Riders

Rupert pulled her towards him.

“I want to give you the best time in the world,” he murmured. “Tell me what turns you on.”

At three o’clock in the morning the telephone rang.

Laura stretched out an arm.

“Charlie, darling, where are you?” she asked with simulated sleepiness. “Oh, that’s lovely. You can get a flight to Plymouth. I’ll come and meet you. What an hour! You must be exhausted. Yes, I’ve been fine. The show was a great success. Love you, darling, all news when I see you. Bye.”

“Where is he?” asked Rupert.

“Madrid. He’ll be back in three hours. He’s got his own plane.”

Rupert laughed. “Good thing he didn’t parachute in unexpectedly.”

“I’ll drive you back to the showground on the way.”

Rupert snuggled up against her splendid breasts. “Come on, we don’t want to waste any time.”

It was another beautiful day. An innocent cerulean sky hung over the deep green fountain of the oak trees. As they left the house dawn was just breaking. Rupert breathed in a smell of dust, roses, and approaching rain.

“Laura,” he said, as they reached the outskirts of Plymouth, “I was at a pretty low ebb when I met you yesterday. You’ve been very good to me. Feel I ought to write Charlie a thank-you letter.”

“Have you got a steady girlfriend?” she asked. “Apart from the multitudes, I mean.”

“We’ve just packed it in.”

“Why?”

“She’s too serious-minded, and she won’t sleep with me.”

Laura braked at the lights. “Must be crazy. You’re the eighth wonder of the world.”

“I am when I’m with you.” He put his hand between her legs, pressing gently. “That must have been one of the most glorious fucks I’ve ever had. If I wasn’t absolutely knackered, I’d drag you back to the caravan for another go. D’you ever get away to London, or Gloucestershire?” he asked, as she drew up at the showground.

“Sometimes, usually with Charlie.”

“There’ll be next year’s show.”

“Charlie’ll probably be here next time.”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her.

“We’ll get together again sometime. I won’t forget you in a hurry.”

Laura watched him walking across the dew-laden grass, with that lovely athlete’s lope, red coat slung over his shoulder. As he turned and waved, she thought it was a very good thing Charlie was coming back. The boy was quite irresistible. Underneath the macho exterior, he was very vulnerable. I could straighten him out, she thought wistfully.

Rupert headed for the stables. He couldn’t ever remember having been so tired in his life. Due in court at nine, he must get a couple of hours’ sleep beforehand. He hoped the press weren’t going to make too much of a meal of it. He might even get suspended for a year. Malise would be charmed.

No one was about yet. Belgravia and Mayfair were lying down. Macaulay, however, who missed life at the barracks, welcomed any interruption and stuck his head out, nudging Rupert for Polos.

“From what I can remember,” Rupert told him, “you jumped bloody well yesterday. Over the next few months you and I are going to raise two hooves to Malise Gordon, until he can’t afford not to have us back in the team. We’d better think up a new name for you; perhaps we ought to call you Bridges.”

But as he walked wearily towards the caravan, remembering the day he had bought Macaulay, he felt kneed in the groin with longing for Helen. It must be tiredness that made it hurt so much. His resistance was weakened. Bloody hell, there was a light on in the caravan. Billy must have gone to bed drunk. He found the key behind the left front wheel, where it was always left. He let himself in cautiously. Billy might be shacked up with Lavinia.

For a minute he thought he was hallucinating. For there, lying in the double bed, apparently naked, dark blue duvet over her breasts, lay Helen. There were huge circles under her eyes, and she’d obviously been crying. She looked waiflike and terrified. Not a muscle flickered in Rupert’s face. For a few seconds he gazed at her.

“How did you get in here?” he said coldly.

Then, as the tears began to roll down her cheeks, he crossed the caravan, taking her in his arms. After Laura’s opulent curves she felt as frail as a child.

“Sweetheart, it’s all right.”

“I’m so desperately sorry,” she sobbed. “I know you g-got drunk, and into that dreadful fight, because I was real mean to you the day before yesterday.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was, too. You were down because you’d been dropped, and all I did was come on sanctimonious and blame you. I should have been supportive and kind. You’re right; I am a prude. I don’t love Harold at all. I love you and and it’s stupid to pretend I don’t.”

She was crying really hard now. Rupert got out his handkerchief, then not able to remember whether he’d used it to clean up Laura Bridges, shoved it hastily away and grabbed a handful of Kleenex from the box on the side.

“You can make love with me whenever you want to,” she said.

“Only if you want to,” he said gently.

“I do,” her lip trembled, “more than anything else in the world. I’m just so scared of losing you.”

Rupert tightened his grip on her. “You’re not going to.”

“I want you so much now,” she pleaded.

Christ, Rupert said to himself, I come home smelling like an old dog fox, and I’m so pooped I can’t do a thing.

He took her hands. “I respect you far too much to force you,” he said gravely.

“You don’t have to be kind. I really want it.”

“It wouldn’t be right.” Then he had a brainwave. “Why don’t we get married?”

“Married?” she whispered incredulously.

“Why not? It’s different.”

“Are you sure you’re not still…”

“Drunk? Not at all, I haven’t had a drop since yesterday lunchtime.” He pulled off his boots, then collapsed into bed beside her.

Then, removing his signet ring, he slid it onto her wedding ring finger. “That’ll have to do, ’til I get you an engagement ring.”

She gazed at it, speechless, turning it over and over.

“You really mean it?”

“Really.” He lay back and laughed. “I was so mad at you yesterday morning, I even changed Macaulay’s name. Now you’ll be changing yours, perhaps I’d better call him Campbell-Black. Christ, you’re beautiful. I can fall asleep for the rest of my life counting freckles.”

Next minute he was fast asleep.

He was woken by Helen an hour before the court case.

“My God,” he said, startled. Then, seeing his signet ring on her finger, he gradually brought the last few days’ events into focus.

“Rupert,” she said, frantically twisting the ring around and around, “when you came in this morning you asked me to marry you. But honestly, I’ll understand if you’ve decided against it.”

“Darling.” As he pulled her into his arms he could smell toothpaste and clean-scented flesh. She must have been up for hours. “Of course I meant it. There’s only one obstacle.”

“What’s that?” she said, going pale.

“I don’t remember you accepting.”

Helen flung her arms round his neck, kissing him fiercely. “Oh, yes, please. I promise I’ll be supportive. I’ll learn about horses and be a real help in your career.”

Rupert looked alarmed. “You don’t have to go that far. I must go and have a pee.”

When he came back her arms closed round him like a vise. He pushed her away. “Wait. I want to look at you first.”