admittedly. These are his legs, these are your legs. You’re supposed to use them to make him carry you upfield as fast as possible. This is a whip.’ For a second he banged his whip against hers like a fencer starting a duel. ‘I want you to use it. I want your ponies collapsing when they come off the field.’
For a second Perdita watched a gull drifting across the khaki woods. The Argentine word for gull was
‘Like Tero collapsed,’ she screamed, suddenly exploding like a pressure cooker.
‘If need be, but they won’t collapse if you get them fit enough. That pony is still too fat.’
‘He is
‘Shut up,’ said Rupert coldly. ‘If you were as quick on the field as you are with your temper, we might get somewhere.’
Perdita burst into tears.
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Rupert. ‘I’ve always believed a woman’s place was in the home, or on her back, or regrettably in the shops, but
Dommie, who had a softer heart than Seb, leapt to Perdita’s defence.
‘I’ve known you all my life, Rupert, and I’ve always liked you, but I never realized you could be quite such a shit.’
‘Well, now you know, Sunshine,’ snapped Rupert.
The trouble was that Rupert was right. He had a marvellous eye, miraculous anticipation, and saw exactly where they were making mistakes. Every time he picked up a polo stick it looked right. Every time he got on the most refractory pony, it came together.
No-one was spared. He made Ricky cut down drastically on his bad habits, all those accumulated short cuts which great players resort to. Gradually Ricky straightened his swing, found he was hitting the ball twice as far and learnt to use his team again.
71
Feeling a slight chill in the air as the evenings drew in, Daisy brought crumpets, bramble jelly and a large fruitcake from the village shop. To cheer herself up she tried to count all the nice things about winter, but only got as far as roaring fires and being able to cover one’s spare tyres with huge jerseys. Then she remembered what a bore it was sweeping out the ashes in the morning!
She was utterly fed up with the constantly ringing telephone. The press were on the whole time trying to get Perdita’s reaction to being picked for the Westchester, to seeing Red again and to being coached by Rupert, who still wouldn’t admit paternity. Perdita and Violet had had a frightful row that morning because Perdita had pinched Violet’s car without asking, smashing a sidelight and leaving hay and sweet-papers all over the floor. Eddie’s thumping great crush on Sharon showed no sign of abating and he was not at all pleased to be joined by Violet’s friends from the school rugger team, wandering round in boxer shorts showing off Portugal-tanned bodies.
‘I could eat them alaive at that age,’ said Sharon.
In retaliation, Eddie had borrowed a tenner off Daisy to buy stationery for school and instead came back with a bottle of
‘We didn’t have girls at my prep school,’ he was now telling her, ‘as we didn’t really need them, but we’ve got fifty per cent at Bagley Hall, which is OK, as it’d be awful if there weren’t enough to go round.’
‘Oh look, there’s Mrs Thatcher on the telly. What a smart blue costume,’ said Sharon. ‘She always looks well turned-out, doesn’t she?’
‘I admire her,’ said Eddie reflectively, ‘but I wouldn’t like her as a mother.’
I suppose that’s something, thought Daisy, mixing white with burnt umber to get the colour of Sharon’s nipples.
In the corner two puppies were now having a tug of war with a pink-and-black scarf.
‘Have some more
‘Ay shall be tiddly,’ said Sharon with a giggle as he filled her glass.
‘Eddie darling, do rescue that scarf,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m sure it’s Perdita’s.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Eddie stonily. ‘I hate my sister,’ he added to Sharon.
‘How’s she getting on being coached by Rupert Campbell-Black? There’s an attractive man.’
Eddie’s face fell. ‘He’s depressingly sexist,’ he said disparagingly. ‘Not that I blame him for rubbishing my sister. I would, if she wasn’t so strong.’
There was a bang on the door, a bark from Ethel and in came Ricky.
‘Christ,’ he said taking in the chaos.
‘Ricky!’ said Sharon excitedly. ‘Come in. Don’t be shay, although I love shay men. Come and tell us what you think of Daisy’s portrait.’
Stepping over several chewing puppies, Ricky looked at the painting.
‘It’s very good,’ he said in surprise. ‘Extremely good. Rubens crossed with Renoir.’ Then, looking at Daisy’s exhausted face: ‘Come on, Sharon, Daisy’s done enough for one day.’
Sharon leant forward, giving Ricky the benefit of her cleavage to look at her diamond watch: ‘Heavens, taime does flay. Can I borrow your bathroom, Daisy? Goodness me,’ – swaying as she got up, she deliberately clutched on to Ricky’s arm – ‘I really do feel a bit tiddly.’
Having toasted some crumpets and put them with the fruitcake and the tea things on a tray, Daisy suggested that they went in the garden as it was the tidiest place.
‘You’re sweet.’ Ricky took the tray from her. ‘But I honestly don’t want anything to eat. Have you had a ghastly week?’
‘Pretty standard,’ said Daisy. ‘I really must paint that bench before winter.’
Next minute Violet erupted into the garden in an uncharacteristically bad temper. ‘Fucking hell, Mum, you’ve shrunk my olive-green jersey. Oh hi, Ricky.’ She grabbed a crumpet.
She was followed by Eddie in an even worse mood.
‘I was cleaning out my fish tank and Perdita’s emptied her ashtray into it. I’m leaving home.’ He snatched up two crumpets.
A second later Perdita put her head out of her bedroom window. ‘Sharon fucking Kaputnik’s locked herself in the bathroom, and I’ve got to go out.’
‘I don’t want to hear,’ said Ricky firmly. ‘Go inside all of you, and tidy up the kitchen, and then the sitting room. I’ve never seen such a tip, and it’s all your junk. Go on, bugger off.’
‘Ay, ay, sir,’ said Eddie, pinching another crumpet.
‘Oh, thank you,’ sighed Daisy. ‘You’re so wonderful.’
Blushing, Ricky said he’d found homes for two of the puppies and he’d take one himself.
‘Oh, how lovely. That only leaves one. Perhaps we could keep it.’ Rubbing buttery fingers on her jeans, Daisy started to sew nametapes on Eddie’s school socks. Ricky watched her.
It was a beautiful evening. The sun was setting behind the wood. Arrows of migrating birds, flown in from the sea to scavenge in the newly ploughed fields, were following a hyacinth-blue-and-crimson air balloon drifting across the softest, pink-flecked sky. In the garden red berries glowed on the honeysuckle and sapphire spears of delphiniums, pink Japanese anemones and pale roses crowded the flower-beds, not as vigorous as at their first flowering, but sweeter.
‘Is Eddie being a pain too?’ asked Ricky.
‘Not really. Adolescence is so awful.’ Almost as bad as being in one’s late thirties, thought Daisy sadly. ‘His uniform’s being a bit of a bore. In the old days I just went and bought it and the only problem was money. Now he’s worse than Beau Brummel about the relative tightness and length of his trousers.’ Looking up from her nametapes,
