Riders (70 page)

“I’ll be up when I’ve finished this lot,” he said, refusing to be bullied.

In the hall Fen met Tory wearing a dressing gown, pink from a hot bath.

“I’ve just left ‘Diana’ Ferranti slaving over a hot iron,” said Fen.

“Isn’t he marvelous?” sighed Tory. “I had a blinding headache and he just took over. He’s cooking supper, too. Gosh, it smells good. So nice to have a man who can tell the difference between rosemary and basil. Jakey wouldn’t notice if you gave him dog biscuits.”

“I’m beginning to think Dino’s more interested in Basils than Rosemarys, anyway,” said Fen pointedly.

She went out to the yard to check the horses. It was a very cold, starry night. An early frost had lurexed the cobbles in the yard and starched the golden willow spears which rustled underfoot and already clogged the stable gutters. As she adjusted a rug here and checked a water bowl or bandage there, Fen brooded on Dino’s deficiencies. In some painful way he reminded her of Billy. But while Billy was like a dog: loving, dependent, enthusiastic, Dino was feline, cool and detached. He was far tougher and more critical than Billy. He saw Fen’s faults only too clearly. But whereas Jake would bite her head off, Dino tended to mob her up.

Only last week he had caught her shouting at Sarah for giving Hardy, who was supposed to be on a diet, the wrong feed. When he told her to pack it in, she started shouting back at him, whereupon he calmly bundled her into a loose box and shut both doors on her until she cooled down.

“How can I have any authority with the grooms if you take the piss out of me all the time?” she complained furiously afterwards.

“They have to humor and nurse you before big classes, so bloody well treat them properly at home.”

Most irritating of all, despite saying how much he fancied her during dinner after the
Sunday Times
Cup, he hadn’t lifted a long, suntanned finger in her direction since he arrived at the Mill House. Perhaps living in such close proximity had put him off. Not that she cared a scrap; she was still hopelessly hooked on Billy. But she was irked that girls with soft caressing American accents always seemed to be ringing Dino up, and twice since he’d been living there, he’d disappeared off in his car after work and not returned until dawn was breaking. Occasionally Fen cried herself to sleep and wondered if Dino, who occupied the blue room at the end of the passage, ever heard her as he tiptoed past to bed.

All in all, for a man who was supposed to be staying in England because of her, he was behaving in an odd way. Standing in Desdemona’s box, ruffling her coat which had thickened from being turned out during the day, she gave her the last glacier mint.

Looking out of the half-door she saw a small pale sliver of new moon curling itself round the weather cock. Turning the fifty-pence piece in her pocket, she sighed, realizing there was no point wasting a wish on Billy anymore.

“Please, Moon,” she said, “give me a gold.”

A week later Jake came home. It was a perfect October afternoon with all the trees, silhouetted, against a rain-heavy navy blue sky, turning color. There was not a speck of dust anywhere in the yard or an inch of tack unpolished. Only Dino’s horses and four of the novices who were still going to shows were in their boxes. The rest of the horses were out in the different fields which checkered the hill behind the stables.

But they sensed something was up. They had been restless all day, snapping and shrieking at each other, not settling down to serious grazing, but hanging round the gates. Only now, just before Jake was due, had they all galloped off out of sight to talk to Macaulay, Africa, and Africa’s foal, who were grazing in the top field. Darklis and Isa weren’t back from school yet, although a huge banner saying, “Welcome Home, Daddy,” which they’d painted with Sarah and Dino’s help, hung from the two largest willows across the gateway. Above the murmur of the millstream Fen heard the sound of a car on the bridge. Sarah darted forward to remove a couple of willow leaves which had floated down into the yard. Then Wolf, who’d also been jumpy all day, gave an excited bark. As the car drove into the yard he leapt forward, scrabbling hysterically at the paint with his paws.

“Welcome home,” cried Fen, running forward. “Steady boy.” She caught Wolf’s collar before opening the car door. “You don’t want to send your master flying.”

