. All gypsies had three names given to them at birth; their birth name; the name they were called in the camp; and a name used for dealing with non-gypsy folk. ‘Yes, well, if you loved my grandmother like you say you did, you would never have left her to bring up a child on her own.’ Bo shook her head. ‘And besides, you could have found out she wore a heart ring on her little finger. You could have employed an undercover detective to do that and just found out her birth name.’ As the words tumbled out, Bo knew that would never have been possible. She knew deep down that Rodney Barrington was telling the truth.’ ‘You have to believe me. I never wanted to lose Daisy. You of all people know how Romany law works, especially back then. I wasn’t allowed anything to do with Daisy. If her family had found out… It was our secret. I desperately wanted to marry Daisy. I wanted to do the honourable thing, but she wouldn’t let me.’ Rodney looked tired. ‘So what happened? You just buggered off and let her get on with it?’ ‘No I did not. Daisy married your Grandpa Joseph, brought the baby up as their own and… well end of story.’ 227

‘So why didn’t you ever try to track her down? If you were so in love with her like you said you were you would have done anything to keep her.’ ‘I thought it was best to stay away. Daisy was happy. She didn’t want me spoiling things.’ Rodney said. Bo was finding this extremely difficult to take all the words in. ‘I need to go back home and find out how Daisy is.’ Bo stuttered. ‘I’ll take you.’ Rodney said. ‘I think perhaps under the circumstances I should go on my own, don’t you?’ ‘Please Bo. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to Daisy and I hadn’t had the chance to see her again.’ ‘To the hospital it is then.’ Bo said.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN Isobel sat on the step outside of Cain’s caravan, replaying the words in her head and warming her hands on a cup of hot-chocolate. When she had phoned Tristan the previous evening and told him what she had found out his initial reaction was that she was being overdramatic as usual. But when she phoned her grandfather she knew for certain she hadn’t got it wrong. Two simple words confirmed what she had already known: ‘Grandfather, I know about Daisy.’ Isobel said. ‘I see’, was the reply. Rodney Barrington didn’t have to say anymore. Those two simple words told Isobel everything she needed to know to confirm that her grandfather was definitely Daisy’s mysterious lover. Having been absent for over an hour, Cain had gone looking for Isobel, only to find her sitting alone in Daisy’s caravan. Her eyes were red from crying. Isobel had shown Cain the letters and told him about the conversation with her father and then her grandfather. Cain didn’t know what to say. How was he going to break this kind of news to his mother? They had finally decided to keep it to themselves until they knew that Daisy was going to be all right. Cain was taking a shower as Isobel sat on the cold metal step listening to him sing. She hadn’t been able to sleep and kept replaying the words of the letters over and over again in her head. She had lain in the bed looking up to the ceiling, cradled in Cain’s arms. 229

When she saw the first glimmer of morning light she carefully removed Cain’s arm from around her waist and wriggled out of his warm bed. Pausing for a moment, she looked down at Cain. His dark hair was ruffled and the overnight stubble made him look rugged and ever more gorgeous. His long black eyelashes flickered occasionally and a dreamy smile made the dimple in his cheek more prominent. Isobel had gently kissed him on his tanned cheek and went to make hot chocolate on the small stove. Kieran skipped over to Isobel with a big smile on his face. ‘Hiya!’ He said joyfully, waving his silver notebook at her. ‘Hiya back. How are you today?’ Kieran was dressed in his school uniform, carrying an Action Man lunch box in his hand. ‘Very well, thanks. You look like crap though.’ He smiled. ‘I feel like it today Kieran. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and don’t say crap, it’s not nice.’ They both looked up to the frosted glass window where the sound of Cain singing She’s the One by Robbie Williams was coming from. ‘He’s very good isn’t he?’ Isobel smiled. ‘He should be a proper singer. He’s much better than that Robbie Williams. He’s crap.’ Kieran said. ‘Cain would like that. To be a proper singer I mean. To have a record an all that. Cain would be good at that, wouldn’t he?’ 230

Isobel nodded and looked up with a flash of mischievousness in her eyes. ‘Kieran, I don’t suppose you have a tape recorder do you?’ ‘Yeah, but I don’t use it much coz me dad got me a CD player for me birthday and I use that now. He’s getting me a digital camera too.’ Kieran boasted. ‘Do you think I could borrow your tape recorder for a minute? I’ve got a plan.’ Kieran’s eyes lit up at the thought of a plan and he scurried off excitedly back to his caravan. Having retrieved his Fisher Price tape recorder from a box of toys, Kieran stood outside the frosted glass window holding up the red and white microphone as high as he could. As if on cue, Cain started to sing again. This time it was a more upbeat tempo of Frank Sinartra’s New York, New York. Kieran nodded to Isobel, who pushed the record button on the plastic tape recorder. ‘I gotta go to school now. I’m doing afternoons this week.’ Kieran whispered as Isobel pressed the stop button and ejected the cassette tape, which had previously held the sounds of Ringo Starr and Thomas the Tank Engine on it. ‘Do you need me to come with you?’ She asked. ‘Nah, Si’s taking me today and I’m all right there now. I told Tomas Baker that you was a secret agent and that if he ever bullied me again and called me nasty names you would come back and kill him. He’s shitting himself now.’ 231

Isobel stifled a giggle. ‘Well that’s all right then. We’re going to have to work on your conversational skills though young man. Now you get yourself off and I’ll see you when you come home.’ ‘Are you going to see Granny D?’ Kieran asked. Isobel nodded. ‘Yes. Cain and me are going to see her in a minute.’ ‘Is you and Cain gonna get married?’ Just as he said this, Cain opened the door to his trailer and smiled at Isobel. ‘Would you like us to?’ Cain asked Kieran. ‘Oh yeah, coz then I’d have two sisters and not loads of stinky brothers. Boys really do smell.’ ‘Well that’s settled then.’ Cain smiled. Isobel’s heart missed a beat. Did she just hear right? Was that a proposal? Was Cain being serious? No. He was just humouring his little brother. Wasn’t he? Feeling like her stomach had been invaded by butterflies Isobel hardly spoke a word to Cain as they drove to the hospital. She was really not looking forward to this one little bit. Cain thought it best that they played it down for Antoinette’s sake and told his mother that they would ring her as soon as they had any news about Daisy. Little did she know they were about to meet her real father. Bo had phoned Cain on his mobile and told him that she and Rodney Barrington were on their way down to the hospital and to meet them there. 232

‘Are you OK?’ Cain asked as they got out of the car. ‘Me? Yes, fine.’ Isobel said. ‘You seem a little quiet.’ ‘No, I’m fine, really.’ Cain spotted Bo standing next to an elderly gentleman at the far end of the car park. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a high pitched whistle to her. ‘Come on.’ Cain grabbed Isobel by the hand, ‘Let me introduce you to Bo.’ ‘And I’ll introduce you to my grandfather.’ Isobel whispered. Bo whistled back to Cain and waved. Grabbing Rodney Barrington by the hand she ran towards them. Bo flung herself at Cain, who caught her in his open arms and twirled her around in the air. ‘Hey you! Have you had a good time? I’ve missed you.’ Cain hugged Bo to him. Isobel ran up to her grandfather and hugged him. ‘Izzy, this is your life-swap and my adorable sister Bo.’ Cain introduced the two girls. Bo suddenly felt overwhelmed by guilt that, only hours earlier she was falling in love with this girls boyfriend. Bo put her hand out to Isobel. ‘Nice to meet you at last.’ Bo said. ‘You too. Shame it’s not in better circumstances.’ Isobel replied. 233

Bo nodded and looked up to the gleaming windows at the hospital. ‘Cain, this is Rodney Barrington, Isobel’s grandfather and… well you know.’ The elderly man held out his hand to Cain, who warily shook it. ‘Why did you bring him anyway?’ Cain whispered to Bo as they all walked towards the reception area of the hospital. ‘He wants to see Daisy.’ Cain rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘And what if she doesn’t want to see him? What if she… you know, doesn’t wake up again? What then Bo?’ ‘Don’t say that. Look I just thought it was best we get this sorted out now, that’s all.’ Bo whispered back. ‘Can I help you?’ A nurse at the reception desk addressed Bo. ‘Yes, we’ve come to see my grandmother, Daisy Crocorian. She was admitted the day before yesterday.’ The nurse typed something into the computer and looked at the screen. ‘Ah yes, Mrs Crocorian. They’ve moved her to St. Clements Ward.’ ‘You mean she’s woken up? She’s on a ward?’ Bo said. 234

‘Yes, she woke up early this morning, wondering where on earth she was. If you go up to the lifts, then up to the second floor. You’ll find the ward on the left, next to the water fountain.’ Bo turned to Cain, ‘She’s woken up Cain! She’s going to be all right.’ Without waiting for anyone else Bo ran up the corridor towards the lifts. ‘Come on.’ She shouted looking back at Isobel, Cain and Rodney Barrington. Bo noticed that Cain was walking hand in hand with Isobel and had to look again to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Isobel and Cain? Surely not. Yep, they were definitely holding hands and looking very close indeed. Bo pressed the button to call the lift. When they reached the bed, Daisy was fast asleep. A nurse had told them they could sit and wait for her to wake up as long as they kept the noise down. The four of them sat in silence on uncomfortable plastic chairs at the side of Granny Daisy’s bed. Rodney Barrington coughed. ‘Would anyone like a cup of coffee?’ He ventured. The sleeping woman lying in the hospital bed brought back so many memories. Memories from over 60 years ago. Memories of the beautiful, red-haired gypsy girl who had once captured his heart. There was no mistaking it was Daisy. The tanned skin, the smooth lips. Of course he had tried to forget her and get on with his life. After a quick courtship, he married a woman called Barbara, but it was never 235

going to be the romance of the century. Not after Daisy. Rodney had to get some air. He couldn’t bear to see the woman he once loved lying in a hospital bed. ‘Yes please grandfather.’ Isobel said, ‘I’ll give you a hand.’ Bo looked at Daisy and then at Cain. ‘Do you think she’ll be OK?’ ‘I think she’ll be fine. She’s a fighter is Granny D. a little stroke isn’t going to stop her.’ Cain smiled and held Bo’s hand. ‘So how’s it been living the high-life in London?’ Bo pulled a face. Where on earth would she start? ‘It’s been OK, but I’ve missed you and the family. And what’s going on with you and Isobel young man?’ Cain smiled and then shrugged his shoulders. ‘Bo? Is that you?’ Daisy opened her eyes. Nice one Granny D, right on cue, Cain thought. ‘Granny D!’ Bo squealed, ‘Cain, look. Granny D’s awake!’ ‘Cain? Is Cain here?’ Daisy turned her head to see her grandson smiling at her. She held out both of her frail hands and clasped Bo and Cain’s hands in hers. ‘Oh Granny D, how are you feeling? You gave us such a shock.’ By now Bo could no longer hold back the tears. 236

‘I feel fine. Just needed a good sleep I guess.’ Granny Daisy replied croakily. Daisy struggled to shift herself into a sitting position and looked at her grandchildren. ‘My little Bo peep and my handsome Cain. It’s good to see you both.’ She smiled. ‘And what are you doing back young lady? You’re not due home until the day after tomorrow.’ ‘You didn’t think I could stay there when I heard that you were in hospital did you?’ Bo smiled. ‘Besides, they don’t make tea like you do.’ ‘So where’s Isobel? Has she gone back home too?’ Bo looked at Cain. Cain shook his head, as if to say, not now. ‘Isobel’s still here. She was the one who was with you and brought you to hospital.’ Bo said. ‘Silly girl, doesn’t she know I detest hospitals?’ Daisy chuckled. Bo saw Isobel and her grandfather push open the double doors carrying four plastic cups of coffee between them. Bo looked up at Cain and nodded to the door. ‘Granny D, umm… there’s someone else is here to see you. But you might not want to see him. You might not be up to this yet.’ Cain ventured. ‘Hello Daisy.’ Rodney Barrington stood at the bottom of the bed, his coffee shaking in his hands. Daisy looked in shock. 237

