Well Groomed (85 page)

Tash was fixedly watching a German ride into the ring. ‘Actually I wrote three letters and sent him a Terry’s Chocolate Orange that cost me a week’s pocket money.’

‘He can’t have been much of a romantic if that didn’t get you a date.’ Stefan shrugged. ‘Still, he probably realised you’d run off and marry someone else in the end.’

‘No, I wouldn’t!’ She shifted in her seat.

‘Are you wearing that hat for a bet?’ Kirsty asked.

Tash couldn’t bear it any longer.

Transferring Penny’s vice-like grip to Stefan’s far bigger and more robust hand, she slipped out of the stands and went to the collecting ring in time to see the last four horses out, so that she could wait with Gus and Fashion Victim, offering them support. She looked around for Hugo, but he and Snob were steering clear until the last moment. Julia Ditton and her roving TV team were again hovering like market researchers in a busy high street, eager to snaffle victims. Tash pulled down her hat brim and darted past.

Vic was looking very undignified in his plaits, like a lurcher given a Yorkshire terrier cut in a pooch salon. Because he was a big, gangly and rather battered old horse, he always looked ridiculous when turned out properly. He rolled his eyes as Tash approached, searching for a solacing carrot.

‘You nervous?’ She smiled at Gus, glad that her eyes were at last opening enough to look up. It had taken most of the day.

‘Bricking it,’ he muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Hugo’s done a bunk and the officials are doing their nut – they think the competition leader won’t be here to bloody compete. That hat is diabolical by the way.’

‘I thought he was taking Snob around the park until the last minute?’ Tash asked worriedly. Again her stomach lurched. She felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs – except she needed the word ‘Hugo’ rather than a bell.

Standing by Vic’s head with a bucket of equipment, Ted laughed. ‘Look to your left, darling.’

Doing as she was told, Tash saw Snob – also plaited up and looking far more glamorous than poor old Vic – being walked around on a long rein, his rugs still slung over his rump for warmth. On board, chewing at a Mars bar and chatting to one of the dishier young male eventers, was India. Hugo was nowhere to be seen.

‘So where is he?’ she asked, but Ted and Gus were both intently watching Brian Sedgewick, who was halfway around the course and still clear, if painstakingly slow.

‘If he goes clear but gets more than two time faults, then I have a fence in hand.’ Gus turned Vic away and walked him around, unable to watch.

Brian had almost four time faults, but he had one of the first clear jumping rounds of the day and kept hold of his fourth place to cheers of delight from his supporters in the collecting ring. As he rode out, his wife practically pulled him off his horse as she leaped up to hug him.

Tash dragged the rug from Vic’s behind and handed it to Ted as Gus rode into the ring, his red coat three shades paler than Brian’s because it was so old and faded.

‘Good luck!’ she called anxiously.

‘Where’s Penny?’ Ted asked as they moved to the arena entrance to watch.

‘Staying in the stands because she can’t let go of Kirsty and Stefan’s hands,’ Tash said nervously as Gus dipped his head to salute the judges, his ancient black hat silk flapping in the wind where it was ripped at the peak. ‘They were talking about getting a doctor to surgically remove her.’

‘Must have done already,’ Ted pointed out. ‘Here they are.’

Arms hooked around one another despite an eighteen-inch height difference, Stefan and Kirsty joined the nervous huddle to watch from the entrance as the buzzer rang out in the ring.

‘She’s hiding behind the stand smoking a cigarette,’ Kirsty muttered, her arm reaching so high in the air to encompass Stefan’s shoulder that she looked like she was answering a question in class.

‘She doesn’t smoke.’ Ted chewed a thumb-nail as he continued watching Gus.

‘She’s on Rothmans.’ Stefan whistled in admiration. ‘The farm’s future’s riding on that ugly bastard out there.’

‘Vic isn’t ugly!’ Tash wailed. ‘He’s heroic-looking.’

‘I wasn’t talking about the horse.’

Vic lumbered through the start in his usual cart-horse way, hind hooves seeming to drag along the ground like a surly teenager scuffing his feet. He was a terrifically ungainly horse and several spectators started to laugh, but once he began jumping, they applauded instead. It seemed unfeasible that something as unaerodynamic and bored-looking as Vic could be such an accurate show-jumper, but it had always been one of his best phases and he didn’t let them down, galumphing easily around the ring and heaving himself over the fences with the minimum of effort, like a skipping boxer who barely seems to leave the ground yet clears the rope every time. There was an almighty groan from the crowd as he kicked out one of the planks, and Tash was certain he’d done it out of spite, just to show that he could. One of his half-closed eyes almost seemed to wink towards the Lime Tree Farm mob as he lolloped towards the final line.

