Jump!

by Jilly Cooper

  ‘This is the most exciting day of my life,’ Corinna was telling the press, as she took up her position next to Mrs Wilkinson.

  It was while Amber was weighing in that she heard the horrible news that although Dare Catswood had only wrenched his shoulder, Stop Preston had had to be put down. She then escaped to the women’s changing room, which was part of the ambulance room, in which she would probably have ended up if Rogue hadn’t dragged her back on to Mrs Wilkinson, and burst into a flood of tears.

  ‘You don’t want to do that,’ said a soft voice. ‘You’ve got to talk to the press.’

  It was Rogue. Having shed Shade’s silks, he was dressed in a black undershirt. His face was still spattered with mud, making his smile wider and whiter. As she wasn’t wearing heels, his blue eyes were on a level with hers.

  ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you glad I let you win?’

  ‘You did not.’

  ‘I did too, I wanted Marius to put you op for Wetherby next month.’

  ‘He won’t, he hasn’t. You did not,’ sobbed Amber, ‘I won on my own.’

  Frantically wiping her eyes, she was about to slap his face when Rogue caught her hand and brushed it with his lips, sending a thousand volts through her. ‘I’m going to Wetherby too,’ he said, ‘and I’m going to take you out to dinner, and later in the evening we’re going to make peace, not war.’ Then, at her look of bewilderment: ‘Well done, darling, of course you won and that’s one hell of a brave little horse. I better go and win the last race.’

  62

  Sadness was cast over the day by the death of Stop Preston, who had showed such promise.

  ‘The horses that die in their glory, and never grow old,’ sighed Alan.

  ‘Congratulations to Mrs Wilkinson and all her connections,’ crackled the loudspeaker.

  ‘Sounds just like Jane Austen,’ mocked Corinna as she went up to collect Mrs Wilkinson’s cup, watched with differing emotions by the rest of the syndicate.

  ‘Oh I have been to Ludlow Fair

  And left my necktie God knows where,’

  quoted Seth.

  ‘And carried half way home, or near,

  Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:’

  continued Alan,

  ‘Then the world seemed none so bad,

  And I myself a sterling lad.’

  ‘Tommy’s a sterling stable lad,’ observed Seth.

  ‘And she’s got such a crush on Rafiq, and poor Rafiq’s got such a crush on Amber,’ said Alan.

  He and Seth, having both made a grand on Mrs Wilkinson, were getting drunk on the way home. Corinna, who’d passed out, was sleeping peacefully in the back. Chris, also drunk, was pouring his heart out to the Major, who was well aware that he and Chrissie had lapsed on their subscription but, unlike Shagger, not through avarice.

  ‘We’re frankly havin’ to live on the Fox’s takings, the rental’s so bloody huge. Previous landlady lied about the takings,’ Chris was saying. ‘Shouldn’t have joined the syndicate, haven’t got three thousand to put in, let alone the subscription. Smoking ban and drink driving’s hit us hard. IVF’s cost us a fortune. Chrissie won’t be happy until she has a baby.’

  Meanwhile back at Badger’s Court, in a room intended one day to be Bonny and Valent’s master bedroom, Joey and Chrissie made love on an old divan, to which Joey often retreated for forty winks after lunch.

  ‘Oh Joey,’ sighed Chrissie.

  ‘Oh Chrissie,’ sighed Joey, ‘I ’ave longed for this.’

  ‘Oh Joey, that is so naughty,’ squeaked Chrissie, feeling something deliciously cold up her bottom.

  ‘No, it ain’t, it’s Priceless,’ said Joey. ‘Get that long nose out of there, Priceless.’

  ‘I’ve got an idea, Chris,’ said the Major. ‘Let me make a call.’ As he retreated to the back of the bus, where Corinna snored lightly, he longed to put a hand on her splendidly heaving breasts.

  The full moon peering in through the window must be checking her reflection in my shiny face, thought Etta wearily. She had no right to feel so despondent, except that she was heartbroken about Preston, her lucky horse, and sad about losing her betting slip. Fifty pounds would have paid for her share of the picnic and enabled her to buy something for Tilda for looking after Drummond and Poppy.

  She had terribly missed Dora and Trixie on the trip, and Woody and Joey, and the vicar, and dear Pocock and darling Joyce. Etta wondered how she’d got on holding the fort at the yard.