‘Rodney? What the?’ She asked. Rodney nodded. ‘Yes it’s me Daisy.’ For a moment Bo, Cain and Isobel held their breath. What if Daisy didn’t want to see her past lover? What if she never wanted to see him again? What if she had another stroke? What if… ‘Oh my goodness!’ Daisy exclaimed. Her eyes welling up with tears as a small smile spread across her thin lips. She placed her hand to her mouth. ‘Granny, do you want him to go?’ Cain asked. Granny Daisy slowly shook her head. ‘I think we should…’ Cain nodded to the door. ‘But…’ Bo protested. ‘It’s all right Bo dear. I’ll… I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need you.’ Daisy said. Isobel, Bo and Cain watched and waited outside the double doors. ‘Do you think she will be OK?’ Bo whispered. ‘My grandfather isn’t an ogre you know.’ Isobel said. No, but your father is, Bo felt like saying. ‘No, I didn’t mean that.’ Bo said instead, ‘I meant having just woken up. I mean it’s quite a shock to be suddenly faced with…’ ‘She will be fine.’ Cain stopped Bo from saying anything that she might later regret. 238

Daisy stared at Rodney for a moment. ‘What are you doing here?’ She whispered. Rodney didn’t know what to say. Why was he here? Why now? ‘I… I heard that you were taken ill. I wanted to make sure that you were all right.’ Daisy thought for a moment. ‘Well now you’ve seen, you can go away again.’ Daisy smiled and straightened the sheets around her. ‘I’m fine. It was just a hic-cup, that’s all.’ ‘I don’t want to go away again.’ Rodney whispered. ‘Daisy, I wouldn’t have known about you if it wasn’t for Isobel. You see, Isobel is my granddaughter.’ Daisy nodded wisely. ‘I did wonder. You have the same bone structure.’ She smiled. ‘The thing is when you were taken ill Isobel went into your caravan to get you some clothes for you. She… well she came across the letters that I had written to you all those years ago. I didn’t think you would keep them.’ Daisy nodded again. ‘I keep everything that is important to me. Does she know about Antoinette? Does she know that my daughter is your child?’ Rodney nodded. ‘Yes, she does.’ 239

‘Does Bo know?’ ‘Yes, my son, Tristan told her. He felt she should know.’ ‘Does anyone else know?’ Rodney shook his head. He knelt beside Daisy and held her shaking hand tightly. ‘I’ve… I’ve missed you so much you know.’ Daisy didn’t show any emotion. ‘So you left it this long to get in touch with me?’ ‘You know how it was. You married Joseph. I married Barbara. You were happy. I didn’t want to disrupt your life any more than I already had.’ Daisy wrung her hands. ‘What happened to Barbara?’ Daisy needed to know. ‘She divorced me many years ago. It just… fizzled out I guess. You’ve still got it then?’ Rodney smiled, looking down at the tiny gold ring in a little dish on the bedside table. ‘I told you, I keep everything that is important to me.’ Rodney felt overwhelmed with emotions and held Daisy’s hand to his weathered face. ‘I’ve missed you so much Daisy.’ By the time Bo, Cain and Isobel had returned to Daisy’s bed they found Rodney and Daisy in full flow of conversation. 240

‘Well, well, what’s going on here?’ Bo said. She had never seen her grandmother with such a sparkle in her eyes. ‘Bo, Cain, I want you to meet your… your other grandfather.’ Daisy said nervously. Isobel smiled, tears edging their way to the corners of her eyes. She suddenly put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God!’ She whispered and looked at Bo. ‘You know what this means don’t you?’ Bo looked blankly at her. ‘If my grandfather is also your real grandfather, then that means that you and I are distantly related!’ Bo had already thought of that. She was right. If Rodney was her mother’s father, then the two of them were related, albeit distantly. Bo sat down for a moment and looked at Cain, who in turn looked numb with shock. And they still had to tell Antoinette the news. Daisy had asked Cain to go back home and bring his mother in to see her. ‘I know she detests hospitals almost as much as I do, but she has to come. I don’t want her finding out about this from anyone else.’ She said. ‘Do you want me to go?’ Rodney asked. ‘No I do not. You will stay here and you will see your daughter.’ Daisy demanded. ‘You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’ With Cain gone, Isobel and Bo were left waiting patiently in a waiting room. Although bright and airy, 241

the room had a feeling of sadness about it Bo thought. It was one of those rooms where relatives were taken to be told that their loved one had just died – a bad news room. A shudder went down her spine. ‘So here we are then.’ Isobel said, ‘how did you get on being me then?’ Bo had seen photos of Isobel on the mantel-piece in the Barrington’s living room, but she was much more beautiful in real life. ‘It was different I’ll grant you that.’ Bo laughed. ‘And you, being me?’ ‘Well, apart from being shot at, an arson attack and breaking my arm, pretty good, I think.’ ‘An arson attack?’ Bo looked surprised. ‘Ah, yes, I forgot to mention something. Your caravan…’ Isobel suddenly felt hot. ‘What about my caravan?’ Bo asked suspiciously. ‘It…um…you don’t have one anymore.’ Isobel winced at the words. ‘I’m really sorry, it wasn’t my fault. Some cousin of yours had it in for me and locked me in and then set fire to your caravan.’ Isobel held her breath. Bo looked devastated, not at the fact that all her belongings had gone up in smoke, but the fact that one of her relatives could possibly do something so horrible. ‘God, Isobel! Are you OK?’

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‘Yes, I’m fine now; apart from a broken arm. That’s another story.’ Isobel raised her arm to show Bo. ‘Did you meet Troy?’ Oh God, please don’t blush, please don’t blush. Bo nodded and looked down at her pink flip-flops so as to avoid Isobel’s gaze. ‘How was he?’ Isobel asked. She didn’t really want to know, but knew at some point she was going to have to face him. ‘He was fine. I didn’t see much of him.’ Bo lied. ‘Um… that’s another thing I’ve got to tell you.’ Isobel said. How was she going to tell Bo that she had fallen in love with her brother and didn’t want to marry Troy anymore? ‘I… I mean, we… me and Cain…’ ‘I know.’ Bo said. ‘I saw you holding hands in the corridor just now.’ ‘I don’t know how I’m going to tell Troy about this.’ Although the relief was immense, Bo didn’t think it was the right time to tell this girl she had only just met that she wasn’t the only one to have fallen in love while she was away. The door to the waiting room opened and Cain and Antoinette stood in the doorway. ‘Mam!’ Bo burst into tears and hugged her mother to her. ‘Bo! What are you doing here? You should be in London. Are you ill? Why are you here?’ 243

‘I… I umm, heard Granny Daisy was ill. I had to come back and see if she was all right.’ Bo said. ‘Oh mam, it’s so good to see you.’ Antoinette wiped a tear away. Antoinette rarely cried. ‘Right, I’d better go and see Granny Daisy.’ She patted the bun in her hair to make sure it was still in place and straightened her white gypsy skirt. ‘I hate these places.’ Bo, Cain and Isobel waited in silence for the commotion to come from Daisy’s hospital bed. It remained silent. ‘Do you think we should go back in?’ Isobel asked Cain. ‘I don’t know. What do you think Bo?’ ‘It’s very quiet in there isn’t it? How about we poke our heads around the door?’ The three of them looked through the glass window and quietly pushed the door open. Half expecting to hear cry’s of tears from their mother, they were shocked to see her sitting next to Granny Daisy, smoothing her hand and looking at her father sitting opposite her. ‘So that’s what happened, my darling.’ Granny Daisy could be heard talking quietly to her daughter. ‘Rodney didn’t have any choice in the matter. Only the two of us knew that you were Rodney’s baby and we couldn’t tell a soul.’ ‘So why did you never come and see me? Why did you never send a birthday card?’ It was the quietest Cain and Bo had ever seen their mother. 244

They were used to her shouting and screaming at people to get off her land. When she was really upset, she always went quiet. ‘It was my fault. I made Rodney promise never to get in contact with us again. If your father … if Jo had ever found out… well, I thought it was for the best.’ Daisy sighed. Antoinette looked at the man who was her actual father and for the second time that day a small tear rolled from her eye.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN ‘So what happens now?’ Isobel asked as she, Cain and Bo walked back through the hospital car park. They had left Antoinette, Daisy and Rodney talking in the ward. Cain shrugged his shoulders. ‘I guess they will work something out.’ He smiled. ‘Oh.’ Isobel said, ‘I meant, you know, what happens now, about us I mean.’ She pointed to Bo and herself. ‘I mean, do we finish the swap now, or wait until the end of the week?’ With everything that had happened Bo hadn’t given it much thought – actually, she hadn’t given it any thought at all. Her only concern, up until now, was to get back to make sure that Granny Daisy was all right. ‘Um, God, I don’t know. What do you think Cain?’ Cain was the second person Bo always turned to for advice. ‘I think you should go back to London and finish what you started.’ Bo blushed slightly. God, he didn’t know about Troy did he? She felt as though she had a big sticker on her back saying, I’m in love with Isobel’s boyfriend! No, he couldn’t possibly know. No, the only reason Cain wanted Bo to go back to London was for one reason and one reason only – Isobel. 246

‘But what about me mam?’ Bo said. ‘Look kid, it’s happened. Mam’s old enough now to deal with it and she will, in her own way. Another day or two isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference is it?’ ‘I guess you’re right.’ Bo replied. Bo returned to London with some trepidation. She knew her mother would be okay once the news that her father wasn’t her real father had sunk in and she knew that deep down she had to finish off what she had started. ‘So that’s it really. I’m a distant relative of the Barrington’s’ Bo said to Terry, who had picked her up from the station. ‘You know what that means then?’ Terry looked at Bo from the rear-view mirror. Bo looked quizzical. ‘What?’ ‘Well if old Rodney Barrington pops his clogs, then your mother is entitled to half his inheritance. I bet they didn’t think of that.’ He laughed. He had a point Bo thought. Tristan was as tight as a ducks bum at the best of times. He certainly wasn’t going to be pleased if he had to share his father’s inheritance – with a gypsy! Bo kissed Terry on the cheek as she got out of the black cab. ‘So you’ll pick me up tomorrow then? About midday?’ Bo asked. ‘Certainly will my love.’ Terry winked at Bo. 247

Charles was waiting at the front door for Bo as she walked up the front path. Charles looked different today, happier. Gone had the stiff upper lip and the pushed back shoulders. They had been replaced by a more relaxed body language. ‘Miss Bo!’ Charles said as he hugged her to him. ‘How is everything? How is your grandmother? And your mother?’ ‘Oh, you know, I think they will be all right.’ She found herself echoing Cain’s words. Before Bo could enlighten Charles any further Crystal came bursting through from the lounge. ‘Is that Bo back?’ She screamed with excitement. The bouffanted one pushed Charles to one side and flung herself at Bo. ‘Oh, Bo dear! Tristan told me the news!’ Crystal squeezed Bo tightly. ‘I couldn’t believe it when he told me. I mean us, of all people, related!’ Bloody snob, Bo thought to herself, but smiled sweetly. ‘Now come in, we’ve got some more news for you too!’ Crystal winked at Charles. Maybe Crystal was finally going to have the bouffant on the top of her head surgically removed, Bo wondered. Bo was escorted into the living room and made to sit down on the sofa. ‘Come on Parker.’ Crystal beckoned, ‘don’t be shy. Shall I tell her, or do you want to?’ Crystal was like an overly excited Labrador. 248

