The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by Cheryl Mildenhall

  Alicia sidled into the kitchen and they all looked up expectantly but she dashed to her room. A few minutes later she reappeared wearing a short red sun-dress. Red was Alicia’s favourite colour.

  ‘I was feeling a little chilly,’ she said by way of an explanation.

  ‘Oh!’ Chloe looked at Hillary. ‘I feel a little underdressed now, don’t you, Hills?’

  Hillary nodded and stood up. They too both dashed out of the kitchen, threw on some clothes and returned to their meal. Like Alicia they were wearing short cotton T-shirt dresses, a white one for Hillary, whilst Chloe chose beige. Against the background of her tan she still looked almost naked. After they had finished eating they went back outside to sit on the patio, sip some more wine and enjoy the balmy evening. Only Odile begged off, saying she wanted to write to Theo.

  ‘But you just finished speaking to him on the phone.’ Chloe was dumbfounded.

  Instead of choosing to sit in his usual seat, Torran sat down next to Hillary on her sun lounger, leaned back comfortably and put his arm around her shoulders, his fingertips casually brushing her breast. A moment later she felt an unfamiliar touch upon her thigh. Opening her eyes she saw that Chloe was seated at the foot of the lounger with her arms wrapped round Torran, kissing his back and shoulders. Hillary felt slightly annoyed at her intrusion but said nothing as she conceded defeat. She rose stiffly to her feet and went inside the house.

  As it turned out the evening continued in a much tamer fashion. Chloe and Torran finally resurfaced about an hour later, Chloe looking more relaxed and happy than Hillary had ever seen her before. In their absence the wine had finally run out, so Hillary and Odile made a huge pot of coffee which they took into the sitting room. There they all lounged around listening to music, talking and finally they played Scrabble. Hillary decided it was the strangest orgy that she’d ever been to, then she realised that she’d never been to one before so she had nothing concrete to go on.

  Considering the differences in their ages and personalities, they all got on extremely well together, finding that they had quite a lot in common after all. Of course, Hillary thought wryly, with the exception of Odile, they all had Torran in common for a start. Just before midnight, Alicia looked at her watch and reminded them that they were due to drive to Newmarket the following day. ‘We need to make an early start,’ she warned.

  Hillary laughed. ‘What do you call early, Alix?’ She knew full well that her sister didn’t believe the world existed before eight o’clock in the morning.

  ‘You may well scoff, Hillary, but I’d like us all to be ready to leave by nine at the latest.’

  ‘Oh well, in that case we’d better turn in now.’ Hillary knew she was being unnecessarily sarcastic but couldn’t resist adding, ‘We are only going to Newmarket, Alicia, not the North Pole.’

  ‘I know, but we might get lost and I said we’d meet the boys before lunch.’

  Hillary sighed. She couldn’t bear the thought of being cooped up in a car with Alicia and Chloe, especially when Alicia didn’t know where she was going. Then there was the prospect of meeting up with Clive and Gus. She didn’t know how the other two women were feeling but she felt guilty enough for both of them. She fervently hoped neither of their husbands would ask her any potentially embarrassing questions.

  Wondering if she could get away with feigning a headache in the morning, she showed Torran the way back to the main house through the swing doors on the upper floor, then said goodnight to Alicia, Chloe and Odile. She noticed that Chloe seemed reluctant to go inside her bedroom and wasn’t surprised when she heard the sound of the swing doors opening and closing about a quarter of an hour after everyone had supposedly gone to bed.

  10

  Hillary awoke feeling on top of the world, which was more than she could say for Chloe who staggered from her room after the third call looking like death warmed up.

  Alicia eyed her suspiciously. ‘Did you get any sleep at all last night?’

  Chloe sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. ‘Please don’t do this to me, Alix.’ Just then Odile appeared, looking as fresh and perky as ever. Chloe looked up at her friend and groaned. ‘I think I hate you.’

  ‘What’s up with wonder woman?’ asked Odile. She opened one of the kitchen cupboards and took out a clean mug. With a surreptitious grin Hillary inclined her head in the general direction of the patio, pointed to her own crotch and then faked an elaborate yawn. Odile nodded, understanding immediately but Alicia wasn’t quite so subtle.