  She ought to be overjoyed that Mrs Wilkinson had won. Ludlow was such a lovely course, but somehow winning at Newbury had been more exciting because so unexpected. Also she wasn’t sure about Corinna. Somehow it hadn’t been as much fun as last time.

  Phoebe felt the same.

  ‘The Royal Box was so exciting,’ she was complaining to Debbie, ‘and everyone didn’t rabbit on about Housman, though I suppose it’s better than house prices. Frankly, I’m fed up with Corinna hogging the limelight. Pity Valent wasn’t here to buy all that lovely fizz, he’d have kept her in order.’

  ‘I’m quite exhausted, having been kept awake by them rowing all night,’ said Debbie, not adding that just as she was dropping off at five o’clock, she’d felt the Major’s penis nudging her back: ‘Wakey, wakey, here comes snakey,’ so she really hadn’t got any sleep at all.

  The west was dominated by a dark cloud with a chink of fiery scarlet light along the bottom, the remains of the sunset.

  ‘I don’t know how Seth puts up with her,’ grumbled Phoebe.

  ‘By drinking too much,’ said Debbie tartly. ‘Mrs Wilkinson’s our Village Horse, not Corinna’s. She’s the village whore. I’m going to bail out if she continues to ruin things.’

  Up the front, Alban and Toby were still talking about shooting.

  ‘Phoebe won’t beat or pick up,’ Toby was complaining. ‘Last time we went shooting with Georgie Larkminster, we only got a cup of coffee when we arrived, and nothing but Cornish pasties and not a drop of drink at lunchtime.’

  The Major’s mobile rang. He took it to the back of the bus again and five minutes later strode back down the gangway, taking up his position beside Alban, bristling with self-importance.

  ‘Well, there’s good news and very good news. That was Valent ringing to congratulate us all and particularly Mrs Wilkinson and Etta,’ the Major smiled in her direction, ‘and he wants to join the syndicate if we’ll have him.’

  ‘Of course we will,’ cried Etta, feeling a glow of happiness as everyone cheered.

  ‘He’s going to take Chris and Chrissie’s slot,’ went on the Major, ‘although they’ll still be involved, I hope.’

  ‘Not too much at that price,’ muttered Debbie.

  ‘How lovely, drinks will be on the house,’ piped up Phoebe.

  ‘Now the even better news.’ The Major’s eyes gleamed. ‘He’s going to donate his share to Bonny Richards as a birthday gift.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘We’ll have to put chastity belts on our husbands,’ giggled Phoebe, ‘but what fun to have some young blood in the syndicate.’

  Even Toby looked rather excited.

  ‘Valent wants Bonny to involve herself properly in the community,’ explained the Major. ‘He’s so anxious for her to enjoy living in Willowwood.’

  ‘Here’s one member of the community who wouldn’t mind getting improperly involved with Bonny,’ said Seth.

  Etta felt even more depressed.

  Everyone, particularly the Major, who’d had his hand up her black polo neck all the time he was talking to Valent, jumped as Corinna’s rich contralto rang out:

  ‘My Bonny lies over the ocean.

  My Bonny lies over the sea.

  My father lay over my mother

  And that’s how they got little me.’

  When Etta got home, she was delighted to find Gwenny mewing outside and inside a message to ring Joyce Painswick, however late.

  ‘Wasn’t Wilkie wonderful, clever little girl, beating Pla
yboy in those ghastly conditions?’ cried Etta, as she tried to hold the telephone and scrape the meat off the chicken leg intended for her supper into a saucer for Gwenny. ‘And didn’t Amber do brilliantly?’

  ‘Brilliantly,’ agreed Painswick. ‘I texted Hengist that she would be riding.’

  ‘We missed you and Dora and Trixie so much. How did you get on?’

  ‘I now know how Hercules felt after mucking out the Augean stables,’ said Painswick sourly. ‘I have never encountered such a mess. The only thing Marius puts away in filing cabinets is bottles. I had to take little Mistletoe and Chisolm for a walk to get some fresh air.

  ‘Marius was absurdly late leaving for Ludlow. Worked himself into a lather over nothing, changed in thirty seconds without even washing, rushed off, then rang up constantly from the car. Had I seen that, not to do that, had X been entered for that. I’ve never met anyone so disorganized.’

  ‘Oh, poor Joyce.’ Etta put the chicken on the floor.

  ‘Not sure I’m up to it.’

  ‘Oh please, you will be. Look how you cherished Hengist. Wilkie needs you, Marius certainly needs you.’

