BLINDFOLD

by Lyndon Stacey

  It wasn't until he was aboard the Norton and halfway down the drive that he remembered that Slade hadn't asked `Who the hell are you?' as one might expect, but `What the hell are you doing here?' And yet he'd never met the man before.

  Had Slade seen him that day from the helicopter? Whatever the case, it seemed probable that Joey had warned him of Gideon's interest in the Sanctuary. It looked almost as though Slade was the driving force behind the campaign against Tim and Naomi, as Milne appeared to have little interest in his neighbours, either for or against. But what possible reason could Slade have for driving them off their land?

  With a sigh, he went to report his lack of progress to Tim and Naomi.

  Rachel's new clients had returned from their holiday and telephoned that evening to arrange for her to view the seafront apartment she was to work on. They wanted her to come the next day - Sunday - and Gideon saw her off in the morning with a sense of relief. She was expecting to be out for most of the day.

  Since coming back from her ride with Pippa the day before, she'd been strung as tight as a bowstring with suppressed anxiety. Time and again he'd caught her peering out of the gothic arched windows of the Gatehouse from behind the curtains. And every time he'd opened an outside door, even if only to take rubbish out to the bin or let the cat in, she had immediately wanted to know where he was going. By bedtime he was in a state of suppressed tension himself.

  Gideon had promised to ride with Pippa the next day, as he often did on a Sunday, and it was with a feeling of release that he set off to walk up to the Priory through a light, mizzling rain.

  He rode Blackbird once more, at Pippa's invitation, and apart from trying to mash Gideon's knee on a gatepost at one point, still with an expression of perfect innocence on his handsome black face, the horse behaved immaculately.

  Pippa was incensed.

  `Last week, when I had somebody here to try him with a view to buying, he refused point-blank to leave the yard!' she complained in exasperation. `And when I led him out for exercise

  beside Cassie yesterday, he suddenly put the brakes on after a couple of miles and nearly pulled me off over her tail. If I hadn't let go ... The thing is, there's no rhyme or reason to him. One minute he's fine and the next a sod!'

  ,He gets bored,' Gideon said, surprising himself but knowing, even as he said it, that it was true.

  `Oh?' Pippa said, raising an eyebrow. `He told you so, did he?' `You may scoff!' Gideon retorted, affecting lofty unconcern. `You'd be surprised the things your horses tell me about you.' Pippa laughed. `That would be even funnier if I were a hundred percent sure it was nonsense,' she said. `Oh, and while we're on the subject, I heard from jenny Weatherfield yesterday. She said to tell you she's staying with friends in Somerset and that Willow hasn't growled once since your visit.'

  `Oh, that's great news. I thought it might take a lot longer than that but she was very sensible about it. You'd be surprised how many people pay for advice and then ignore it.'

  `Yes, she's a lovely person. She used to be a friend of Mummy's,' Pippa said, looking wistful for a moment. `Anyway, you seem to have made quite an impression on her. She couldn't praise you enough. Which is odd,' she continued with a mischievous gleam in her eye, `because I used to think she was quite a good judge of character.'

  `Everyone makes mistakes now and then,' Gideon agreed solemnly. `I mean, she's obviously stayed in touch with you, too!' `You beast!' Pippa exclaimed. They were riding along the bottom of one of the Priory's fields, close to the stream, and with no warning she suddenly cried, `See you at the top!' and urged Skylark into a gallop from a standing start, heading away towards the horizon.

  Caught unawares, Gideon was nearly ignominiously piled as Blackbird responded to his companion's unheralded departure with a huge, lurching buck and acceleration that would have done justice to a drag racer.

  Swearing under his breath, Gideon caught at his mount's flying

  mane like a novice to keep himself in the saddle and then, balance restored, leaned forward to help him take the hill.

  He caught and passed Pippa and her mount a few yards from the top, as she pulled up, laughing.

  `Oh, I hoped he would buck you off?' she declared as he reined in beside her.

  `He almost did, thanks to you! But he's got quite a turn of speed on him, hasn't he?'

  `He has, damn him! He's everything a horse should be, except reliable.'

  `He's just a poor, misunderstood fellow, aren't you, lad?' Gideon said sympathetically, patting the warm, black neck.

  Pippa snorted. `Why don't you give him the understanding he craves then? Tell you what, I'll sell him to you. Fifty quid and he's yours.

