Mount! (70 page)

Brute, utterly routed, was insane with rage. Even more maddened with anger was Mr Wang because Dave had been withdrawn and I Will Repay had only come second, and he wasn’t going to be the first Chinese owner to win the World Cup.

Eddie was still giving interviews, euphoric because Rupert had just rung congratulating him and thanking him for a brilliant race. ‘Come back to Penscombe straight away. Great, you saluted Love Rat.’

‘I didn’t have any reins to take my hands off this time.’

But bolstering his happiness even more was the thought of meeting up soon with Lark, who was probably still down at the stables, loving and cherishing Quickly, as he longed from now on to love and cherish her.

‘Congratulations.’ For a second Eddie thought the tall auburn-haired man shaking his hand was Jan, then realized it was Rufus Rutshire, the gay elder brother of frightful Roddy Northfield, and as lean and good-looking as Roddy was magenta-faced and portly.

Having no children, Rufus made no secret of how irritated he was that his title would pass to Roddy and Damsire’s fat, pompous and charmless son Alfred who, unlike his royal namesake, spent more time eating cakes than burning them.

Rufus now confided to Eddie, as he hemmed him into a corner, how glad he was that Red Trousers had come last in an earlier race, and could they have a word? Aware that people behind Rufus were still clambering to speak to him, Eddie glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve gotta go soon.’

‘Just wondering if you’re free tomorrow fortnight,’ said Rufus. ‘It’s the day after the National, so people will be in the mood for heroics. We’re planning to create a James Northfield Memorial Race at Rutminster on the anniversary of his death. Your grandfather Rupert is the direct descendant of Rupert Black, who originally beat our James in the race. But you know all this, you spoke about it so well on
The Morning Line
.’

‘I’ve truly gotta go.’ Eddie drained his glass.

‘We thought it would be a terrific idea,’ persisted Rufus, ‘if one of Rupert Black’s descendants rode in a match race against one of our descendants. We could re-enact the race across the water meadows and through the wood.’

Then, at Eddie’s raised eyebrows, ‘No one’s going to get killed this time. I’m going to clear the track through the wood so it’s completely safe. Be great if you as a terrific rider could represent the Campbell-Blacks.’

‘I’d be glad to,’ said Eddie. ‘But what about Tabitha – she’s brilliant – or Xavier? He used to ride point-to-points.’

‘We need a big name like yours,’ said Rufus, then with typical
fundraising pushiness, ‘And it would be wonderful if Mrs Wilkinson and Quickly could parade as well. They really pulled in the crowd last time.’

‘Who’s riding for the Northfields – Alfred?’

‘Christ, no. Actually a rather marvellous distant relation’s come out of the woodwork. Do think about it – could be very special. We could discuss it over dinner next week.’ In Rufus’s fox-brown eyes, the admiration was not entirely for Eddie’s skills as a jockey.

‘You’ll have to ask Rupert. Not sure he’d like the idea or would regard me as a legit Campbell-Black.’

‘I’ll send him an email. Could raise a lot of money for the Injured Jockeys Fund.’

‘Hardly appropriate, with James Northfield copping it. I’ve really got to go.’

Back at the quarantine barn, Lark was settling Quickly for the night, rinsing the last dirt out of his eyes, telling him what a champion he was and that tomorrow they’d return to Penscombe for a hero’s welcome. Although Gav had employed a second security guard to watch Penscombe horses through the night, Lark wondered if she ought to sleep in Quickly’s box. But she was so desperate to shower, and put on a rather daring zebra-print dress to go out on the town with the others. Eddie had been so lovely today … perhaps, perhaps.

She was just handing Quickly a carrot from a box which said
Made in China
, when he started and jerked up his head, hitting her in the eye.

‘Lark,’ said a voice.

Swinging round, Lark gave a scream and leapt in front of Quickly. ‘Go away! Don’t you dare come near him. Did you unstitch his bridle?’

‘You have everything wrong,’ protested Bao. ‘It wasn’t me doing the bad things. I never let out Love Rat and I love Safety.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Lark wanted to yell for help, but the place was deserted. ‘What were you doing over at Valhalla, and where’s Safety Car?’

For a terrifying moment, she thought Bao was going to strangle her. But he merely put a tape recorder to her ear.

‘I am good at hacking, listen to message.’

The accents of the voices were unmistakable. Lark gave a shiver of horror.

‘Oh my God!’

‘I have Green Galloper at airport. I know where Safety Car is heading. If we hurry we might save him.’

