by Jilly Cooper
‘Look at that little pawn, Ruth’s daughter Milly, surreptitiously creeping up the chessboard to the opposite end. If she gets there, she becomes a second white Queen, a rival to the Queen in situ.’
‘I’d forgotten that rule.’
‘You surprise me,’ mocked Sauvignon. ‘Wouldn’t you love to become Queen of Penscombe?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Gala was blushing furiously.
‘We all saw you enjoying a terrific snog with Rupert after the King George.’
‘That was euphoria, a victory hug.’
‘Much more than that, surely. Wouldn’t you like to take Taggie’s place and run things better?’
Hypnotized by the knowing yellow eyes, by the tongue snaking lasciviously over Sauvignon’s lower lip, Gala stammered, ‘Of course not. Taggie’s a darling who runs the place brilliantly. She holds everything together.’
‘That figures.’ Sauvignon smiled evilly. ‘The Queen is the most powerful piece on the board; she can move in any direction to threaten or capture. Unlike the King, who appears all-powerful, but is actually the weakest character, the most vulnerable; he can only move one square at a time. But if he’s not successfully defended, all is lost – like King Rupert.’
‘That’s bollocks, you could hardly call Rupert weak. You seem to know a lot more about chess than you did about I Will Repay on The Morning Line.’
For a second an expression of hatred spread across Sauvignon’s face. Her eyes were the colour of amber traffic-lights, warning: caution, don’t go there. At the same moment the cassock fell open, showing large bare breasts.
‘Hel-aire, hel-aire.’ It was Damsire and Mrs Walton.
‘We were talking about Rupert,’ said Sauvignon silkily.
‘How is the dear chap?’ asked Mrs Walton, her oiled shoulders gleaming in the fading light. ‘He’s always pestering me to dine with him and bring an overnight bag.’
‘That’s just to wind up Cosmo,’ said Gala rudely.
‘Unkind.’ Mrs Walton raised a plucked eyebrow.
‘Rupert was an ex of mine,’ countered Damsire. ‘Roddy’s madly jealous. I don’t know how Taggie puts up with him.’
‘They’re fine, they adore each other. I see them all the time. Oh look,’ Gala paused in mid-rant, ‘here comes Roberto’s Revenge. Isn’t he beautiful!’
‘Just like Rupert,’ murmured Mrs Walton, as they all surged out on to the terrace.
As Harmony led Roberto’s Revenge up the gravel path between the big lawn and the house, chess players stopped fooling around, couples uncoupled, castles glided up, bishops slid diagonally, knights jumped and emerged from bushes, dancers left the floor and their drinks.
All were marvelling over the stallion’s priapic splendour, every dark-brown muscle rippling, barrel-chested, powerful-quartered, noble head with the same upside-down L-shaped blaze as I Will Repay, gold nameplate on his head collar glittering in the setting sun, which was just hanging round to bid a fellow superstar goodnight. Harmony only kept him in check by a savage chain bit. As he reared up, punching the air, screaming and whinnying, his audience broke into applause.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Cosmo had seized a microphone, ‘meet the Leading Sire, Roberto’s Revenge.’
‘What a magnificent beast,’ boomed Roddy. ‘How can he not keep the title for years to come?’
‘Slightly up behind,’ observed Damsire, and received an icy look from Cosmo, who pointed out that this year, Revenge had covered a phenomenally strong book of mares, and had turned away thousands.
‘One of his head collars sold at auction for £30,000 this week. Ode to Awesome, one of his mares in foal, went for four million dollars.’
‘Is he going to the southern hemisphere?’ called out Damsire.
‘Far too valuable for that, particularly as one of his progeny, I Will Repay, has just won the Derby and the St Leger,’ followed by more applause.
‘All right, on with the party,’ Cosmo laughed. ‘Let the sun go down like everyone else.’
Gala wanted to scream out that Quickly would have left Repay for dead, if Eddie hadn’t screwed up. Then glancing round, she saw Eddie’s stricken face as he watched Revenge clip, clop back to the stud. Seeing Gala was talking to Sauvignon, he nearly came over then retreated into the house.
‘Pity about Roberto’s handler,’ said Sauvignon, pulling a naked waiter towards her by his cock, so he could fill up her glass. ‘That fat frump lowers the tone. She ought to wear a burka to lead him up, although she’d need a marquee.’