But when he realized it truly was Jake, Wolf remained motionless for several seconds as though he’d been stunned. Then he put back his head and let out a series of spine-chilling howls. Jake noticed tears were coursing down the lurcher’s rough brindled cheeks.

“Come on, boy,” said Jake gently as the dog crept forward, laying his head on his master’s knee, tail rammed between his thin trembling legs, as though he couldn’t believe such a miracle. No one spoke as Jake stroked Wolf’s head over and over again, smoothing away the tears. Then, as he struggled out of the car, Dino went forward to give him a hand.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s so good to have you home. Even the sun’s come out to welcome you.”

Jake nodded, face impassive, not trusting himself to speak.

“Come inside and rest, darling,” said Tory.

“I want to see the horses.”

“You must take it slowly,” she pleaded. “Today’s been such a strain.”

“Pass me my crutches,” snapped Jake.

“Here they are,” said Fen.

As he stumbled painfully across the cobbles, slipping and once falling to his knees, Fen was about to rush to help him.

“Don’t,” said Dino sharply, grabbing her arm.

He tried not to show how shocked he was by Jake’s appearance in the sunlight. Gray with exhaustion, desperately thin, he’d had to make two extra holes in his belt to keep his trousers up.

“Oh, God,” said Fen, as he stumbled again.

“He’s got to do it on his own,” said Dino.

After what seemed an eternity he reached the gate, leaning on it, gasping, to recover his breath. Laboriously he managed to open it and stagger inside, leaning back against it for support. The field sloped up to the skyline, dotted only by a few orange beeches and lemon yellow ashes. Not a horse in sight. Jake put his hand to his mouth and whistled. There was a long pause. He was about to whistle again when suddenly over the brow of the hill they came, black, dark brown, chestnut, bay, gray, roan. Some of them jumped over fences from nearby fields, thundering down the hill, manes and tails flying. It was like the last furlong of the Derby as they hurtled towards Jake. Hardy came from the back, elbowing, nipping, shoving the others out of the way, squealing jealously. Already plump from their rest, they had never moved faster in the height of their fitness as they stampeded the gate.

“They’ll kill him,” whispered Sarah.

“They’re going to crush him to death,” cried Tory in anguish.

“Get him out of there,” urged Fen. “Oh, Dino, do something.”

But miraculously, about ten feet away, they jammed on their brakes and, although the ones behind cannoned unceremoniously into the leaders, they all slithered to a halt, not even touching the tips of Jake’s shoes. They stood there, gazing at him goofily. Then, with a thunder of whickering, they edged forward and with the utmost gentleness started to nudge and nuzzle his face, his hands, and his coat, occasionally getting jealous, flattening their ears at each other and giving each other a nip or a squeal. Hardy, true to his character, stropped Jake all over with his tongue, then gave him a sharp nip on the sleeve of his coat, just to show he was still boss.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” said Dino, looking down and seeing tears pouring down Fen’s cheeks. Finding her hand in his, he gave it a gentle squeeze. Fen looked down, started, blushed scarlet, and snatched her hand away to wipe her eyes.

“Someone’s missing,” said Sarah.

“It’s the big fellow,” said Dino.

Next minute they saw Macaulay standing on the crest of the hill, like Bambi’s father. Jake gave another whistle and the next moment Macaulay came crashing down the hill like an out-of-control steamroller, so fast that all the other horses parted in self-preservation to let him through. When he reached Jake, he chased all the others away with enraged squeals, instantly returning to press his great white whiskery face against Jake’s. Jake put his arm round Macaulay’s neck, clinging on for support, his shoulders shaking.

“D’you think he’s okay?” said Fen in dismay.

“Leave him,” said Dino. “He’s best alone with the horses.”

H
aving dreaded Jake’s return, Fen found it easier than she’d expected, because he and Dino got on so surprisingly well. Dino was unruffled by Jake’s black moods and biting sarcasm, and didn’t take them personally.

