Riders

“Lucky thing,” said Georgina Hamilton. “She’s very attractive. Mind you, I expect she’ll console him now Helen’s pushed off.”

Amanda Hamilton was surprised how much she minded that embrace. She knew it was victory euphoria, but Fen really was very pretty. Amanda caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and pulled in her tummy. She’d been eating too much porridge, and must go on a diet before Rupert got back.

“I’ve seen a lot of things,” Malise told Prince Philip, wiping away a tear, as the riders galloped round the arena, their rosettes streaming like colored meteors, “when I went all through the war, but this is the greatest experience of my life. Makes you very proud to be British.”

“That was a staggering piece of riding by Rupert Campbell-Black,” said Prince Philip.

Jake Lovell, in a scruffy motel near Kennedy Airport, and rapidly running out of money, decided not to have another cigarette, as he had only half a packet left. With Helen in his arms, he lay in bed watching television.

“Hardy was your horse,” sobbed Helen. “You ought to have been up there getting a gold, too.”

“I’m on the winners’ rostrum already. I’ve got you,” said Jake. But his heart was like lead. Helen must never realize the colossal sacrifice he had made, or she’d never forgive herself.

Dino tucked Tory up in bed, making sure that she took both her sleeping pills. Her apathy worried him; he felt it would be healthier if she raged against Helen and Jake. Then he put the children to bed. Darklis was so overexcited she wanted a story. Every time Dino tried to skip, or missed a word because he was tired, she corrected him. He found Isa in floods of tears. Why had his father gone off with Helen? Why was the paper calling him a traitor and a deserter? What did treachery mean? Who would look after his mother now? Was it something that he, Isa, had done?

Dino comforted him as best he could. He didn’t really know the answer to any of those questions either, but he knew Jake going off had nothing to do with Isa, and he was sure that once the Games were over, Jake would want to see him and Darklis again. At last Isa fell asleep.

It was two o’clock in the morning. The Mill House seemed bitterly cold after America. Dino supposed it was the changeover from summer to fall. Now, jet lag was catching up with him and he felt absolutely shattered. For the hundredth time he asked himself if he’d been insane to indulge in this quixotic gesture of rushing off to Europe to look after Tory.

He had avoided going into Fen’s room because he was missing her so appallingly. Now, desperate for reassurance, he pushed open the door, breathing in the faint trace of her perfume and the mustiness of damp and dust and lack of use. All the china horses on the shelves and the teddy bears that used to fill up the entire windowseat had been put away. Perhaps that was his fault for telling her during that terrible row she ought to grow up. He’d liked the room better as it was before — except for the photograph of Billy Lloyd-Foxe, which had been removed.

Feeling he shouldn’t be snooping, he opened the top drawer of the chest and found a small pile of newspaper cuttings and photographs held together by a pink plastic paper clip. They were all of himself, making him feel slightly better. All the same, he’d been mad to leave her with Rupert and Billy. He went back into the sitting room and opened a bottle of wine. He felt shattered but not really sleepy; his time clock was still up the creek.

Turning on the television, he stretched out on the sofa. They were now showing the press conference. Everyone cheered and whooped as Malise and the British team filed in. There was a tremendous popping of champagne corks.

Rupert, who sat next to Fen with his good arm along the back of her chair in a vaguely proprietorial way, did most of the talking. He looked great; the earlier tears might never have occurred. He must have lost another half a stone since Helen left him, but it merely made his arrogant, slightly depraved face more finely planed than ever.

“Now, none of us want to talk about my wife or Fen’s brother-in-law, so no questions about that,” he said. “I think we proved that we can win medals without the others. Ivor had the most difficult task, as the pathfinder. He jumped quite brilliantly. Fen had to jump on a different horse, and he can be a sod, I promise you. He’s much too strong for her, but she kept him sweet, and I’d like to remind you that she’s only just nineteen and jumping in her first Olympic competition.”

Fen blushed as a huge cheer went round the room.

“I’m incredibly proud of them,” said Malise. “I think today they all moved up a gear, and that people will talk about Rupert’s legendary second round as long as show jumping lasts.”

“And it wasn’t just us, either,” said Fen, holding out her glass for more champagne as the cheers subsided. “It was Malise who kept us all calm when we looked like going to pieces, and Dizzy and Sarah, our grooms, and poor Griselda who’s in hospital, and our families, who’ve had to put up with us being offish and totally self-obsessed for the last month…Also,” she added defiantly, “there’s my brother-in-law, Jake Lovell.”

Somebody booed, then everybody followed suit, stamping their feet, shouting, “Out, out, out.”

“No, shut up,” said Fen furiously. “He taught me everything I know, and he made Hardy the horse he is; Hardy who got a silver and a gold, so we ought to thank him and give him credit as well.”

“Particularly,” drawled Rupert, “for taking my wife off my hands.”

For a second there was an embarrassed pause, then everyone roared with laughter.

Rupert seized the champagne bottle, filling up his glass.

“In fact, the toast definitely isn’t absent friends. We like the people who stuck by us, don’t we, angel?” He stroked the back of Fen’s neck. There wasn’t a reporter in the room who didn’t respond to his magnetism.

“We noticed you had Fen in a clinch on the podium,” said the man from the Daily Mail.

“Who can blame me?” said Rupert insolently.

Fen looked wary. “Our horses are good friends,” she said.

“What about you two?” said the man from the Daily Mirror.

“This is quite unnecessary,” snapped Malise. “They came here to discuss the gold medal.”

The man from the Mirror ignored him. “Might be nice if you consoled Rupert,” he said.

“No, it would not,” said Fen furiously. “I’m going to marry Dino Ferranti.” Then she clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.

Dino knew that, where Rupert was concerned, Fen was unfinished business. He trusted Fen, but for the last three hours he had been through all the agonizing jealousy of a man deeply in love.

“Yippee,” he shouted, “Yippee.” Then, exactly on cue, he heard the bells pealing out in the village. He opened the window. It was a clear starlit night. Orion was climbing out of bed on the horizon, pulling on his boots. Not a breath of wind ruffled the curtains. The peal of the bells must be carrying miles down the valley. His darling, darling Fen had won the gold. The village hadn’t known what to do; they had been shellshocked by Jake walking out. Now they had another heroic exploit to celebrate. They could carry on with their Welcome Home celebrations. Not many villages in England could boast a silver and a gold.

Tory, woken by Dino’s shout of joy, pulled the blankets and pillows over her head to blot out the sound of the bells, remembering in anguish how they had rung out for Jake only six nights ago. Oh God, please, please bring him back. As the telephone rang, she experienced a frantic surge of hope, then the black, black despair overwhelmed her again as she heard Dino say, “Fen darling, you were fantastic, a bloody miracle. I never figured I’d want another country to beat America, but you were just great, great, great.”

“Dino,” said Fen in a small voice. “I’ve got something to tell you. I didn’t mean to force your hand. But they goaded me about Rupert at the press conference and I told them I was going to marry you.”

“I know,” said Dino. “Best program I’ve ever seen.”

“You saw it?” said Fen in amazement.

“I taped it, so you can’t change your mind. Means we won’t have to put an announcement in the New York Times, either.”

Fen giggled. “Oh, you are lovely. I didn’t want to trap you.”

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you? Look, are you coming home tomorrow? I’ve got the most god- awful withdrawal symptoms.”

“Oh, yes,” said Fen. “I can’t bear another minute away from you.”

“And when you get back, I’m going to frog-march you into the nearest Registrar’s office and marry you. What