proceedings.
Then Rupert, eyes narrowed against the sun, the object of whirring cameras and cheers from the huge British contingent, motionless in the saddle as the plunging, eyerolling Snakepit shied at everything and fought for his head.
And, finally, Jake, his set face as white as Macaulay’s, who strutted along, pointing his big feet, enjoying the cheers.
Like a council of war, the four riders lined up in front of the president’s box, the bands forming a brilliant scarlet and gold square behind them. Les Rivaux can seldom have produced a more breathtaking spectacle, with the flags, limp in the heat, the scarlet coats, the plumes of the soldiers, the gleaming brass instruments, the grass emerald green from incessant sprinkling, the forest, which seemed to smoulder in its dark green midgy stillness, and in the distance the speedwell blue gleam of the sea. The bands launched into the National Anthem, each crash of cymbal and drum sending Snakepit and President’s Man cavorting around in terror. Macaulay and Clara stood like statues at either end of the row.
Fen, body aching from grooming, fingers sore from plaiting, her red T-shirt drenched with sweat, waited for Macaulay to return to the collecting ring. She was far more nervous than usual. She had a far bigger part to play. With the three other grooms she would spend the competition in the cordoned-off part of the arena and change Jake’s saddle onto each new horse. Nearby was Dizzy, braless and ravishing in a pink T-shirt, her newly washed blond hair trailing pink ribbons. One day I’m going to look as good as her, vowed Fen. Then she squashed the thought of her own presumption and had another look at the vast fences. How absolutely terrifying for Jake. The field emptied, large ladies bustled round with tape measures, checking poles for the last time.
“I’ve bet a hundred on Campbell-Black,” said the colonel in an undertone to Malise. “I reckon it’ll be a jump- off between him and Ludwig, with the American third and Lovell nowhere. He simply hasn’t got the nerve.”
Helen, seeing the riders in their red coats, was reminded of the first day she’d met Rupert out hunting.
“Dear God,” she prayed, “please restore my marriage and make him win, but only if you think that’s right, God.”
Tory, in the riders’ stand, with Darklis and Isa, prayed the same for Jake, but without any qualification.
“I wonder when Daddy’s going to be thick again,” said Darklis.
Then a hush fell as in came Ludwig. As he rode past the president’s box and took off his hat, the rest of the German team, who’d all been at the champagne, rose to their feet, shooting up their hands in a Heil Hitler salute, to the apoplexy of Colonel Roxborough, who went as scarlet as his carnation.
The only sound was the snort of the horse, the thunder of hoofs, and the relentless ticking of the clock. Girding her great chestnut loins, a symbol of reliability, Clara jumped clear.
Malise lit a cigar. “At least we know it’s jumpable,” he said.
Dino came in, talking quietly to the young horse.
“That’s a pretty horse,” said Malise.
And a pretty rider, thought Helen, who was sitting near him.
Being so much slighter, President’s Man seemed to go twice as fast. Dino’s thrusting acrobatic style and almost French elegance and good looks soon had the crowd cheering. He also went clear.
Then came Rupert, hauling on the plunging Snakepit’s mouth, hotting him up so he fought for his head all the way around. By some miracle of timing and balance, he too went clear, and Snakepit galloped out of the ring, giving two colossal bucks and nearly trampling a crowd of photographers under foot.
“God help those who come after,” sighed Malise.
“I’m not taking a penny less than ?30,000,” said Driffield.
Fen gave Macaulay a last-minute pat and a kiss.
“Good luck. Remember you’re the greatest, and remember what you’ve got to avenge.”
Jake looked suddenly gray. “I can’t go in.”
“Yes, you can. You’re doing it for Macaulay and Miss Blenkinsop.”
“I’m going to throw up.”
“No, you are not. Keep your mouth shut and off you go.”
“Numero Quatre,” called the collecting ring steward irritably.
Jake rode into the ring, obviously quite untogether. He might never have been on a horse in his life. He had the first fence down; and the second he took completely wrong, Macaulay stumbled and nearly came down on the hard ground. Then he hit the third.
Twelve faults. He’s been nobbled, thought Tory in despair.
“He’s blown it,” drawled Dino.
“Oh, my God,” said Fen. In anguish she watched the tenths of seconds pirouetting on the clock as Jake pulled Macaulay up to a standstill, stroked his neck, spoke to him, and started again.
“Can’t even ride his own horse,” said Rupert scathingly. “It was a freak he got to the final anyway.”
“He’s bound to get time faults,” said Colonel Roxborough.
Jake set off again in a somewhat haphazard fashion and cleared the rest of the ten fences, but never really connected all the way round, notching up three and a half time faults.
He shook his head as he rode up to Fen.
“A great start, huh?”
“Competition’s young, you wait,” she said, giving Macaulay a lemon sherbet. Then, when Jake had dismounted, she removed the saddle, which had to be put on Snakepit, the horse Jake was riding next.
“You’ve got three minutes to warm him up,” she said, looking at her watch.
“Needs cooling down, if you ask me.”
Ludwig’s groom came over to collect Macaulay, who went off looking very put out, turning his head continually to gaze back reproachfully at Jake. Jake went up to Snakepit, who flattened his ears and rolled his eyes.
“Now you’ll get your comeuppance,” Dizzy hissed at him.
In the roped-off arena, Macaulay did several wild jumps, nearly unseating Ludwig. He didn’t like the discipline of the German rider. He went into the ring, a mulish, martyred expression on his white face.
“Look at the old moke,” giggled Fen. “Isn’t he lovely?”
Despite his disapproval, however, Macaulay gave Ludwig a good ride and went clear.
“Interesting what that horse can do when it gets a proper rider on its back,” said Rupert.
Dino went in on Clara. He was very nervous and gave Clara very little help, but each time he put her wrong she was so well trained she got him out of trouble, rising like a helicopter off her mighty hocks.
Jake didn’t want to watch Rupert on President’s Man. He was getting acquainted with Snakepit. He spent several minutes rubbing his ears, smoothing his sweating, lathered neck, talking to him softly, and giving him pieces of sugar. Faced with the challenge of a new horse, he was too interested to be nervous.
Next minute he was up, determined not to hang on the horse’s mouth. He went on talking to him. Snakepit was so short in front it was like sitting on the edge of a cliff, a cliff that might crumble any minute and turn into an earthquake. He rode quietly round for one of the two minutes left, stroking and still talking, then put him over a jump, letting him have his head. Suddenly, Snakepit seemed to sweeten up.
“What d’you reckon?”
“Very good,” said Fen. “Must be a nice change for him, like a weekend on the Riviera after working in a factory.”
Cheers from the ring indicated Rupert had gone clear on President’s Man, urging him on by sheer brute force and driving power. The horse, however, was upset.
Jake rode Snakepit into the ring. Snakepit tugged at the bridle and found no one hauling him back, so he stopped pulling and gave Jake one of the easiest rides of his life.
As they came to the upright Jake, out of sheer nervousness, hooked him up a stride too short, but Snakepit, reveling in his newfound freedom, made a mighty effort and cleared the fence easily.
“Bloody hell,” said Rupert. “He’d have stopped if I’d done that to him.”
“Looks a different horse,” said Malise in a pleased voice. Having insisted that Jake was selected, he was desperate for him to ride well.
The colonel grunted. “Still going to win my bet.”
At the end of the second round everyone was clear except Jake, who was on fifteen and a half faults. The
