Riders

the piece several times. He had even been interviewed by Dudley Diplock as he came out of the ring. The fact that he hardly got a word out didn’t seem to matter. He smiled, and when Jake smiled publicly, which was about once every five years, the world melted.

The bell rang, the riders left the arena. In the distance you could still hear the mournful cry of the men on the gate trying to flog programs to last-minute arrivals. The arena was flooded with light for the television cameras. As Rupert mounted Belgravia, he spat out his chewing gum.

“I want it,” said a besotted teenager, rushing forward. A deafening cheer lifted the roof off as Rupert rode into the ring.

I can’t help it, thought Fen. He’s vile, but he is attractive. Rupert jumped an untroubled clear and rode out as Ivor Braine rode in. The collecting ring steward, who had a headache from drinking too much at lunchtime, was shouting at late arrivals.

“I’m going to report Rupert Campbell-Black to the BSJA for calling me a fart,” he grumbled. “And you’re late, too,” he said to Humpty, who was supposed to be jumping next.

“Get out of my way then, you little fart,” said Humpty. “You’re a worse nagger than my wife.”

Humpty also went clear.

Billy, waiting to jump, felt near to suicide. Lavinia was still avoiding him. Now Count Guy was in the collecting ring, crashing over the practice fence, pretending not to understand the collecting ring steward, who was now castigating him for being late.

“That man is a preek,” he drawled to Lavinia, as he rode towards the rose red curtains.

“Bonne chance, my angel,” said Lavinia, blowing him a kiss.

Count Guy’s dark brown stallion, however, took a dislike to the curtains and shied into a group of officials in pinstripe suits, dislodging for a moment the complacency of their smooth flushed faces, as they scuttled for cover. Then with a flurry of Gallic expletives, Guy rode into the arena and proceeded to lay waste the course.

“Oh, bad luck, darling,” said Lavinia as he came out, shrugging dramatically, reins dropped, palms of both hands turned to heaven.

“Fucking frog,” muttered Billy as he passed him on the way in. But he was so upset, he jumped badly and notched up twelve faults.

“I’ve got a splinter,” grumbled Marion.

Ignoring her, Rupert went back to the riders’ stand to watch the rest of the rounds. As he listened to a group of German riders chattering behind him, his thoughts contentedly drifted towards Tiffany Bathgate who, with her dumpy friend, would at this moment be washing themselves (as well as they could in the Olympia showers) for him. There were two bottles of champagne in the flat fridge. Perhaps he should offer them a proper bath when they arrived. Goodness knows where that might lead.

The next moment the two girls were forgotten, as Jake and Revenge came in, jumping unevenly but very impressively. Revenge was fooling around between fences, but when he jumped he really tucked his legs up.

I want that horse, thought Rupert grimly. He’s got everything I like: brains, temperament, good looks.

He was suddenly aware that the woman on his right was making a lot of noise.

“Do you remember me?” she said, turning to Rupert.

“I never forget a face like yours, but I’m terrible at names,” said Rupert. It was his standard reply.

“I’m Molly Carter, Maxwell that was. Tory, my daughter, was doing the season in 1970. You were such a deb’s delight. All the mums were in love with you, too.”

“Tory. Of course I remember. Very shy, treated every man as if he was going to chuck snowballs with stones in at her.”

“She married Jake Lovell, you know. It was a bit of a shock at the time, but he’s done awfully well.”

“Helped by Tory’s money, of course,” said Rupert.

“Oh, of course. He’d never have made the grade without her.” She gave a little laugh. “And my husband’s been helping him out recently.”

“Really,” said Rupert, his brain beginning to tick.

“Revenge is our horse.”

Not by a flicker of a muscle did Rupert betray how interested he was. “Your horse?”

“Jake was short of cash last June and desperate to buy Revenge in a hurry. Some other buyer was after him, so Bernard put up the money. I was livid at the time, but he seems rather a good investment. Won twice as much as he cost already. Jake is rather maddening, though.”

“Yes?”

Under Rupert’s blue gaze, Molly was becoming indiscreet.

“He could have won a lot more, but Jake keeps retiring the horse because he doesn’t want to push him. Feels he’s not ready to jump against the clock.”

“Rubbish,” said Rupert. “When a horse is as good as that you’ve got to press on.”

“Really?” said Molly. “Oh, do look, the Princess has arrived. I love her dress.”

Everyone stood up with the usual clattering of seats. The band played the National Anthem. Round followed round, but only Ludwig and Jake on Sailor jumped clear.

“Helen’s having a baby in March,” said Rupert, getting to his feet. “So we’re not going out much, but we must all have dinner sometime.”

“That would be lovely,” said Molly, giving him their telephone number. “Bernard usually goes to London on Wednesday morning to see his stockbrokers, but I’m always there.”

“I’ll remember that,” said Rupert pointedly.

Molly smirked to herself as he walked down the steps. She’d always thought Rupert was most attractive. Nice that she hadn’t lost her touch.

Six riders had to jump off. Jake took one look at the course. For an indoor arena with limited space it was enormous, ending up with an upright of five feet eight inches.

“I’m not jumping Revenge,” he said to Colonel Carter.

“Don’t be bloody silly, man. There’s ?4,000 at stake.”

“I don’t care. It’s too much to ask an inexperienced horse. He jumped a beautiful round earlier. Let’s leave it at that.”

The colonel looked thunderous.

“Only tell how good he is if you have a go.”

“He’s had a tough week.”

Molly’s face was twitching. “I think you’re being very foolish, Jake. I’ve just been talking to Rupert Campbell- Black, Bernard, and he said he’d certainly jump Revenge against the clock.”

“All the more reason for me not to,” snapped Jake.

“Quite right,” said Fen crossly. “He’s a young horse; set him back months if he lost his confidence.”

“Really, Fenella,” said Molly, “no one asked your opinion.”

Rupert rode past on the way into the arena.

Stupid pratt, he thought, listening for a second to the splendid row.

“That bloody little man,” whispered Molly to Rupert, “he’s absolutely refusing to jump him.”

Rupert shrugged. “Well, you know what I feel.”

“He’ll be sixth anyway,” said Jake. “That’s ?500. I said I’d train him my way. You’ll have to lump it.”

Rupert rattled everyone by setting a virtually unbeatable time of 29.3 seconds.

“Such a good rider,” said Molly to Colonel Carter and, lowering her voice, “You’ve no idea what sense he talked.”

No one could beat Rupert’s time. Ludwig was a second slower, Lavinia had a fence down, Humpty couldn’t catch him, nor could Hans Schmidt.

“I think that’s ?4,000 in the bag,” said Rupert to Billy. “I might even take the girls to Annabel’s.”

Jake felt sick. Looking at the six jumps he wondered how the hell he could beat Rupert’s time. Then, when he came to the rustic poles, where everyone else had gone round the wall, he cut in from the other side, jumping the fence sideways as he turned. The crowd gave a shout and, suddenly aware of a knife-edge finish, bellowed him home. He cleared the last fence and looked at the clock. He’d done it. A fifth of a second faster than Rupert. He hugged Sailor, who gave three huge bucks, nearly unseating him. The crowd went mad.