‘We must let Gav or Eddie know.’

But neither were answering their mobiles.

‘There is not time, you know how to look after horse in bad way. I need your help.’

Upstairs was deserted. Team Campbell-Black had left the grooms’ quarters for a celebratory dinner with Valent. Hurling her sponge bag into her overnight case, Lark wondered if she was crazy to trust Bao. Was she being ambushed? She scribbled a note for Marketa.

So sorry to bunk off. Look after Quickly for me. Apologize to Gav and Eddie. Bao and I are going to try and find Safety Car.

Bao was waiting outside in a Mercedes. As Lark joined him in the front, she opened the glove compartment, looking for a tissue to mop up her tears then shrieked as she discovered a gun.

‘Is OK, we’re going to need it,’ said Bao, adding wryly, ‘I am not stepson of mafia thug for nothing.’

Leaving Eddie, besieged by press and admirers, and Etta and Valent rhapsodizing with Rosaria and Mr Fat and Happy on the joy of homebred wins of such magnitude, Gavin and Gala sloped off.

‘Shall we go to my room or yours?’ asked Gala. ‘Mine’s nearer.’

In the end they went to Gav’s because it had less history, and kissed all the way in the taxi.

‘How can one be on earth and in heaven at the same time?’ sighed Gala who was at least three drinks up.

Gav’s room, with Thomas Wolfe’s
Look Homeward, Angel
on the bedside table, was much smaller. It would have been nice to have got things going in Rupert’s Jacuzzi, reflected Gala. On the walls were paintings of priapic, plunging Arab stallions. Out of the window reared up Dubai’s tallest buildings.

‘Too much competition,’ said Gav, drawing the curtains. As he poured Gala some white, the bottle rattled against her glass. In a cardboard box on the floor were half a dozen little black camels with gold humps and hooves.

‘I bought them for Dora, Gee Gee and Clover, et cetera. Did you know you can teach camels dressage?’

‘I’m more interested in undressage,’ said Gala, turning down the gold-flecked counterpane. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

Gav was silent for a minute, then he helplessly stammered, ‘Look, I’ve got problems. “Floppy Dick” – you heard Cosmo. I tried to sort it, made an appointment with James Benson, but I bottled out. I simply can’t get it up.’

‘Hush.’ Gala pulled him down on the sofa beside her. Putting her fingers to his lips, she said, ‘We don’t have to do anything, just lie in each other’s arms. You are so beautiful,’ she went on then, taking in his pale, tense face, his chattering teeth, his shaking shoulders. ‘I’ve always wanted you. When I first came to Penscombe and said how attractive you were, only to be told you didn’t put out, I was the one who was put out.’

Then, when he didn’t even smile, ‘There’s no hurry, darling, we’ve got the rest of our lives to get it together.’

Gav looked up incredulously. ‘What did you say?’

‘The rest of our lives.’

‘You mean that?’

Nodding, Gala took his sweating, trembling hands. ‘Every word,’ she said softly. ‘To Gav and to hold, till death us do part. Gropius needs a father.’ She had to joke, to stop herself crying. ‘If you knew how gutted I was when I realized the Valentine I thought was from you was really from Eddie.’

‘What about Rupert? He must have got three thousand Valentines.’ How could he possibly measure up?

‘I’m not a man-eating tiger whisperer,’ said Gala. ‘Taggie’s the only person who can handle Rupert. I was always crucified with guilt because I love her so much.’ There was a pause as she took a slug of wine. ‘But I hope he’ll give me a good reference.’ Then when Gav half laughed: ‘And what about Bethany?’

‘She certainly won’t give me a good reference.’

‘I’ll never be a millionth as beautiful as her.’

‘You are.’ Gav stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘“Your angel’s face,”’ he said, without the trace of a stammer, ‘“as the great eye of heaven, shines bright, and makes a sunshine in the shady place.”’

‘That’s beautiful – who said that?’

‘I just did,’ he kissed her nose, ‘and Edmund Spenser, more than four hundred years ago.’ And he buried his lips in hers until they were both breathless.

‘It’s very hot in here. I’m going to undress,’ said Gala, and was stripped off and into bed first.

As he joined her, she ran her hands over the Doberman-sleek hard shoulders and chest, the flat stomach and the thighs iron-hard from riding. ‘You are divinely built,’ she said and felt herself squirming with desire.

‘Pity we’re not going to do anything tonight except hold each other,’ she added, but as his hands roved over her breasts, and hardening nipples, she cried: ‘Oh that’s heaven, perhaps we might.’ Her hand slid down, but his limp penis didn’t respond.