‘You may tell Ms. Bo if you wish madam.’ Charles said. ‘Tell me what? Don’t tell me we’re related too Charles?’ Bo couldn’t take much more today. ‘Don’t be silly dear, he’s a butler.’ Crystal laughed, ‘no, you’ll never guess what?’ Crystal clasped her hands together with glee. Oh just bloody get on with it, Bo thought. ‘Well, while you’ve been researching your family tree…’ Me? Bo thought. I didn’t have anything to do with any of this it was your bloody daughter and stupid husband. If Isobel had just kept her mouth shut then none of this would have happened. ‘… Parker here and our cook Clarissa have been getting… well … acquainted with each other in their spare time. Now that they are leaving at the end of the week, they have decided to get engaged!’ Crystal squealed at the announcement. Charles blushed at the announcement. ‘That’s wonderful news Charles! Congratulations!’ Bo laughed, ‘see I told you!’ ‘Told him what? What did you tell him?’ Crystal was desperate to know. ‘Oh only that Miss Right was just around the corner.’ Bo winked at Charles. ‘Oh right.’ Crystal dismissed Bo’s prediction and carried on what she was saying, ‘anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, I decided to hold a leaving party for you tonight, so I thought we could combine the two – 249

have an engagement party and a leaving party all rolled in to one!’ Crystal amazed herself sometimes. The ringing of the phone made Crystal forget what she was about to say next. Charles answered it and handed it to Crystal. ‘It’s Charlotte madam.’ ‘Yes. Oh hello Charlotte. Yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll tell her. Who? Tristan? No dear I don’t know where he is? Can I give him a message? Okay, oh while I think of it, we’re having a big party tonight, you must come dear. A party’s just not a party without you jumping all over the place.’ Crystal laughed, ‘yes he will be there, eight o’clock. Okay dear, bye, bye.’ Crystal passed the phone back to Charles to put down on the receiver. ‘That was Charlotte…’ No kidding, Bo thought. ‘She said to tell you that the woman from Harrods phoned and wants to commission you to design that jewellery you spoke about. She said she will talk to you about it tonight.’ Bo’s eye’s lit up, ‘That’s the second bit of good news I’ve had all day!’ ‘Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, the party. Right, Parker you make sure Clarissa is here for eight o’clock. I’ve sent her out to get something nice to wear. I mean that poor girl spends her life in leather trousers, I’m sure she does. And Bo, you make yourself scarce too. I want this to be a special 250

occasion.’ Crystal ordered and shoed Charles and Bo out into the hallway and went back into the living room to phone the caterers and everyone else she knew. ‘Well, well, you and Clarissa.’ Bo smiled at Charles, ‘I really am very happy for you both.’ ‘Thank you Ms Bo.’ Charles smiled sincerely. He had grown very fond of Bo. ‘So what do you intend to do now? Will you go to another family to work?’ Bo asked. Charles shook his head. ‘We’ve both had enough of waiting on people like Crystal Barrington. I think your free spirit has rubbed off on us Miss Bo. Clarissa and I are going to bike it around America.’ Charles said. A big smile broke out on his face. Bo threw her arms around the gangly butler and kissed him on the cheek. ‘That is brilliant news, but you have to promise me two things.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘That you will stop calling me Miss Bo and that you make sure that you stay in touch with me. Oh and I also want an invitation to the wedding.’ Bo laughed. ‘Consider it done Miss… I mean, Bo.’ Bo looked at the grandfather clock in the hallway. ‘Right, I’ve got some things of my own to sort out. See you at the party.’ Bo said and shot upstairs. 251

Her first port of call was to phone Troy and apologise for running off without a word and to thank him for his help. Dismay filed her at the realisation that it was quite possible that she might never see Troy again after tomorrow. I mean, be honest, could they really conduct a relationship when they lived so far away from each other? Probably not. Still if nothing else she still had to thank him. Tapping out the number of the surgery, Bo listened impatiently as the phone rang. ‘Hello, Fallowfield Vets.’ The young and chirpy receptionist answered. ‘Oh, um, hello. Could you put me through to Troy please?’ Bo asked. ‘Troy? No I’m sorry, he’s not here. He’s been called away on emergency business. Can I take a message?’ ‘No, it’s okay. I’ll try his mobile. Thank you.’ ‘Damn. Right, try his mobile’. Bo muttered to her self and punched the numbers in. ‘Welcome to Voice Mail. Please leave your message after the tone… beep.’ ‘Oh, just bloody great. Um, hello Troy, it’s me, Bo. I… um… God I hate these bloody stupid machines. Anyway, I just wondered where you were… not that I’m stalking you or anything like that. I’m not. I…I meant, I mean I just wanted to… well I’m in London at the Barrington’s at the moment, but I’m returning home tomorrow. Crystal is having a leaving party for me… well a leaving party come engagement party. I mean, well not only for 252

me. I’m not the one getting engaged. Clarissa and Charles are getting engaged…’ Bo realised she was starting to sound like a hamster on speed, ‘anyway, well… I just thought I would call you, but you’re not there, so I’ll shut up and I might speak to you later. Bye.’ Bo put her head in her hands. Grrrr, how stupid was that at an attempt at adult conversation? Troy pulled up alongside the sign that read Hewbury Travellers’ Park. His phone beeped on the dashboard, signalling that he had a voice mail message. It would wait. He had more important things to do right now. Having been previously informed by Bo about the various mad members of her family, Troy cautiously allowed the Range Rover to crawl up the gravel path, just in case he was about to get shot at by Bo’s cousin, Mad Sam. Cain was casting a shadow over Isobel as she sat on the step of his caravan looking up at him. ‘Do you think she’s going to be okay? Your mum I mean?’ ‘I told you, she’ll be fine. Okay, so it’s not every day that you’re told that you have another father and Lord knows what she’s going to do now she’s found out, but…’ Cain shrugged, ‘it’s not my problem. I can’t keep being the fall-guy for every member of this family.’ Cain was the one member of the family who everyone turned to in times of trouble. He was the one who always got into fights with the 253

authorities. He was the one who they all depended on to keep the family together. ‘Are you OK?’ Isobel said, shielding her eyes from the mid-morning sun. ‘Me? I’m great….’ Cain paused for a moment, ‘I… I meant what I said this morning, you know, to Kieran. Well kinda.’ Cain shifted his feet on the ground. He was never very good at this kind of thing. ‘About what?’ Isobel asked. She knew exactly what Cain was talking about but didn’t dare to presume. Cain’s face suddenly turned serious. ‘When Kieran asked if we were going to get married… well, I was serious. I would like to… well not get married right now obviously, but you know… I’d quite like you to stay around. You know stay here… with me.’ Cain forced the words out. He wasn’t any good at this kind of thing and yet the thought of Isobel going home tomorrow… He had never met someone so vulnerable and yet strikingly beautiful in his life. Granted, he originally thought she was the most stuck-up cow he’d ever had the displeasure to meet, who also wore strange shoes on her feet, but the past two weeks had shown the human side of Isobel Barrington and he quite liked it. Isobel’s heart skipped a beat. Was she really hearing this? ‘Blimey, you gypsy boys don’t mess around do you?’ Cain shrugged his shoulders. 254

‘Why mess around pretending? I mean we don’t have to get married or anything like that. But I would like us to, you know, be a proper couple an all that. You know, that’s if you want to too? I mean if you’re going to go back to London tomorrow, well we could always travel and see each other…’ Cain grinned. ‘Well?’ Isobel jumped up and threw her arm around Cain’s shoulders and got the shock of her life. ‘Troy!’ Neither Cain nor Isobel had heard the Range Rover drive quietly up the path and into the site. Troy stood watching them for a moment, before speaking. ‘Isobel. And you must be Bo’s brother Cain.’ Troy said, his face impassive. Isobel let go of Cain and dropped her hand down by her side. Troy had his hands stuck into the pockets of his black leather jacket. Beneath it was the England rugby shirt that Isobel detested. He looked somewhat dishevelled from the long journey down to Hewbury. ‘What are you doing here? Look, this isn’t what it looks like.’ Isobel panicked, not really wanting to know the reason why her boyfriend had just travelled 120 miles to see her. Had Bo gone back and told him that she saw her brother and her holding hands? Had Troy come to rescue her – bit late now mind you, a day before she was due to go home. Home. She couldn’t even bear to say the word, let alone think about it.

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‘Actually I’m… I’m um looking for Bo.’ Troy said, directing his question to Cain rather than make eye-contact with Isobel. ‘Bo? What do you want Bo for?’ Isobel asked. This time it was Troy who shifted and uncomfortably looked down to his feet. ‘Look Isobel, I think we need to talk.’ He said in a quiet voice. ‘I’ll make myself scarce then shall I?’ Cain said feeling somewhat pissed off that Troy had decided to turn up at such an inappropriate time. ‘I’ll be in the yard if you need me.’ He looked at Isobel who dropped her head and nodded. ‘So what’s this all about then?’ Troy was the first to speak. ‘I don’t know what you mean?’ Isobel couldn’t look him in the eye and examined what was left of her nails. The French manicure had long gone and her hands now looked like they belonged to a labourer. ‘Well you and Bo’s brother? Look Izzy… I… I don’t know how to say this, but… well there’s no simple way to put it really. I came to find Bo because… well because…’ As much as he wanted to shout it out from the roof tops, he couldn’t get the words out. ‘You’ve fallen in love with her haven’t you?’ Isobel guessed. Troy didn’t dare look at her. He simply nodded at the ground. The silence between them seemed to last for an eternity and the sudden noise from Isobel made Troy jump. Expecting tears and tantrums he was 256

taken aback when she started laughing. The laughter got louder and louder until she was in hysterics. ‘What? What’s so funny?’ Troy didn’t know whether he dared to laugh with her at her private joke - Isobel could be very unpredictable at times. ‘You!’ Isobel said, ‘Us! This!’ Were the only words she could manage to get out without breaking into fits of giggles again. ‘I don’t understand.’ Troy looked completely and utterly bemused. Isobel composed herself enough to tell him that he wasn’t the only one to have found someone else and briefly explained that she knew that Cain was the one for her. ‘So you see now how funny it all is?’ Isobel stifled another giggle. If she started again she was surely going to wet herself. ‘Oh I see.’ Troy smiled. A great sense of relief washed over him. ‘But where’s Bo then?’ ‘She’s gone back to London Troy. In search of you maybe? Go on, go back and find her.’ Isobel smiled. ‘What, you don’t mind?’ Troy said. ‘Me? Mind? Of course not. You know we were never going anywhere Troy and I was such a bitch to you.’ ‘I can’t disagree with that.’ Troy laughed. ‘I’m sorry Troy. I… I didn’t mean to, you know…’ 257

‘Hey, I’m sorry too. Come here.’ Troy embraced Isobel in a warm hug. The familiar smell of leather jacket wafted up her nostrils. ‘Go on, you’d better get back and find Bo, before it’s too late.’ Isobel kissed Troy on the cheek. ‘By the way,’ Troy said as he walked out of the yard, ‘you look much better without all that crap on your face.’ Isobel felt like dancing on air as she skipped into the yard looking for Cain. With everything that had happened recently, the family were dotted all over the place – some at the hospital, some out working, trying to keep the money coming in – the yard was quiet. Cain was working underneath an old Vauxhall. Isobel peered under it just to make sure it was Cain and not one of his brothers. ‘I’m back!’ Isobel said. Her words fell on deaf ears. ‘Cain?’ Still no answer. ‘He’s gone. He was looking for Bo.’ Isobel said. ‘That’s nice. Have a nice kiss goodbye did you?’ Cain muttered. Oh shit, now she was in trouble. ‘It wasn’t like that you fool.’ Isobel said. Cain rolled out from underneath the car and stared at her. Gone were the brilliant white smile and the cute dimple in his cheek.

