Tears were flooding her face and she wiped them frantically away with the sleeve of her jersey. Aware a drama was taking place and dying to know if this was Ricky’s latest, the waiter sidled over.
‘Everything all right, Meester Franch-Lynch?’
‘Perfect, now push off.’ Ricky put a hand over Daisy’s, a large rough hand with callouses beneath the base of each long finger from endlessly holding a polo stick.
‘You are a good mother,’ he said gently. ‘I can read between Perdita’s lies. I know what sacrifices you’ve made, working in that ghastly Christmas pudding factory, not buying any new clothes for years.’ He picked up the frayed, very pointed collar of her shirt.
‘I didn’t know I was going out to dinner,’ said Daisy defensively.
‘Course you didn’t.’
‘I don’t know what to do with her.’ Daisy blew her nose on her red-checked table napkin, then realized what she’d done. ‘Oh God, I’ll wash it and send it back.’
‘She needs polo,’ said Ricky, ‘but serious polo. She ought to be playing ten chukkas a day with really good players, and she ought to get miles away from you so she can’t kick the shit out of you.’ As he filled her glass again he knocked over the salt cellar and quickly chucked the spilt salt over his left shoulder. ‘Are you painting?’
‘Not much.’ Daisy was pleating the edge of the tablecloth. ‘All my inspiration seems to have dried up since Hamish left and I seem to have lost all my confidence as a woman. Not that I had much, anyway.’
‘In what way?’ Ricky was stripping the partridge leg with his teeth, very white and even except a front one chipped by a polo ball. ‘Come on, eat up.’
It is quite difficult cutting up a partridge when your elbows are glued to your ribs. Daisy started forking up celeriac.
‘Last week I went to dinner at Philippa’s. She insisted she’d got a lovely man for me. But it was just as an excuse to get her latest lover into the house. He wasn’t remotely interested in me and brought Philippa some goat’s cheese that looked like Tutankhamun’s brain. They disappeared for hours to look at some rare book and Lionel insisted on seeing me home.’ Her lip trembled. ‘I’m sorry, this is awfully boring.’
‘Horror films aren’t boring,’ said Ricky.
‘And suddenly he leapt on me.’
‘Disgusting old goat!’ Ricky was comfortingly furious.
‘Appropriate, really! He tasted of goat’s cheese. I’ve never been very good at rejecting people, so I told him I was frigid. He just leered and said, “I’m a psychiatrist, little girl. I can cure that.” ‘ Daisy gave a shudder.
‘I’ll chuck them out,’ said Ricky angrily.
‘Joel says they’re model tenants,’ said Daisy. ‘They’re always cutting their lawn.’
‘Can’t imagine Lionel modelling anything. You’re not to have anything more to do with them. Understand?’
Ricky put his knife and fork together. ‘Let’s get back to Perdita. I’ll take her to Argentina with me next week. No, it’s a good idea. You know Alejandro Mendoza?’ Then, with incredulity, ‘But he’s the greatest back in the world. The Mendozas are blood rivals of the O’Brien brothers, Juan and Miguel, who used to play for David Waterlane before the Argies were banned. They invariably end up on opposite sides in the Argentine Open. I’m going out to buy ponies from Alejandro. He takes a few players every year on his
‘We couldn’t possibly afford the plane fare,’ mumbled Daisy.
‘Dancer’ll pick that up,’ he said. ‘He wants Perdita to play for him next year. She’ll add some much-needed tone. He’s been nagging me to take her back for weeks. He can just advance her some salary. There’s no need to cry.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Daisy wiped her eyes on her sleeve again. ‘I ought to get the Niagara Falls Award for bawling. I’m just not used to lucky breaks. Are you sure?’
‘Positive. Now Rupert’s Minister for Sport, he can fiddle her a visa.’ As he smoothed back his dark hair, his signet ring caught the light.
‘What’s your motto?’ she asked.
‘Never surrender,’ said Ricky bleakly.
And he won’t until he gets Chessie back, thought Daisy. Three-quarters of a bottle of wine had loosened her tongue.
‘I’ve been moaning on about Perdita all evening, but at least she’s alive, whereas Will . . .’
‘ . . . isn’t,’ said Ricky watching the bubbles rise in his glass of Perrier. ‘Suffering’s supposed to make you nicer. Didn’t work for me. That’s probably why I’ve been so bloody to Perdita. The guilt still knocks me sideways – just being alive. Sometimes I panic because I can’t remember what he looked like. Chessie took all the photographs. She needed them. He’d be six now, old enough to start hitting a ball around. It comes in waves, doesn’t it?’ He glared at her. ‘Look, I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I just think you ought to try and forgive yourself,’ mumbled Daisy. We’re like two chickens side by side trying to defrost, she thought.
‘When are you coming back to England?’
‘February or March. I can’t stand another English winter. Dancer’s fixed up for me to make a bomb coaching movie stars in Palm Springs. My elbow still plays up when I play too long.’
After that they talked about Dancer and Ethel and Little Chef and Ricky’s ponies, and drank so many cups of coffee and Daisy even had a
‘The colandered Barbour,’ said Ricky, holding out her coat for her. ‘You’ve been crawling through my barbed wire!’
Outside, in the back of the BMW, Ethel’s great spotted goofy face was grinning out. Beside her, his front paws on her shoulder, tail wagging his small body into a frenzy, was Little Chef.
‘It’s easy for dogs,’ said Daisy with a hiccup. ‘I’ve had such a lovely time,’ she said as Ethel fell on her in ecstasy, ‘and Ethel’s lick is much more efficient than cleansing cream.’
‘This road is awful,’ said Ricky as they bounced down the rough track to Snow Cottage. ‘I must get it fixed before the winter.’
Seeing all the lights on, Daisy quailed. Surely Perdita wouldn’t kick up when she knew she was going to Argentina. Desperate Ricky shouldn’t think she was giving him the come-on, she had the door open before the car stopped.
‘Do come in and tell Perdita. She’ll be so excited,’ she called back as she scuttled up the path. If Ricky was there Perdita might not make a scene, but he had paused to look at the front gate which needed mending.
Perdita sat on the kitchen table dressed all in black. She looked like a hell cat, sloe eyes glittering, teeth bared in a terrifying rictus grin, body rigid with loathing.
‘Darling – the most heavenly news,’ said Daisy.
‘How dare you go out to dinner with Ricky?’ screamed Perdita. ‘I bet his telephone wasn’t off the hook at all. You just wanted an excuse to vamp him. You can’t do without it, you bloody old tart, can you? I bet you asked
Next minute Ricky had walked into the room and slapped her across the face. ‘Don’t you ever talk to your mother like that again, you revolting little bitch,’ he howled. ‘Now go to bed!’
Perdita gazed at him, her white left cheek slowly turning bright scarlet, her eyes widening in horror.
‘Nothing wrong with your elbow if you can hit like that,’ she spat. ‘She’s poisoned you against me, I knew she would.’
‘I said go to bed,’ said Ricky harshly. ‘Go on, bugger off.’
With a stifled sob Perdita stumbled upstairs, slamming the door so hard that every ornament in the house shook.
There was a pause, then both Ricky and Daisy jumped at the sound of clapping. Slowly Violet walked into the room.
‘I always heard how marvellous you were,’ she said to Ricky, ‘but I’d no idea
