horses ridiculous, constantly changing names, Macaulay remained gloriously the same, following Jake around without a lead like a big dog, nudging whoever presented the prizes and responding with a succession of bucks to the applause of the crowd.
In November, Jake was voted Sportsman of the Year. Macaulay came to the studios with him and exceled himself by sticking out his cock throughout the entire program, treading firmly on Dudley Diplock’s toe, and eating the scroll that was presented to his master. For the first time, the public saw Jake convulsed with laughter and were even more enchanted.
Enraged by his humiliation in the World Championship, and the appalling publicity he received over selling Macaulay to the Middle East, Rupert decided to up sticks for a couple of months. Loading up six of his best horses, he crossed the Atlantic and boosted his morale by winning at shows in Calgary, Toronto, Washington, and Madison Square Garden.
Helen had always sighed wistfully that her parents had never had the opportunity to get to know their grandchildren. Rupert took her at her word. Flying the whole family out, plus the nanny, he dumped them in Florida with Mr. and Mrs. Macaulay, while he traveled the American circuit and “enjoyed himself,” as Mrs. Macaulay pointed out sourly. Staying with her parents with the two children shattered one of Helen’s illusions. Even if things got too bad with Rupert, she could never run home to Mummy anymore. The whole family were glad to get back to Penscombe in November.
* * *
Two weeks after Rupert left for America, Billy had gone on a disastrous trip to Rotterdam, where he had fallen off, paralytically drunk, in the ring and sat on the sawdust, laughing, while one of his only remaining novices cavorted round the ring, refusing to be caught. The English papers had been full of the story. Billy got home to find that Janey had walked out, taking all her clothes, her manuscript, Harold Evans and, worst of all, Mavis. Billy had stormed drunkenly round to the flat, where she was living with Kev, and tried to persuade her to come back. She had goaded him so much, and become so hysterical, that finally he’d blacked her eye and walked out with Mavis under his arm.
A week later he received an injunction from Janey’s solicitors accusing him of violent behavior and ordering him to stay away. Next day, The Bull, who’d been lackluster and off form for weeks, had a blood test. Not only was he anemic but had picked up a virus, said the vet, and should not be jumped for three months.
Billy took refuge in the bottle, selling off his novices and pieces of furniture to quiet his creditors, and to buy more whisky, refusing to see anyone. He also sacked Tracey, because he couldn’t afford to pay her anymore. She refused to go. No one else could be permitted to look after The Bull. She’d live on her dole money, she said, and wait until Billy got his form back.
Rupert was shattered, when he got home, to find Billy in such a state. Typically, whenever he’d spoken to Rupert on the telephone from America, Billy had pretended things were all right and he and Janey were ticking along. Now, sitting in a virtually empty cottage, surrounded by empty bottles, he had gone gray and aged ten years. Immediately, Rupert set about a process of, as he called it, re-hab-Billy-tation, ordering Helen to get Billy’s old room ready at Penscombe, packing Billy off to an alcoholics’ home to dry out, and searching for a new sponsor.
Helen, while sorry for Billy, could not help being secretly delighted. She had never really approved of Janey. Now with Billy back in the house, they would have fun together like the old days.
But it was not the same. It was like sending your son off to the wars all youthful, glorious, and confident in his plumed uniform, and having him come home in the royal blue suit and red tie of the wounded, hobbling around on a stick. Billy talked incessantly about Janey, Mandryka, and his failures. He didn’t drink anymore. He was quiet, sad, and pathetically grateful. Helen once again marveled at Rupert’s kindness and gentleness.
One evening in early December, when she’d been talking to Higgins the gardener, Helen heard shouting from the indoor school. Peering around the door, she found Billy walking around the willful eight-year-old bay thoroughbred named Bugle, which Rupert had picked up in America. Unable to get a tune out of him, Rupert had handed him over to Billy. Now he was haranguing Billy because of his reluctance to take Bugle over a line of jumps, all well over five foot.
Billy was shivering like a whippet on a cold day. “I simply can’t do it yet, Rupe,” he groaned. “Give me a few more weeks.”
“Get moving and get over those bloody jumps,” yelled Rupert. “This is not a holiday camp.”
“Oh, Rupert, don’t force him,” Helen began.
“And you can bugger off,” said Rupert, turning on her furiously.
Helen retreated to the drawing room and tried to read the
“What’s the matter?” asked Helen, in horror.
Rupert poured himself three fingers of neat whisky which he drained in one gulp.
“He jumped them,” he said. “He jumped them beautifully and all clear, half a dozen times. I’m sorry I shouted at you, but I just can’t afford to let him see how scared I am for him.”
The problem was to find Billy a sponsor. Janey’s departure, the failure of the horses, and the heavy drinking had been so widely publicized that Billy would have to show himself in the ring, sober and successful, before anyone would come forward.
“You can ride for me for the rest of the year,” said Rupert.
“I have my pride,” said Billy, “and I’ve bummed quite enough off you and Helen.”
Billy made his comeback at the Olympia Christmas show, not the best occasion to return, with the merrymaking and hell-raising, and the memories it evoked of both Lavinia Greenslade and Janey. All the other riders and grooms were very friendly and welcomed him. But he knew that, behind his back, they were saying how much he’d aged, that he’d lost his nerve and would never make the big time again.
Never had he been more desperate for a drink than half an hour before the first big class. Rupert, who’d been watching him like a warder, frog-marching him away from the bars, had just been called away to do a quick television interview. Tracey was walking Bugle around the collecting ring. Inside the ringside bar, Billy could see Christmas drinkers knocking back doubles, slapping each other on the back, guffawing with laughter. Surely one drink wouldn’t hurt, one quick double to steady his nerves. If he was this strung up, he’d transmit his fears to young Bugle. Rupert gave him pocket money now. Easing his last fiver out of his breeches pocket, he was just going into the bar when a voice said, “Hello, Billy. How lovely to see you back.”
For a second he didn’t recognize the plumpish but ravishingly pretty girl, with the long, light brown hair tied back with a black velvet ribbon, like the young Mozart.
“It’s Fen, Fenella Maxwell. How are you?” Stepping forward, she kissed him on both cheeks. “Are you in the next class?”
He nodded.
“So am I. Malise has persuaded Jake to let me jump. I’m absolutely terrified.”
“Makes two of us,” said Billy, still staring at her.
“Rupert says you’re riding a super new horse.”
“Yup, he’s super, all right. Whether I’ll be able to get him around is another matter.”
Suddenly they were surrounded by a group of ecstatic teenagers. “It’s Fen,” they screamed, pushing Billy out of the way. “Can we have your autograph? How’s Desdemona?”
As she signed their books, with a new and rather flashy signature which she’d been practicing during the long journeys in the lorry, she saw Billy sliding away.
“Here,” she said to the teenagers, “don’t you want his as well?”
The teenagers looked inquiringly at Billy, then politely handed him their books.
“Who’s he?” muttered one of the teenagers, as they wandered off, examining Billy’s signature more closely.
“Billy someone,” said her friend, also examining the autograph. “Didn’t he used to ride The Bull?”
“He’s the best rider in England,” Fen shouted after them.
Billy shook his head ruefully. Fen tucked her arm through his. “I told you it was high time you came back,” she said. “Let’s go and walk the course.”