“The guy’s in a lot of pain,” he told Fen. “Got to get his act together. He needs to jackboot around a bit to regain his self-respect.”

Together they worked on the horses, and on Hardy and Manny in particular, with Jake giving orders, stumbling around the yard, first on two crutches, then one, and by the end of November with a walking stick. He also plugged relentlessly away at the exercises. Mr. Buchannan was delighted with his progress and said, with any luck, he’d be riding by February.

At night after supper, instead of collapsing in front of the television, Jake and Dino would talk over a bottle of wine until they dropped. Dino asked most of the questions, but while Jake gave Dino the benefit of all his gypsy secrets and remedies, Dino was able to counter with information on the latest medical and dietary breakthroughs in the States. Soon all Jake’s horses were taking extra vitamins. “They all rattle as they go past,” said Fen crossly.

Dino also encouraged Jake into a new regime to get him back into peak condition. Fen was staggered to see Jake, who seldom managed more than a cup of the blackest, sweetest coffee for breakfast, actually sitting down to slices of apple, dried apricot, prunes, and sticks of carrot, followed by one of Dino’s multivitamin cocktails.

“All the same, Dino’s just picking Jake’s brains,” said Fen indignantly, as she dried up one evening. “You wait till America gets the team gold and Dino the individual. Then you’ll be sorry.”

“Don’t be mean, Fen,” said Tory gently. “Dino’s doing it for Jakey’s sake as well. He looks so much better and it does him so much good to feel needed.”

Fen was also finding Jake’s criticism very hard to take. After all, she’d made more money during the last year than he ever had and she was fed up with Dino sticking up for Tory. She was only drying up tonight because Dino’d torn another strip off her for treating Tory like a slave.

“You all just leave her with the dishes. Why the hell doesn’t Jake buy her a dishwasher?”

“But she’s quite happy,” protested Fen.

“You talk as though she was some retarded kid in a mental institution.”

Dino had been particularly touched by Tory’s surprise Thanksgiving dinner.

“Where did you get this pumpkin pie recipe?” he said, amazed. “It’s better than they make at home.”

Tory went pink. “I rang up Helen Campbell-Black,” she stammered.

Fen and Jake looked at her incredulously. She must adore Dino to seek advice from the enemy camp.

The only thing that cheered Fen up during those weeks was her own increasing success. She had two good wins at home shows. All the papers regarded her as a cert for L.A. Her fan mail grew bigger. She was expected to have instant opinions as magazines called daily, asking her for her views on men, clothes, slimming, food. Hardly a day passed without some journalist coming down to Warwickshire to interview her. You couldn’t walk past a magazine rack without seeing her face peering out. Fen was not conceited by nature but she couldn’t help brooding on the admiration of the outside world, compared with the distinct lack of reverence with which she was treated at home. Jake and Dino believed there was a job to be done and she was there to get on with it.

One afternoon in late November, Fen and Sarah had been hacking out, getting Desdemona and Macaulay fit for Olympia. As they rode into the yard they found Dino, who’d just had a strenuous session in the indoor school, cooling off Manny in the yard.

Next minute Tory came out of the kitchen door, her hands covered with flour.

“Oh, Dino, someone named Mary Jo rang. She’s staying at the Dorchester. Can you ring her?”

“Sure, I’ll do it now.” He handed the horse to Louise, his groom, and walked into the house.

“Lucky Mary Jo,” sighed Sarah.

“Who’s she?” asked Tory. “She asked after Jake’s leg and sounded awfully nice.”

“Mary Jo Wilson, I should think,” said Fen, sliding off Desdemona. “The American girl wonder. Lots of red hair tucked into a bun and perfectly tied stocks, with diamond tiepins, and a white carnation in her buttonhole. Too bloody poncy for words, if you ask me. I’m sure she rides sidesaddle in bed.”

“But jolly attractive in a Helen Campbell-Black sort of way,” said Sarah, not without malice. “Dino obviously likes redheads.”

“Well, she sounded sweet,” repeated Tory, without any malice at all.

