Riders

by Jilly Cooper

  As Helen picked up a different jar to remove the makeup round her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Rupert in the mirror, with his back to her. He must have lost ten pounds. He’d always had a marvelous physique, but now he was fined down to a leaner, even more muscular hardness. He seemed to burn with excess energy and restlessness. I must be married to the most desirable man in the world, she thought despairingly, so why do I feel so undesiring? Since the affair with Podge, she’d tried so hard to make advances, to be more imaginative, but it was as though he pressed the freeze button on her each time, turning her to stone, robbing her of any spontaneity.

  Was he attracted to Fen, she wondered, or had he just been baiting Jake? She knew Jake pulling a knife wouldn’t put him off in the least. Malise had dismissed the incident as a drunken brawl, but she was frightened by the obsessive black hatred in Jake’s eyes.

  She delayed getting into bed as long as possible, praying that Rupert might fall asleep. But when she finally came out of the bathroom, he had turned off the television and was lying on the bed, looking at the latest photographs of the children she’d brought from England. He flipped past the ones of Marcus with hardly a glance, but examined every angle of Tab’s sweet pink face. Perhaps Tab would be the one female in his life he could love unstintingly without despising her or himself.

  “Take your nightdress off,” he said, without even looking up.

  Helen sighed and complied.

  Rupert pulled her towards him, not even bothering to kiss her. I’ll be so dry inside, she thought in panic, and he’s so huge it’s going to hurt. Instinctively her mind and her body went rigid. His cock reminded her suddenly of the gray stone gargoyles jutting, hard and ugly, out of the walls of the cathedral.

  “What’s the matter?” Rupert prised her legs open with his hand.

  “Jake pulling that knife, I can’t get it out of my mind.”

  “What aspect of it?” he said mockingly. “Were you turned on by such a macho display on Jake’s part, or the thought of being a rich widow?”

  “Oh, stop it,” sobbed Helen.

  “Or were you jealous of Fen?”

  “She’s only a child,” gasped Helen, as his fingers moved up inside her. “It’s not fair.”

  “To her or you?” said Rupert. “Look, do you honestly think I’m going to chat up a fat pustular schoolgirl for any other reason than to rile Hopalong Chastity? And I certainly succeeded. None of the Lovell contingent’ll get any sleep tonight.”

  “And what about Macaulay?”

  “You never bothered about him when I had him. Any solicitude after he’s sold on seems a bit out of place.”

  He took her then. Helen lay back, quite unable to participate. It was over in a couple of minutes and she was certain he’d been thinking about Fen.

  Tense and miserable, she knew she should drop the subject, but she couldn’t help warning Rupert to stay away from Fen. Jake was obviously unbalanced about her. When he didn’t answer, she thought he was really taking in what she said. It was five minutes before she realized he was fast asleep.

  Rupert was right. None of the Lovell contingent slept. Fen, lying on one edge of the bed, couldn’t stop thinking about Rupert. “My only love sprang from my only hate,” she whispered to herself, as Helen had five years earlier. Tory lay on the edge of the other side. She was worried about Jake. A row like that was the last thing he needed before the final. She felt even more guilty that she was suddenly racked with jealousy of Fen, her baby sister, who was growing more beautiful every day. Rupert, who had never treated Tory with anything but contempt, had really taken the trouble to chat up Fen, and she too had seen the black hatred in Jake’s face when he held that knife to Rupert’s throat. She tried to tell herself that Jake was fiercely protective of anything he owned, particularly his family. She tried to suppress the thought that Jake was falling in love with Fen.

  Jake, after an hour’s deep sleep, was woken by the barking of the Rotweiller guarding Ludwig’s horses. Hatred of Rupert, churning around and around in his head, prevented him dropping off again. Next morning, despite all Malise’s stipulations, the story of the knife was all around the showground.