It irritated the hell out of Sauvignon that Cosmo refused to sack Harmony in case Repay and Revenge went into decline.
‘Evidently she’s brilliant at massaging bad backs,’ said Mrs Walton.
‘At least in that way, one wouldn’t have to look at her face,’ mocked Sauvignon.
‘If I don’t eat soon,’ said Roddy, twanging one of Mrs Walton’s garters, ‘I’ll fall over. Oh good.’ His turbot mouth watered, as great platters of lobster, crab and stuffed sea bass were borne by the nude waiters towards the Great Hall.
There was a further kerfuffle as Janey Lloyd-Foxe, looking really good in a gold dress and little diamond tiara, walked in.
‘Janey,’ said Cosmo, kissing her. ‘You look marvellous – who are you meant to be?’
‘Queen Astrid of the Nether Regions,’ giggled Janey. ‘I’m not wearing any pants.’
‘So you aren’t.’ Cosmo’s hand disappeared under her skirt.
Janey was followed by a large man in a gorilla onesie.
‘This is Colin Chalford, he’s come as King Kong. We could have come as Elephant and Castle, but I couldn’t think how to dress up as a castle. Colin, this is your host, Cosmo Rannaldini.’ The gorilla pushed back his head and a great red, roaring-with-laughter face emerged.
Gala leapt behind a curtain. If Janey saw her, she’d be bound to sneak to Rupert and Taggie.
‘Pleased to meet you, Cosmo, thank you for asking me,’ said Colin, who was gazing amazed at the cavorting couples, and the naked waiter who shimmied up with the St Leger Plate groaning now with slices of foie gras.
‘Colin has led a very sheltered life,’ giggled Janey.
‘I must say I’m very hot in this kit,’ panted Colin.
‘You can take it off and have a dip later,’ said Cosmo.
‘Great you won the Leger and the Legends,’ said Janey. ‘Rupert must be incandescent, losing them both.’
‘Descent is the operative word.’
‘And Geoffrey was second, so Brute’s very happy,’ added Janey.
As Brute Barraclough walked in, very much in character as King Lear and already salivating at the talent on show, he was followed by Rosaria who looked even more washed-out than usual.
As Janey introduced them both to the gorilla, Dora drew Gala aside, whispering, ‘That Janey Lloyd-Foxe is a worse bitch than Sauvignon. The poor guy dressed as a gorilla met her on the internet. He’s looking for love and thinks she’s legit, and doesn’t realize she’s doing a piece for the Scorpion on meeting different men online.’
‘That’s awful,’ exploded Gala, ‘he looks sweet,’ then, as Colin bellowed with laughter, ‘and determined like Jan to prove his G.S.O.H.’
‘Evidently he’s very rich, so I expect vile Brute will try and persuade him to buy some horses.’
As he looked round, Brute Barraclough, muttering how he must try and track down Sheikh Baddi about some deal, disappeared into the throng. A minute later, having furnished Colin and Rosaria with large drinks, and pecked Colin on his red sweating cheek, Janey murmured, ‘Must go and network for a bit. I’ll leave you two lovely people together,’ and followed Brute into the throng.
62
Escaping through a side door, passing copulating couples and threesomes, Gala ran past the yard down to the stud.
Overhead, a very white moon looked wistfully from a still blue sky. ‘Why don’t you join the party?’ Gala called up to her. She found Harmony settling Roberto’s
Revenge for the night. If she could get Harmony to show her around, she could report on the latest equipment to Rupert.
‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ Gala put out a hand, but the stallion flattened his ears.
‘Don’t touch him,’ cried Harmony. ‘I’m the only person Vengie likes.’
‘I’m the same with Titus,’ countered Gala. ‘I’m the only person he doesn’t bite.’
Feeling guilty because she’d run off and not comforted Harmony when she was crying because she’d been ousted by Sauvignon before the Derby, Gala had brought Harmony a present.
‘This is for you.’
She handed Harmony a box containing a brooch of a galloping silver horse with a jockey on its back.
‘Oh thank you,’ said Harmony, looking as though she’d been kissed under the mistletoe for the first time. ‘It’s absolutely lovely. No, you can’t have it,’ she added to a nudging Vengie. ‘You don’t know if it’s a filly,’ and with shaking hands she pinned the brooch on her green T-shirt, so it looked as though it was galloping across a vast fertile plain.