Dino came back into the yard. “Sorry it’s short notice,” he said to Tory, “but I won’t be in for dinner tonight.”

“Shall I keep something hot for you?” said Tory.

“I’m sure Mary Jo’s doing that already,” snapped Fen, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

Dino shot her a sour look. “It’ll make a nice change,” he said evenly, and went off to supervise Manny’s feed.

“Why are you so foul to him, Fen?” said Tory reproachfully.

“Because he’s so bloody swollen-headed.”

“His head’s not the only thing that’ll be swollen when he sees Mary Jo,” said Sarah with a giggle.

“Don’t be disgusting,” snapped Fen.

She felt impossibly bad-tempered, particularly when Dino came back in time for breakfast the next morning, spent all day yawning, and was so untogether Hardy had him off three times.

A week later Dino boxed up his horses and took them off to a show in Vienna, where there was a World Cup qualifier. Fen was so certain he’d taken Mary Jo that she rang up the Dorchester, to be told that Miss Wilson had checked out the morning Dino had left and wasn’t expected back until December twelfth, the day Dino was due home. Fen spent the next few days imagining Dino waltzing around and around a Viennese ballroom to the Blue Danube with Mary Jo in his arms.

Dino returned as expected on the twelfth after a very successful show. Manny had obviously improved dramatically under Jake’s tuition. He had qualified for the World Cup, won a big class on the third night, and come second in the Grand Prix. Jake was delighted. That’s what he gets a kick out of, thought Fen. He really likes improving horses at home better than jumping them at shows.

Dino brought toys for the children, silk scarves for the grooms, a beautiful black sloppy sweater for Tory, which covered all her bulges, and a new bit which they were all raving about on the continent for Jake. But nothing apparently for Fen. That’s because I was so horrible before he left, she thought miserably, escaping to the yard. It was a very cold night. The water trough was already frozen and a thin sheet of ice lay over the cobblestones. In the tackroom she found a drooping Louise hanging up Dino’s tack, which she’d been cleaning on the drive home.

“You must be knackered, poor thing.”

Louise nodded. “Sure, but it was a great show. You always feel less bushed when you win.”

Fiddling with the striped handle of a body brush, Fen casually asked, “How did Mary Jo do?”

“Not bad,” said Louise, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for Mary Jo to have been with them. “She’s having problems with Melchior. He keeps kicking out fences; but Balthazar jumped real super and qualified for the World Cup. She’s worried she won’t make the team for L.A., particularly as Dino must be a dead cert now. But the competition’s so hot and she’s twenty-six already and by the next games she’ll probably be tied up with babies. Pity she can’t come down here for a week or two and work with Jake. Not that the American coaches aren’t great, but Jake does have the edge with difficult horses.”

“I can’t think why he doesn’t apply for the job as American chef d’equipe,” snapped Fen and, chucking down the body brush, she stalked out into the bitterly cold night, wandering around in jersey and jeans, oblivious of time and temperature. Tory’s voice brought her back to reality. In the kitchen she found Dino, changed into a gray cashmere jersey and gray cords, drinking a large whisky and soda and telling Tory about Vienna. Rosettes and photographs were spread out all over the pine table.

“It’s so beautiful. We went to one cemetery where all the great musicians are buried: Mozart, Brahms, Beethoven, Haydn. The most moving thing of all was Schubert’s grave. Look.” He handed the photo to Tory. “On the headstone they’ve carved a picture of him arriving in heaven and an angel putting a laurel wreath on his head—because no one recognized his genius on earth.”

“Unlike you,” said Fen acidly. “Everyone appreciates you, Dino.”

“Not everyone.” Dino’s face was expressionless, but he quickly gathered up the photographs.

“Lovey, you look frozen,” said Tory. “Have a hot bath. I’m just off with Isa to see Darklis’s play. Dinner’s in the oven. Goulash and baked potatoes. And there’s an apple pie in the larder if you want it.”