  `Oh, no, you don't! What would I want with a horse?' `Well, you could ride it out on Sundays with me,' Pippa said. `I can do that anyway.'

  `At my expense!'

  `I thought I was doing you a favour . . .' `Big of you, I'm sure.'

  Gideon shrugged. `I guess I'm just a naturally generous sort of guy,' he said modestly.

  Pippa gave him a look that would have curdled milk. `You're just a naturally annoying sort of guy, if you ask me. Are you ever short of a smart answer?'

  Gideon frowned. `Er.

  . . .'

  `Very funny.' Pippa glanced at her watch. `I think we'd better turn for home now. I've got a vet coming to look at one of the horses at twelve o'clock.'

  `On a Sunday?' Gideon was surprised. Veterinary fees were frightening at the best of times, and a Sunday call-out was certainly not the best of times. `What's the problem?'

  `There isn't one. And I'm not paying,' Pippa assured him. `It's somebody who's interested in buying Sebastian. She wants him vetted and she insists on being there. Apparently Sunday is her only free day this week. I don't know how she thinks she'll get him fit enough for eventing if she's that busy, but that's not my problem.' `Perhaps she has someone to do it for her.'

  `Mm, maybe. Nothing would surprise me about her, she's a first-class snob and absolutely rolling in money.,

  'Pretty?' Gideon enquired, affecting interest.

  `Oh, for heavensakes!' Pippa exclaimed. `Slim, blonde and hard as nails, if you must know. Daddy's something in the City and buys her whatsoever her little heart desires. A couple of years ago he bought her a stallion to play with, and now she wants an eventer. Six months time it'll probably be a dressage horse or a string of polo ponies.'

  They headed back to the stables to prepare Sebastian for his examination.

  The horse looked, to Gideon's fairly experienced eye, the picture of health but he knew, only too well, the horrors that could lurk beneath the surface of an apparent bargain. The possible pitfalls involved in buying a horse make the purchase of a secondhand car seem like childsplay in comparison, and no sane person would contemplate dipping in their pocket to the tune of several thousand pounds without a full vet's certificate.

  Almost before the stableyard clock had finished striking twelve, a vaguely familiar, mud-splashed green car swept through the archway, pulled up in front of the tack room and disgorged Sean Rosetti on to the gravel.

  `You didn't tell me it was Rosetti who was coming,' Gideon said quietly as they went forward to meet him.

  `You didn't ask,' Pippa retorted. `Anyway, how was I to know you knew him? He's Stephanie's vet, not mine.'

  `Hi,' Rosetti called. `Miss Barrington-Carr?'

  `Oh, Pippa, please,' she said, holding out her hand.

  `Pippa,' he amended obediently, smiling with easy charm as they shook hands. `Sean Rosetti. And Gideon I've already met. Hi, again. You certainly get around!'

  Gideon greeted the young vet with genuine pleasure, feeling the instant return of the comradeship they had begun to build on their previous meeting.

  `Ms Wainman not here yet?' Rosetti asked, glancing round. `No,' Pippa confirmed. She squinted up at the heavy grey sky from which persistent drizzle was falling. `Come into the tack room and have a cuppa while you wait.'

  Ms Wainman finally appeared n
early half an hour later, rolling up in a sleek dove-grey Jaguar that sat on the gravel beside Rosetti's car like a Siamese next to an alley-cat. She unfurled herself from behind the wheel and stood up in an impossibly immaculate cream-coloured riding mac, beige cord jodhpurs and short boots. She, too, squinted up at the rain and reached back into the jag for a wide-brimmed hat to cover her jaw-length sleek blonde bob.

  `Sorry to keep you,' she called, not looking in the least sorry. `Daddy had people round for drinks and I just couldn't get away. I hope you'll forgive me . . .'

  `Of course,' Rosetti assured her, with the smile she had expected. `The meter's running and you're paying the bill. It's no skin off my nose.'

  Gideon gave a silent cheer and sensed Pippa stifling a giggle beside him. For a fraction of a second, Stephanie was thrown off balance but she recovered almost immediately. `Well, in that case, we'd better get on with it, hadn't we? Your bills are quite big enough as it is.' She smiled sweetly, but it was clear the gloves were off. `Hello, Pippa darling. And who would this be?'

