Riders

Neither statement was strictly true. Jake, having dreamed of nothing but getting out of hospital for five months, was now thrown into a blind panic at the thought of facing the outside world. Learning to walk again was really taking it out of him — crashing over all the time, dragging himself up again, black with despair that neither of his legs would ever be strong enough to support him, and terror whether he’d ever have the guts to get on a horse again.

Night after night, he dreamed of tumbling poles and colossal horses crashing from great heights onto his legs, splintering them to spillikins, and woke up sobbing and screaming, until the night nurse arrived to calm him down. After his early animosity, he felt an almost slavish gratitude to the nurses and the Matron, who had all taken such a personal pride in getting him right. When they weren’t too busy on the wards, particularly at night, they would spend hours talking to him and he found himself unbending as he never did at home or with the other riders. There was one blond nurse for whom he had a special fondness: Sister Wutherspoon, who brought him fresh eggs from the country and always popped in to show herself off, radiant and scented, before she went out on dates. Jake suppressed a faint suspicion that she might return his interest. Desirable nurses were not attracted to bad- tempered cripples like himself.

Finally, he didn’t feel up to facing the whole slog of running the yard, driving miles to shows, raking the country for new horses. He longed for the children but didn’t know if he could cope with the decibel level of their shrill demands, or with the doglike devotion of good, shiny-faced Tory, heaving her eleven-stone bulk round the Mill House, as she waited on everyone.

All he wanted to do was to spend two months soaking up the sun on some Hawaiian beach, with Sister Wutherspoon in a grass skirt ministering to his every need. Grass skirts would be no good in Warwickshire; Macaulay would eat them. He was glad Dino was going to be there to shoulder some of the responsibility.

Fen, on the other hand, was in a muddle. Having run the yard virtually single-handed for five months, she was close to collapse, but she had been buoyed up by her hopes of Billy coming sweet, and by the feeling that she was being indispensable and splendid. Now Dino had moved in and taken over at least half of the reins. Everyone seemed happier and she couldn’t help being jealous. She felt she’d been demoted from head girl to the upper fourth and when Jake came home, she’d be back in the kindergarten.

She was irritated by the way everyone deferred to Dino. She couldn’t fault him as a worker. Despite the very late hours he kept, he got up at six like everyone else and spent at least seven or eight hours in the saddle, working not only his own horses but all of Jake’s novices. He had strange ideas about feeding his horses, arriving with a trunk full of vitamins and additives, but he was out of bed in a flash if there was any trouble with a sick horse in the night.

And, despite his languid, playboy image, he was amazingly domesticated. Fen nearly fainted one evening when she came home from an interview in Birmingham with ATV, to find him ironing his shirts.

“What are you doing?” she asked in amazement, “Tory can do those.”

“Why the hell should she? She’s exhausted.”

Fen watched the expert way he slid the iron along the folds of the blue silk sleeve into the cuff. “Where d’you learn to do that?”

“At college. All the money went on the horses. I couldn’t afford to send shirts to the laundry. I hate crumpled shirts, so I figured I better learn to iron.”

“You’ll make a wonderful wife someday,” said Fen.

At that moment Darklis appeared in a pink nightgown, looking disapproving.

“ ’Lo Fen. We saw you on the telly. Are you coming, Dino? You promised to read Green Eggs and Ham. Dino’s going to take me to Disneyland,” she added to Fen. “Come on, Dino.”

“I’ll be up when I’ve finished this lot,” he said, refusing to be bullied.

In the hall Fen met Tory wearing a dressing gown, pink from a hot bath.

“I’ve just left ‘Diana’ Ferranti slaving over a hot iron,” said Fen.

“Isn’t he marvelous?” sighed Tory. “I had a blinding headache and he just took over. He’s cooking supper, too. Gosh, it smells good. So nice to have a man who can tell the difference between rosemary and basil. Jakey wouldn’t notice if you gave him dog biscuits.”

“I’m beginning to think Dino’s more interested in Basils than Rosemarys, anyway,” said Fen pointedly.

