Gold Digger

Ollie

I’ve never been so terrified as when I saw Lottie sinking to the bottom of that pool. I still felt like I couldn’t breathe even now that she was safe and in my sister’s dry clothes. Luckily Vics had come over just as we were walking up to the house and sorted Lottie out. Vicky had been nearly as furious as me when she heard what happened. She displayed more emotion than I’d seen out of her in years, even shouting at me to demand an explanation as to why I let it happen. And now she was here, she clearly did not think me up to the job of looking after Lottie. She hadn’t moved from her side since they came back from the house.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Why are you calling her that?” Vicky snapped at Mum.

“Er… what darling?” Mum asked, frowning at her in confusion.

“Why are you calling Lottie ‘Charlotte’? It’s not her name.”

We were in a large group with some of my cousins, and Mum had been introducing Lottie to everyone. I’d thought it was a bit weird that she was using Charlotte, but seeing as Lottie didn’t say anything, I hadn’t thought to question it.

Mum gave a nervous laugh. “Well, it is her name.”

“No, it’s not,” Vicky replied. Lottie sidled closer to her and put her hand on her wrist.

“Honestly, Vics, it’s fine,” she murmured. “I don’t mind.”

Vicky’s eyebrows went up. “But your name isn’t Charlotte.”

Mum was looking confused, and the rest of the group were shifting uncomfortably. “Of course it is. Lottie is short for Charlotte, surely.”

Lottie gave a small shrug. “Well…”

“ Lottie is her legal name,” Vicky said firmly then turned to Lottie. “Why would you let her call you Charlotte?” Lottie’s face was bright red now as she looked down at her champagne glass which had been doled out to her when she came back from changing, seeing as she dropped her other glass by the pool. “And why are you giving her champagne? She doesn’t drink.” Vicky turned to me. “You know she doesn’t drink, and she hates the smell too because her mother was an alcoholic.” Lottie was now looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her up. Everyone around us had gone totally silent.

“Vicky, that’s enough,” I growled.

“What?” she glared at me. “You’re the one calling her by her wrong name and giving her drinks she can’t stand. Why are you having a go at me?” Her gaze then snapped to Lottie, and I realised that she must have made a signal via her hand on her arm. I knew they had all sorts of non-verbal cues but I hadn’t found out what meant what yet. “Why should I leave it?” Vicky asked. “You nearly drowned. You don’t have a drink you can drink on a boiling day, and you’re not even being called by your actual name. And people think I’m rude.”

Lottie forced out a laugh. “It’s fine Vics honestly,” she said, lightening the atmosphere. “Siblings, eh?” she said to the group in general. “Always bickering.” Everyone around us relaxed, the discomfort dissipated. Then Lottie asked one of my cousins about the upcoming polo season, using the knowledge she’d managed to extract from Cecelia earlier to segue straight into a very involved conversation about polo ponies and their training. Vicky was still glaring at me, and my mother was still in shock.

When a waiter passed, I stopped him and grabbed an elderflower drink from his tray, to switch with Lottie’s champagne. Why hadn’t I thought of that? But also, why hadn’t Lottie objected to being given champagne? Just like with the name thing. Why would you accept being called something that wasn’t your name? And now she was talking about polo like it was the most interesting conversation she’d ever had. I could guarantee she had zero fucking interest in polo.

“Legolas!” A tiny pony bowled through the group, followed by a rather larger billionaire in the form of Felix. Nobody was particularly surprised. Well, apart from Lottie. Everyone just raised their drinks to protect them from the fat-bodied, furry force of destruction and carried on their conversations.

“What the Fraggle Rock?” I heard Lottie mutter and then, “Oh, Lucy?” Lucy Mayweather stumbled into the group following the path of her runaway pony and Felix, then stopped to lean on Lottie.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “I am not built for cardiovascular exercise. That bloody pony.” We both looked in the direction of Legolas’s travel to see him upending a table of sandwiches, which he started munching his way through. When Felix tried to grab his halter he snorted and started off at a run again.

“Nice that you guys could make it,” I said dryly to Lucy as her pony continued to destroy most of the catering.

“I’m sorry, Ols,” Lucy said in between her gasping breaths. “But you know what that little shit is like. He behaves for the girls but as soon as he saw Felix he broke free. It’s like a red rag to a bull for some reason.” Since they’d got back together, Felix and Lucy spent far more time in Little Buckingham, following a bleak couple of months apart. Lucy’s mum Hetty lived on the edge of the Buckingham Estate which bordered Felix’s land as well. She had a whole menagerie of weird and wonderful animals. Felix and Legolas the pony had a strained relationship to say the least.

“Have a drink, darling,” Mum said brightly. “Let Felix chase after Legolas. It does entertain the children so.” Both Florrie and Hayley had joined the chase now, armed with apples and various other pony treats. Felix and Legolas were facing off next to the cake stand.

“Oh bugger,” Claire muttered. “I haven’t had a piece of that Victoria sponge yet.”

Felix growled as he stalked forward towards Legolas, who stood perfectly still. But just as Felix’s fingers were about to close over his halter, the bastard ducked down and charged under Felix’s arm to collide full force with the table of cakes. Luckily the majority of the guests were used to Legolas and his destructive tendencies, so at least half the cakes on the table were already held aloft by those nearest to the destruction zone.

“Mum, can you get that pony under control,” Lucy snapped at Hetty who had appeared and was busy profusely apologising to my mum.

“I’m so sorry, Margot,” Hetty said, ignoring her daughter. “But Legolas has psychological issues, and the kids just don’t quite know how to manage him.”

“Mum,” growled Lucy. “Felix is thirty-four years old and I’m twenty-eight. We’re not exactly kids. And the only psychological issue that pony has is that he’s an absolute arse .”

Felix had Legolas cornered near Mum’s rose bushes now.

“It’s quite alright, Hetty,” Mum said as we watched Legolas easily dart around Felix again. “But I’m not risking my roses.” Mum put her drink down, clapped her hands twice and shouted, “Here, boy!” across the courtyard. Legolas immediately abandoned what he clearly viewed as a game with Felix and trotted over to Mum, who snapped a lead rein to his halter and passed it to Hetty. Felix stumbled over to us. He was covered in twigs and leaves, his knees were caked in dirt, and his shirt was ripped.

“How did you do that?” he said to Mum as he took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downed the entire thing.

“You just have to have a commanding tone, dear,” Mum told Felix, the CEO of a multinational company.

When I felt Lottie shaking next to me and looked down at her dancing eyes, she let out a snort. I raised an eyebrow, and that set her off. Once Lottie started laughing, everyone joined in. It was the most relaxed I’d seen her at this bloody party. And for once, I was grateful that our neighbours couldn’t control their livestock.