Well Groomed (74 page)

Her exit was ruined by both Gus and Hugo pursuing her into the yard.

Gus had not registered the acidity of her little speech.

‘Great, Tash – very brave decision. I’m proud of you!’ he puffed after her as she strode quickly towards the menage where Franny was giving Hunk a quick work-out. ‘If you’re about to have a session, we could get Hugo up with you and you can give him some tips.’

Ahead of them by a few paces, Tash closed her eyes and let out a low groan of horror.

‘Snob’s been out twice already today,’ she said. ‘He’ll be really ratty if he’s hauled out to do flat-work at this stage, you know what he’s like. I’d leave it until the morning.’

Gus was about to protest, but Hugo stopped him.

‘She’s right. I’m whacked too. I’m going to dash home for a shower and then I’m coming back to take Tash out to dinner at the Olive Branch to say thanks – you and Pen too, Gus,’ he added quickly when Tash turned to gape at him in horror. ‘And Franny,’ he muttered rashly as his irascible, black-eyed former groom rode up on Hunk whom she’d been working in ready to let Tash take over.

‘No, thanks – it’d choke me,’ she hissed, sliding off the big bay and into her jazzy snakeskin cowboy boots.

‘Still not my biggest fan then?’ Hugo watched her impassively as she handed Hunk’s reins over to Tash.

Not deigning to reply, Franny stomped off, rubber top squeaking.

‘I wasn’t aware that you had any fans, Hugo,’ Tash muttered, leading Hunk away towards the mounting block.

‘Oh, I have Stefan,’ he said, starting back towards the house as she mounted Hunk.

Gus sighed, glancing thoughtfully over his shoulder at her. ‘I’m rather surprised by her decision, to be honest, though not displeased – she deserves a medal with that horse, the amount of extra hours and patience she’s put into him. He must drive her mad sometimes, and he’s nearly killed her more than once. If he were mine, I’d have shot him by now.’ He slapped his hand to his mouth. ‘Shit! Bloody glib of me. I’m so—’

‘Forget it.’ Hugo shook his head. ‘One loses horses, it’s a fact. It’s hell, but it happens. The thing to do is appreciate them while they’re around, which isn’t something I’ve always been good at.’ At the farm door he turned back and watched Tash trotting out of the yard.

‘Tash adores that chestnut bugger.’ Gus greeted Wally who was waiting for them by the door, tail gyrating as he crawled along on his belly, grinning happily. Moments later Beetroot, at last season-free, had shot out too and was hurling herself delightedly at Hugo.

‘I know she does,’ he said, stooping to say hello and laughing as her eagerly lapping tongue smothered his chin with kisses. ‘And I plan to repay her for this.’

‘With dinner?’ Gus looked sceptical. ‘I’m not entirely sure she’ll want to come.’

‘No, not with dinner.’ Hugo shook his head.

‘What then? Don’t tell me you’re going to bung me another grand? I told you months ago that she was good enough to earn her own keep.’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ Hugo chewed his lip, straightening up from his nose-to-snout chat with Beetroot.

‘What’s your game?’ sighed Gus irritably. ‘I mean, we’ve played along with it here because we bloody well need the cash, but it’s not like you’re doing it to give her a start in the sport anymore. She’s arrived. She’s off to Badminton next week.’

‘You said it. You need the cash,’ Hugo said simply.

But Gus laughed and shook his head. ‘Why don’t I believe that? Why have I never quite been able to bring myself to believe that?’

‘Because you’re the most mistrustful, pessimistic sod I know.’ Hugo grinned and headed towards the kitchen where Penny was ferreting around amongst a pile of entry forms.

‘Bloody Zoe has completely gone to pot lately,’ she was grumbling. ‘I’ve just had Miranda Bingham on the phone asking why we’re not doing Hyam Park this year, and when I told her we had five horses entered she told me it was the first she’d heard of it. Zoe can’t have posted the sodding form and the entries are closed now.’

‘Shit!’ Gus looked livid.

‘Tell me if I’m off beam here.’ Hugo settled back at the table, letting Beetroot scramble heavily and precariously on to his lap. ‘But are Zoe and Niall having a walk out?’ He sounded so completely casual that he could have been asking whether the Royal family had been having marital problems.

For a moment Penny and Gus masked up with blank expressions and awkward side-glances at one another, and then Penny let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.