‘Oh God, it’s no good.’ He rolled over, burying his despairing face in the pillow.

‘You have the most gorgeous arse,’ said Gala, wanting to keep things light. ‘You sure it wasn’t you had the bum implant, not Sauvignon?’

Lingeringly, she kissed first one buttock and then the other, gently running her finger up and down the cleft between them until Gav groaned with pleasure.

‘Turn over,’ she whispered, and when he did, she started kissing her way up his thighs, giving little puppy licks. Then, moving on to his penis, constantly murmuring words of love, she massaged the base, running her tongue round the tip, then taking the whole thing in her mouth, while reaching up to scratch his rigid belly with her fingernails.

‘No, no,’ he muttered.

‘Stop it, I’m entitled to enjoy myself,’ and she did, as miraculously, gradually, gradually his cock soared, growing and growing, until it was stabbing the back of her throat. Still she carried on licking and sucking.

‘Go on, please go on, omigod,’ gasped Gav, as he stiffened, tensed – and next moment had exploded into her mouth and joyfully, Gala swallowed every drop.

‘That’s the nicest drink I have ever had,’ she mumbled. ‘Much better than Pinot Grigio.’

‘Penis Grigio.’ They both shook with laughter, yet when Gala wriggled up the bed until she was level with him, she found his face wet with tears, and held him sobbing in her arms.

‘Thank you, thank you, God, I love you.’

‘That was a blown-away job,’ giggled Gala. ‘All this and Quickly winning by a short head.’

‘You gave me very long head. We must stop making terrible jokes.’

After they’d lain giggling and entangled for a few minutes, Gav said, ‘Your turn now.’ He might not be able to go again, but he was desperate to give her pleasure.

He reached down to stroke her, and was so turned on to feel his fingers gripped by such wetness and warmth, he’d soon pulled her up on top of him.

‘Oh, wow, oh wow!’ gasped Gala, arching upwards in ecstasy, as his cock soared up inside her. ‘You are amazing, Mr Latton. Dubai’s tallest buildings have got nothing on you … aaaaaagh … they’ll be landing helicopters and hanging flags from you soon.’

‘Don’t distract me, concentrate.’ But she had made him relax. Next minute, he’d pulled out, rolled her over on her back and was on top of her and inside, driving and driving until he erupted into her a second time, yelling how much he loved her.

When they’d got their breath back, and the shuddering had ceased, he murmured, ‘You’ve cured me of Bethany. I thought the disease was terminal,’ and again his eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh God, I love you so much,’ then, ‘What about Ben?’

‘Ben was the past – the “blue remembered hills” – you’re my future. I feel safe with you – I trust you.’ Then after a long kiss, ‘Sorry to lower the tone, but I must go and have a pee.’

Rifling through her bag in the bathroom, she found the dark-red lipstick called Passion.

‘Come back, I miss you,’ shouted Gav.

Returning to the bedroom, she was overjoyed how happy he looked.

‘I need a pee too,’ he said, getting up. In the bathroom he found scrawled across the mirror in dark-red lipstick:
Him Potent: To Gav and to Hold. I will always love you
.

As he returned, his happiness was interrupted by a thundering on the door, which he told to bugger off.

‘Let me in, let me in, it’s real urgent,’ said a voice, as the thundering increased.

Grabbing a towel, Gav opened the door an inch to discover a distraught Eddie.

‘You gotta come. Marketa found a note from Lark.’

‘So?’

‘Telling Marketa to take care of Quickly, because she’s gone off with that crook Bao to find Safety.’

Safety Car had always adored jaunts and, seeing all the World Cup preparations in the yard, he had sussed a trip abroad was in the offing. So when, at dead of night, he was taken from his field and led up the ramp of a lorry, he went trustingly. Unloaded after a few hours, he could smell the sea. Tethered in a filthy stable, which reeked of petrol, he began to worry. Used to living outside, the confinement drove him crazy. Soon, Rupert, Marketa and Gavin would come and fetch him. When they didn’t, his whinnying became increasingly loud and desperate, until the men who’d taken him, whose strange accents he didn’t understand, clouted him with spades. Then when he tried to win them over, offering a hoof for a Polo, they hit him harder – and when he lay down and died for his country, they kicked him in the belly until he scrambled up.

For a couple of days they had tried to fatten him with an excess of food, but when he refused to eat, they loaded him up at night, took him across the Channel, then into a trailer jolting miles across country.