She went out to the yard to check the horses. It was a very cold, starry night. An early frost had lurexed the cobbles in the yard and starched the golden willow spears which rustled underfoot and already clogged the stable gutters. As she adjusted a rug here and checked a water bowl or bandage there, Fen brooded on Dino’s deficiencies. In some painful way he reminded her of Billy. But while Billy was like a dog: loving, dependent, enthusiastic, Dino was feline, cool and detached. He was far tougher and more critical than Billy. He saw Fen’s faults only too clearly. But whereas Jake would bite her head off, Dino tended to mob her up.

Only last week he had caught her shouting at Sarah for giving Hardy, who was supposed to be on a diet, the wrong feed. When he told her to pack it in, she started shouting back at him, whereupon he calmly bundled her into a loose box and shut both doors on her until she cooled down.

“How can I have any authority with the grooms if you take the piss out of me all the time?” she complained furiously afterwards.

“They have to humor and nurse you before big classes, so bloody well treat them properly at home.”

Most irritating of all, despite saying how much he fancied her during dinner after the Sunday Times Cup, he hadn’t lifted a long, suntanned finger in her direction since he arrived at the Mill House. Perhaps living in such close proximity had put him off. Not that she cared a scrap; she was still hopelessly hooked on Billy. But she was irked that girls with soft caressing American accents always seemed to be ringing Dino up, and twice since he’d been living there, he’d disappeared off in his car after work and not returned until dawn was breaking. Occasionally Fen cried herself to sleep and wondered if Dino, who occupied the blue room at the end of the passage, ever heard her as he tiptoed past to bed.

All in all, for a man who was supposed to be staying in England because of her, he was behaving in an odd way. Standing in Desdemona’s box, ruffling her coat which had thickened from being turned out during the day, she gave her the last glacier mint.

Looking out of the half-door she saw a small pale sliver of new moon curling itself round the weather cock. Turning the fifty-pence piece in her pocket, she sighed, realizing there was no point wasting a wish on Billy anymore.

“Please, Moon,” she said, “give me a gold.”

A week later Jake came home. It was a perfect October afternoon with all the trees, silhouetted, against a rain-heavy navy blue sky, turning color. There was not a speck of dust anywhere in the yard or an inch of tack unpolished. Only Dino’s horses and four of the novices who were still going to shows were in their boxes. The rest of the horses were out in the different fields which checkered the hill behind the stables.

But they sensed something was up. They had been restless all day, snapping and shrieking at each other, not settling down to serious grazing, but hanging round the gates. Only now, just before Jake was due, had they all galloped off out of sight to talk to Macaulay, Africa, and Africa’s foal, who were grazing in the top field. Darklis and Isa weren’t back from school yet, although a huge banner saying, “Welcome Home, Daddy,” which they’d painted with Sarah and Dino’s help, hung from the two largest willows across the gateway. Above the murmur of the millstream Fen heard the sound of a car on the bridge. Sarah darted forward to remove a couple of willow leaves which had floated down into the yard. Then Wolf, who’d also been jumpy all day, gave an excited bark. As the car drove into the yard he leapt forward, scrabbling hysterically at the paint with his paws.

“Welcome home,” cried Fen, running forward. “Steady boy.” She caught Wolf’s collar before opening the car door. “You don’t want to send your master flying.”

But when he realized it truly was Jake, Wolf remained motionless for several seconds as though he’d been stunned. Then he put back his head and let out a series of spine-chilling howls. Jake noticed tears were coursing down the lurcher’s rough brindled cheeks.

“Come on, boy,” said Jake gently as the dog crept forward, laying his head on his master’s knee, tail rammed between his thin trembling legs, as though he couldn’t believe such a miracle. No one spoke as Jake stroked Wolf’s head over and over again, smoothing away the tears. Then, as he struggled out of the car, Dino went forward to give him a hand.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s so good to have you home. Even the sun’s come out to welcome you.”

Jake nodded, face impassive, not trusting himself to speak.