Jilly Cooper - Riders

“And it wasn’t just us, either,” said Fen, holding out her glass for more champagne as the cheers subsided. “It was Malise who kept us all calm when we looked like going to pieces, and Dizzy and Sarah, our grooms, and poor Griselda who’s in hospital, and our families, who’ve had to put up with us being offish and totally self-obsessed for the last month…Also,” she added defiantly, “there’s my brother-in-law, Jake Lovell.”

Somebody booed, then everybody followed suit, stamping their feet, shouting, “Out, out, out.”

“No, shut up,” said Fen furiously. “He taught me everything I know, and he made Hardy the horse he is; Hardy who got a silver and a gold, so we ought to thank him and give him credit as well.”

“Particularly,” drawled Rupert, “for taking my wife off my hands.”

For a second there was an embarrassed pause, then everyone roared with laughter.

Rupert seized the champagne bottle, filling up his glass.

“In fact, the toast definitely isn’t absent friends. We like the people who stuck by us, don’t we, angel?” He stroked the back of Fen’s neck. There wasn’t a reporter in the room who didn’t respond to his magnetism.

“We noticed you had Fen in a clinch on the podium,” said the man from the Daily Mail.

“Who can blame me?” said Rupert insolently.

Fen looked wary. “Our horses are good friends,” she said.

“What about you two?” said the man from the Daily Mirror.

“This is quite unnecessary,” snapped Malise. “They came here to discuss the gold medal.”

The man from the Mirror ignored him. “Might be nice if you consoled Rupert,” he said.

“No, it would not,” said Fen furiously. “I’m going to marry Dino Ferranti.” Then she clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.

Dino knew that, where Rupert was concerned, Fen was unfinished business. He trusted Fen, but for the last three hours he had been through all the agonizing jealousy of a man deeply in love.

“Yippee,” he shouted, “Yippee.” Then, exactly on cue, he heard the bells pealing out in the village. He opened the window. It was a clear starlit night. Orion was climbing out of bed on the horizon, pulling on his boots. Not a breath of wind ruffled the curtains. The peal of the bells must be carrying miles down the valley. His darling, darling Fen had won the gold. The village hadn’t known what to do; they had been shellshocked by Jake walking out. Now they had another heroic exploit to celebrate. They could carry on with their Welcome Home celebrations. Not many villages in England could boast a silver and a gold.

Tory, woken by Dino’s shout of joy, pulled the blankets and pillows over her head to blot out the sound of the bells, remembering in anguish how they had rung out for Jake only six nights ago. Oh God, please, please bring him back. As the telephone rang, she experienced a frantic surge of hope, then the black, black despair overwhelmed her again as she heard Dino say, “Fen darling, you were fantastic, a bloody miracle. I never figured I’d want another country to beat America, but you were just great, great, great.”

“Dino,” said Fen in a small voice. “I’ve got something to tell you. I didn’t mean to force your hand. But they goaded me about Rupert at the press conference and I told them I was going to marry you.”

“I know,” said Dino. “Best program I’ve ever seen.”

“You saw it?” said Fen in amazement.

“I taped it, so you can’t change your mind. Means we won’t have to put an announcement in the New York Times, either.”

Fen giggled. “Oh, you are lovely. I didn’t want to trap you.”

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you? Look, are you coming home tomorrow? I’ve got the most god-awful withdrawal symptoms.”

“Oh, yes,” said Fen. “I can’t bear another minute away from you.”

“And when you get back, I’m going to frog-march you into the nearest Registrar’s office and marry you. What the bloody hell’s Billy doing out there?”

“Were you jealous?”

“Insanely — that’s why I want you home. I don’t trust either of those bastards.”

For a few minutes they talked nonsense.

“Have you said anything to Tory about us?”

“No, not really. I guess she knows. She’s not in very good shape.”

Tory, who had been listening at the top of the stairs, desperate for some crumb of comfort, some tiny piece of news about Jake, slunk back to bed. Only when Dino had checked that she was asleep did she give way to tears.

Autumn came, bringing huge red suns and frosty mornings and clogging the millstream with yellow leaves. Tory carried on as though there was a key in her back. There were no money problems. Fen came back from L.A. to a heroine’s welcome. She and Dino carried on taking the horses to shows and trying to keep their delirious happiness within bounds, at least when they were with Tory. The children, particularly Isa, were at first bewildered, even distraught, by Jake’s disappearance, but soon got involved in a new term, where they were both the object of increased sympathy and interest. Dino, whom they both adored, was back, and Fen and he infected the children with their happiness and took them out a lot, to give Tory a break. To Tory they seemed like four children, or very young parents with two kids. She was glad Dino and Fen had finally got it together, but it didn’t ease her own despair.

Tory normally loved autumn best of all, chopping logs for huge fires, making chutney, jam, and elderberry wine, loading up the deep freeze with vegetables and apple pies. But this year there seemed to be a glut of everything. Too many green tomatoes, too many apples thudding from the trees. She tried to pick them and gave up. She was always cold, always shivering. She covered herself up with three or four jerseys, so that no one should realize how much weight she had lost, or that she wasn’t eating. Alone in the house, she spent her time crying, then crept into bed at night to clutch an equally shivering Wolf, who missed Jake as much as she did. Malise came down to offer comfort, but was daunted by her grief. His own sadness that Helen had run off, he kept to himself.

To buck Tory up, Dino and Fen tried to persuade her to go to Wembley. But she couldn’t face the prying eyes or the memories. Billy Lloyd-Foxe had a brilliant week and won the Victor Ludorum. Every night Ivor Braine, Fen, and Rupert, with his arm in a sling, appeared at the end of the Personality Parade, and brought the house down as they displayed their gold medals. Otherwise, Rupert was off the circuit for two months. The doctor in L.A. had, in fact, trapped a nerve when he put Rupert’s shoulder back. An operation was needed to sort it out. That Rupert had been brave enough to carry on jumping, despite such excruciating pain, only enhanced his almost magical prestige. The press reported his increased interest in politics. He was tipped to take over a safe seat in Gloucestershire.

The press were also wildly interested in Jake, keeping a watch on all the airports, and continually ringing the Mill House in case there was news of him. But there was none. He simply hadn’t got in touch. Heaven only knew what he and Helen were living on.

Then, in the middle of October, the press caught Jake and Helen arriving at Heathrow, both wearing dark glasses. Neither would say a word to anyone, and somehow, as elusive as his gypsy forebears, Jake managed to shake off a pack of reporters and vanish. But not for long. The press’s blood was up and within a few days they had hunted them down, staying near Gloucester with a horse-dealing friend of Jake’s. Again, he and Helen refused to talk, despite the astronomical sums of money which were offered for their story. And two days later, blazoned across every paper, were pictures of Jake, again in dark glasses, applying for the dole at Gloucester Labor Exchange.