‘It’s so lovely, very like Quickly – thank you, Gala. I’m so sorry about the Leger. Poor Eddie must have been devastated.’
‘He wanted to make history,’ said Gala.
‘Hum.’ Harmony opened her big pale mouth, then shut it, then glanced out over the half door. ‘Have you watched the video?’
‘A million times, but the camera’s not on the crowd. Something must have spooked him.’
‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but were there any marks on Quickly’s neck?’ Then, when Gala nodded: ‘See if you can get a clip of the crowd.’
‘We were so distraught at the time, we didn’t notice anything.’
‘Well, watch out. Cosmo and Isa have it in for Rupert, particularly since Tarqui was poached.’
The music and the yells of, ‘Checkmate!’ were getting louder.
‘It’s like the Ritz here,’ said Gala, looking round the stud. ‘Who’s bankrolling Cosmo?’
But Harmony felt she had already said too much. ‘I’d better feed Vengie.’
As Gala returned to the party, the moon had turned yellow in a paler blue sky and the orchestra were alternating pop music with a pulsatingly sexual beat, with jazzed-up classical music, which Gav would have recognized. Gala so wished he were here.
Meanwhile, Cosmo was talking to Dora.
‘Isa’s missing Tarqui, how’s he getting on?’
‘Upsetting everyone, winding up the horses, set back Quickly a thousand years.’
Cosmo laughed. ‘Still working for us then.’
‘It seems so, and he’s so bloody to poor Gav. He said, in his hearing, that he was as lousy at training horses as he was in bed. Gala was so furious, she slapped Tarqui’s face.’
‘Really?’ Cosmo’s eyes gleamed. ‘So she’s got the hots for Floppy Dick as well as Rupert.’
‘Stop stirring it – Gav’s her friend. I must go and see if she’s OK.’
‘She was fratting just now with Harmony, down at the stud.’
On her way back from the stud, in order not to make herself too conspicuous, Gala climbed through a ground-floor window, into an office with a picture of Byron on the walls. On the shelves were catalogues, files, yellow and green passports and on the desk a framed photograph of a very beautiful Chinese woman with her arm round I Will Repay. What was that about? The woman looked vaguely familiar. Gala was tempted to have a good snoop. Hearing footsteps, however, she dived for the door, turning and fleeing down endless dark and twisting passages, catching glimpses of heaving couples through half open doors, until she heard music and the party roar and emerged into the Great Hall, slap into Cosmo.
‘Gala, how are you?’
‘Fine.’ Gala was reluctantly flattered he knew who she was.
‘How did you like my beautiful Vengie?’
‘Utterly awesome. How did you know I saw him?’
‘I know everything.’ Cosmo had a deep, very beautiful voice. ‘We haven’t really met. Do you think the party’s going all right?’
‘Like wildfire. Oscar Wilde Fire.’
Cosmo smirked and opened a nearby door, where a couple were copulating so vigorously, they took no notice.
‘That’s rather affecting.’ He shut the door again. ‘Tommy Westerham making love to his own wife. I don’t expect they get much time in the school holidays. I can never understand people sitting married couples next to each other at dinner parties. The sleeping plan this evening has been such a headache.’
‘Why didn’t you put up a board telling people who to get off with?’
‘My father gave wonderful orgies. One mustn’t let the side down.’
There was nothing youthful about Cosmo. Although only twenty-three, he seemed born years ago. Incredibly self-assured, his night-dark eyes never left her face.
‘I’ve only had four people complaining about the noise tonight and they’re simply neighbours livid not to be invited. And some charity asking for £50 a week and my bank details. I bet Rupert gets sackloads of those.’
‘I don’t want to talk about Rupert.’ Then as Cosmo beckoned a waiter to bring them more drink, ‘I must have something to eat. I’m getting hammered.’
‘I’m glad you’re leading up Rupert’s horses. It’s good for Sauvignon to have some competition in the parade ring.’
‘Hardly,’ said Gala acidly.
‘Are you good at chess?’
‘No.’
‘The aim is to take out one’s opponent’s King.’
‘I know.’
‘How is your King?’
‘Why the hell do you call him that? Why can’t you stop bitching him up?’
‘Because he’s so arrogant. And has the kind of sex appeal that transcends gender. I’m convinced that if, for one moment, he’d been nice to my father, asked him for a drink or for his advice, my dad would have rolled over and worshipped him.’