  Gideon had joined the others in the yard and, as he was formally introduced, found himself subjected to a brief but thorough assessment by the lady's steel-grey eyes. They lingered a moment or two as she took in the length of his hair and the still-visible scars. Then she smiled a small, brittle smile that didn't touch her eyes, and dismissed him as of no account. Gideon was not troubled in the least.

  He watched the ensuing examination with interest and a growing respect. Rosetti was quick, quiet and extremely thorough. He handled the restless thoroughbred with patience and firmness, and carried out tests on heart, lungs, teeth, joints and eyes with the confidence bom of long experience. He checked the horse's feet at great length and asked what kind of work Stephanie was intending to do with him, all the while making notes. At the end of his examination he filled in a chart, noting all the white markings and hair whorls in Sebastian's coat, his breeding as certified by the papers Pippa produced, and other vital statistics, such as height, approximate weight, and size of bone, measured below the knee.

  At the finish, he announced that he would prepare an official report but that as far as he had been able to determine, the bay gelding was sound in wind and limb, and fit for his projected career as a three-day- eventer.

  `Good,' Stephanie said briskly. Then with a sideways look that showed that Rosetti's earlier remark still rankled, she added, `So if 'he breaks down next month, I can blame you, can I?'

  Rosetti shook his head, smiling thinly. `I can only say as I see today. You can blame whoever you like next month, but honestly you'd do better to save your breath for sorting out some decent insurance.'

  Gideon found himself liking Rosetti more and more, but Stephanie was determined to have the last word. Having arranged to contact Pippa to finalise details, she turned to get into the Jaguar and then paused, looking back.

  `I used to know another Italian once,' she announced, smiling sweetly. `He didn't have a sense of humour either.'

  Without waiting for a comeback, she slid behind the wheel, said, 'Ciao, Pippa darling,' and drove smoothly away.

  Pippa darling, Rosetti and Gideon looked at one another and dissolved into helpless laughter.

  `Have you done her horses for long, Sean?' Pippa asked when they'd calmed down.

  `About six months. I've only met her once before, though. Usually I deal with her groom.'

  `Do you think you'll still be doing her horses?' Gideon enquired, pointedly.

  `Oh, yes, I expect so,' Rosetti replied, packing the tools of his trade into a box in the back of his car. `She's a spoiled little rich girl who's used to having her own way. I think she sees me as a challenge.'

  He looked at his watch. `Well, I'd better be getting along. My wife's cooking a roast and she'll murder me if I'm late. It's been nice seeing you again, Gideon, and Pippa, good to meet you.'

  `I mean to take you up on that invitation to look round your surgery sometime,' Gideon warned him as they shook hands. Rosetti looked pleased. `Yes, please do,' he said. `Look, why don't you come over this afternoon, if you're not doing anything? It's not strictly my weekend on, so I shouldn't be called out. Pippa, you're welcome too. Just give me an hour or so to get lunch out of the way.'

  Both Pippa and Gideon accepted the invitation and after seeing Rosetti off, fed the horses before making their way to the Priory kitchens in search of Mrs Morecambe and a bite to eat.

  Pippa drove Gideon to Dorchester that afternoon in her runabout, having declined the offer of a ride on the Norton in the worsening rain.

  `Where's the Merc today?' Gideon asked as they set off down the drive, just after half-past two. He knew Giles wasn't out in it as he'd joined them for lunch, complaining that while they were `having fun' he was having a nightmare day going over the estate accounts. `Don't tell me you've finally made room for it in the garage!' It was a standing joke with them that the only things not to be found in their full-to-bursting coachhouse-cum-garage were the cars.

  `No,' Pippa said, frowning slightly. `As a matter of fact it's in Blandford having a re-spray. Some kind soul threw acid over it when it was parked in the village yesterday. Can you believe it? Why should anyone want to do such a thing?'

  Gideon experienced an uncomfortable twinge of guilt. He had been driving the Mercedes quite a lot lately. Both Giles' cars had personalised numberplates and it didn't need a very great stretch of the imagination to picture either Curly or Duke Shelley venting their frustration on what they probably thought was Gideon's pride and joy. He knew from their conversation earlier that Rachel had given Pippa a potted version of her life history and the besieging of the Gatehouse by her husband, but it seemed that Pippa hadn't yet recognised the possible connection between that and the fate of the Mercedes.

  He wrestled briefly with his conscience, and lost.