  ‘She’s been screwing that Jock with the cock all night, I’ve got no sympathy for her.’

  Odile caught Hillary’s eye and raised her eyebrows. Hillary laughed and fought desperately to resist the temptation to put into words what they were both thinking, that Alicia was jealous.

  Despite Chloe’s general sluggishness they managed to be ready and on the road by nine thirty, a little behind schedule but a lot earlier than Hillary had expected. The drive was uneventful. Alicia was behind the wheel as usual with Chloe as her navigator, and Odile and Hillary seated in the back staring silently out of the window at the passing countryside. Eventually they crossed the border into Suffolk and in no time had reached the outskirts of Newmarket. Everyone agreed that they were feeling thirsty and a little peckish so Alicia proposed that they detour into the town itself and find a tea shop before continuing on to the training yard – the vote was unanimously carried.

  Although she wasn’t a horsy person, Hillary was very taken with Newmarket. Her first impression was of a quaint, cobbled-together town fringed by gracious old trees and surrounded by vast areas of rolling heathland. As they drove into the town centre she admired the large, almost palatial, houses with their wide sweeping lawns and impressive driveways, relics of a bygone era yet still very much inhabited. And, of course, horses pervaded everything, from the first glimpses of shadowy riders galloping across the heath to the High Street itself, chock-a-block with horse boxes, lorries piled high with manure and signwritten delivery vans proclaiming different types of horse feed.

  As Alicia searched for somewhere to park, Hillary looked about her eagerly. The shops were intriguing, every third one it seemed having some connection with horses. There were the obvious ones selling riding clothes and equipment, and bookshops whose bow windows boasted vast displays of riding literature, and then there were the insurance companies offering bloodstock insurance rather than the usual life or buildings and contents cover, horse transport agents and, last but not least, the Jockey Club building itself.

  Fortunately the town also enjoyed its fair share of cafes and tea shops and they were soon relaxing over bottomless pots of tea and sinfully large toasted teacakes dripping with melted butter, and indulging in one of their favourite pastimes – people watching. Of the smartly dressed people who strolled along the streets with casual aplomb, at least half of them were sporting an enviably flattering uniform of tight jodhpurs and long, shiny leather boots, the boys looking every bit as good as the girls. On the whole they seemed very young, probably no older than their early twenties, Hillary thought to herself, although she realised afterwards that their size automatically made them seem younger than they really were, most of them having the standard jockey’s build.

  ‘We really should think about pushing off.’ Alicia glanced agitatedly at her watch for the third time in as many minutes.

  Hillary looked down at her own wrist; it was almost eleven thirty and they had promised to meet Gus and Clive before lunch. She threw a few pounds into the kitty in the middle of the table and stood up, smoothing the creases from her dress as she did so. She hadn’t been sure what to wear for such an excursion but knowing that in the heat she would be uncomfortable in anything too restrictive she had settled on a short navy-blue cotton sundress, buttoned all the way down the front, worn with low-heeled, tan leather sandals. She looked disparagingly at Chloe’s own choice of footwear, wondering what sort of mind thought high heels were appropriate for visiting a stabl
e-yard.

  Alicia picked up everyone’s contributions and went to settle the bill. When she returned she was smiling. ‘Right, I now have proper directions so let’s get this show on the road.’

  As it turned out they were only ten minutes from their destination and soon the car was heading up a long tarmac driveway, bounded on either side by carefully tended lawns.

  Chloe was smiling. ‘This certainly isn’t what I was expecting. It reminds me of that soap opera you and I used to like watching, Alix, you know the one with all the expensive ranches and hunky men.’

  Alicia pretended unsuccessfully that she didn’t know what Chloe was talking about. Hillary grinned to herself; her sister was such a snob that she professed only to watch television for the news, documentaries and other suitably highbrow programmes, to admit to watching a soap opera was anathema to her.

  A wooden sign pointed the way to the visitors’ car park and on the way they passed a couple of empty stable blocks. From what they had seen so far the whole place seemed deserted. Just as they were getting out of the car a large red-faced woman approached them. Hillary tried hard not to stare as the woman was dressed in an extremely strange assortment of clothes, from her brightly coloured, knitted bobble-hat, to her mauve stocking-clad legs and pink fluffy bedroom slippers, her appearance was tramp-like but with definite overtones of eccentricity. Alicia stepped back alarmed as the woman thrust our her hand and said, ‘Jolly good to meet you, good journey I hope?’