Jake was away in Ireland for two days to look at some horses. It had been regarded as a great step forward that he felt well enough to go. Fen, however, couldn’t face dinner alone with Dino and Louise.

“Thanks.” She walked through the kitchen. “I’m not hungry at the moment. Wish Darklis tons of luck.”

In her bedroom she slumped on her bed. Fighting tiredness and misery, she drew the blue and white gingham curtains. The tops were still off the shampoo and conditioner she’d used to wash her hair for Dino’s return; the wet towel was still on the bed, the hair dryer plugged in. Despite switching on the fire she couldn’t stop shivering and decided to have a bath. She’d just stripped off when there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” She grabbed the wet towel.

“Me.” Dino came into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Fen turned away towards the mirror. “I’m about to have a bath.”

“I’ve fixed you a drink.” He put a large vodka and tonic down on the dressing table. There was a pause as he picked up the Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle with a teazel face, a mob cap, and a pink dress which stood beside all the china horses on the bookshelf.

“That’s kind of neat.”

“Jake made it for me years ago.”

She sat on the dressing-table stool, thin bare shoulders rising out of the dark red towel, slanting eyes suspicious.

Dino noticed the plugged-in hair dryer.

“Going out?”

She shook her head. “My hair was dirty.”

The room was warming up now. Why couldn’t her teeth stop chattering?

“I’ve got a present for you,” said Dino, easing a black square box out of his hip pocket and opening it. Fen gasped as he took out a gold chain, with an F exquisitely set in pearls and emeralds on the end. He hung it around her neck, fumbling over the clasp, with hands that were not quite steady.

“Well,” he said.

Looking up at his reflection, she noticed his suntan was fading and the Siamese-cat eyes were squinting slightly as they always did when he was very tired.

“It’s lovely,” she whispered, fingering the F. “It’s the loveliest thing anyone’s ever, ever given me. I’ll never take it off. Thank you so much. I thought,” her voice shook, “you’d deliberately forgotten me because I’d been such a bitch.”

She stood up to turn round, but Dino gripped her bare arms, dropping a slow infinitely measured kiss on her left collarbone. Suddenly her stomach started to curl and a pulse to beat insistently between her legs.

“How could I forget you?” he said ruefully. “I never think of anyone else.” He was nuzzling at the side of her neck now, softly kissing the lobes of her ears. “And, quite frankly, if I don’t unzip my fly and climb inside you soon I’m going to end up in the funny farm.”

“Truly? You’re not just being kind?”

“Kind? Christ, I’ve backed off enough.”

He turned her around. She gazed up at him, troubled, trembling. “I’m not sure, Dino. I’ve been so hurt, I’ve only got a little bit of heart left.”

“I’ve got more than enough heart for both of us. I won’t hurt you, sweetheart. I’m going to make you better.”

Slowly he drew back her clenched arms which were holding the towel up and put her hands round his neck. Beneath her fingers she could feel the power of his shoulder muscles.

“Go on, kiss me,” he whispered.

As she tentatively put her lips up, he kissed her back so gently she thought she’d faint with joy; first her top lip, then the bottom, then sliding his tongue between her teeth. One hand was cupping her left breast now, moving slowly and lovingly, the harbinger of pleasure.

“Darling little Fen, tell me what turns you on.”

“You do,” she moaned. “Oh, please go on.”

But as he pulled her down on the bed and began to kiss her in earnest, sliding his hand over her body, she caught a glimpse of Billy’s photograph beside the bed. Then she thought about Janey and then about Mary Jo Wilson, who last night had been lying beside Dino submitting, no doubt ecstatically, to the same expert caresses. She couldn’t stand it. This time she wanted a man who was all hers, one whom she didn’t have to share.

Violently, she pulled away from him.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

“You are. You’re so bloody promiscuous, smarming all over me one minute, then rushing up to London at the drop of a telephone receiver to push off to Vienna with Mary Jo. Guess who’s coming for Dino? You bet your sweet life Mary Jo is.”