  `Er, I suppose it could have been a case of mistaken identity. I mean, I have been driving the Merc a fair bit and, having the same initials, I suppose it's just possible that somebody might have thought it was mine.'

  Pippa turned her head momentarily to glance at him.

  ' `For heavensakes, Gideon! Surely this hasn't got anything to do with that stallion business, has it? What on earth have you got yourself mixed up in?'

  `I wish I knew,' he said truthfully. `But I should think this has more to do with Rachel's delightful ex-husband, who I had the pleasure of meeting the other night. We didn't exactly hit it off in a big way.' It was a good thing Duke hadn't had the acid handy when he'd called then, Gideon thought, but kept it to himself.

  `Rachel told me,' Pippa said dryly. `She seemed half out of her mind with worry. Kept saying she wished you hadn't hit him because he wouldn't forget. I said it sounded just what he needed!'

  Gideon laughed. `Trust you! Next time he turns up I'll let you know and you can come and sort him out! But, for the record, I didn't actually hit him. He was trying to hit me and I stopped him, that's all. I admit, he wasn't best pleased but it was his fault, not mine.'

  Pippa clearly wasn't interested in the technicalities. She darted another, frowning look at him. `You think he will come back, then?'

  `If the police don't catch up with him first, then yes, I'd put money on it.'

  `And it doesn't bother you?'

  `Worrying won't stop it happening. We'll just have to be a bit careful, that's all.'

  `I suppose so.' She didn't sound entirely convinced. `I don't know what it is with those sort of people. I mean, just because things aren't going your way, you don't go round taking it out on other people, do you?'

  `Well, speaking personally, no,' Gideon agreed.

  `I didn't mean you personally, so don't be awkward. I was speaking generally. I mean, the average person doesn't. I just can't understand the mentality.'

  `That's because you're a balanced, well-adjusted human being who knows her own worth and is sure of her place within the structure of society,' Gideon stated gravely.

  There was an astonished silence for
the space of a few seconds and then Pippa said, `Bull!'

  Gideon laughed. `Actually, I thought it was rather impressive,' he said with assumed dignity. `My psychology tutor would have been proud of me.'

  `So he might have been, if you'd had one,' Pippa observed dampeningly. `But I happen to know that you studied philosophy and history.'

  `Maybe that was where I went wrong. . .'

  `Why did you take those subjects?' Pippa asked with interest, changing down a gear as she negotiated roadworks.

  `Well, I had to take something,' he said. `And as the university wasn't offering anthropology, which Dad would have liked me to take, I decided on those two. I don't think at that age you really know what you want to do.'

  `We were all dead jealous of you, having a father like that,' Pippa recalled. `But I guess it wasn't all fun and games, was it?F 'Hardly any of it,' Gideon said dryly. His father, a worldrenowned anthropologist, had on occasion taken his young son to some far-flung outpost of humanity in the pursuit of his passion and those trips had been very exciting for a teenage boy. Far more frequently though, he, his sister and his mother had stayed at home and not seen the celebrated Professor Blake for weeks, sometimes months, and on one occasion over a year. His studies and documentaries on the lives and customs of relatively obscure peoples of the world were said to be ground-breaking; be that as it may, Gideon had often thought he probably knew less about his own family, deep in darkest Sussex, than any man alive.

  `Where is he now, do you know?'

  `Nepal, the last I heard,' Gideon said. `Mother had a postcard from him about a month ago.'

  `That's unreal!' Pippa said. `Getting a postcard from your own husband. Poor lady!'

  `She's used to it. I sometimes wonder how Naomi and I ever came to be. We must be the eighth and ninth wonders of the modern world!'

  Pippa giggled. `What did your milkman look like?'

  Gideon assumed a look of shocked indignation. Then he said; `He was a remarkably handsome fellow, I believe.'

  They reached Rosetti's surgery in good time, having followed his directions to the letter, and found themselves pulling up in front of a mellow stone farmhouse and sprawling range of farm buildings. The house itself stood in a well-tended garden sprinkled with snowdrops and crocuses, and where daffodil leaves stood in stiff clumps, promising colour to come. With red-bemed evergreens against the walls and a well-stocked bird table, the effect was like something on the cover of a lifestyle magazine rather than the home of a busy vet but a white, shiny board on the wall of the nearest outbuilding proclaimed the existence of the equine surgery they had come to see.