  Alicia mumbled noncommittally, craning her neck in a desperate attempt to spot Clive and Gus. She pushed Chloe forwards as she spoke. ‘We’re supposed to be meeting our husbands.’

  Chloe stumbled in her heels on the uneven ground. ‘Yes, we’ve come to see our horse, it’s being trained here,’ she said, also looking around. There were no horses to be seen.

  ‘Perhaps we’ve got the wrong place,’ Odile muttered in a low voice.

  ‘No, I followed the directions the man in the tea shop gave me, besides,’ Alicia added indignantly, ‘there was a huge sign at the entrance, remember? This is definitely the right place.’

  The woman interrupted them. ‘I should have introduced myself. I’m Mrs Houghton-Sewell. I own this joint, for my sins.’ She gave a rueful grin, displaying a badly fitting set of dentures.

  Chloe and Alicia flashed each other horrified looks as the woman asked them their horse’s name. The four women looked at each other, temporarily dumbfounded.

  ‘Oh, it’s so stupid of me,’ Alicia stammered, embarrassed. ‘I don’t actually know its name.’

  Just at that moment they were interrupted by the clattering of hooves and they turned their heads to see about thirty or so horses and riders trotting majestically up the driveway. One by one the riders dismounted and led their steeds to an empty stall, their arrival suddenly transforming the whole place into a hive of activity. A few minutes later a couple of Range Rovers rolled up and came to a halt next to the group of women. Clive and Gus were seated in one of them, Alicia noted with relief.

  Mrs Houghton-Sewell walked around the nearest vehicle and had a brief word with the driver who nodded his head and waved his hands in the air in response. In a much louder voice she issued a series of instructions to a group of stable lads who were standing around talking and smoking. Hurriedly the smokers put out their cigarettes and rushed to do her bidding.

  Hillary watched the exchange with interest. It was apparent, at least to her, that despite her strange appearance Mrs Houghton-Sewell was a force to be reckoned with. Later she learned that this odd lady was, in fact, one of the most respected trainers in the business and a millionairess to boot.

  Being totally oblivious to this fact, Alicia and Chloe did their best to ignore her. As soon as Gus and Clive stepped down from the Range Rover the two women latched on to them and insisted on being taken straight to see their horse. Much to their annoyance, Mrs Houghton-Sewell interrupted.

  ‘You have decided to visit us on a working morning, which means all the horses are taken out to the heath to be put through their paces, to see how they’re shaping up and all that. Your husbands have just been watching the horse make a trial gallop.’

  She looked at Clive and Gus for confirmation; both men nodded eagerly and Clive chipped in. ‘I don’t know much about racehorses but he certainly looked impressive.’

  ‘Which one is he?’ Mrs Houghton-Sewell enquired.

  ‘Hang Seng,’ said Gus, looking slightly embarrassed at the name.

  The older woman looked at him sideways. ‘Work in the city, am I right?’

  Gus nodded. ‘We both do, but the horse was already named when we bought him.’

  ‘Yes – we bought our half from a Japanese dealer; you might remember him,’ Clive added.

  At that moment another group of horses arrived, their riders looking tired but exhilarated. Odile commented on this to Mrs Houghton-Sewell who smiled kindly, obviously appreciating the young woman’s interest. ‘They have every right to look tired, it’s a five-thirty start here and woe betide anyone who fancies a lie-in.’

  Chloe gave a low whistle, impressed. ‘My goodness, five thirty! Why last night I didn’t even . . .’ She trailed off hurriedly but not before Gus had flashed her an enquiring look.

  Hillary decided she’d better cause a diversion. ‘Is one of those horses ours?’

  Mrs Houghton-Sewell nodded. ‘Yes. See the grey near the back, the one just having his hooves checked?’

  They all craned their necks and nodded and Alicia and Chloe smiled at each other like cats who had just been given the cream. Thank goodness the poor beast met with their approval, Hillary thought.