‘Penny should come out now.’ She closed her eyes as he lumbered up to the final combination.

‘I’ll get her.’ Kirsty raced off, still staring over her shoulder to watch Vic clear the last three fences with ease, receiving a great roar of applause and slowing to a walk the moment he was through the timer beam. He had been at the game long enough to know what was needed and to offer absolutely no more.

As Gus rode out and the second-placed New Zealander rode in, the Lime Tree mob went mad. Julia’s camera team, lurking nearby, got a long, lingering shot of Gus jumping off Vic and hugging everyone in sight, including two strangers and Captain Mark Phillips, who took it in very good part. Then like an athlete spotting the tape, Penny raced forward shrieking like a banshee and jumped right into Gus’s arms, her legs straddling him as she covered his face with kisses.

Soon afterwards tens of hands were patting Gus on the back. He was such a popular figure in the sport that his success touched everyone who knew of Lime Tree Farm’s terrible recent financial struggles. He was congratulated so much, it was almost as though he had won the championships overall.

‘Well done! I’m so chuffed for you.’ Tash gave them both a massive hug, backing off as Julia Ditton hoved in with her mike.

Her eyes immediately started scouring the collecting ring for Hugo, but India was still walking the bit-snatching, spooking Snob around and looking increasingly anxious herself. With only one round before his, Hugo was leaving it ludicrously late – especially on a hot-head like Snob who needed to be settled. She wondered if he was somehow doing it to punish her for the way she had behaved the night before. Yet she knew how badly he wanted the Badminton title, how frustratingly it had eluded him all these years. He was within a hair’s breadth of snatching it at last and he had done a bunk. She chewed her knuckles in agitation.

Having said ‘great’ a lot to Julia Ditton, Gus joined Tash and turned back to gaze into the ring as the buzzer went for the New Zealander to start.

‘No sign of Hugo?’

Shaking her head, she watched India riding Snob towards them, her pretty face pale with worry. ‘I’ve asked around – no one’s seen him for ages.’

‘Did he say where he was going?’ asked Tash as India jumped off.

She shrugged. ‘Something about ringing a friend. God knows who. They’ve put out a call for him around the grounds, but it’s getting desperate. If he doesn’t turn up soon, he’ll forfeit the championships.’

Again, Tash gazed around the collecting ring where the horses that had already jumped were being led around to await the prize-giving ceremony, rugs slung over their saddles and coats slung over their riders’ shoulders. Hugo was nowhere to be seen.

The New Zealander was halfway around the course now, and had already kicked a pole from an upright for five penalties. If she had another fence down, she would drop behind Gus and Brian to fourth.

With the sportsmanship of true professionals, Gus and Brian were standing side-by-side, watching anxiously and sharing a cigarette. They were far too good friends and far too nervous about the final result to let sponsorship rivalry get in the way.

‘Someone had to win the deal.’ Brian shrugged rather bleakly, his battered face still watching the New Zealander. ‘It was a bastard thing of them to do – setting us up against one another like that.’

‘How’s Babe Magnet?’ Gus, tugging on his cigarette, asked after Brian’s young horse that had been injured the day before.

He laughed. ‘Vet reckons he’ll still be able to event – he only ever had one eye on the fences anyway.’

Gus grinned and gave him a huge pat on the back which was caught on camera as they flashed between the action in the ring and that just outside. The television crew was now aware that the overnight leader had gone AWOL, and great excitement was going on around Julia Ditton in the collecting ring as she prepared to go on air live the moment the New Zealander’s round was over.

To a hearty round of applause, she came out on five penalties with her second place still intact and was swallowed into the whooping bosom of her back-up team and fellow competitors.

Standing nearby, Julia gazed into the camera and started to talk in a breathy, excited voice.

‘Well, the latest news is that Hugo Beauchamp has still not reappeared and the officials are giving him ten more minutes to materialise or he forfeits his chance to compete for the trophy, and Kerry Maguire will automatically be elevated to first place. As you can imagine there is terrific excitement and speculation around here as the other competitors – and his own increasingly desperate team – wonder what could have happened to one of Britain’s top riders to make him go missing like this.’ As she spoke, she was edging closer to Tash who was edging rapidly away.

