Riders

He swung, around in terror, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. It must be her ghost, come back to mock him.

“Jake,” she whispered again.

He was beside her in an instant, seizing her hands, willing her to speak.

“Is it really you?” she murmured.

“Really me.”

“You came back.” The words were so faint he had to bend close to catch them. “Or have I gone to heaven?”

“Must be hell,” he said unsteadily, “if you found me there. Please don’t die, I love you so much.”

“You need a shave,” she said, drifting back into unconsciousness.

Sick with terror, Jake had to wait, cradling her in his arms, frightened even to move. He’d asked only to be able to have time to tell her he loved her, but now it wasn’t enough and didn’t make him feel any better. He longed to call for Fen and Dino, but panic-stricken that she might die at any moment, he knew he could only face it alone.

After a couple of hours she gave a little sigh, shuddered, and opened her eyes again.

“I’m sorry I took all your belladonna. I couldn’t go on without you.”

Jake kissed her forehead. “I was the same. I just didn’t know how to come back. Please get better. I’ll never survive unless you do.”

“I’m sorry about Wolf. I should have had him on a lead, but he stuck so close since you, since you…” Her voice faltered.

“I know. I got you a puppy.” He picked the sleeping lurcher out of the basket, and laid her beside Tory on the bed, placing Tory’s hand on the fluffy narrow head. The puppy gave a deep contented sigh, licked the inside of Tory’s wrist, and snuggled back to sleep again.

Tory smiled weakly. “He’s lovely. I didn’t mean to blackmail you into coming back.”

“You didn’t have to. I didn’t even know you’d taken the belladonna until I turned up here with the puppy. Tanya told me about Wolf being run over. All I needed was an excuse to come back. I never stopped missing you the whole time I was away. Please don’t talk. You must rest.”

“Can I see your silver?” she said drowsily.

“I flogged it to buy the puppy.”

As he drew the blankets up around her, the door opened softly. It was Fen. Jake put his finger to his lips. Shaking with sudden hope, Fen tiptoed towards the bed.

“You were speaking to her?”

“Twice.”

“Did she make sense?”

“Perfect.”

“Oh, my God. Is she going to be all right?”

“I don’t know. It’s too early to say.”

Together they gazed at the sleeping Tory. Then Fen put a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“You made her better,” she said softly.

For a second, he glanced up, his face soaked with tears.

“I failed her,” he mumbled. “I tried and tried, but I couldn’t remember the missing ingredient.”

“You blind, stupid idiot,” said Fen very gently. “Only you could have cured her. Don’t you understand? The missing ingredient was love.”

Epilogue

The following afternoon, Rupert Campbell-Black passed his first interview with the Birdlip and Chalford constituency committee with flying colors. There was only one sticky moment, when deaf old Lady Oakridge, who never read the papers, asked Rupert if he and his wife would be living in the constituency.

Everyone held their breath in embarrassment.

“My wife will certainly be living in the constituency,” said Rupert emphatically.

“Good, good, glad to hear it,” said Lady Oakridge.

“But not actually with me,” said Rupert.

Everyone, except Lady Oakridge, suppressed smiles.

“Better to have a wife,” she said.

“I absolutely agree,” said Rupert. “Unfortunately mine’s only just pushed off, so I haven’t had time to get another one.” “Fellow’s certainly got charm,” said Lord Oakridge after the meeting.

“Views are sound too,” said the brigadier. “Think we should seriously consider him.” “You did so well,” said Amanda, patting Rupert’s thigh as she drove him back to London. “It’s a cinch.” “Glad you think so.” Privately Rupert wondered how much he would enjoy listening to his constituents grumbling about one-way streets and their rows with their neighbors. Being off the circuit for two months had made him realize how desperately he missed show jumping. With any luck he should be back for Olympia.

“Oh, damn,” said Amanda, as they drew up at her house in Rutland Gate. “Conceptione’s left the drawing room light on. She’s getting awfully slack.” “Hope it isn’t Rollo.”

“Rollo’s in Paris,” said Amanda, opening the front door. “Anyway, he knows I’m driving you around. Georgina!” she cried in outraged tones as she went into the drawing room. “What on earth are you doing here?” “The rest of the form’s gone to the Old Vic. I couldn’t face it. I thought it would be more fun to come and see you,” said Georgina. “Hello,” she turned to Rupert. “Mummy’s never allowed us to meet.” Oh, Christ, thought Rupert helplessly.

For there, in school uniform, exuding lascivious innocence, was a replica of Amanda, just as beautiful, but twenty-five years younger. No, he told himself firmly, it simply wouldn’t do. Now he was almost a prospective Tory candidate, he’d got to behave himself — although, heaven knows, they all seemed to be at it.

“What was the play?” he heard himself saying in an abnormally avuncular voice.

“All’s Well That Ends Well,” said Georgina smiling dreamily. “I hear you’re going into politics.” “Not sure I’ll be very good,” confessed Rupert. “The only babies I like kissing are female and over fifteen.” “Oh, brill!” said Georgina. “I was sixteen last week.”

Billy Lloyd-Foxe, just back from Amsterdam, watched his beautiful wife feeding his beautiful son with enormous pride and decided against pouring himself another glass of whisky. He was just getting over the glow of being on This Is Your Life. So many people had emerged from his past and said such amazingly nice things.

“I heard the most riveting bit of gossip today,” said Janey.

“What was it?”

“Well, Tracey told me she heard it from Dizzy, who heard it from Sarah, who heard it from Bridie, who’s just got this tremendously intellectual boyfriend, who actually takes her to the opera. Poor Bridie had to sit through Parsifal the other night. Said she nearly died of boredom.” “Oh, get on with it,” said Billy, grinning.

Janey’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll give you three guesses who she saw in the stalls together, looking radiant and not at all bored.” “You know I can never guess anything.”

“Malise and Helen.”

“Good God,” said Billy, astounded. “Isn’t Helen rather too old for him?” “I would have thought so,” said Janey, “and Monica Carlton will certainly call Malise out.”

Tory was getting better by the minute, but Jake, terrified that she might still elude him, hardly left her alone for a second.

“From the way he bullies her into resting and polices her every mouthful, you’d think she was Macaulay,” grumbled Fen, but she was so happy for them both.