  For a while they all stood and stared at the colt as the stable lad, who turned out to be a girl, rubbed him down, settled him in his stall and gave him something to eat and drink. She smiled at Clive and Gus. ‘He’s got a lot of potential, you know,’ she asserted encouragingly.

  Both received her words with gratitude. They’d been dreading their wives’ visit and any expert encouragement such as this would go a long way to smooth over any bumps in the post-mortem which was bound to take place over lunch. Alicia and Chloe were obviously already bored and even Hillary had to admit that she would rather be sitting in a country pub somewhere than standing under the intense heat of the midday sun close to a pile of rotting horse dung.

  Just then they were interrupted by the arrival of two dark-skinned men dressed identically in tight white jodhpurs and red polo shirts. Alicia jabbed Hillary hard in the buttock, needlessly hissing, ‘They’re the ones in the photograph.’

  Hillary felt her breath catch. She’d already realised who they were, although she had to admit that they certainly made an impressive sight and looked even better in the flesh, so to speak.

  Gus introduced them. ‘Everybody, meet Carlo and Guido, our partners in crime.’

  The one who turned out to be Carlo looked around him with an expression of mock horror. ‘Please,’ he urged, ‘there are already too many villains in the horseracing fraternity for that to be considered a joke.’

  ‘And,’ Guido said, ‘there are those who believe racehorse syndicates are controlled by the mafia, obviously with our heritage – well, need I say more?’

  The four women stared at them open-mouthed. With their Italian good looks and pronounced London accents they certainly could be mistaken for crooks, albeit very handsome ones. Chloe, surprisingly, appeared more interested in her wristwatch than the two men standing in front of her. She was studying it intently.

  ‘Gus darling, I’m famished and its after one, look!’ She thrust her arm at his face.

  Guido looked at his brother who nodded, then he spoke to the group. ‘Please, let Carlo and I take you to lunch. One of our cousins has a restaurant not far from here. I hope you all like Italian food?’

  Chloe perked up immediately. ‘Oh, we love it, don’t we, Alix?’

  Alicia nodded enthusiastically, as did Hillary and Odile.

  ‘Then it’s settled
.’ Guido smiled, satisfied. He spoke directly to Clive. ‘If you, Gus and your wives would like to follow us in your car, Carlo and I would be happy to drive these gorgeous young things in ours.’

  Realising that Guido meant them, Hillary and Odile gave each other a quizzical look and each smothered a smile. Nevertheless, under the circumstances it seemed the most sensible solution. They all trooped back to the car park and Carlo walked straight to the second Range Rover, not the one Gus and Clive had travelled in. He unlocked all the doors and gallantly stepped back so that Odile and Hillary could climb in. The floor of the Range Rover was quite high and Hillary couldn’t help feeling his eyes on her legs as she hitched up her skirt. Guido walked around to the other side and jumped in the passenger seat as Carlo settled himself behind the wheel. Soon they were all speeding back along the now familiar route towards Newmarket.

  Despite their arrogant appearance, Hillary had to admit that the two brothers were extremely entertaining and good fun to be with. All the time they were driving and throughout the meal they kept up a continuous and highly amusing patter, bouncing witticisms off each other like a comedy double-act, or at the very least, Hillary thought, like two people who knew each other extremely well and enjoyed each other’s company.

  She couldn’t help glancing surreptitiously at them during the meal. Guido had said he was older than Carlo by exactly one year and one month but in truth they looked more like twins and absolutely Italian in every way. Their olive complexions made the perfect canvas for proud foreheads, Roman noses and the limpid, black pools that were their eyes. And she had already had the opportunity to admire their physique. Lean, hard and tight was the best way she could describe them, due no doubt to rigorous training and daily bouts of horse riding of all kinds. Too tall to be jockeys, Guido explained that he and Carlo enjoyed various other equestrian pursuits, particularly polo, hunting and eventing.

  Hillary kept on smiling and nodding throughout the constant banter but most of the time had no idea what they were talking about. Equestrian slang and terminology seemed a completely different language. One aspect that she did manage to keep pace with was the amount of wine being consumed. The cousin who owned the restaurant couldn’t do enough for the two brothers and their guests. So copious amounts of wine flowed constantly at their table, although Carlo drank less than the others, being the driver.