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‘A fool now am I? Yeah, maybe you’re right. A fool to say all that fucking crap to you and the next minute you’re kissing your ex-boyfriend!’ ‘Cain it wasn’t like that and you know it!’ Isobel shouted, ‘if you must know I was wishing him good luck with your sister. He’s fallen in love with Bo Cain. He doesn’t love me and I don’t love him. And in answer to your question, it was yes. I would like us to, you know, be a couple.’ Isobel went quiet for a moment. ‘That’s if you still want me?’ She added quietly. ‘And I don’t want to go back to London. I want to stay here… with you.’ Cain looked down at the floor. Funny how men always did that when they were in the wrong or when they had a confession to make, Isobel thought. ‘Really?’ Cain said. ‘Really.’ Isobel replied, flinging her good arm around Cain’s neck. How on earth her family and friends were going to react to this life-changing decision was anyone’s guess. I mean, obviously there was no way she was going to move into a tent and release the hippie in her. She would make sure they had a proper house and all that, but the feeling of happiness overwhelmed her as she contemplated a life outside of London. And to top it all, he actually got jealous when another man spoke to her. That had never happened to her before. No man had ever been jealous with her before. Bo sat on the fence looking at the horses running wild in the sanctuary. She thought, rather she hoped, that Troy’s emergency might just have been there, but nope, no such luck. He wasn’t answering his phone 259

and when she’d phoned the receptionist for the forth time that day, he still hadn’t returned to the practice. What was she doing anyway? There was no way that Troy was going to up and leave everything just for her. She must have come across as one of those desperate women who hadn’t had a man for years – the unfortunate thing was it was true. Bo jumped down from the fence and started the long walk back to Kensington. Oh well, by this time tomorrow she would be back home and five thousand pounds richer. By the time she had reached the Barrington’s house the kitchen was buzzing with caterers, party organisers, and Jean Pierre’s team of stylists, with Crystal in the middle of it all ordering them about. ‘No, no, no, you silly girl! I said silver balloons in the hallway and lilac in the dining room. You can’t possibly think that silver will go with the décor in the dining room!’ She shouted at a young girl dressed in black trousers and a red t-shirt announcing that she was from the party organisers, Oganize. ‘I’m sorry Mrs Barrington.’ She whispered and scurried off to remove the offending silver helium balloons from the dinning room. ‘I’ve told them before. Don’t employ youngsters I said, they don’t have a clue about design. And what do they do?’ Crystal tut-tutted. Jean Pierre tut-tutted in sympathy with her as he rolled another roller into Crystal’s hair. ‘I have the same trouble in the salon.’ He whined, ‘You know what I mean, they come out of college 260

thinking they’re the bee-knees and you give them a set of crimpers and they don’t know what to do with them.’ He moaned. ‘God, I know darling. You know only the other week I had this bloody silly girl do my lips. Oh you should have seen them Jean Pierre. You would have been mortified. Oh, is that you Bo?’ Crystal shouted from the kitchen. ‘Hi.’ Bo said as she popped her head around the door. ‘Where have you been? Now listen, I’ve put a dress in Isobel’s room for you to wear dear and please don’t wear those ghastly things on your feet with it. If anything will kill a gorgeous Valentino dress they will.’ Crystal said to Jean Pierre who pulled a face at Bo’s flip-flops. ‘And when Jean Pierre’s finished with me he said he will see if he can do something with that mop of yours.’ She added. Rude cow, Bo thought, but she wasn’t in the mood to fight with Crystal right now. As the grandfather clock chimed eight, Bo walked as elegantly as she could down the staircase in the silver beaded Westwood dress that Crystal had left out for her and a pair of matching silver kitten heel slip-ons. It had been so long since she’d worn anything with heels on that she felt sure she was going to tumble head first down the staircase and she held on tightly to the oak banister just in case. ‘Ah, here she is now.’ Tristan boomed from the hallway. Bo had a feeling of dejavu. The last time Tristan had announced Bo’s arrival it had been the 261

first night of the swap. I hope this isn’t one of those Groundhog days she thought. I don’t think my nerves could stand going over and over the past fortnight again and again and again. As Bo reached the last step a round of applause erupted and of course, she blushed appropriately. Charles and Clarissa had already made themselves comfortable in the living room, which was filling up rapidly with invited guests. Arrabella-what’s-her-face – who didn’t have a clue about horses, was there; Mrs Dead-animal-wearing-cow-bag with her weedy, undertaker looking husband; Reverend Churnton and of course Charlotte who was knocking back another glass of red wine and heading straight for Bo. ‘Darling! She squealed in Bo’s face. ‘Isn’t this great? Have you seen all the yummy food?’ ‘Yes, it’s lovely Charlotte.’ Bo smiled. ‘You look gorgeous Darling.’ Charlotte said as she took another big swig of wine. Bo blushed. She did look gorgeous as it happened and although Bo thought that Jean Pierre was the biggest drama queen she had ever met – second to Crystal that is – he had managed to tame her curls into some kind of order, with the help of, what seemed like a litre of hair serum. ‘Thank you. You look lovely too.’ Bo replied. ‘Oh, before I forget, or get too drunk to remember,’ Charlotte giggled, ‘that woman from Harrods definitely wants to commission you to design a new range of jewellery for them. She’s going to contact you next week to sort out what you can do.’ 262

‘Thanks Charlotte. I’ll have to pay you commission.’ Bo laughed. Finally she would be able to do something creative that she loved rather than just change tyres for a living. ‘Oh don’t be daft.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘It was a pleasure.’ ‘Where’s your boyfriend Rupert?’ Bo asked looking around. Charlotte’s face changed suddenly. ‘We broke up.’ She snapped, ‘and if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about. Right, where’s the wine gone? Oh there’s Tristan, will you excuse me for a minute Bo?’ Bo looked around for any sign of Troy. Maybe had hadn’t picked up his messages? Maybe he was still on an emergency call out? Or maybe he just didn’t want to see her again. As the evening wore on Bo felt more and more miserable. Everyone around her was getting drunk, ABBA’s Dancing Queen was blaring out of the speakers which were cleverly disguised as golden cherubs. Bo wondered how her mother was coping with things and how being related to Tristan Barrington was going to change things for all of them. Bo could see Charlotte in the distance looking not too pleased with Tristan about something and demanding another glass of wine. Tristan pushed her to one side, held his glass up and tapped it three times with a breadstick. ‘Can I have your attention please?’ He shouted above the noise. Someone thoughtfully turned the 263

music centre down and everyone gathered around Tristan. ‘Tristan, I said I need to talk to you!’ Charlotte’s slurred words came out a little louder than she had intended. ‘Not now dear. Can’t you see I’m busy?’ Tristan glared at Charlotte who was sitting at his feet on the cream carpet.’ ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Tristan boomed. ‘Get on with it!’ Someone from the back heckled. ‘Ladies and gentleman, we are gathered here tonight…’ ‘It sounds like one of my sermons.’ Reverend Churnton laughed. ‘When you’ve quite finished, thank you. We are gathered here tonight to say our farewells and our congratulations to our butler, Parker and our cook, Clarissa. Parker has been assigned to us for a number of years now and we never thought he would ever find it in himself to find a decent woman!’ Everyone chuckled at Charles’ expense. Charles blushed. ‘As you are aware Parker and Clarissa are going to become engaged – who’s going to wait on who is anyone’s guess.’ Another chuckle. ‘So it is with our best wishes to Parker and Clarissa that they have a happy and prosperous life together. Three cheers for Parker and Clarissa, hip-hip…’ ‘Horray!’ The guests shouted in unison. ‘Tristan!’ Charlotte said, ‘have you finished your boring speeches yet?’ 264

Tristan was beginning to lose patience with Charlotte. ‘Just a minute!’ He hissed in her direction. Charlotte jumped up spilling red wine on the carpet and marched to the other side of the room. Bo wondered whether to go after her. ‘Now, I’d like to announce something else. As you know we’ve had a wonderful young lady living with us for the past two weeks…’ Whoops too late, Charlotte would have to wait a bit longer. ‘I can’t say it’s been an easy two weeks, but it certainly has been an interesting two weeks!’ Tristan chuckled. ‘Come up here Bo.’ Bo felt her face go on fire again and stood next to Tristan who placed his arm around her. ‘Without going into too much detail, it turns out that this young lady is in fact my… well, step-niece. I think that’s what you are.’ Tristan laughed. The sounds of ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ echoed around the room. ‘Unfortunately Bo has to go back to Hewbury tomorrow morning but I’m sure we will be seeing a lot more of her. In less than a fortnight she managed to…’ Tristan glanced over at Charlotte for a moment, ‘well let’s just say, she’s certainly a live wire and she’s a stubborn little madam, so I guess she must be a Barrington!’ Tristan laughed and pulled Bo into him for a hug. Boy, this man needed some deodorant! The whole room erupted in applause for Bo. ‘Excuse me?’ Charlotte suddenly shouted from the back of the room. ‘Seeing as we’re all making announcements, I’d like to make one of my own if you don’t mind?’ Charlotte got up and stood, rather wobbly, on a nest of tables with another glass of wine 265

sloshing around in her hand. Everyone turned round to look at her. ‘Charlotte, get off the furniture please.’ Crystal said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. Sometimes that girl could be impossible. ‘No, everyone else has had their say and I’d like to have mine. Now if you don’t mind!’ Charlotte glared back at Crystal. ‘Charlotte you’re going to fall off there.’ Bo said, looking concerned at Charlotte wobbling to and fro. Her long hair had fallen across her eyes and she swayed on her feet as she tried to keep her balance. ‘What and hurt myself?’ Charlotte giggled, ‘hurt myself and hurt the baby I’m carrying? Tristan Barrington’s baby.’ The whole room fell silent. ‘That’s right. Hilarious isn’t it?’ Charlotte hiccupped. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all night Tristan. I’d better enlighten everyone hadn’t I? For your information everyone, Tristan and I have been having an affair and I’m pregnant with his baby.’ Talk about cutting the atmosphere with a knife! Oh God, here we go, Bo thought. Everyone looked at Charlotte, then at Tristan, who looked bloody furious and bloody shocked, and then at Crystal, who looked as though she was going to be sick any minute. Jean Pierre look as though he was going to faint as he clapped his hand to his mouth in dramatic horror. Bo quietly walked over and helped Charlotte off the nest of tables. 266