  Grooming the horses next day, Fen found she had never been the recipient of so much chatting up. The public flowed by to get a glimpse of a possible future champion. Suddenly, every German, American, and English groom or rider seemed to have time to stop and gossip, and ask her how she and Macaulay were getting on, what he was like to ride, what sort of temperament he had. Watching the Lovell children swarming all over him, they could be excused for thinking he was as mild as an old sheep.

  Dino Ferranti rolled up about midday.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Buzz off,” said Fen, applying the body brush with more vigor.

  “That is a cute horse, and you sure have a cute ass when you’re grooming him. How’s he feeling today?”

  “Just fine,” snapped Fen.

  “I really like him. Jake’s smart; doesn’t jump him that often, does he? Pulls him out for the big event. I never heard of him before this week.”

  Fen turned, pink from exertions and anger. “Don’t smarm over me just because you want information about Mac. I’m not telling you anything about him.”

  “Honey, you’re overreacting. I admire your boss. How’d you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “We won’t mention Macaulay once, right. I just need an attractive girl to help me relax.”

  “Why should I help you relax? You’re the opposition.”

  He really is attractive, she thought reluctantly, lounging against the door, with that wide untroubled smile and the marvelously relaxed, elongated body.

  He shook his head. “You ought to get out. There’s more to show jumping than the inside of a tack-cleaning bucket. You ought to have some fun. Anyway,” he added slyly, “I am just dying to hear what happened last night. Did Jake really pull a bread knife on Rupert? You must be the most fought-over girl in France.”

  “Shut up,” said Fen, blushing to the roots of her sweating hair. “I don’t want to discuss it. Now, please go away.”

  Later in the day all the finalists tried to relax. Leaving Helen to visit the house in which Proust spent his childhood, Rupert went racing with Count Guy and Lavinia, and had three winners, which seemed a good omen. The copy of the Evening Standard, specially flown in for Patric Walker’s horoscope, also predicted Scorpios would have an exciting and successful weekend. So he felt he could legitimately relax. The German team swam and sunbathed together. The Americans took a plane to Paris and went sightseeing. Jake took Tory, Fen, Tanya, and the children for a picnic in the Brittany countryside, finding a perfect place shaded by a glimmering silver poplar copse by the side of a meandering river. Tory and Tanya slept, the children swam and made daisy chains with Fen. Jake wandered off with binoculars, reveling in the wildflowers and butterflies. He found a very rare orchid, stocked up on the medicine cupboard, and also, to his joy, discovered a clump of tansy, so he had a fresh lucky sprig to put in his left boot for tomorrow.

  Night fell. Jake and Tory were safely tucked up at the hotel. In a sleeping bag outside Macaulay’s box, Fen took up her position with Lester the teddy bear. It was quiet and very hot. All she could hear was the occasional stamp of a horse and the sound of Rupert’s bodyguard pacing up and down outside Snakepit’s box. The indigo sky was overcrowded with stars. Too many, like my spots, thought Fen. They suddenly seemed to have doubled. It must be the curse coming. Perhaps that was why she was so jumpy.

  Now she was alone she could think about Rupert—and Dino. She was in such a muddle. Jake had kept her so busy over the past three years that truthfully there had been no time for men in her life, except for her long-distance crush on Billy Lloyd-Foxe. Now she was assailed by all kinds of longings and despairs. If only she were Helen, able to roll up at the championship with gleaming hair, bathed, in a beautiful uncreased dress after eight hours of sleep. She
hated Rupert, and Dino, who had asked her out only because he wanted to pump her, but it made her realize how much she was missing by devoting herself so exclusively to horses. If only she felt tired. She stiffened as a step approached. Then she caught a waft of scent. It was Dino.

  “Couldn’t sleep. No point in jumping rounds in my head, so I just came by to check no one’s been after Manny.”

  “They haven’t,” said Fen.

  “D’you want a drink?” He produced a flask from his pocket. “It’s only bourbon. I’ve only had two drinks all evening. Christ, I’d like to get looped. May I talk with you for a few minutes?”

  He slid down the stable wall beside her, sitting with his long legs bent at an acute angle. In the faint light, she could see the perfect profile.