  ‘Huh, not sure he’ll ever pay me, he’s got bills going back to the middle of last year. How was Corinna? Saw her hogging the limelight. You’d think she won the race herself.’

  ‘Demanding. Actually I thought she was horrid. I can’t see why she and dear Seth … But she’s going to have competition. Valent’s bought a share in Wilkie for Bonny Richards.’

  ‘Oh dear. Megastar wars. I thought Bonny loathed the country and that everyone was boring and right-wing, particularly the horses,’ sniffed Painswick. ‘Joey’ll have to buck up and finish Badger’s Court. I saw across the valley he was giving Chrissie and Priceless a very thorough conducted tour of the place this afternoon. Their conduct left a lot to be desired.’

  ‘Oh dear. Never mind, darling, Wilkie won,’ Etta stroked a purring Gwenny, ‘and Marius was nice to Amber for a change.’

  Tommy came home the saddest. She had acquired fifth-degree burns from the sparks flying between Rogue and Amber. Rafiq hadn’t spoken on the journey home, and having settled Oh My Goodness and History Painting, had sloped off to bed, refusing to join the lads celebrating Mrs Wilkinson’s victory in the Fox, not even bothering to say good night to Furious.

  A confused, exhausted Mrs Wilkinson, missing Etta and being chided noisily on her return by Sir Cuthbert, Romeo and Chisolm, had misjudged the doorway into her box. She had banged her head and taken a long time to settle, so Tommy didn’t go to the Fox either.

  ‘You’re headed for stardom, Wilkie. You’ll soon be a Saturday horse and hear the crowds cheering your name.’

  Tommy gave Mrs Wilkinson a last hug. Wondering why she was always comforting things that longed to be with other things, she crossed the yard to Furious, who, ears flattened, was hanging out of the isolation box with Dilys the sheep snoring in the straw behind him.

  ‘It’ll be spring soon, and you won’t have to use her as a duvet any more.’ Tommy took out a packet of Polos, then, as Furious lunged at her: ‘Stop it, you’ve bitten me enough times, or you won’t get any of these, and you’ll get sold and break Rafiq’s heart, even more than Miss Amber Lloyd-Foxe has. You’ve got to start winning races, and Rafiq must ride you.’

  In agreement, Furious grabbed and munched the entire packet of Polos before laying his head on Tommy’s shoulder, breathing lovingly into her ear.

  ‘Oh Furious,’ sighed Tommy, ‘at least you love me. Ouch, you pig,’ as he nipped her sharply on the arm.

  The following morning Etta rang Joyce in high excitement.

  ‘Is it a bad moment?’

  ‘It’s all bad moments. Marius came back drunk and reduced the place to an absolute tip again. Perhaps that’s why it’s called tipsy.’

  ‘Oh, poor Joyce,’ giggled Etta. ‘Look, I feel really really mean. Corinna’s Pole, Stefan, has just dropped off a beautifully wrapped present with a card saying, “Dearest Etta, sorry I was horrible, come and have a drink soon, all love, Corinna.” Isn’t that sweet?’

  ‘Fairly. What’s she given you?’

  ‘I’m just unwrapping it. Oh, it’s a ravishing pink and lilac scarf, with another little card attached.’

  There was a long pause, then Painswick could hear Etta laughing hysterically.

  ‘What does it say? Come on.’

  ‘It says,’ gasped Etta, ‘“Dearest Corinna, Happy fifty-fifth birthday, love Judi D.”’

  63

  Any doubts Bonny Richards might have had about accepting Valent’s birthday present were dispelled by the magnificent coverage afforded to Corinna the following day. Most of the papers referred to her wildly successful tour of America, her bold move to play Phèdre in French in Paris, and her forthcoming stint at Stratford.

  ‘Leading lady’, was the headline in both The Times and the Independent, with a ravishing photograph of Corinna leading in Mrs Wilkinson.

  ‘I must get that picture blown up,’ cried an overjoyed Corinna.

  ‘Not the only thing,’ muttered Seth, who hadn’t made any of the pictures.

  Nor had Amber. She’d have to get her famous father along next time to pull in the crowds. She was in a complete daze. Had Rogue really said what he’d said? Would Marius let her ride at Wetherby? He was so indecisive. The next meeting was in February. Her evenings not on the Equicizer were spent watching videos of Rogue, noticing how low he crouched over his horses, how well he presented them at fences, how he could think and adjust at full gallop. Then her mind would mist over and she would long and long for him to crouch over her, driving her over the line with those deep pelvic thrusts.