‘Come on, I think you’ve had enough.’ Bo whispered. ‘Oh no, don’t take her away, just when we were enjoying her wonderful entertaining speech!’ Crystal smirked and patted her hair in place. ‘Well my dear, you’re not the only one to have a little secret you know.’ She glared at Tristan and back again to Charlotte who was being propped up by Bo. ‘We all have our little secrets you know and while you’ve been bedding your daughter’s best friend dear, I’ve been have quite a time of it myself. I’ve been screwing the vicar!’ ‘Oh my God!’ Bo groaned, being careful not to drop Charlotte on the floor. The room resembled a tropical fish tank with everyone’s mouth open in astonishment. As if right on cue the patio doors opened. Bo’s heart jumped into her mouth. ‘Sorry I’m late everyone. Horrendous traffic. Hope I haven’t missed anything?’ Troy said. Everyone looked in his direction. Troy looked down at himself and back at the crowd. ‘What?’ He asked.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN Bo sat down on one of the patio chairs and breathed a sigh of relief. By the time she had escorted all the guests out of the house; calmed down the hysterical Charlotte; pacified Tristan with a large brandy in one room and Crystal in another room with the vicar, who was by now wondering if he would ever be able to continue vicaring, or ever face his congregation again, she was quite exhausted. ‘Well they’re full of surprises that lot, aren’t they?’ Bo said, smiling up at Troy who was standing looking out to the vast lawns. ‘Certainly are. As are you Miss Sanderson.’ He smiled cheekily at her. ‘Me? Why?’ Bo looked surprised. ‘You didn’t say you were coming back here. I’ve spent the best part of today trying to track you down. Isobel said you had come back to London for one more night.’ ‘You’ve seen Isobel? What is she back?’ Bo said. ‘No you loon, I’ve been to Hewbury.’ ‘Hewbury, but why?’ ‘To find you, stupid.’ Troy smiled, ‘Oh and your brother Cain and my ex Isobel are… what do they call it nowadays? An item?’ ‘Hang on. You’ve driven all the way to Hewbury to find me?’ 268

‘And back again.’ Troy added – well it was a bloody long drive. ‘What did you do that for?’ ‘For a gypsy girl you can be incredibly thick sometimes you know. I was looking for you to ask you if I could come with you. If you would be my… well my… girlfriend?’ This time it was Troy who blushed. The tears in Bo’s eyes welled up. No she was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She’d done enough of that lately. ‘You mean?’ Troy bent down to Bo’s level and met her eyes. ‘I mean, would you let me come to Hewbury with you? I… well, just put it this way, now I’ve travelled over a hundred miles to find you, I don’t want to lose you again.’ Troy smiled – oh those brilliant white teeth again. Whoopee! Bo wanted to shout, but thought she might look and sound stupid. She smiled at Troy as he bent down to kiss her – at last! After what must surely have been the kiss of the century, Bo smiled again. In fact she couldn’t help but smile. He really did want her. Troy really did want her! ‘Oh before I forget.’ Troy searched about in the inside of his leather jacket and pulled out a small carrier bag. ‘You look even more beautiful tonight than you usually do, but those shoes…’ Troy pulled a face at the silver kitten heel shoes on Bo’s feet. 269

‘What? What’s wrong with them?’ She said. ‘I think these are more your style.’ Troy smiled, pulling out a pair of pink flip-flops and handed them to Bo. The designer flip-flops were the same shade as her nail polish and were covered in tiny, pink, handsewn sequins. The little tag hanging from them declared, ‘Love Your Toes’. Way better than her pair from Budget, whose catch phrase was, ‘You Won’t Find Cheaper!’ ‘They’re beautiful!’ Bo gasped and flung her arms around Troy’s neck. ‘Oh and in answer to your question, yes I’d love you to come to Hewbury and I don’t want to lose you now either.’ She smiled up at him. ‘But…’ Uh-oh Troy thought, the dreaded ‘but’. ‘What about your cottage? What about your practice? What about your life here?’ Bo was already worrying. Troy shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ll buy another one – with a caravan in the back garden if you like. As for the practice, I told you, I’m not interested in working with Greg anymore and I can easily set up somewhere else.’ Bo smiled, ‘I don’t know what my family are going to make of all this!’ This was one bloody good day though she thought to herself. ‘Oh, just one more thing.’ Bo said, with a worried expression on her face. 270

‘What? Anything. Just name it.’ Now it was Troy who looked worried. ‘I’d better call Terry and cancel my cab for tomorrow.’ Bo smiled. ‘What do you mean, don’t be so bloody ridiculous?’ Isobel snapped down the phone to her father. ‘I’m not being bloody ridiculous. For the first time in my life I’m making a decision. I love him dad and I want to be with him, whether that be in a caravan or a mansion.’ ‘Isobel darling, you don’t know anything about this man for God’s sake!’ Tristan boomed down the phone. ‘Is that Izzy?’ Crystal could be heard in the background. ‘Yes, it is Isobel and she’s calling to tell us her latest mad-cap scheme to run off with a bloody gypsy. I mean she’s half related to the boy for Christ sake!’ Tristan said to his wife. ‘Well you’ve got your stupid father to thank for that, haven’t you? Like father like son, as they say. You’re an expert on mad-cap ideas so you’d know all about that wouldn’t you?’ Crystal could be heard shouting in the background. ‘Ha! That’s rich coming from you, of all people!’ Tristan shouted back. ‘What the hell is going on there?’ Isobel shouted into her mobile phone. ‘Dad, put mum on speaker phone, I want to talk to her.’ 271

‘Well maybe if you were a proper man… Oh, hello darling. How are you?’ Crystal’s tone quickly changed to happy-mummy-mode. ‘Never mind about me, what on earth is going on there mother?’ ‘Ask your father dear, he started all of this.’ Crystal snapped. ‘Oh yes, that’s right. I was the one having it off with the bloody vicar, wasn’t I?’ Tristan shouted as he banged around in the study. ‘What?’ Isobel stared at the phone in her hand and placed it to her ear again. ‘What’s the vicar got to do with anything?’ ‘Ask your mother. She’s a bit of an authority in the church these days. A born-again Christian now, aren’t you dear?’ ‘Oh shut your mouth!’ ‘Mum?’ Isobel didn’t like the way this three way conversation was going. ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about dear. Now, tell me about this boy and why aren’t you and Troy getting married? I had it all planned. I thought we were going to get that designer, what’s her name? Oh yes, Marie-Anne to design your dress?’ Crystal tried to quickly change the subject. ‘Nothing to worry about?’ Tristan shouted, ‘the fact that you’ve been having it off with our beloved vicar is nothing to worry about?’ An affair? The vicar? Isobel couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. 272

‘Oh yes, that’s right, while you’ve been happily screwing Charlotte all this time and managed to get the stupid cow pregnant!’ Crystal retorted, suddenly realising that her daughter was still on the other end of the line. Isobel felt numb. Was she hearing this right? Or had she just got a crossed line? It certainly sounded like her parents shouting at each other. ‘Mum? I want to know what’s going on.’ Isobel finally said. ‘Well you did a good bloody job of that didn’t you?’ Tristan hissed at Crystal. ‘You can bloody talk, if you hadn’t….’ ‘Shut up, the pair of you!” Isobel shouted above the noise. ‘Right, will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on?’ The line remained silent for a moment. ‘Mum? Dad?’ ‘Izzy dear, me and your father….’ Crystal started. ‘Have been screwing other people by the sound of it.’ Isobel interrupted, ‘and the flaming vicar of all people mum! And what’s Charlotte got to do with all of this?’ ‘She’s pregnant Izzy… with your father’s baby.’ This time it was Isobel who couldn’t get the words out for a moment. ‘And you think you’re fit to advise me how to live my life?’ She suddenly shouted. Isobel couldn’t contain her anger anymore. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Charlotte and her father? Her 273

mother and the flaming vicar? ‘You disgust me, the pair of you!’ She shouted into the phone. ‘But Izzy, darling…’ Crystal said. Isobel clapped the phone shut. God, what was the world coming to? Isobel stared at the phone. Her father and her best friend. Sick, that’s what it was. Charlotte had been like part of the family since they were seven years old for Gods sake! And to top it all, her mother was screwing the fucking vicar! Isobel’s mobile rang again. She furiously pushed her Chanel sunglasses above her head and slammed the phone to her ear. ‘I don’t want to talk to either of you ever again!’ she screamed into the mouthpiece. ‘I’m sorry?’ The voice on the other end of the line said. ‘Oh Simon, sorry, I thought you were someone else.’ Isobel rubbed her head. She still couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Stretching out her legs in front of her on the caravan step, she signed a deep sigh. ‘Well, I’m glad I’m not the person you thought I was. In a bad mood are we dear?’ Simon asked. ‘Oh it’s nothing, just discovering what complete and utter assholes my parent’s are.’ Isobel snapped back. ‘Oh dear,’ Simon said, ‘well it’s a good job that I’ve got some good news to brighten your day then isn’t it?’ 274

Good news? Ha! Isobel thought, what’s that then, her mother and father have just been hit by a meteorite and the Barrington Empire is finally all mine? Well one could dream couldn’t one? ‘What?’ Isobel said. ‘That demo tape you sent me. The one with your recent beau singing on it, what’s his name, Cain isn’t it?’ ‘Yes.’ Isobel sat upright. ‘Well the bad news is that I don’t think Ringo Starr and Thomas is going to make a come back.’ Simon laughed at his own joke. ‘Go on.’ Isobel said. ‘The good news however is, I sent it to some producers in the States and they liked it. In fact they liked him so much that I’ve got three major labels interested in signing him up.’ Simon laughed, ‘I’ve booked him to meet all of them next week, if that’s all right?’ Oh my God! Isobel thought. I haven’t even told Cain that I’ve recorded him singing! Out loud she said, ‘That’s excellent news Si. Of course he’ll be there. Email me over the details.’ Right, Isobel thought as she brushed down her Next jeans and stood up. If we’re heading off to America then I’ve got to get to a bank and find some shops. Isobel scribbled Cain a note, stuck it to the door of his caravan and headed off in search of Antoinette. 275