From behind the stands, Hugo’s head groom, Jenny, came racing up wearing an identical hat to Tash’s, her face bright red from the exertion of running to the yard, the lorry park and then back again.

‘No sign!’ she panted, sliding to a halt in front of Gus and Stefan. ‘No one’s seen him.’

India was leading around Snob who was looking increasingly put out as he realised he had somehow missed out on a vital piece of the action. As they walked past the camera crew, the scurfy camera-man panned a shot of him with his ears flat and head bobbing. The next moment he had turned to lunge at the sound recordist’s furry mike, taking a large chunk out of it.

‘Tempers are clearly starting to flare here.’ Julia talked to camera.

Dashing into the collecting ring behind her was Paul the Pringle-wearing producer who had just come from the commentary box and was looking highly put out. He marched straight up to Tash.

‘Is your fucking boyfriend turning up or not, because we’re supposed to be going to the rugby now.’

‘In that case I’d better press on,’ said a smooth voice. ‘I’ve set my video to record the match at Twickenham, so I’d be bloody furious if it started late.’

‘Hugo!’ Tash spun around to see him walking leisurely up to them, buttoning his red jacket as he came, cheeks high with colour from a recent sprint. ‘Where on earth have you been? They’re waiting for you.’

‘Just phoning an old groom for advice.’ He checked Snob’s girths and nodded to India to hold his head while he hopped on. ‘A leg up would be appreciated.’

Tash grabbed his waggling boot in shocked silence, watching as he swung into the saddle and found his other stirrup, his thigh now level with her eyes. It took all her strength not to reach out and touch it.

‘Wish me luck,’ he murmured as two course hands pulled back the rope at the entrance to the arena.

‘Good luck,’ she said bleakly.

‘I didn’t mean like that. Nice hat, by the way.’

For a moment their eyes met and he smiled such an open, genuine, carefree smile that Tash almost fell over backwards. Then, as he rode towards the arena, Snob’s head swung around and, teeth bared, he lunged at her hat, neatly removing it and carrying it in with him to the crowd’s shrieking delight.

He deserves to knock down every jump for this, Tash thought darkly, grinding her teeth. How dare he be so nonchalant and glib! Snob would be all over the place after such lousy preparation, his concentration in ruins.

As she suspected, Snob was shaking his head like crazy and dancing around in a maddened tango through nerves and impatience to be at the fences, hat flapping from his teeth so that he resembled a rabid big cat with a recent cull. In this state he would plough every one, Tash realised in despair. To the crowd’s even greater amusement, Hugo waited until he had stopped to salute the judges before leaning forward on his stirrups and gently tugging Tash’s mangled hat out of his mount’s mouth then hooking it on a wing upright.

‘Bloody exhibitionist!’ she groaned, waiting for Snob to explode out on to the course like a dust-devil in a hurry the moment the bell rang.

But instead of heading straight through the start, Hugo took his time, cantering the big chestnut around in wide circles to calm him, his hands so still he could be carrying an egg and spoon, his legs barely shifting as he waited for the edgy, darting stride to move down a gear and engage all four legs before getting underway. His mouth was moving all the time as he rode.

‘Bloody hell!’ Gus exclaimed in astonishment. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever known him talk to a horse. I think he’s been around the back of his lorry shooting up drugs.’

‘He hasn’t – I’d’ve seen him,’ Jenny panted earnestly.

‘He’ll be disqualified for leaving it too long to go through the start,’ Penny fretted, grabbing Tash’s hand first, then India’s. ‘The bell went ages ago.’

‘It’s okay.’ India winced as her hand was suddenly gripped in her aunt’s. ‘He’s on his way.’

Tash wasn’t sure if she breathed at all as Hugo and Snob went around the course, but she certainly left the ground every time they did, jumping on the spot at each fence as though skipping, her face frozen in total fear. She didn’t even notice the roving collecting ring camera focusing on her, its red light flashing on and off as the round progressed. Nor did she hear Penny squeal when she tightened her grip to a clamp on her hand as the combination approached the last line, Snob’s powerful hind legs collected underneath him like spring boards. Hugo had him superbly collected, but he was fighting all the way there, face clenched with effort. Unable to watch, Tash closed her eyes and braced herself for a communal groan from the crowd. Instead there was a slight rattle, then another, but no hollow bouncing of poles. Seconds later, a tumultuous amount of yelling and cheering all around was splitting her eardrums and she opened her eyes to see Penny smiling at her through streams of tears.