  Rafiq also watched Rogue’s videos obsessively, learning and churning with hatred. Death to the infidel.

  Painswick was driven crackers by Amber’s constant texting. Had Marius made any decisions on Wetherby, had he entered Wilkie? Had he entered any horses for Rogue? Rafiq nearly murdered Josh when he hit Furious with a spade for striking out at him with a foreleg.

  Tension was running high.

  *

  Attitudes to Bonny’s joining the syndicate were mixed. Would she really grace the minibus rather than Valent’s twenty-million Gulfstream jet on the long journey from Willowwood to Wetherby, which would allow loads of time for her and Corinna to insult each other?

  Ione was excited by Bonny’s Green credentials. Alban, who had met her in London when he lunched with Valent, thought she was ‘awfully pretty but hard to understand’.

  Having bankrupted herself paying Shagger’s syndicate bill, Tilda was scared Shagger would fall for Bonny. Perhaps she’d come and talk to the children at Greycoats.

  Joey, who loved Valent, hated Bonny and had had to endure her caprice and criticism whenever she visited the house. He was depressed that Chris and Chrissie had backed out of the syndicate, which would afford him less opportunity to see Chrissie on her own, particularly as Bonny and Valent might soon be moving into Badger’s Court.

  He had been dispiritedly clearing rubble from the garden in February when Valent and Bonny had paid a flying visit. They had been enchanted to see sweeps of purple crocuses merging with pools of sky-blue scillas, clumps of primroses like day-old chicks merging with the gold aconites and crimson polyanthus and, loveliest of all, the palest pink Prunus autumnalis blossom dancing against a dark yew hedge.

  ‘I never believed such a lovely garden lurked beneath the debris,’ cried Bonny, but looked less amused when Joey, not without malice, said, ‘Etta done that. Etta planted all those fings as a fank-you present to Valent for taking in Mrs Wilkinson.’

  The lads at Throstledown were wildly excited about Bonny and fought to go to Wetherby instead of Tommy, who was having a week off to help her sister who’d just had a baby. At the last moment, egged on by Painswick who was aware of Rafiq’s depression, Marius decided to run Furious. As the lorry was going all that way taking Oh My Goodness, Mrs Wilkinson and History Painting, it might as well take Furious t
oo. Rogue could ride him in a novice chase. Furious was far too contemptuous of hurdles. At the very last moment, he agreed Amber could ride Mrs Wilkinson.

  Amber, who’d never lost sleep over a man, was rattled. She was supposed to be having dinner with Rogue after Wetherby, but he hadn’t called her. With his track record, could he resist making a pass at Bonny? Not that Amber cared, but she still spent any fee she might get in advance on having her roots done and her legs and pubes waxed.

  *

  Romy and Martin were furious with Etta for losing her Ludlow betting slip – the money would have boosted a dwindling Sampson Bancroft Fund – but they were frightfully excited about Bonny joining the syndicate and wanted an invitation pronto. They’d just landed a battle-against-obesity charity, and felt slender Bonny would be the ideal target role model.

  Etta sighed. If only she was still living at Bluebell Hill, she could have given a little party to welcome Bonny.

  Instead she bit the bullet and sent her a very pretty card of snowdrops, saying how thrilled everyone was that she was joining the syndicate and how they all looked forward to meeting her when Mrs Wilkinson ran again. She also sent Valent a birthday card from Wilkie and Chisolm.

  Willowwood made acquaintance with Bonny sooner than expected when she appeared on television winning a BAFTA.

  Etta was touched and surprised when, on the same evening, Corinna asked her round for a drink. She brightened up her pale blue jersey with the pink and lilac scarf Corinna had given her.

  When she arrived, Corinna was already three parts cut and watching the awards with Seth, Alan and Priceless who was stretched out on the sofa chewing a nearby table but jumped down flashing his white teeth and snaking his long black nose all round Etta’s hips.

  Seth handed Etta a glass of champagne.

  ‘Bonny’s been nominated for Best Actress in a film called The Blossoming,’ he explained, ‘about a woman who overcomes the trauma of rape and child abuse.’

  ‘Valent sent us a tape,’ said Corinna, ‘but Bonny mumbles so badly you can’t hear a bloody word she says.’