Antoinette had hardly spoken to anyone since discovering that Isobel’s grandfather was also her father. She continued to do all the usual things like the washing, the cleaning and preparing the evening meal, but she wasn’t herself. She refused to eat anything and simply left the family to get on with their meal, choosing instead to sit in her trailer, listening to Radio four. Isobel knocked on the door of the 20 foot caravan that was Antoinette’s home. ‘Come in.’ Antoinette called out. The home was spotless and smelt strongly of Domestos. It might kill all known germs, but it doesn’t kill heartache, Isobel thought. ‘Right young lady.’ Isobel picked up Antoinette’s handbag. ‘Come on, you’re coming with me.’ Antoinette looked up from her lace-making kit which played host to several lace coasters. ‘It’s very sweet of you dear, but I don’t feel like going anywhere today.’ She smiled. The woman who, quite frankly had scared the pants off Isobel when she first saw her, looked nothing like the woman Isobel had met on her first day in Hewbury Travellers Park. She now resembled an introvert and worried woman. Her long auburn hair, which she always wore in a tight bun, now hung loose, framing a tired and worn face. ‘I don’t care what you feel like.’ Isobel said, ‘I might not be good at much, but I do know one thing for sure and that is that no matter how down you feel, 276

retail therapy is the only answer and as my own mother is currently too busy screwing the local vicar, then you will have to be my mother instead. So come on, put that lot down and let’s get out of here.’ ‘But…’ Antoinette protested. ‘But nothing. Come on, we’ve got some serious shopping to do. Now where’s the local taxi number? I don’t fancy driving Billy’s car again!’ As they collapsed into two chairs in an exquisite little cottage café in Bath, Antoinette smiled for the first time that day. A really big smile. ‘I can’t believe what we’ve just spent!’ She giggled like a naughty schoolgirl as she surveyed all the carrier bags on the floor around their feet. ‘Well,’ Isobel waved her arms around in the air, ‘if they want to behave like a pair of idiots then they can bloody well pay the price.’ She smiled. Having ordered the bank to phone her father to authorise a new unlimited platinum credit card, Isobel was bloody well going to spend it and she did. ‘Well, you certainly can shop, I’ll give you that.’ Antoinette said. ‘I didn’t go to finishing school for nothing.’ Isobel laughed as she waved a young waitress over. ‘Are you feeling a bit better now?’ Antoinette nodded. In fact she had almost forgotten the recent events in her life. Not that she disliked Rodney Barrington. She didn’t even know him, but to suddenly be told that your entire heritage, the customs you loved and upheld, actually meant 277

nothing, was like the biggest slap in the face you could wish upon anyone. ‘When’s Daisy coming home? Oh, two coffees please, oh and two of those Danish buns, thanks.’ Isobel said. ‘Tomorrow afternoon. My…’ She still couldn’t bring herself to say the word, ‘your grandfather is going to pick her up and bring her home. Oh that reminds me, I must go to the supermarket and get some things in if we’re to have a big family meal tomorrow.’ Antoinette added. ‘Oh no you won’t young lady. I think you’ve done quite enough for this family as it is.’ Isobel grabbed her phone out of her pocket. ‘What are you doing?’ Antoinette asked. ‘Phoning the caterer’s of course. My mother always uses the same company, I’m sure they will be able to supply us out here, or at least will know someone who can.’ Antoinette had never heard anything so daft. ‘Caterers?’ ‘Look Antoinette, I know it’s been a huge shock finding out that my grandfather is your father. I just want to help you and the only way I know how is to take some of the pressure off you financially. So shut up and eat your bun.’ Isobel smiled at Antoinette who smiled back. ‘Well tell them I don’t want none of that fancy stuff wrapped up in a cabbage leaf thank you very much. We eat real food down here, none of your 278

fancy nonsense.’ Antoinette smiled, but Isobel could tell it wasn’t a true smile. ‘Well, it could be worse.’ Isobel said between mouthfuls of sticky Danish bun, ‘you could be related to… well I don’t know, someone really horrible. My grandfather isn’t a bad man. He’s really very nice when you get to know him.’ ‘I’m sure he is Isobel, but you don’t understand. My entire history, my birthright, has been wiped out in one single blow. I’m not who I thought I was.’ Antoinette sighed. ‘But neither am I.’ Isobel said, ‘before I came here my life consisted of health spa’s, shopping and parties. I was a stuck up cow who didn’t do anything for anyone. Your family has shown me what’s important in life besides partying and spending vast amounts of money. You’ll always be you Antoinette. You’ll always be a gypsy woman who puts her family before anything else.’ Antoinette shook her head, ‘You don’t understand do you? I’m a fake. My whole life is a fake.’ ‘No you are not! Just because you’ve discovered you’ve got another father who doesn’t have gypsy blood, it doesn’t make you a fake. Your mother is a gypsy and besides, what does it really matter? I’m not a gypsy and look at me with …’ Isobel stopped suddenly. ‘Cain?’ Antoinette looked at her. Isobel blushed. ‘Don’t worry, I know you two are keen on each other. You really like him don’t you?’ 279

Isobel nodded. ‘And he really likes you.’ ‘How do you know?’ Antoinette laughed, ‘I’m his mother. I know when my son is smitten with a young lady.’ Isobel smiled. ‘Right, are you ready to hit the shops again? We’ve got a caravan to buy yet!’ She said as she finished her cup of coffee and pinched the discarded cherry from Antoinette’s plate. By the time Isobel and Antoinette returned to the site, it was well after six o’clock. ‘Lord, I haven’t even thought about the dinner.’ Antoinette worried. Bag upon glossy bag of clothes, shoes and accessories littered the floor of her caravan. ‘I dare to think how much we’ve spent.’ Antoinette gasped. ‘Don’t’ worry about that and don’t worry about dinner tonight either. We’ll order fish and chips for supper, my treat.’ Isobel smiled. ‘The boys are going to love you!’ Antoinette laughed. ‘In all seriousness, thank you Isobel, not only for cheering me up today, but for everything, From saving Kieran’s and Daisy’s lives, to… well just brightening my day.’ ‘It should be me who is thanking you. If I hadn’t come here I wouldn’t have had all these wonderful experiences and I wouldn’t have met Cain, would I?’ 280

Isobel smirked, ‘talking of which, I’d better go and find him. I’ve just remembered, I’ve got to tell him something.’ Cain was sitting on his bed, watching the local news when Isobel returned to his van loaded down with bags of shopping. ‘Bloody councils!’ Cain shouted, throwing the remote control at the portable TV. ‘What do they think they’re playing at?’ Isobel looked bemused. ‘Who? What?’ She asked as she deposited the bags at her feet. Gosh, it had only been two weeks, but how she had missed shopping. That wonderful familiar and exhilarating feeling! She would never be able to live like a complete nomad. ‘The bloody council, that’s what. Just because some of the so-called gypsies have been setting up illegal sites all over the place, the councils are talking about handing the legal ones like this over to private companies. Well, you know what’s going to happen then, don’t you?’ Isobel shook her head. ‘The private companies will start selling the land off. Land we own.’ ‘But they can’t do that, can they?’ Isobel said. ‘Oh they will, you mark my words. Anyway where have you been? You’ve been gone ages.’ Cain said. ‘And what’s all that?’ He laughed glancing at the bags surrounding Isobel’s feet. 281

‘Just a few essentials.’ Isobel said. Okay, so she couldn’t find a Harrods in the city of Bath, or a supplier of Michael Kors designs, but she did find some very nice and very exclusive designer shops and came away with some very nice things indeed. Cain gave her a I-don’t-believe-a-word-of-it look. ‘They are!’ Isobel protested. ‘After all, I did lose everything in that fire and besides, your mum needed cheering up. Oh and Bo needed a new caravan before she returned.’ Isobel had had years of practice justifying her spending habits – a skill she had learnt from her mother. ‘A caravan? How much did that cost you?’ Cain asked, ‘Me and Billy were going to nick one from the caravan centre tonight.’ Isobel shot him a no-you-were-not look. ‘It was only a couple of thousand and Bo can’t come home with nowhere to live. They’re going to deliver it tomorrow. Anyway, don’t worry, I’ve put it all on daddy’s little plastic friend.’ Isobel smiled, waving a new plastic card in the air. Cain shook his head. ‘And he said that was OK did he?’ ‘Ha, it’s the least he can do considering he’s been screwing my best friend and managed to get her pregnant!’ Cain shook his head again in disbelief. He wasn’t even going to go there. 282

‘Oh and look, I’ve got these for you!’ Isobel squealed, producing four glossy carrier bags, bulging with designer gear. He had never seen her more alive and bursting with excitement. She was like a child on Christmas morning. ‘What do I need these for? I can afford clothes you know and what I can’t afford, well, I nick.’ Oh God, she hoped she hadn’t offended him again. ‘Yes, but these are different. Think of it as a loan, because you’re going to need a new wardrobe for next week.’ Isobel ventured. Cain looked up from delving into one of the carrier bags, pulling out a pair of black silk boxer shorts. ‘Why? What’s happening next week?’ Oh here we go, Isobel thought, and took a deep breath. ‘Oh God, please don’t go off on one of your, Idon’t-want-your-charity, kind of speeches.’ Isobel said, ‘okay, well I’ve got this friend you see, well he’s not a friend of mine as such really, more of a friend of the family, my mother always invites him to her do’s in the hope that he will bring Shirley Bassey with him. He’s actually someone my dad knows…’ ‘Izzy you’re babbling.’ Cain interrupted. He was right. She was babbling. ‘Sorry. Okay, well Simon, that’s his name, Simon is a scout for some top music producers in the States. Anyway, Kieran suggested…’ Well, if she threw Kieran into the equation and said that he had made 283

her send the demo tape to Simon, Cain was far less likely to strangle him. She crossed her fingers behind her back and silently apologised to Kieran. ‘…Kieran suggested that I should record you signing and send the tape to Simon. So I did.’ By now Cain was now sitting upright but still studying the boxer-shorts. He rarely wore underwear, unless it was a special occasion. ‘So…’ Isobel continued, momentarily wondering why Cain was examining his underpants so closely, ‘Simon phoned me this morning, just after I’d called my stupid parents – that’s another story I’ve got to tell you…’ ‘Isobel, you’re babbling again.’ Cain smiled at her. ‘Oh sorry, yes, where was I? Oh yes, so Simon phoned me and said he’d sent the tape I sent him to some producers in the States and three of them want to meet you next week – in New York!’ There, she’d finally said it. Isobel held her breath, waiting in anticipation for Cain’s response. Cain suddenly looked up at her. Oh God, what was he going to say? ‘What me? In New York?’ He said, breaking out in a big grin. Isobel nodded, praying that it was a grin and he wasn’t about to go mad at her and tell her to not interfere in his life, blah, blah, blah. ‘Oh God, are you really mad?’ She suddenly blurted out. ‘I’m sorry, I just thought, well you’re such a brilliant musician and singer and…’ 284

‘Sorry? What are you sorry about? That’s the best news I’ve heard all week!’ Cain said. He jumped up, threw the boxer shorts in the air and flung his arms around Isobel, lifting her high into the air. ‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? Ever since I was a kid I dreamt of singing to packed venues. I know I’m supposed to follow in the family business when the old man retires, but it’s never interested me, not like music has.’ Cain suddenly stopped. ‘You are coming with me, right?’ ‘Just you try to stop me!’ Isobel laughed. God she had really made him happy. She’d never done that before, never made someone’s dream come true before. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’ Cain said. ‘Oh, I can think of a few ideas.’ Isobel smiled and pushed Cain towards the bed.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Bo was feeling uneasy as she and Troy pulled into the lane of Hewbury Travellers Park. Deep in thought, she picked at a frayed bit of denim on her ripped jeans. Troy squeezed her hand. ‘It’ll be okay you know.’ Troy grinned. ‘But what if you don’t like it here? What if they don’t like you?’ Bo worried. God, it was only a fortnight ago that she had met Troy and now he was upping sticks and coming back home with her. This just didn’t happen to girls like her. But the anxiety was mixed with excitement. Only two weeks ago. God, it felt like it was a lifetime ago when she waved goodbye to Hewbury in favour of the bright lights of London. ‘Hey.’ Troy smiled, ‘if you’re here then I’ll love it here and if your family don’t like me then… well then I’ll just have to bribe them with free veterinary care for life, won’t I? Besides,’ Troy added as they crawled up the lane at a snails pace, ‘I’ve got a buyer for the cottage, so I’ve got nowhere else to live right now and seeing as I’ve handed in my resignation at the practice, I don’t have a job either right now.’ Troy grinned at Bo. A shot suddenly rang out in the air, making Troy slam his feet on the brake and clutch, sending them both lurching forwards. ‘Don’t panic.’ Bo said as she grabbed hold of the dashboard, ‘It’s only Mad Sam. Hang on.’ Bo 286

unclipped her seat belt, stood up on the central arm rest and popped her head out of the sun-roof. ‘Are you mad?!’ Troy shouted. ‘Sam it’s me! Don’t shoot Sam! It’s me Bo!’ Bo shouted out into the wilderness. ‘It’s only me Sam! I’m back!’ she shouted again. Jumping back into her seat, she smiled at Troy who looked in amazement at her. ‘What?’ Bo said. ‘You are mad! He could have shot your head off.’ ‘Nah, Sam wouldn’t shoot me and besides he’s a lousy shot anyway.’ Bo laughed. As they pulled into the site Antoinette and Kieran were waiting to welcome them home. ‘Mam!’ Bo cried and ran to her mother’s open arms, hugging her tightly. ‘How are you?’ Bo asked, ‘really?’ she added. Antoinette smiled, ‘Oh you know, not too bad. And look at you! Did they not feed you in London? I bet it was all lettuce leaves and filtered water. You are too thin my girl. Skinny as a rake.’ Bo smiled. This was more like her mum. Back to her normal self. ‘And where’s my little monster?’ Bo smiled at Kieran, threw her arms around him and swung him around three times. ‘Have you missed me?’ 287

