Riders

“I’d just love to. I’d so enjoy seeing one of your performances.”

“With any luck you might be seeing one of those before that,” he said, smiling at her with those wicked, dangerously direct eyes. Helen chose to ignore the innuendo. Was it Badger or Rupert under the table, pressing against her leg?

“How did you get into that terrible coven?”

Helen looked disapproving.

“Regina House is a very distinguished institution. It was founded to accommodate women of substance.”

“Oh, that’s what’s the matter with them,” said Rupert. “I thought they all looked like that frightful harridan that was out with you yesterday, the one with more spare tires than the Firestone factory.”

Under the influence of the wine, Helen found herself more and more at ease, minding less and less about his flip remarks. As their first course arrived, she found herself telling him about her first digs and the unfixed tom and the lecherous lodger.

“I gained ten pounds.”

“Well, it seems to have gone in the right places,” said Rupert, gazing at her breasts. He ate very fast, finishing his smoked salmon before she was a quarter way through her pate.

“This is excellent pate.” She pronounced it “part-ay.” He wondered idly if her accent would get on his nerves. “I’m afraid I can’t finish it, I’m awfully sorry.”

Off her grub, thought Rupert; another good sign.

“Now is the time for all good dogs to come to the aid of the partay,” he said, spearing it with his knife and handing it under the table to Badger, who gobbled it up with more thumping.

As their second course arrived, she tried to steer the conversation on to more academic lines. Did he enjoy reading?

“Not a lot. The best book I’ve read in years is The Moon’s a Balloon.”

“Do you go to the theater a lot?”

“Well, I went once,” said Rupert.

Helen determinedly didn’t look shocked. Writers had to accept all kinds of people.

Rupert was picking his chop bones now, tearing the meat off with very strong white teeth; particularly good teeth, she noticed, for an Englishman.

“Have you any siblings?”

“What?”

“Brothers and sisters,” she explained.

“Only one. A brother, Adrian. Very bright. My mother’s favorite. He runs an art gallery.”

“Oh, which one?” asked Helen eagerly.

“The Bellingham; specializes in modern stuff.”

Helen said she’d been there often.

“Awful tripe, don’t you think?” said Rupert. “Adrian gets frightfully miffed when I tell him Badger could do better with his tail dipped in a paint pot.”

All these remarks were drawled out with a completely deadpan face. She couldn’t tell if he was sending her up.

“At least you must go to the cinema?”

“No,” said Rupert. “Quite honestly, if you’ve got nearly thirty horses, as Billy and I have, many of them novices that need bringing on, or top-class horses that need keeping up to the mark, you don’t get much time for anything else. We’ve got a man and three girl grooms, but we still get up at six-thirty and seldom leave the yard before nine or ten at night. Horses still need looking after on weekends. And you’ve got to keep looking at other horses all the time in case you miss something. Nearly all the year round we’re traveling nonstop from show to show all over the world. You don’t get to the top by going to French films or hanging around art galleries.”

“I’m sorry,” said Helen, feeling corrected. “Do you do the same sort of thing as Mark Phillips?”

“He events, I show jump. Ours is the serious stuff; eventing’s for gifted amateurs.”

“Do you know Mr. Phillips?” Helen felt ashamed for asking.

“Yes, he’s a very nice bloke.”

“Will he marry Princess Anne?”

“So he tells me,” said Rupert, filling up her glass. Helen tried not to betray how impressed she felt.

She couldn’t eat any more of her second course than her first. Rupert gave her steak to Badger.

“It’s so expensive, it’s awful,” said Helen in distress.

“It isn’t offal, it’s steak,” said Rupert, again imitating her accent.

“Did you go to Eton College?” she asked.

“No, Harrow.”

“Lord Byron went there,” said Helen excitedly. “He was an extraordinarily fine poet.”

“Pulled some amazing girls, too.”

“His letters are fascinating.”

“Supposed to have had his half-sister.”

Luigi brought brandy for Rupert and coffee and chocolate peppermint creams for Helen.

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’ve given up candy for Lent.”

“I’ve given up women,” said Rupert, taking her hand, “except you.”

Almost on cue an exquisitely beautiful girl with long, blue-black hair barged into their jungle glade.

“Rupert Bear,” she screamed, “what are you doing, skulking away like a babe in the wood? Aren’t you frightened of all the wild animals?” she added to Helen.

But before Helen could answer, the girl had rattled on.

“Nicky Cripps is absolutely livid with you, Rupe. He booked this table weeks ago and you just pinch it from under his nose. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink, Rupert Bear, just for old times’ sake?”

“Beat it,” said Rupert icily.

“Oh, well, I’ll have to help myself,” and, picking up Rupert’s glass of brandy with a shaking hand, she drained it. Suddenly there was a tremendous thump from under the table and Badger emerged grinning, pressing his black face into the girl’s crotch.

“Hello, Badger,” she said in a choked voice. “You’ve always been keener on me than Rupert Bear is.”

Glancing at Rupert’s face, Helen tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“Why do you call him Rupert Bear?” she asked.

The girl looked at her pityingly. “Don’t you know? Rupert BA-R-E, because he spends so much time with his clothes off.” Reaching over, she picked up the cross that hung round Helen’s neck. “And don’t think that’ll keep you safe. You won’t be able to ward him off any more than anyone else, and afterwards he’ll spit you out like a grape pip.”

Rupert got to his feet. “Get out,” he said in a voice that made Helen shiver. “You’re drunk and you’re boring us.”

The girl gave a sob and fled. Helen escaped to the loo. She felt quite sick. Her face was flushed, her eyes inflamed.

As she slapped on some makeup, two girls came in, heading for the loos, shouting to each other over the partition.

“Bianca’s just had a showdown with Rupert Bear,” said the first. “And all in front of his new girlfriend.”

“She won’t be new by next week,” said the second, “she’ll be an ex like the rest of us.”

As she emerged from the loo, Rupert, having paid the bill, was waiting for her.

“What’s the matter? You’re shaking.”

“I want to go home.”

“Don’t be silly.” Taking her hand, he led her back to the car.

“Now, what happened?”

“Two girls were talking in the john.”

“What did they say?”

Helen told him.

Rupert took her hands again, holding them tightly.