Jilly Cooper - Harriet

The hunt were having an equally frustrating time; hounds were not picking up any scent. Riders stood around on the edge of the wood, fidgeting. Then suddenly an old bitch hound gave tongue, and the chorus of hounds swelled, and the whole hillside was echoing. Pa pa pa pa went the melancholy, plaintive note of the horn, and the next moment the hunt came spilling across the road. There was a clash as stirrups hit each other, a snorting of horses, and they were jumping over the wall on the opposite side of the road. From the top of the hill Harriet watched them streaming across the field. There was Cory blown like a beech leaf in his red coat, standing up in his stirrups now to see what was on the other side of a large wall. The next moment Python had cleared it by inches. Hounds were splaying out by a small wood at the bottom of the valley, then suddenly they turned and came thundering back in Harriet’s direction.

‘There’s the fox,’ screamed Chattie, and gave the most ear-splitting view halloo.

Ten seconds later the hounds came flowing past her. Suddenly in the middle Harriet recognized a familiar figure, dirty grey, pink tongue hanging out, galloping joyously.

‘Oh look, there’s Sevenoaks,’ screamed the children.

‘Come here,’ bellowed Harriet.

For a second he looked in her direction and gave her a naughty, flickering, rolling look, then trundled on in the centre of the pack which swept in a liver, black and white wave over the hill.

All the pent-up emotion of the last twenty-four hours welled up in Harriet. She sat down on the bank and laughed until she cried.

Her elation was short-lived. The hunt was soon miles away. She must get back to William. She drove home feeling depressed — not merely because of the day’s catastrophic developments. She tried to analyse why, as she got the children a late lunch, and fed William. Perhaps I’m just tired, she thought.

‘I just landed on one of your hotels, and you didn’t even notice,’ said Jonah.

‘Oh God, how much do you owe me?’ said Harriet.

‘£1,000,’ said Jonah. ‘It was jolly honest of me to tell you.’

‘Jolly honest,’ answered Harriet, wishing he hadn’t.

‘Here’s £1,000,’ said Jonah. ‘Now we can go on for another half-hour.’

Harriet was dying for him to beat her. Worried about Sevenoaks, she was finding it impossible to concentrate. There was no way she could win now; she wanted to get the game over as quickly as possible.

Fortunately Sammy arrived at that moment, bringing Georgie and Timothy, the Pembertons’ elder child, who was a friend of Jonah’s, so all four children disappeared to the attic.

Sammy and Harriet went back into the nursery where William was rolling around on the rug.

‘How was Arabella’s party last night?’ said Sammy.

Harriet gave her an expurgated edition of what had happened.

‘It was hideously embarrassing, but Cory was so sweet about it afterwards.’

‘I think Charles Mander’s rather attractive,’ said Sammy. ‘He’s reputed to beat his wife. He’s known round here as Rotation of Riding Crops.’ She shrieked with laughter. ‘Fancy old Arabella shoving you off to do the washing up.’

‘She’d be quite attractive,’ mused Harriet, ‘if she didn’t push so hard.’

‘Must be getting desperate. I wonder how old she is. About thirty I should think. I hope I die before I’m thirty. It sounds so old.’

‘Forty must be worse,’ said Harriet. ‘Mrs Bottomley must be over fifty.’

They brooded silently over this horror.

‘Cory’s thirty-four,’ said Sammy. ‘It doesn’t seem too bad for a man; but, just think, when you were born he was fourteen, getting all clammy-handed and heavy breathing over girls at parties.’

Harriet thought she’d rather not.

‘Elizabeth and Michael didn’t have much fun last night either,’ said Sammy. ‘There weren’t any alkaseltzers in the house. We’d run out, but Michael came down in the night and had sixteen junior aspirins.’

‘What’s happening on Friday?’ said Harriet.

‘The Hunt Ball,’ said Sammy. ‘Everyone gets absolutely smashed and blows hunting horns, and rushes upstairs and fornicates in cordoned-off bedrooms.’

She picked up a cushion and peered round it at William, making him go off into fits of giggles.

Harriet was sorting out a pile of washing.

‘Who else is going to Elizabeth’s party?’ she asked casually.

Sammy looked at her slyly. ‘You mean who’s she asked for Cory?’

Harriet went pink.

‘I just wondered if any of the people I met last night are going to be there.’

‘She’s invited another of her glamorous, neurotic, divorced girlfriends called Melanie Brooks for Cory. I saw the letter Elizabeth wrote her: ‘“Darling Melanie, So pleased you can make it. Try and catch an earlier train, as it’s a bit of a rush on Friday night and you want to look your best because I’ve lined up a gorgeous man for you, a disconsolate husband whose wife’s just left him, but very fascinating.”’

Harriet winced.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Sammy. ‘She’s ancient. At least thirty, and her legs are awful.’

‘But those’ll be covered by a long dress at a ball,’ said Harriet gloomily.

The telephone rang. To Harriet’s surprise it was Billy Bentley.

‘Hullo,’ she said. ‘Have you finished already?’

‘My horse went lame; not badly; he’ll be all right after a few days’ rest.’

‘Did you have a good day?’

‘Slightly chaotic actually. The Hunt saboteurs fed in an enormous black and grey dog which completely disrupted the pack. They ran right across the motorway — no-one was hurt, thank God — and ended up in a council estate, cornering a ginger cat in an outside lavatory.’

‘Oh goodness! Is the cat all right?’

‘Got away, thank God,’ said Billy. ‘Or it’d be all over the papers.’

‘And the big grey and black dog?’

‘Well we whipped it out of the pack and Cory very kindly took care of it. He gave a man on the council estate a fiver to bring it back to your house. He’s going to hold it as hostage until the Antis claim it. It’s completely wild.’

Harriet thought she would explode trying not to laugh.

‘After that we had a terrific run. Look, are you doing anything on Friday?’

‘No, at least I don’t think so. My night off.’

‘Like to come out?’

‘All right.’ Damn it, if Cory was going to go gallivanting with gorgeous divorcées, she wasn’t going to get in his way.

‘It’s the Hunt Ball. You won’t mind that, will you?’ said Billy.

‘Oh,’ Harriet gave a yelp of alarm.

‘We’ll eat at home first. I’ll come and pick you up about eight.’

‘I haven’t got anything to wear.’

‘You’d look smashing in nothing,’ he brayed nervously. ‘See you Friday and bring William. Nanny’s looking forward to seeing him.’

Harriet replaced the receiver very slowly.

‘You lucky, lucky thing,’ said Sammy.

‘I’m sure Cory won’t like it. He’ll think I’m trying to cramp his style,’ said Harriet. ‘But Billy was so sweet about William.’

‘Oh they’re used to illegits in that family. Billy’s sister’s had two at least. Half of their ancestors have been born on the wrong side of the duvet. Now throw that photograph of Simon away,’ she went on, ‘and make a fresh start. Billy’s lovely and stinking rich, and faint heart never won fair chinless wonder.’

‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ said Harriet.

‘I’ve got just the thing,’ said Sammy. ‘A fantastically long slinky orange dress I bought last year, in the hope that I might lose weight and get into it. I didn’t, but it would look sensational on you.’