‘Nah, not really.’ Kieran smiled. ‘Oh sorry, Mam, Kieran, I’d like you to meet my… my new …um boyfriend, Troy. Troy, this is my mam Antoinette and my little rotten brother Kieran.’ Bo introduced everyone. Antoinette smiled again. How good it was to have her little girl back and with a boyfriend on her arm too. She had almost given up hope of Bo ever finding a suitable man. Although the unwritten rule in Romany tradition stated that a gypsy married another gypsy, this idea had never appealed to Bo, who claimed that it was akin to an arranged marriage and there was no way she was going to allow anyone in her family to fix her up with some daft cousin. And besides, Antoinette thought, look where tradition had got her. ‘You must both be tired. Go and unpack your luggage and let me have your washing when you’re ready. Your new trailer is over there Bo. Isobel bought it for you.’ ‘Isobel?’ Both Troy and Bo said at the same time. ‘She felt so awful that your van had burnt down to the ground. So she insisted on buying you a new one.’ ‘Blimey, that’s a first, Isobel thinking of someone other than herself.’ Troy chuckled. ‘Oh, I think you will notice a remarkable difference in young Isobel.’ Antoinette smiled. ‘She’s a good girl that one.’ Antoinette added with fondness. ‘Now off you go and we will see you both at supper time.’ 288

Rodney looked as proud as punch as he drove Daisy home in his burgundy and silver Bentley. Daisy on the other hand looked tired and worried. Life on the hospital ward had made her unsettled. The nurses, as lovely as they were, fussed over her, making her feel old and helpless. They were a constant reminder that she was no spring chicken anymore. She was an old lady. She knew that she should be feeling happy to be returning to her home and yet there was the issue of how her family were going to react to the news. They all knew about Rodney of course, but the long silences between her family and Rodney were a bit of a giveaway. Although all very polite and would never directly voice their opinions, Daisy knew how suspicious they all were of him. ‘A penny for them?’ Rodney said as he changed gear to turn into the village declaring, ‘Hewbury welcomes careful drivers’. Daisy smiled. Those four simple words reminded her of their secret courtship all those years ago. He was always saying it back then and she would often joke that he would become bankrupt if he asked her one more time. ‘Oh you know, just wondering how Antoinette and the family are.’ Daisy smiled. Rodney pulled the car into a lay-by and switched off the engine. ‘Listen Daisy, if you’d rather I dropped you off and went back to London I will. You know I’ll do anything to make you happy and if it’s going to cause trouble for you… I just want to make you happy.’ Daisy put her hand on Rodney’s. 289

‘You will do no such thing. I lost you once before, I’m not about to lose you again just because my family might be in a bad mood about all of this. I’m too long in the tooth to do what everyone else wants me to do.’ ‘As determined as ever I see.’ Rodney laughed. ‘And what about the other thing? The… the proposal I mean? You haven’t changed your mind have you?’ Rodney looked concerned at Daisy. Daisy lent over and adjusted his bow-tie. ‘I haven’t changed my mind, although there is one condition.’ ‘What? Anything.’ ‘I am not moving to London Rodney Barrington. If you want to be with me then you will have to move down here. I’ve done all the travelling I want to do in my life time.’ ‘Of course. Anything you want. I’ll buy a plot of land and you can have the biggest and the best caravan your heart desires. I’ll even wear an earring if you want.’ Rodney said with a glint in his eye. Rodney already knew that Daisy would never return to London with him and she would never contemplate living in a house with four walls and double glazing. It would drive her mad. ‘You’ll do not such thing young man! An earring of all things!’ Daisy laughed, ‘come on, let’s go home.’ ‘How do I look?’ Isobel spun round making the three quarter length, rose coloured dress float in the air. 290

‘Stunning, absolutely stunning.’ Cain said, admiring her. ‘Why don’t we forget about the party and go back to bed?’ He pulled at the chiffon. ‘Oh no you don’t. Your mother and I have gone to a lot of trouble over this party. It’s Granny Daisy and Bo’s first night back and we’ve got to tell them about New York, remember?’ Isobel said, pulling Cain to his feet. ‘New York! It just runs off the tongue doesn’t it?’ Cain smiled. ‘Yes, well you won’t be going anywhere if you don’t get dressed.’ Isobel said and threw his clothes at him. News that Granny Daisy was out of hospital and that Bo was home and that a big party had been organised in their honour, had spread throughout the travellers’ community far and wide. Families had driven down in their droves to help celebrate the home-comings. Antoinette, with the help of Isobel and some caterers had made the marquee look fantastic, with all manner of glittering fairy light, candles, autumnal flowers and ivy decorating the entire ceiling and walls. Rows of wooden tables were covered with white cotton table clothes and decorative name plates and silver platters of ‘real food’, as Antoinette liked to call it, adorned every table. As the guests made their way to the tent Antoinette proudly greeted them all one by one. Isobel was right, why should she be ashamed? She was still Antoinette, head of the family, no matter who her biological father was. 291

‘Come in, come in.’ Antoinette gestured, ‘Gerald you’re there next to Auntie Mo. Simon, you’re sitting next to Jonno and don’t you two dare show me up tonight.’ She warned. ‘Heidi, you’re next to Jonno and Amy.’ Thankfully Heidi had decided to wear some clothes this evening. ‘Has anyone seen Sam? Tommy, be a love and go down the lane and tell Sam that dinner will soon be ready.’ Tommy groaned and went out again to find Sam. ‘He’d better not bloody shoot at me again or I’ll break his neck!’ Tommy grumbled. ‘Ah, here’s Cain and Isobel. Cain, you and Isobel are over there. And where’s Bo and Troy?’ Antoinette scoured the room. ‘Ah here they come now.’ ‘This is surreal.’ Bo whispered to Troy as they walked towards the marquee. ‘Tell me about it.’ Troy said nervously. The idea that they were about to sit down together with his exgirlfriend and her grandfather was quite strange. Not that he was the slightest bit jealous of Cain. It was just… well, as Bo said, surreal. Troy smiled at Bo as they strolled hand in hand up the path. It was good to be home Bo thought. Her black gypsy dress looked radiant with her new pink flip flops. She had clipped the sides of her untamed hair back with two silver butterfly clips. Troy thought she looked more beautiful every time he looked at her. ‘Come in, come in.’ Antoinette smiled at her daughter and Troy, ‘you two are over there next to 292

Uncle Bob. Keep an eye on his drinking Bo, you know what he’s like with his medication if he has too much to drink.’ Antoinette said. ‘Welcome to my family.’ Bo laughed. The party had got off to a good start and everyone approved of the four course meal consisting of stuffed apricot pheasant, accompanied with roasted vegetables and apple and blackberry stuffing. Billy senior caught Troy’s eye and glared at him as they ate meringues overflowing with fresh fruit. Troy smiled nervously at him. ‘So when are you going back to London then boy?’ Bo’s dad asked. Troy coughed. ‘I… um…’ ‘He’s not dad. Troy’s staying here… with me.’ Bo intercepted. ‘What the bloody hell for?’ ‘Because I want him to.’ Bo added. ‘And what exactly can you contribute to my daughter’s life then young man?’ Billy asked. ‘Well… I…’ ‘He’s a vet dad. Troy’s going to set up a practice down here.’ Bo answered for Troy. ‘Can the man not speak for himself?’ Billy replied gruffly. ‘What I want to know is what your intentions are to my only daughter?’ ‘Dad!’ Bo shouted. The room fell quiet. 293

‘It’s all right Bo. I understand your father’s concerns and rightly so. I mean, he knows nothing about me, other than that I come from London.’ The rest of the guests had ceased discussing things between themselves and all turned their attention to Troy and Bo. Si nudged Jonno. Oh God, Bo thought, feeling her face going red. Please don’t make a show of me dad, not here, not in front of everyone. ‘Mr Sanderson, I realise this may come as a surprise and I know I’ve only just met your daughter’ Troy continued, ‘but… well.. I fell in love with her the moment I met her… and I … I do want to marry her… that’s if I have your permission of course. Oh, and if Bo will do me the honour of course?’ Troy suddenly realised he hadn’t actually got round to asking Bo. Bo on the other hand, looked up startled, as did most of the guests. Marriage? Oh my God! He was proposing. He wants to marry me! It was traditional for gypsies to have a short engagement, but even gypsies left it longer than two weeks! Bo’s father looked at her. ‘You gotta pay me mind. We take marriage very seriously here. It’s not the same as your culture.’ Billy said. In Romany culture it was traditional for anyone wishing to marry a gypsy-girl to pay the father of the bride. ‘Dad!’ Bo said. ‘You know the rules Bo. That’s the way it’s always been. I approve of this man and we will celebrate with a pliashka ceremony when you decide on a date to marry. That’s if you agree girl?’ Billy asked Bo. 294

‘Well yes, of course I want to marry him, You, Troy.’ Bo giggled. A big cheer erupted from the guests. Isobel winked at Troy and mouthed the words, ‘well done’ to him. Troy was on cloud nine. Bo couldn’t quite believe what had just happened to her. The clinking of cutlery on glass made everyone settled down again as Billy senior stood up to make a speech. ‘Right everyone, now we’ve got that sorted out, I think it’s time for a few toasts. First and foremost we must raise our glasses to Granny Daisy. We welcome her home to the fold where she belongs and pray that she stays here for evermore. To Granny Daisy!’ ‘Granny Daisy!’ The guests echoed. Daisy smiled and rose to her feet. She placed her hands on the table in front of her and took a deep breath. ‘Thank you everyone. I would like to say a few words if I may. Thank you to my… I mean, our lovely daughter, who organised this wonderful meal and party for us.’ Everyone looked in Antoinette’s direction. The tent fell silent, all bar a few children running about under the tables and Jonno and Si giggling as they punched one another on the arm. ‘Now,’ Daisy continued. ’You are all aware by now of recent events… of my association with Rodney Barrington – Antoinette’s father and Isobel’s grandfather. I am not going to apologise for falling in love all those years ago, nor am I going to apologise for anything I’ve done. Rodney and I intend to stay 295

together and if any of you disapprove, then that’s your problem, not mine. I am eternally grateful to Bo for swapping lives with Isobel for a fortnight. If she hadn’t then Isobel would never have become part of our family. She wouldn’t have been here to get me to hospital in time and she wouldn’t have discovered the letters in my drawer. And…’ Daisy looked at Rodney, ‘I wouldn’t have had a second chance. So thank you to Bo and Isobel.’ ‘Bo and Isobel!’ the guests cheered. This time both Bo and Isobel both blushed. Mind you, you could have said potatoes! And the guests would have cheered they were that intoxicated by now. ‘Speech! speech!’ Si and Jonno chanted, banging their hands on the table. Isobel cringed as Cain nudged her to stand up. ‘Well, OK. Thank you Daisy and thank you to everyone. If Bo and I hadn’t agreed to do this swap then things would have been very different indeed. I would have probably ended up marrying Troy over there and he would have quite rightly divorced me a week later. I wouldn’t have learnt how to drive or repair a car…’ ‘Is that what you call it?’ Billy senior heckled. ‘And I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to experience real family life, with real family values and I wouldn’t have met Cain.’ Isobel said. By now Auntie Mo was dabbing the corner of her eye with a napkin. Uncle Bob looked like he was listening to the speeches, but his good eye gave away the fact that he was actually fast asleep. 296