‘Your father married Rupert’s ex-wife, tried to rape Rupert’s teenage daughter, killed Taggie’s beloved dog – hardly ingratiating behaviour.’
‘I know,’ sighed Cosmo, refusing to take it seriously. ‘Come and dance.’ Taking her hand, he led her into the Great Hall, where the cherry-red walls, gold ceiling and floor-length gilt mirrors were lit by a thousand candles.
‘How lovely,’ cried Gala.
‘A room fit for a Queen,’ murmured Cosmo, kissing her hand, then flicking his fingers at the group in the corner, who launched into Irving Berlin’s ‘Cheek to Cheek’. And Cosmo turned out to be a most wonderful dancer, singing along in her ear with his beautiful husky voice.
Ben had been very straight and mainline on the dance floor. Cosmo was able to gaze into her eyes, guide her, touch her firmly, holding her against his taut, surprisingly lithe body, or sway seductively in front of her.
‘Why did you choose Oscar Wilde?’
‘I admire him inordinately. Like him, I can resist anything but temptation. I was tempted to come as Lady Windermere’s fanny.’
‘Nice aftershave,’ said Gala, as he drew her closer.
‘Maestro – my father always wore it. It was created for him.’
‘Do you work out?’
‘Only how to get women like you into bed. You’re very attractive – no wonder the King’s got the hots for you.’
‘Stop it,’ snapped Gala, angrier with herself for feeling comforted by his compliments.
‘What about young Eddie Alderton?’
‘We’re just friends, for God’s sake.’ Cosmo must have spies everywhere. ‘How come you and Mrs Walton … I mean, she’s stunning, but old enough.’
‘To be my mother. I need a mother. My own’s rather eccentric.’
Cosmo led her through a side door into another passageway, and revealed through a two-way mirror Dame Hermione spread-eagled over a cherry-red sofa, her vast reddening bottom being whacked by Young Eddie, who was drinking a pint mug of champagne and reading Horse & Hound at the same time.
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‘Harder, harder, it really doesn’t hurt.’
Gala burst out laughing. ‘Any moment, Damsire’s going to roll up and say “with quarters like that, your mother would make a better jump horse”.’
Cosmo paused in front of another two-way mirror where Sheikh Baddi could be seen playing with himself as he watched Gav’s wife Bethany and a well-stacked blonde pleasuring one another.
‘Good heavens!’ and then on to another mirror.
‘Oh my God, that is shocking,’ raged Gala. ‘Revolting Brute Barraclough and Janey Lloyd-Foxe. He said he was just disappearing for a second to track down Sheikh Baddi, while Janey disappeared for a sec to network. That was an hour ago, and they’ve left poor Rosaria with that huge gorilla. God, I hate, hate, hate people cheating.’
Cosmo grinned evilly.
‘The good Taggie must be reassured you’re not wife-threatening.’ Then at Gala’s look of outrage, Cosmo ran a hand over her unwashed hair.
‘I’m sorry about your husband,’ he said softly. ‘You must miss him. Will you have dinner with me one evening, away from here?’
‘Of course I can’t,’ exploded Gala.
63
The moment Janey and Brute left Rosaria and Colin Chalford on their own, Rosaria tried to be polite and hide her terror that Brute, overspending as usual, was determined to sell Geoffrey. Some Chinese buyer and Sheikh Baddi were already interested, and with Geoffrey in the Champion Stakes and qualified for the Breeders’ Cup, he was a very attractive proposition.
If he sold Geoffrey, Brute would pretend to the horse’s owner, old Mrs Ford-Winters at Ashbourne Care Home, that her horse had gone for peanuts and pocket the rest of the millions to pay his own debts, and there would be no income left to save the yard. Rosaria loved Geoffrey so much. He had been the ugliest, most adorable foal and hadn’t a mean bone in his body. She must pull herself together.
Colin Chalford, pouring with sweat in his gorilla onesie, was looking furtively round for Janey. If only he weren’t too ashamed of his plump body to strip off for a dip in the pool.
‘Janey’s such a pro,’ said Rosaria, to comfort him. ‘She can’t miss an opportunity to look for stories. She’s always working.’ Rosaria drained her glass of white wine and longed for another, but she couldn’t afford to lose her licence.
