pelvic thrusts. When he came to the massive upright he flew over it as though it was a tiny log.
At the gate with Crittleden written across it in large red letters he came in too fast, slipped, just righted himself, and rapped the fence hard as he went over. For a second it swung back and forth, making Rupert’s fans gasp, Rupert didn’t even bother to glance round. With his long stride, Belgravia managed the double in three strides. Now he was rounding the corner. Next moment Helen saw Belgravia’s pricked ginger ears appearing over the top of the bank, then his lovely head with the white star, and then Rupert. They were on top, popping over the little fence, then tobogganing down the other side, Belgravia on his haunches. Only Rupert’s superhuman strength again stopped the horse running into the fence at the bottom. He was over; the crowd gave a cheer. Over the wall and the combination, which caused him no trouble. Then he kicked Belgravia into a gallop and sailed over the water, yanking him back to get him in line for the final triple.
“Too fast,” said Billy in anguish. “He’s going to hit it.”
Helen shut her eyes, listening to the thundering hooves, waiting for the sickening thud of falling poles and the groans of the crowd. Instead there was a mighty roar of applause. Helen opened her eyes.
“Ouch,” said Billy.
Looking down, Helen realized she’d been gripping his arm.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Be my guest. Brilliant round, wasn’t it?”
“Wonderful.” Helen watched a delighted Rupert letting his rein go slack and walking Belgravia out of the ring, slapping his lathered neck, pulling the ginger ears with joy. Belgravia’s coat, dark, bronzed, and shiny with sweat, looked like uncooked liver.
“That puts me in joint second, which means ?500, but there are still fifteen to go,” said Humpty.
Helen noticed the arrogant way Rupert ignored the cheers. Sliding to the ground, he patted the horse once more and turned towards the riders’ stand. Stopped by admirers on the way, in an exultant mood, he was prepared to sign autographs.
“Once you get a clear, people realize it can be jumped and you’ll probably get a lot more,” said Billy. “If I watch any more rounds I’ll start getting the heeby-jeebies.”
He lit another cigarette. Mavis closed her slanting eyes to avoid the smoke.
“How long has your mount suffered from hydrophobia?” asked Helen.
“What?” Billy looked alarmed.
“Been frightened of water.”
“Oh, ever since I had him. I think he might have nearly drowned in some tiny river when he was a foal because it really scares him. Last week I managed to get him over a six-foot stream at home, but he trembled for ages afterwards. I just don’t know how he’ll go today. He’s such a good horse,” he went on, his face lighting up. “So kind, and such a trier, he’ll get himself into all sorts of trouble rather than duck out, and he’s so bright. Over and over I put him wrong and he just brakes at the last moment and sails over, and he’s so cheerful, never moody, and so gentle, a child could lead him up to London on a piece of string like a little dog.”
Helen smiled. “I think Mavis is getting jealous,” she said.
“Oh, Mavis knows she’s my favorite dog, and there goes my favorite girl,” said Billy, as a blonde with a pink and white complexion on a gray horse waited to go into the ring.
“Look at her bloody father telling her to give it a whack at the water, and her mother telling her not to. Poor girl’s in such a muddle. I could sort her out,” he said longingly. “Good luck, darling,” he called down. Lavinia looked up, waved her whip, and smiled. Her parents looked simply furious.
How nice he is, thought Helen, and he’s Rupert’s best friend. There couldn’t be much wrong with Rupert if he inspired friendship like this. In anguish, Billy watched poor Lavinia, after a nervous, tentative round, meet the same fate as the Frenchman, flying through the air into the water.
“At least she won’t have to wash her hair before she goes out with you this evening,” said an amused voice. It was Rupert. He was eating an ice cream.
“Congratulations,” said Helen.
“Bloody well done,” said Billy.
“That should wrap the whole thing up,” said Rupert, shooting a sideways glance at Billy. “Don’t imagine there’ll be any more clears.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Billy. “I’ve still got to jump. Oh, look at poor darling Lavinia coming out in tears.”
“She looks like a seal,” said Rupert. “She may just be dwipping water, not cwying. Lavinia,” he added to Helen, “can’t say her Rs.”
“It was a good round until she came to the water,” protested Billy.
“That girl couldn’t ride in a taxi with the door shut,” said Rupert. “They ought to pay her disappearance money.”
Billy got up. “Can you hold Mavis for me?” he asked Helen.
“Good luck,” said Rupert.
As he went downstairs the dog whined and strained after him.
“Shut up,” snapped Rupert. Mavis gave him a cold stare, then climbed onto Helen’s knees and settled down with a sigh of deep martyrdom.
Helen, though not wild about dogs, was grateful for the warmth. Seeing she was shivering, Rupert put his red coat round her shoulders. The heat still left from his body was like a caress. Riders kept returning to the stand, many of them on twelve faults. Everyone congratulated Rupert. He was in tearing spirits until Malise Gordon came over and sat down on his other side. Rupert was about to introduce Helen when Malise said, “Not a bad round, but a bit hit and miss.”
Rupert’s lips tightened, his face suddenly expressionless.
“Belgravia could do with a lot more work on the flat,” went on Malise, “and a lot less corn.”
“He never felt in any danger to me,” said Rupert coldly.
“You were very lucky at the gate, and at the rail after the bank, and you came in much too fast at the triple. That’s a good horse, but you won’t get him out of trouble every time.”
Rupert stared stonily ahead.
“We ought to be thinking of him in terms of the Olympics or the World Championships,” said Malise in a slightly more conciliatory tone.
“Belgravia’d be the ideal horse,” said Rupert, relenting slightly, too. “In the World Championship,” he explained to Helen, “the four finalists have to jump each other’s horses. Belgravia’s such a sod, no one would have a hope on him.”
“Hardly cricket,” said Malise.
“ ’Course it isn’t,” said Rupert insolently. “I thought we were talking about show jumping.”
“By the way,” asked Malise, “have you come across a rider called Jake Lovell? He’s been jumping on the northern circuit. I think he’s very good.”
Rupert paused for a second. “No. Is he good enough to make the British team?”
“He will be in a year or two.”
“You’d do much better with Billy,” said Rupert quickly.
“Billy has yet to convince me he has the killer instinct,” said Malise, standing up. “I’ll probably see you at Grania’s.”
Helen could see exactly why he and Rupert struck sparks off each other.
Down in the collecting ring Billy went up to Lavinia Greenslade and commiserated with her.
“Same thing’s bound to happen to me,” he said. He was just about to ask her out when her mother came up. “Wish you wouldn’t call out to Lavinia just as she’s going into the ring,” she snapped. “Completely put her off her stroke.”
“Sorry,” muttered Billy.
Winking at Lavinia, he walked over to The Bull, who whickered with joy and stuck his nose inside Billy’s coat. Built like an oak tree with a vast girth, short, wide-apart well-shaped legs, and surprisingly small feet, it was the wide forehead and rather small eyes that made him look like a bull. The wide blaze down his forehead gave him an added appearance of placid contentment.
“How is he?” he asked Tracey.
“Gorgeous,” said Tracey. “Always is. Didn’t Rupert jump champion?”
