“No, you ought not,” snapped Janey. “Rupert’s had it coming to him for years. I am not going to be left alone with Christy when he’s so little…nor,” she added to herself, am I going to let you loose in L.A. with Fenella Maxwell.
Twenty-four hours limped by with no sign of Jake. On Thursday morning Fen was working Hardy in one of the big exercise rings. Normally the German team should have been using the ring at this time but they’d willingly swapped over with the British to fox the press and give Fen the chance of a little privacy. It was nearly ten o’clock and the sun was already scorching down. Hardy, missing Jake, was edgy and miserable. He had received so much adulation on Monday and Tuesday morning. Now, suddenly, no one wanted to admire the horse whose master had disgraced a nation.
As she slowly cantered him around on the left rein, Fen pondered the horrors of the last two days. Rumors seethed. Jake and Helen had been sighted in England, in all parts of America, on a flight to Bermuda. Jake had grown a mustache, was wearing a false beard. Helen had dyed her hair, blond, brunette, even cut it all off. Last night Malise had made another stiff-upper-lipped plea on television for Jake to come back: “We will jump as a team and conduct ourselves like gentlemen.”
“Is he referring to Griselda?” said Rupert.
Rupert still keeps up the stream of flip remarks, thought Fen, allowing no one to see his black despair and utter humiliation. Malise seemed terribly upset, too. Fen herself had been in tears all night. She wished she could help Tory. Bloody Helen Campbell-Black, she thought savagely, not even able to hold off until after the Games.
Fen’s hair was wringing wet beneath her hat, as was her T-shirt. The reins slipped between her damp hands. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by longing for Dino. She had never needed him more. She could have lain down and slept for a year in his arms. But she musn’t think of Dino or Helen; it only upset her. She must keep calm and psych herself into the right frame of mind for Sunday. Perhaps by some miracle Jake would come back.
“Oh, Hardy, where’s your master?” she sighed.
In the distance she could see the German team riding down from the stables in a cloud of dust to take over. She must make herself scarce before the press turned up. This afternoon, she thought wearily, she had to take Ivor to Disneyland again.
Catching her not concentrating, Hardy gave a whinny and a great whicker of joy and carted her across the ring.
“For God’s sake, you disobedient bugger,” yelled Fen, hauling ineffectually on his mouth, “where the bloody hell d’you think you’re going?”
Hardy ground to a halt. Fen glanced up and gasped. For there, holding Hardy’s dark blue sweat rug, tall and golden as a Lombardy poplar in autumn, stood Dino Ferranti.
“Hi, Hardy baby,” he drawled, putting up a not altogether steady hand to stroke the dappled face. “I’m real glad you haven’t forgotten me, just as I’m real glad your mistress’s language is a lousy as ever.”
Dino had had a long and very trying nine months, but everything was compensated for when he looked up and saw the expression of incredulous, bewildered delight on Fen’s face, the expression on which left him in absolutely no doubt about how she felt.
“You’ve gone blond again,” she muttered.
“I know. I didn’t seem to score with gray hair.”
“Oh, Dino, Dino,” she cried, and tumbled off Hardy into his arms. He kissed her so fiercely she had no doubt of his feelings towards her.
“Oh, I love you,” she bleated incoherently. “I’ve missed you. I’ve been so so miserable.”
“Me, too,” he groaned. “Oh Christ, darling, we’ve been so dumb.”
As he held her tight, she could feel how much he was trembling and how his ribs protruded beneath the blue denim shirt.
“You’ve got so thin,” they both said simultaneously, and then started to laugh. Next moment Fen’s laughter had turned to tears.
“It’s so awful.”
“I know. I’m real sorry, sweetheart.” He took her face in his hands, kissing her forehead and her nose and the tears spilling out of her eyes before he found her mouth again.
“No, no,” she protested, when at last he freed her. “It was so awful for you about Manny. Did you get my letter?”
“There was so much mail and I was so unglued I didn’t even get around to looking at it until yesterday. Hell, I needed you so badly. But I guess I couldn’t handle seeing you again in case you were still mad at me, or didn’t feel the way I did. So I chickened out and went home to lick my wounds. Then I heard about Helen and Jake buggering off. I figured you might need me as much as I needed you. Right? So here I am.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” said Fen, burying her face in his chest. “I was so aching to see you, it was the main thing that drove me on to get selected. I thought I’d die when Mary Jo said you weren’t coming. You won’t ever disappear again, will you? Life’s so awful when you’re not there.”
“You try getting rid of me.” He was about to kiss her again when he said, “Ouch.”
Hardy, irritably trying to tell them they were hopelessly neglecting a silver medal winner, had nipped Dino on the shoulder.
Then all three jumped violently as a rousing chorus started bellowing, “Vy vos zey born so beautiful, vy vos zey born at all.”
Swinging round, they found the entire German squad sitting on their horses, laughing their heads off. “And about bloody time too, my friends,” said Ludwig.
At the entrance to the stables the inevitable jackal pack of reporters was hovering.
“Heard from Jake?”
“No,” snapped Fen.
“How’s Tory bearing up?”
“Haven’t talked to her today.”
“Where’s he gone?”
“I don’t know.”
Oh, the bliss of having Dino there once more, to get rid of them.
“Go on! Pack it in. Fucking get off our backs,” he said, hustling Fen and Hardy through the gates.
“Dino, Dino Ferranti,” said one of the reporters with quickening interest. “You stayed at Jake’s barn last fall, didn’t you? What sort of guy was he?”
“The greatest,” snapped Dino. “Not just as a rider but as a human being. If he walked out on the Games, he must have had a good reason, okay? I guess he wanted to protect Helen from her bastard of a husband.”
On the way to Hardy’s box, Dino started kissing Fen again.
“Give him to me,” said Sarah, grabbing Hardy. “You are in no fit condition. Take her away, Dino. She deserves the afternoon off. Make a change from taking Ivor round Disneyland.”
Dino put his arm through Fen’s. “I’m staying at Carol Kennedy’s place just up the road. Let’s go there. At least we can be alone.”
“I ought to have a bath,” said Fen, suddenly aware of her sweaty hair and clothes.
“I’ll give you one,” said Dino. “It’ll take hours.”
Fen blushed scarlet.
“Dino!” shouted a voice.
It was a middle-aged woman, with the kind of lean muscular body that looks better in breeches than in the summer dress she was wearing.
“We thought you weren’t coming,” said her husband.
“Changed my mind.”
“We were real sorry about Manny.”
“Yeah, it was tough.”
There was a pause. The couple looked inquiringly at Fen, whose hand was still firmly held by Dino. Aware she must look hot and shiny from being kissed, she hung her head. Dropping her hand, Dino took hold of her hair at the back and very gently yanked her head upwards.
“You haven’t met Fenella Maxwell,” he said in the most drawling voice, “my future wife.”
Fen jumped out of her skin, then looked up at him with such startled, anxious eyes that he let go her hair and
