“Doing what?”
“Taking care of the entire yard single-handed. I’ve even sold a couple of horses for you.”
“How much d’you get?”
“Ten grand for Padua and eight for the gray with the ewe neck.”
“Not enough,” said Rupert, looking slightly mollified.
“Never is for you, and I worked everything we’re going to need tomorrow. Admittedly I was so hungover first thing I saw four ears every time I looked down a horse’s neck.”
He speared up another oyster. “And I think I’ve sorted out why The Bull keeps stopping. He’s terrified of water.”
“So am I,” said Rupert, “unless it’s got whisky in it.”
He picked up the bottle and, not finding any clean glasses in the cupboard, poured it into a teacup.
“Where the hell was Diane today?”
“Said she’s got the curse, soldiered on for a couple of hours, then collapsed into bed.”
“Rubbish,” said Rupert. “She had it a fortnight ago. She’d have stayed working if I’d been here. And Tracey?”
“It’s her day off.”
“And Marion?”
“Gave in her notice and flatly refused to work. She was pissed off because you forgot to take her to some party on Saturday night. She’s been ringing Sits Vac in
He handed the magazine to Rupert.
“ ‘Cheerful, capable groom,’ ” read out Rupert incredulously. “Cheerful! Christ! She’s about as cheerful as Blackpool lights during a power cut. ‘Experienced girl groom required for hunters and stud work. Opportunity to further breeding knowledge.’ She doesn’t have anything to learn about breeding either. Oh hell, let her go, I’m fed up with her tantrums.”
“You cause most of them,” said Billy reasonably. “You know perfectly well that Mayfair and Belgravia, not to mention The Bull and Kitchener, will all go into a decline if she leaves. And we can’t afford that at the beginning of the season.”
He held out his glass for Rupert to fill up.
“And just remember how tremendous she is with customs men. They’re so transfixed by her boobs they never bother to even glance at our papers.”
“Are you after her or something?” said Rupert.
“No, my heart belongs entirely to Mavis,” said Billy, looking down at the blond mongrel who was now curled up on his knee, slanting eyes closed, head resting on his collarbone.
“Oh, all right,” said Rupert. “I’ll go and see her in a minute.”
“She’ll be asleep by now.”
“Not her, she’ll be tossing and turning with desire and frustration.”
From the pantry next door the washing machine was thundering to a halt. Wiping the boot polish off his hands onto Mavis’s blond coat, Billy set her gently down on the floor. Opening the machine, he removed a tangle of white ties, shirts, breeches, socks, and underpants and threw them into the dryer.
Rupert looked disapprovingly round the kitchen which was low-beamed with a flagstone floor and a window looking over the valley. A bridle hung from a meat hook; every shelf seemed to be covered with spilling ashtrays and unopened bills.
“We must get a housekeeper. I’m fed up with chaos.”
“It’s pointless,” said Billy. “You’d only employ pretty ones, then you couldn’t resist screwing them and they’d get bolshy. Mrs. Burroughs is coming in the morning. She’ll tidy the place up.”
“I want it straight on weekends. Perhaps we ought to get Nanny back.”
“She’d have a heart attack at the goings-on. Perhaps you ought to get married. Wives are supposed to do this sort of thing. How was your redheaded Anti?”
“Interesting. Very uptight.”
“Not the easy lay you expected?”
“You’ve put your finger on the spot,” said Rupert, draining his whisky, “which is certainly more than I did. She’s rather sweet, but frightfully intense; kept wanting to talk about books and the theater.”
“Must have taxed your brain. Are you going to see her again?”
“I might. I don’t like unfinished business. By the way, I bought a bloody good horse today from the barracks. No one was about, so Tommy let me try him on the Q.T. Never seen a big horse so good in front. Despite his size he jumps like a pony. Need some sorting out though.”
“Don’t make me tired. I’ve done enough sorting out for one day,” said Billy, picking up the yellow mongrel. “Mavis and I are off to bed. See you in the morning.”
“I’ll go and placate Marion,” said Rupert.
He went upstairs, brushed his teeth and his hair, then took the dogs out.
At the end of the lawn two black yew trees crouched like great gelded tomcats. Behind the house rose the wood, stretching for half a mile. Four vast Lawson cypresses rose in front of the bare beech trees like spires of a cathedral. Moonlight flooded the valley, silvering the lake and blanching the first daffodils. On the opposite side a car driving along the top towards Penscombe lit up the trees lining the road like a firefly. Rupert felt his heart expand with pride and love. This was his home and his land to do what he wanted with. He must keep on winning to keep it going, to make it better and better.
The dogs weaved about lifting their legs on rosebushes and young trees. From the stables he could hear the occasional snort and stamp, and resisted the temptation to go and wake the horses up. As he expected, the light was still on in Marion’s flat over the tackroom. He shut the dogs in the house. Marion took a long time to answer the door. She was pale and puffy-eyed, but nothing could disguise the voluptuousness of her body, nor the length of leg revealed by the clinging nightshirt with the baleful figure of Snoopy on the front.
“What d’you want?” she asked in a choked voice.
“You,” said Rupert.
“Bastard.” Snoopy rose and fell as her breast heaved.
“That’s no way to address one’s boss.”
“You’re not my boss anymore. I’ve given in my notice. Didn’t Billy tell you?”
“Yes,” said Rupert moving towards her and putting a hand between her legs. “And I haven’t accepted it.”
“Don’t touch me,” she sobbed.
But as he splayed out his fingers and increased the pressure she collapsed into his arms.
9
Helen found the next week extraordinarily trying. She could think of nothing but Rupert, which made sleep, work and very existence impossible.
In the evenings at Regina House she read endless love poetry and played Schumann’s piano concerto, being the only music she and Rupert had in common, over and over again, very quietly with her door an inch open, in case she missed the telephone ringing downstairs.
By day she had to put up with Nigel. He limped in after lunch on Monday with a black eye and two cracked ribs. She was appalled by his detailed account of the brutality of the beating up. But when he started describing how he’d been tied up and left naked behind a hedge she suddenly remembered Rupert’s remark about trussing a Christmas turkey and had to gaze out of the window so Nigel wouldn’t see her laughing. Fortunately, the self- obsessed Nigel mistook her shaking shoulders for sobbing.
She now realized how difficult it must have been for Juliet loving a Montagu while living in the Capulet camp.