‘Talking of whom,’ Isobel continued, ‘you all know what a wonderful musician and singer Cain is.’ ‘Sing us a song Cain!’ Heidi shouted out from the far end of the room. Isobel shot her a look of ‘shutup-you-silly-cow’. ‘If I may continue?’ Isobel said, ‘we wanted to wait until we knew for sure, but Cain has been offered a deal with a music agent and we’re going out to meet some producers who are very interested in signing him up… next week… in America.’ ‘What?’ Billy senior shouted. ‘Bloody America? What do you want to go there for? It’s full of bloody yanks!’ Antoinette shook her head. Here we go again she thought laughing to herself. The tables had been cleared to one side to make room for the dance hall and Cain and his cousins set up the stage with their equipment. As they sang, Isobel watched proudly from the far side of the room. ‘Hey’ Bo tapped Isobel on the shoulder. ‘Bo! Hi!’ Isobel wrapped her arm around Bo. ‘Nice speech.’ Bo said, ‘Champagne?’ She offered Isobel a glass. ‘You don’t mind do you? About me and Troy I mean?’ Bo asked Isobel. Oh no, she had that horrible guilty feeling again. ‘Me? Mind? God no, not at all. I’m over the moon for you both and just glad that he’s found someone like you to spend his life with. Troy knows it would never work with me and him. We just didn’t… well, 297

we didn’t love each other. I know he loves you though. I can see it in his eyes. It’s a look I’ve never had the pleasure to see from him before.’ Isobel said. It was true, she had never seen Troy look more relaxed or contented than he did when he was with Bo. ‘And you and Cain?’ Bo smiled. ‘Well, let’s put it this way, I don’t think I’ll be going back to London for a while. You heard what my parents have been getting up to?’ Bo nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Oh God don’t be. They deserve everything they get. They’ve never been there for me. Oh yes, they’ve got plenty of money to throw around, but we’ve never been what you might call a proper family. Tears were always mopped up by a nanny, not my own mother. Oh and thank you for doing the race. I didn’t mean to land it on you like that.’ ‘Oh you’re welcome. I quite enjoyed it really.’ Bo lied. ‘Ouch!’ Bo shouted as a foot shot out from under the table. Bo and Isobel peered under the tablecloth to see Mad Sam and Heidi half dressed under the table. ‘Whoops, sorry.’ Bo laughed, ‘We’ll leave you to it.’ ‘Ladies and gentleman!’ Cain shouted into the microphone, ‘our last song tonight is dedicated to every one of you. Two, three, four!’ Cain burst into 298

song, singing, It’s Got to be Perfect by Fairground Attraction. ‘Are you OK love?’ Rodney asked Antoinette. Antoinette smiled as she looked up to her son singing his heart out on the stage. ‘I’m fine … dad.’ She smiled again. Rodney’s eyes filled with tears. ‘We’ve got a lot of catching up to do you know.’ Rodney said. ‘It’ll wait till the morning.’ Antoinette smiled, ‘now go and dance with my mother. It looks like I’ve got two gypsy weddings to start planning.’

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Tristan Barrington was not having a good day. News that not only had he got is daughter’s best friend pregnant, but that he had tried to bribe council officials into granting planning permission, had hit the local headlines. Added to this Charlotte was not giving him a minutes peace. ‘But Tristan, baby.’ She whined down the phone for the hundredth time, ‘I’m lonely. I want to see you.’ ‘Look Charlotte, I’ve got the press camping outside my door all wanting a statement. I’ve got an on-going inquiry going on with the council officials and thanks to your little outburst the other night, Crystal has buggered off, leaving me to clear up the fucking mess!’ Much as he liked Charlotte – well he liked anyone young woman in London between the age of 18 and 25 really – he wasn’t the least bit keen on the idea of starting another family and Charlotte’s determination to keep the baby, only added to his problems. ‘Look I’ve made an appointment for you to see a Harley Street doctor. He’s very discreet and you can have the termination and be out again within a couple of hours.’ He’d said to her once the dust had settled after the party. ‘You are joking!’ Charlotte laughed, ‘I’m not having an abortion. I’m having this baby – your baby – and that’s the end of it and you’re going to bloody well stand by me!’ Came Charlotte’s reply. 300

Crystal had indeed buggered off. Once the Bishop had been informed of Reverend Churnton’s infidelities, he had been ordered to take leave from the church while they decided if he could keep his job and he was currently sunning himself in Barbados with Crystal. In fact Crystal had never been happier, or more popular. Despite having a long-term affair with the vicar, she was portrayed as the victim. The poor wife, who only had an affair to get her own back on her betraying pig of a husband. ‘It will all work out for the best. You’ll see.’ She said as she sipped an ice-cold smoothie and lay back on a beach mat. ‘Well, obviously I wish this could have been kept a secret, but we will just have to deal with now with the Lord’s help.’ Reverend Churnton smiled. With his floral Bermuda shorts, bright yellow t-shirt, Panama hat, pale white legs and minus his dog-collar, he looked just like any other tourist. Tristan on the other hand was back in not-so-sunny London, desperately trying to sort out the mess. Bo was having the time of her life back at the travellers’ site. It was so good to have real fresh air in her lungs and to be able to walk for miles without bumping into a lamppost, or hearing a mobile phone jingling away in the background. ‘This is wonderful.’ She sighed to Troy, ‘The ideal spot. And look, you could have stabling at the back there and you could have kennels for when people go away on holiday!’ She added excitedly. 301

Troy smiled. ‘You’ve got this all worked out haven’t you?’ He said taking in the breath-taking views of the small farm on the outskirts of the village. ‘That’s why you love me, because I’m so organised.’ Bo smiled as Troy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to him. It was like fate, Bo thought. The farm had just been put on the market at knock down price because old farmer Tyler had died. His family were far from interested in the land or the picturesque farmhouse and wanted a quick sale as soon as possible. It was ideal for Bo and Troy and Granny D had persuaded Rodney to help the couple in their dream to build a veterinary practice and equestrian centre. Troy had yet to persuade Bo that living in a farmhouse would be far more comfortable than living in a caravan. She wasn’t having any of it and had already arranged for her own van to be transported to the back of the farmhouse. ‘It’s like taking a fish out of water. I just wouldn’t like it Troy. But there’s nothing to stop you from living in the house. You can always come and see me in the middle of the night if you get lonely.’ She laughed. ‘No, I told you, I’ll be by your side forevermore and if that means kipping in a caravan, then so be it.’ Troy placed a kiss on Bo’s pretty freckled nose. ‘I love you Bo Sanderson.’ He whispered. Bo was so glad she’d decided to go to London now. 302

‘Come on or we’re going to miss the flight.’ Cain shouted to Isobel who was double checking that she had everything. ‘Okay, okay, I’m coming. Oh, hang on, have you got your mobile?’ ‘Yes, I’ve got both our mobiles. I’ve got the tickets; I’ve got the luggage and I’ve got that spray stuff you spray on your face, now come on!’ Cain shouted back. ‘God, women!’ He said to his mum. ‘Well, she’s got to make sure she’s got everything.’ Antoinette laughed as her son grew more and more agitated. ‘Now you make sure that you phone us as soon as you get there. Have you got your fiddle? Have you got some spare strings?’ ‘Yes mam, I’ve got everything. It’s Isobel who keeps forgetting things.’ Cain said. Antoinette looked at Cain for a moment. ‘Now are you sure you want to go because if you’re not…’ ‘Mam, I’m not some kid you know. Yes, I’m sure I want to go. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, of course I want to go. Isobel, will you bloody hurry up!’ ‘Yes, coming, coming.’ Isobel rushed out of the caravan, wearing a long black suede skirt, beige boots and a beige leather jacket and carrying even more bags with her. ‘What have you got now?’ Cain said, ‘The plane won’t be able to take off with all the stuff you’re bringing.’ 303

‘They’re essentials.’ Isobel smiled, ‘now come on or we’ll be late!’ Cain lifted his eyes to the sky. Antoinette laughed. That was so typical of Isobel. The taxi driver waited at the bottom of the lane. Cain and Isobel kissed the family goodbye and jumped into Si’s car. ‘See you when we get back! Give Kieran a kiss from me and tell him I’ll bring him something nice back.’ Isobel shouted out. Kieran was no where to be seen and despite searching high and low for him, she couldn’t find him, and as Cain kept pointing out, they were going to be late. ‘Right, to Bristol airport please driver.’ Isobel said. Cain chuckled. ‘We can see you come from London. Driver indeed.’ The taxi driver started his engine and signalled to turn left. ‘Stop! Izzy!’ A little voice shouted as loud as it could as Kieran ran as fast as he could down the lane after the taxi. ‘Stop! Please stop!’ He shouted again. For the first time in her stay Isobel took in the views of the hill tops with appreciation. She looked over her shoulder. Oh my God! She suddenly saw Kieran in the distance, running as fast as his little short-clad legs would carry him, waving something shiny in the air. ‘Stop!’ Isobel shouted at the taxi driver who slammed on his brakes. 304

‘What’s the matter?’ Cain shouted after Isobel as she jumped out of the car and started running back up the lane. By now Kieran was running faster and faster with tears running down his little muddy brown face. Isobel hitched up her skirt and ran as fast as she could towards him. As they met she scooped him up in her arm as he sobbed into her shoulder. ‘I thought I’d missed you!’ He sobbed. ‘I thought you’d gone.’ ‘Hey, we’ll be back darling.’ Isobel smoothed his hair down and kissed him on the cheek. ‘We’re not going away forever.’ ‘I wanted to give you something so you won’t forget me. I was so busy getting it just right that mam said you’d already left.’ He sobbed, holding up the silver notebook. ‘What is it?’ Isobel asked. ‘Open it.’ Kieran said, his big brown eyes wet and his nose more snotty than usual. Isobel opened the small silver notebook and gasped. ‘Dera Isobel. Look I ccan reed and rite now! Pease be kareful and have a nyce tim in amereka. I love youu. Love frm Kieran.’ A tear fell from Isobel’s eye and landed on the notebook. ‘You can write Kieran! You can write and you wrote me a letter. You clever boy! And I love you too.’ Isobel felt overwhelmed with pride. Kieran smiled up at her. 305

‘See I said I could do it, didn’t I?’ ‘You did and I am so proud of you. Now I’m going to miss that plane if I don’t go now, so get yourself back up that lane to your mum and I’ll see you very soon.’ Isobel kissed Kieran on the cheek. ‘Don’t forget this.’ Kieran ripped the page from the silver notebook. ‘You can’t have the notebook coz I need it to practice my writing in. The paper they use at school is crap.’ He added. Isobel folded up the piece of paper and put it in her pocket. ‘Hey!’ She shouted after him as he shot off back up the lane. Kieran turned around. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Don’t say crap, it’s not nice.’ Isobel smiled. THE END

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