Polo

stunning.’

At last the organ broke into the Wedding March and down they came, Taggie and Rupert glued together. Taggie, with her veil back, dark tendrils escaping on to her forehead, eyes huge with love, all her lipstick kissed off in the vestry, kept breaking into laughter at Rupert’s outrageous asides.

‘You’d think Rupert had won a gold and the World Championships all in one,’ said Janey, opening another notebook. ‘I must say she is pretty now.’

‘He absolutely adores her,’ said the Leader of the Opposition, checking her mascara in a powder compact, ‘and she’s so enchantingly unsmug about getting him.’

Out into the snow went Rupert and his bride and the cheers and the bells rang out as the flashes of a thousand photographers lit up the High Street.

‘I mustn’t cry,’ Daisy told herself, as she followed the twins out.

‘Must just go and have a word with the horse physiotherapist,’ said Sukey, bolting off down a side aisle.

Then, so quickly Daisy couldn’t believe it was happening, a warm hand slid into her frozen one and Drew’s voice whispered, ‘Wow! I want to worship you with my body.’

43

Daisy had always longed to see inside Rupert’s house, which she’d admired so often from the Penscombe- Chalford Road, lying serene and golden against its pillow of beech woods, now thickly counterpaned with snow. Inside Dom Perignon flowed faster than the Frogsmore after a rainstorm as a wildly yelling party spread through the ground floor out into a large marquee where a band was playing ‘You’d be so easy to love’.

The line-up took less time than usual because Rupert was more interested in talking to Taggie than any of the guests, and Rupert’s father, Eddie, was busy chatting up Maud O’Hara and sniping at his first wife, Rupert’s mother.

Daisy wandered from room to beautiful pastel room, absolutely knocked out by the pictures – two Gainsboroughs, a Van Eyck, a Manet, several Stubbs, a Rembrandt and a Cotman for starters – and listening to the comments of Rupert’s army of exes.

‘Hasn’t let go of her hand for one moment, has he?’

‘Terrified of someone telling stories out of school.’

‘Good thing she was too dyslexic to read the memoirs.’

‘She’ll never hold him.’

‘I just cannot believe Rupert’s ability to bounce back. Those memoirs must be the most damaging publicity anyone’s ever had, but now he’s hitched to this sweet young thing all the press and the shadow cabinet are clamouring for him to stay.’

‘He’s told the Leader of the Opposition he’s not even going to stay on as an MP because it involves too many late nights.’

‘Ah well, we’ll all have to find someone else. That Dancer’s dead sexy, isn’t he?’

‘Darling, he’s gay.’

‘I heard he goes both ways, and he is Ricky’s patron, and the way into Ricky, and you know how much we all want that.’

‘I think Ricky’s more attractive than Rupert.’

‘More unobtainable – up until now – you mean.’

Wandering on, Daisy heard desperate weeping. Peering into Rupert’s dark green study, she saw Rupert’s ex-mistress, Cameron Cook, slumped over the desk.

‘I can’t help it. I know Rupert wouldn’t have made me happy, but I’d rather be miserable with him than happy with anyone else,’ she sobbed.

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said Declan’s son, Patrick, gently stroking the back of her neck. ‘We both knew today would be a nightmare for you, right. You just hang in with me.’ He was so young and handsome and certain.

Lucky Cameron, thought Daisy. She wondered where Drew was. There were so many beautiful women around. She felt a wave of relief that she wasn’t married to Hamish any more. He’d have been belting round, kilt aswirl, attempting to get off with all of them.

The Irish contingent were already dancing. In one corner the twins were having a fight, scuffling like bear cubs.

‘You bloody well could have given me a cut of that five grand,’ Dommie was saying. ‘I gave you half the money from that pony of his I sold back to Victor.’

Sitting under a mournful Landseer bloodhound, Daisy found Tabitha Campbell-Black drinking champagne and feeding profiteroles to Rupert’s pack of slavering dogs.

‘I’ve had eight profiteroles,’ she informed Daisy. ‘D’you think Daddy’s fertilized Taggie yet?’

‘I wouldn’t think so,’ said Daisy. ‘D’you like her?’

‘Yes, but Daddy won’t let me go on the honeymoon.’

‘Shall I draw a picture of you?’ asked Daisy.

‘Yes, please,’ said Tabitha.

Later, having danced with the twins and Bas and several foreign showjumpers, and rocked and rolled for an amazingly sexy, energetic ten minutes with Dancer, Daisy wandered upstairs to repair her face.

Going through a door, she found a bathroom. The wall was covered with photographs of Rupert in his showjumping days. In one he was riding a splendid chestnut mare and being presented with a cup by a famous middle-aged beauty. Underneath she had scrawled: ‘So happy to mount you – Grania.’ How would Taggie cope with that every time she had a pee, wondered Daisy. Hamish had never really coped with her past.

Opening the door on the other side, Daisy found herself in a bedroom with old rose walls, pink-and-yellow silk curtains and a great Jacobean four-poster which was so smothered in fur coats that it seemed to have a slumbering animal life of its own. Perched on a yellow chaise-longue, in an olive green overcoat, was Sukey Benedict talking to Mrs Hughie.

‘Hello, Daisy,’ said Sukey. ‘Love your outfit. So original, don’t you think, Edwina? How are you getting on in Snow Cottage? Not too lonely?’ Then, before Daisy had time to answer, ‘Drew and I were just saying we must find you a super chap. Drew’s brother’s home on leave soon. Perhaps you’ll come and have kitchen sups when he’s staying?

As Daisy sat down at the dressing-room table, Sukey turned back to Mrs Hughie. Having mouthed, ‘Bit of a Bohemian,’ pointing in Daisy’s direction, she continued, ‘We’re off to St Moritz to play snow polo after Christmas. It’s going to be just like a second honeymoon.’

With trembling hands, Daisy got a tube of base foundation out of her bag.

‘I won’t be able to ski, of course. My gynie said it wasn’t wise, as I lost the last one at three months.’ Sukey’s voice was as insistent as Philippa’s burglar alarm. ‘It’s funny we had no difficulty getting Jamie, but we’ve been trying and trying for this one. I had my tubes blown and Drew was about to have a sperm test when I found I was pregnant.’

Is that really Drew’s mistress looking back at me? thought Daisy numbly as she gazed at her ashen face. Drew had never mentioned the miscarriage and swore he never slept with Sukey.

‘Drew’s over the moon, because he’s always wanted a huge family,’ Sukey was off again. ‘He’s being so caring at the moment. He gave me the most gorgeous recording of Cosi Fan Tutte – our favourite opera – as a celebration present. We’ve been playing it all week. He says at least if I’m listening, I’m not scurrying about.’

That’s what I gave Drew for Christmas. It’s our favourite opera, thought Daisy.

Looking down, she saw she’d spilled base all over her new velvet knickerbockers. Frantically rubbing it away with a Kleenex, she fled downstairs, slap into Drew.