  “Are you nervous?”

  He nodded. “Sounds kinda Girl Scout, but I don’t want to let the team down—they’ve been so great—or the horse, or my Daddy or Mumma. They were great, too, to back me. I guess none of us needs the money like Jake. How come he hates Rupert so much?”

  Fen explained about the bullying at school and the barrage of insults and the annexing of Revenge, and the cruelty to Macaulay.

  “Guess that’s enough to be going on with,” said Dino, handing her his bourbon flask. He noticed with a flicker of encouragement that she didn’t bother to wipe the neck before she drank.

  “Jake’s terribly torn,” explained Fen. “He wants to beat Rupert so badly, but he’s crucified at the thought of what it might do to Macaulay’s confidence having Rupert on his back again. It must be hell, like going to a wife-swapping party on one’s honeymoon. Bad enough the thought of one’s darling wife sleeping with three other men, but even worse if she enjoyed it more than she did with you.”

  Dino laughed. “Yeah, that just about sums it up. I’m kind of ambivalent about Rupert, too. I really like the guy. He makes me laugh, but that was before I met his wife.”

  “What about her?” Fen tried to sound casual.

  “Well, she’s so beautiful; I mean, seriously beautiful. The way he carries on with girls. They were coming out of his ears on the Florida circuit, and boy, they threw themselves at him. I figured he’d made some kind of marriage of convenience to some dog. Then I had dinner with them this evening. I mean, how could you cheat on that? Christ, I’d never let her out of my sight, and he treats her like shit, putting her down all the time. I was appalled. Doesn’t she have anyone on the side? She could get anyone.”

  Fen suddenly felt horribly depressed. Because Rupert was so unfaithful to Helen, one tended to write her off as a sexual threat.

  “I’ve never heard anything about other men. I think she’s too frightened of Rupert, and so are the men. One of the Italian team kept her too long on the dance floor once and his hands started to travel, and Rupert hit him across the room.”

  “That figures—like hamadryas baboons.”

  “Like what—?”

  “Huge baboons that live in the desert in Abyssinia. They’re more interested in fighting off other male baboons than in screwing their wives. In fact they neglect their wives when there’s no one to fight off. I’m telling you, I’m going to be in Britain for Crittleden and I am going to make one helluva pitch. She doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

  “I wonder if Jake’s getting any sleep,” said Fen.

  “Shouldn’t guess so. It’s like Henry the Fifth on the eve of Agincourt. I’d better go and get some insomnia. Night, honey, this time tomorrow we’ll be bombed on euphoria or despair.”

  Lying awake at the hotel, Jake looked at his watch—three o’clock. Within fourteen hours, he’d know if he’d pulled the mightiest from their seats. His good leg ached because it hadn’t been relaxed with sleep. He kept breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of riding Snakepit. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to hold him. If he fell off and wrecked himself, there wasn’t anyone to ride the horses. He also knew Tory had been awake all night beside him. Thank God she knew when to keep her trap shut.

  “Tory,” he said, reaching out for her.

  “Yes.” She put her arms round him. “Do you want to talk, or turn on the light and read?”

  She could feel him shaking his head in the darkness.

  “It’s going to be all right. Horses always go well with you. You’re going to win.”

  “I wish I was riding Sailor.”

  “He’d have looked after you, but he might have looked after the others a bit too well. Macaulay hasn’t got such a conscience.”

  She slid her hand down the empty hollow of his belly and touched his cock.

  “Would that help?”

  “It might, but I won’t be much use to you.”

  “I don’t need it.” The bedsprings creaked as she clambered down the bed, then he felt the warm soft caress of her lips and the infinite tenderness of her tongue. Because he knew she liked doing it, there was no hurry, no tension.

  “I was so right to marry you,” he mumbled.

  Tory was filled with an overwhelming happiness. In the eight years of their marriage, he’d probably paid her as many compliments, but when they came they were worth everything. She felt bitterly ashamed that she had wasted so much emotion being jealous of Fen.