‘Ludicrous, isn’t it? I mean, I know he has a reputation, but two weeks before his wedding is ridiculous, and she is going to be so hurt. He still seems hell-bent on getting married.’

‘Does Tash know?’ Hugo eyed them.

‘Shouldn’t think so.’ Gus raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘She’s been so busy trying to sort out Snob, and Niall has the perfect excuse with this film thing. It’s been like a French farce here – Tash heads out of one door and bloody Niall slopes in the other, all smiles, as blatant as you like. He’s too likeable to be a real bastard, but I could have wrung his neck this week.’

‘Be fair,’ Penny pointed out. ‘We think they only really got it together on Friday night, after Tash had . . .’ She shut up and covered her mouth, remembering why Tash had left.

‘Go on,’ Hugo muttered.

‘Well,’ Penny was clearly being cautious, ‘they seemed to change that night – become far more open about it. I can’t be sure what happened, but the weird thing was that no one commented. I mean, they seem so comfortable together – so right, somehow. Even the kids adore him. India seems actively to encourage them to get together.’

‘Poor bloody Tash,’ sighed Gus. ‘It’s diabolical for her. When she finds out – and let’s face it, she must – she’ll fall apart. She thinks she’s going to be Mrs O’Shaughnessy in a fortnight.’

Hugo’s jaw tightened.

‘Well, that’s bloody farcical for a start!’ Penny sniffed. ‘I mean, does he need a British passport or something? Is that it?’

‘Nope.’ Hugo rubbed his chin nervously. ‘But I’m pinning all my hopes on the fact that Tash needs an exit visa.’

‘You’ve lost me.’ Gus shook his head. ‘Am I still a bloody usher or what?’

‘Christ knows. I’m supposed to be one too. I’m just hoping I get to kiss the bride first.’

That night in the Olive Branch, Tash was uncertain how to take Hugo. She’d only come at all because Penny had pleaded with her, sounding unusually desperate. But the last person she wanted to share a table with that night was Hugo. She felt more like breaking arms than bread.

He rolled up wearing clean chinos and a baggy green Italian jacket that had Marco Angelo in raptures. He certainly looked glorious and smelled so good that Tash had to lean away. His ruffled, tortoiseshell hair gleamed like a polished desk top and his eyes were back to their clear, bright sparkle without a trace of bloodshot derision. Tash couldn’t think what had got into him. He even took her coat and hung it up for her before steering her towards a bar-stool, like Fabio on a hot date.

‘I thought Penny and Gus would be here?’ she muttered as they waited at the bar, reading menus while Marco Angelo freed a table for them in the restaurant.

‘They’re coming on later – they phoned to say they’d be late. You look lovely.’ This was added so quickly and quietly that Tash took a while for it to register.

She had dressed in such a tearing hurry that her clothes were still sticking to her from a rushed shower. Having worked on Hunk and settled him into a much more fluid dressage routine, she’d only had time to plunge into a polkadot red sundress that was ancient but sexy, according to Niall. She’d been halfway to the pub before she realised that the top three buttons had popped off when she was much fatter and, on close inspection, it was practically see-through, so that her black undies were perfectly visible if she stood in front of so much as a candle.

‘I thought we were eating in the bar,’ Tash glanced across to the formal restaurant where the women were far more opulently dressed.

‘We can if you prefer it.’ He gazed around for a free table.

‘I don’t care.’ She jutted out her chin and took a slug of her gin and tonic. The chin trick had been a bad idea, she realised, as drips of frothing tonic splashed on to her chest and rolled between her breasts. She was so on edge. She longed to be cool and hostile, but it was impossible. The old magic worked every time; she only had to be in the same room as him to feel like an Alka-Seltzer dropped into a can of Fanta.

Hugo smiled, tilting his head towards her so that she had to look into those icy blue eyes. She was rather taken aback to find them melting with warmth. It was such an odd expression on his usually hostile face that she stared and stared.

‘I apologise for yesterday,’ he said quietly. ‘I was unforgivably rude. I know you were doing it for the best of reasons.’

‘Well, it certainly didn’t take you long to change your mind,’ she said grumpily. ‘And I’m fed up with your apologies. They’re as shallow as your forehead.’

For a moment he looked as though he was going to bite her head off, but held himself in check and simply said, ‘I’m sorry. I was in a hell of a state.’

‘I didn’t mean to make it worse for you. I just wanted—’ She ground to a halt, finding it impossible to explain.

