“Nice lady,” said Jake, as the colonel walked him out to the car.
“Old friend,” mumbled the colonel.
“Friend of Molly’s, too?” asked Jake.
“Needn’t mention her to Molly, need we?”
“I never met her,” said Jake. “You saw me going into the pub and you stopped to say hello and we had a drink together.”
“Good man,” said the colonel, patting Jake rather gingerly on the shoulders. “Always felt sorry about that Tory business. Worried about Fen too. You’d be doing her a kindness.”
Jake fingered the colonel’s check in his pocket.
“I’ll think about it.”
Jake waited until morning to ring up Masters. He didn’t wish to appear too keen. He offered ?4,000.
“You must be joking,” said Masters. “Anyway Rupert Campbell-Black’s coming to look at him at eleven. He was the first one after the horse, so I ought to let him have a butcher’s.”
“The butcher’s is where that horse will end up if you don’t curb its nasty vicious habits soon,” said Jake. “Four grand is my offer and I’m not topping it. If Rupert offers more, let him have it. I’m going to see another horse over Cheltenham way this afternoon and I want to know if I’ve got the spare cash to buy it, so I’d be grateful if you’d let me know what Rupert says one way or the other.”
“I’ll ring you the moment I hear,” said Masters placatingly. “Don’t rush into that other deal too quickly.”
* * *
Jake then had to spend the morning biting his nails. It was all nerve, allowing the elastic to go slack so the other person started pulling on it. When Masters rang back, he made Tory say he was out and would ring back, which he didn’t. Then Masters rang again.
“That shit Campbell-Black never turned up, never bothered to ring. The horse is yours if you want it.”
“Four thou,” said Jake.
“Four thousand five hundred.”
“Four two-fifty.”
“Done.”
“I’ll come and collect him now.”
It was another hot wearying drive and it took three stable lads, George Masters, and Jake all their persuasive power and a lot of bad language to get Revenge into the lorry, by which time the horse was drenched with sweat. As Jake drove away he could hear him stamping and kicking in rage, and wondered if he’d been mad to buy him.
Two miles on, he was driving along a narrow country lane, brushing the buttercups and the elder flowers, when suddenly a dark blue Porsche hurtled round the corner and only just avoided a head-on collision by skidding onto the verge and nearly removing a wild rosebush.
The driver, a blond man wearing dark glasses, swore and hurtled on. There was no mistaking Rupert, but Jake didn’t recognize the brunette beside him. Maybe she was the reason Marion had rung him up.
“When you get there, mate, you’ll find the cupboard’s bare,” and he threw back his head and laughed. Revenge renewed his kicking and stamping.
“And you’d better be nice to me, boy,” he called back to the horse. “You’ve no idea how lucky you are not to go to that bastard.”
And all the way home, as the dead gnats peppered the windscreen, he kept laughing to himself, until at last, as the sun was setting, he saw the gleaming willows and red pink walls of the Mill House and felt as always that wave of joy at coming home. Christ, he was tired. Darklis was still on four-hourly feeds, so they weren’t getting much sleep. Tomorrow he had to get up early to drive up to a show in Yorkshire, and then the next week on to the Royal at Stoneleigh.
Tory came out to meet him, with Wolf bounding ahead.
“You got him? You must be exhausted.”
When they lowered the ramp, Revenge was cowering in the corner, shivering as though in a fever, despite the heat of the evening.
“Poor old boy, he must have had a bad time. But isn’t he beautiful?” said Tory.
As Jake went towards him, Revenge bared his teeth and darted at Jake like a cobra.
“He’s a bugger,” said Jake. “No one’s to go near him for the next day or so but me.”
Having tied him up securely, Jake rubbed him down, put on a sweat rug, watered and fed him. But the horse didn’t seem remotely interested in food and, once he was let loose, proceeded to pace round and round his box.
“Leave him,” said Jake. “He’ll settle down.”
Thank God for Tory, he thought as he went into the house.
Everything was tidy. The toys that had strewn the hall when he left that morning were now all put away. The only evidence of babies was a pile of fluffy nappies folded in the hall. A smell of shepherd’s pie drifted enticingly from the kitchen.
“How’s things been?”
“Fine really, except for Isa posting all the entry forms down the loo. Fortunately I’d typed them, rather than filling them in in ink, so they didn’t run. They’re drying off in the hot cupboard.”
“By the way,” she said, after she’d given him a glass of beer (they were still too poor to drink wine, except for special occasions), “Fen’s here.”
He looked up. “Run away from school?”
“Yes. She discovered Mummy’d sold the pony.”
* * *
He found Fen, still dressed in her school uniform, slumped sobbing on the bed.
“How could she do it? She forgets my birthday, then next day, she sells Marigold. She won’t even tell me where she’s gone.”
“Probably to a good home. We’ll find out,” said Jake, “and she
“I know. I really have tried not to put on weight so I wasn’t too heavy, but she was the only thing I’d got. I loved her so much.”
Jake patted her shoulder. For a second she was crying so hard she couldn’t get the words out. Then she said, “I can’t stand school anymore. It’s a horseless, dogless desert, going on and on.” She reached out for Wolf, who’d climbed onto the bed, trying to lick her tears away. “And I can’t live with Mummy anymore. I hate her and I loathe him. Please don’t send me back.”
Jake was shocked by her appearance. Last time he’d seen her, a year ago, she’d been a little girl. Now she was a teenager with lank greasy hair, spots, and a pasty skin flecked with blackheads. Although she was terribly thin, he could see the first swell of breasts beneath the grass green school sweater.
“Please let me come and live with you,” she sobbed. “I won’t be a nuisance. I’ll babysit and I’ll get up early, and work at night and at the weekends.”
Jake stroked her hair. “I’ll talk to Tory. Come downstairs and have something to eat.”
“I can’t, truly. I’d be sick. Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry. You must be knackered, and to be faced with me after that drive. But I keep thinking of Marigold.” Her face crumpled again. “How lonely and bewildered she’ll be.”
“I’ll go and ring your mother,” said Jake.
“Fen’s here,” she heard him say on the downstairs telephone. “No, don’t talk to her tonight. She’s fast asleep; must have walked most of the way.”
Jake overslept next morning. Pulling on his clothes, he went downstairs to see how Revenge had survived the night. As he put on his shoes in the kitchen, he could hear Africa knocking her water bucket about and Sailor pawing the door and neighing, “Where’s my bloody breakfast.”
“All right, all right,” grumbled Jake, “I’m coming.”