  Rupert got up and dressed.

  “Where are you going?” said Helen.

  “For a walk. It’s hot. I can’t sleep.”

  “Oh, darling, you must rest. Shall I come with you?”

  “No, go back to sleep.”

  A quarter of an hour later he paused beside Fen, her long hair fanning out, already slightly damp from the dew, teddy bear clutched in her arms. He toyed with the idea of waking her, but she needed sleep. He’d put her on ice for a later date. As he pulled the sleeping bag round her, she clutched the teddy bear tighter, muttering, “Don’t forget to screw in the studs.”

  When he let himself into the lorry, Dizzy hardly stirred in her sleep, smiled, and opened her arms. Rupert slid into them.

  Ludwig von Schellenberg had such self-control that he willed himself into eight hours’ dreamless sleep.

  35

  World Championship day dawned. There were a couple of small classes in the morning to keep the rest of the riders happy, but all interest was centered on the four finalists. Each box was a hive of activity of plaiting and polishing and everyone giving everyone else advice. It was hotter than ever. In the lorry, Jake watched an Algerian schools program on television, trying to steady his nerves, and wondered if there was any hope of his keeping down the cup of tea and dry toast he’d had for breakfast. Tory was frying eggs, bacon, and sausages for the children (it didn’t look as though anyone would have time to cook them a decent meal before the evening) and at the same time ironing the lucky socks, breeches, shirt, tie, and red coat that Jake had worn in each leg of the competition. The new tansy lay in the heel of the highly polished left boot. Jake had seen one magpie that morning, but had been cheered up by the sight of a black cat, until Driffield informed him that black cats were considered unlucky in France. Milk bottles, tins, eggshells in the muck bucket were beginning to smell. Fen was studying a German dictionary.

  “It doesn’t give the German for ‘whoa.’ You’ll have to fall back on dummkopf, lieberlein, and achtung.”

  “Or auf wiedersehen,” said Jake, “as Clara bucks me off and gallops off into the sunset.”

  “The American for whoa, must be starp, starp,’ she went on.

  “You remember that red T-shirt you wore when Revenge won at Olympia?” said Jake.

  “I’ve got it here,’ said Fen.

  “D’you mind wearing it this afternoon?”

  Fen did mind very much. It was impossibly hot and she’d got very burnt yesterday, and the red T-shirt would clash with her face. But it was Jake’s day; she mustn’t be selfish.

  “Of course not,’ she said.

  Jake was encouraged by the number of telegrams. British hopes rested with Rupert, but Jake had generated an enormous amount of goodwill.
People were obviously delighted to see him back at the top again. There were telegrams from the Princess and one from the colonel of the regiment at Knightsbridge Barracks, who’d somehow discovered that their old horse Macaulay had ended up with Jake. The one that pleased him most was from Miss Blenkinsop in the Middle East. He knew that she, as much as he, enjoyed the sheer pleasure of showing the world that he could succeed with a horse Rupert had thrown out. Every time Macaulay won anything, he’d religiously taken 10 percent of the winnings and posted them to Miss Blenkinsop for her Horse Rescue hospital. If he won today, she would get £1,000.

  If he won, “Oh my God,” he said, and bolted out of the caravan, through a crowd of reporters, and into the lavatory, where he brought up his breakfast.

  “Why don’t you bloody well go away?” shouted Fen to the reporters. “You know you won’t get any sense out of him before a big class.”

  In the end they had to be content with interviewing Darklis, who sat on a hay bale, smiling up at them with huge black eyes.

  “My daddy’s been thick four times this morning. He doesn’t theem to like French food. I love it. We’ve had steak and chips every single night.”

  At last there was the course to walk, which made Jake feel even worse. It was far bigger than he’d imagined. The water jump seemed wider than the Channel. The heavy, thundery, blue sky seemed to rest on the huge soaring oxblood red wall, and Jake could actually stand underneath the poles of the parallel.