‘Wanted what?’ he persisted.

‘Nothing.’ Tash shook her head, looking away. ‘Forget it. You’re right, my timing has always been lousy.’

‘You can say that again.’ He shrugged. ‘This wedding for one.’

‘What do you mean?’ She looked up at him sharply, but his face was impassive.

‘A week after Badminton – the middle of the season, Tash.’ He smiled. ‘What were you thinking of?’

She squirmed uncomfortably. ‘It was my mother’s suggestion,’ she muttered hastily, desperate to shuffle away from the subject. Her stomach was heaving at the thought. She hadn’t seen Niall for more than five minutes in two days, but he was still insisting that they breathe a word to no one until the following Sunday at the wrap party, still believing that some last-minute miracle solution might present itself over the next week. Tash wondered vaguely if the Lottery had been drawn yet, and then realised that her tickets had been in the pocket of a pair of jeans she’d boil-washed that morning.

‘I hope the wedding justifies it,’ Hugo said lazily, eyes never leaving her face.

‘Oh, I’m sure it will,’ she said hollowly, her head spinning. He was sounding almost as eager as her mother now. She felt slightly sick as a result. ‘So do you want me to fill you in on how to get the best out of Snob?’ She tried to change the subject.

‘No – we’ll talk about that tomorrow,’ he said gently, looking up as the door to the pub opened. ‘Tell me,’ he dropped his voice, ‘does it bother you that Niall is absolutely mad for Zoe?’

‘What?’ She almost fell off her chair.

‘Because,’ he studied his glass carefully before taking a sip, ‘I’m bothered. I’m bloody bothered because I’m so mad for you I can’t sleep at night. And I resent your fucking up my eight hours’ kip – they’d be far more pleasant if you were with me.’

She gaped at him, jaw swinging. But the next moment Penny and Gus were settling in beside them with kisses and apologies for being so late. Hugo had timed it perfectly. There was no way Tash could tackle him about what he’d just said in front of them.

For the rest of the evening he behaved like a perfect gentleman, checking that her glass was full and her plate heaving with all manner of goodies. He talked calmly and cheerfully to them all, not favouring her and certainly not hinting at the slightest trace of flirtation. If his hand accidentally touched hers, he removed it; if his eyes met hers, he smiled and then looked calmly away. At one point a warm ankle touched hers with just the lightest pressure.

Tash felt a pulse suddenly leap to her throat as she fought to keep up the rather dull conversation she was having with Gus about Hunk’s tendon whilst daring herself to return the pressure. The pulse was going so wildly inside her that she found herself waving her leg rather feverishly around under the table in her excitement.

‘Are you all right, Tash?’ Gus gave her an odd look. ‘Only you appear to be kicking me.’

‘Fine!’ she gulped, pulling her leg hastily back towards her chair and blushing furiously.

I must have heard him right, she told herself. I’m sure he said it. I’m sure he said he was crazy for me. Oh, God, I want to talk to him alone, NOW. I want him to say it again.

She tried frantically to catch Hugo’s eye, but he was gossiping to Penny about who was going to Lisette’s party, and resolutely refused to glance in her direction.

Penny was the first to look up. ‘You must be excited, Tash. First a star-studded shindig here, then only a week until you say “I do” – or are you planning to say something different?’

‘What?’ Tash squeaked, staring from her to Hugo like an umpire at a tennis match.

‘Have you and Niall made up trendy new vows like “I promise to interact with my equal spouse for richer or more fiscally challenged”?’

‘Oh, no – I mean, I don’t know. Not sure.’ She scrunched up her forehead in confusion. Whipping up her knife and fork with what she hoped was ravenous speed, she started on her untouched lamb. It was as tepid as ditch water in a drought.

‘Glad you’ve noticed that at last,’ Hugo laughed, lighting a cigarette.

Looking up, she realised that they had all finished theirs ages ago.

For the next ten minutes, she prayed that Gus and Penny would decide that they needed to go to the lavatory at the same time so that she could corner Hugo alone. She determinedly kept topping up their glasses with water and wine, much to the head waiter’s disgust at being done out of his job. She even went herself as she hoped this would encourage them, but they made no sign of paying a visit. They must have bladders like camels’ humps, she thought sourly. Finally she resorted to suggesting politely that they might be in need of a natural break, and why not do it before the desserts arrived?