Kiss and Tell (31 page)

‘You’re late,’ he snapped as Duck was led out across his cobbled yard for his close up.

‘The car overheated,’ Rory explained, awe-struck by his surroundings. ‘I’ll get straight on. I need to get back to teach this afternoon. You’ll never guess who I’ve—’

‘You can’t ride Heart until after they’ve finished filming,’ Hugo interrupted, walking away to talk to the television reporter again.

In the end Tash was coaxed out of the house to enable Rory to at least try out The Fox while he was waiting.

‘Your husband doesn’t trust that I can ride,’ he told her, only mildly offended.

‘He promised Dillon we’d oversee the handover,’ she explained with an apologetic smile before rubbing her face with paint-flecked hands. She looked very tired.

Rory noticed that her eyes were red and wondered if she’d been crying. He knew that she’d bred The Fox herself, so she must be upset to let the ride go, however huge the financial reward. As he took a leg-up into the saddle he doubled his resolve not to screw this up, for everybody’s sake. The Beauchampions were among his sporting idols and he still had their books in his office at Overlodes.

Tash’s eyes were in fact bloodshot and puffy because her new Czech au pairs had arrived that week and were bleaching every inch of the kitchen, convinced that Haydown was crawling with germs. She was quietly grateful to get some fresh air, despite the fact she was madly trying to finish a portrait commission that day.

And she truly caught her breath when she watched Rory on a top-class horse for the first time. Perhaps Dillon Rafferty wasn’t such a misguided patron after all. The boy rode quite brilliantly. He was going to be a definite asset.

Rory and Fox really suited one another, and the gutsy little chestnut, who could be lazy on the flat at home, lit up and sparkled. They looked like an established partnership from the off. It was a long time since Tash had felt this breathless, buzzing with excitement, and she wanted to drag Hugo out of the camera glare and jump up and down for joy. He would register the match straight away. Just for this moment, a million pounds paled into insignificance as she marvelled at Rory in the saddle. They were soon sailing over a few of the obstacles in the arena, from single oil
barrels to poles set at the top of the jump wings. Fox tucking his knees up to his chin, Rory in perfect balance. The horse was loving every minute.

‘Where on earth have you been for the past few years?’ she laughed when he eventually jumped off. ‘You should be in the elite training squad.’

His high cheeks were shot through with damson streaks of pleasure. Hearing Tash Beauchamp say that was almost better than a four-star win. For Rory, riding had never been the issue – it came as naturally as breathing – but organising his life and finances to get close to the major league had proved impossible until now.

‘Without Dillon I’d never ever sit on a horse this good,’ he admitted, patting Fox’s red neck with the greatest of respect. ‘He’s in a whole new league. Mine always cost peanuts and I have to sell the good ones to make a living.’

‘Who’s your dressage trainer?’

‘Anke Brakespear.’

‘You lucky thing.’ Tash’s eyebrows shot up. ‘It certainly shows. Don’t let Hugo try to change a thing on the flat,’ she insisted as they handed Fox over to Jenny, who already had Cœur d’Or tacked up. ‘In fact, maybe Anke can coach you here once you’re based with us full time.’

Thanking Jenny, Rory realised that the thought of coming to Haydown no longer made him feel bulldozed. He was genuinely excited at the prospect. The set-up was quite amazing and Tash was as lovely as everybody always said she was, even if Hugo was clearly just as arrogant. The thought of riding a horse like The Fox daily absolutely thrilled Rory. He was also tickled to have one horse taken away from him to be untacked and hosed while another was handed over ready to go, although he guessed that wouldn’t last.

Faith had always done that for him at Overlodes, but she was no longer there and his own yard was already descending into chaos, with lessons forgotten or horses going unexercised.

Suddenly he felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest.

I need to be somewhere like this, he realised. I need to pull my act together. Faith was right, it was make or break time.

‘Hugo will need to give you some guidance with this horse,’ Tash told him as he headed for the mounting block to get on Heart, who was a good hand taller than Fox and dancing around agitatedly. ‘You
warm up, I’ll go and fetch him. Best leave his mouth alone to begin with – he’s a bit sensitive about it when he starts out.’

Accustomed to riding very difficult horses as a necessary evil to make a living, Rory wasn’t unduly bothered as Heart jogged sideways into the arena and immediately started bunny-hopping and crabbing towards the far end. He knew a big, fit horse like this needed to settle, and that would at the very least take a few minutes’ stretching work. He pulled his phone from his pocket to send a text to Faith, unable to shake a sudden urge to check how she was doing. She’d sent him about twenty texts since arriving in Essex, but the last few had been distinctly weird and preoccupied with breast size.

But he only got as far as the
H
of
How r u?
, when the over-tight horse beneath him took sudden exception to one corner of the arena and whipped round before haring off towards the gate with a series of bucks and twists.

Rory didn’t move in the saddle. By the time he’d gathered the horse and set him off in a big, fluid trot he was pressing send on his text. Cooing and chatting soothingly to Heart, he pocketed the phone and rode the big, powerful horse forwards, hands barely touching his mouth through the reins, all his concentration now devoted to the task in hand.

Hugo exchanged a surprised look with Tash as they leaned against the rails to watch. She was right. He was a damned good jockey. He’d seen Heart pull that trick regularly at the start of a session, and the succession of prospective buyers who had come to try him that year had never coped so well. Most grabbed at the reins, which sent him straight up in the air, or got so thrown off balance that he started bucking like a bronco at a rodeo. Several had fallen off, despite being high-ranking riders.

But Rory seemed to have his measure.

‘I still think we’re mad taking them to Burghley,’ Hugo tutted. ‘I’ve told Dillon as much.’

‘It’s his decision,’ Tash pointed out.

‘Technically it’s his girlfriend’s decision,’ he reminded her.

They both watched as Rory gradually began to take up contact and the big horse responded well.

‘They might just make a decent partnership,’ Hugo admitted grudgingly, having really not wanted to relinquish the ride. ‘He’s
certainly better on the flat than I’d imagined. There’s a lot to work with there.’

‘You wait till you see him on Fox.’

‘I still think this one’s going test him,’ Hugo muttered jealously. ‘I’ve seen Rory ride across country and he has fantastic technique, but he’s used to riding nippy little blood horses like Fox. He doesn’t set them up enough in front of the fences. Heart’s too bold for that.’

Realising his ego was in danger of taking a battering, Tash threaded her arm through his. They watched as Heart beautifully but rather resentfully came into an outline and really started to work over his back, showing off his flashy trot at its best. Rory tried out some of the movements from the dressage test they’d be performing in two days’ time, and which he’d had as bedside reading all week.

‘Low forties,’ Tash predicted the first phase score.

‘Fifties,’ Hugo countered. ‘The horse will react to the atmosphere even if the rider stays this cool. Christ, he’s good. Where did Dillon Rafferty find him?’

‘Teaching beginners at a local stables.’

‘What a waste. He’s just what we need here. Reminds me of Stefan.’

Tash looked at him in delight. From Hugo, that was praise indeed.

But Rory’s magic spell was broken when a shrill beep rang out of his pocket, announcing a text message. It was all the excuse Heart was looking for. His white-rimmed eyes flashed as he whipped back, half a ton of horseflesh intent on sudden flight. Again Rory sat the 180-degree spin, but he wasn’t quite quick enough to ease the contact and the horse was up on his hind legs. Rory tilted forwards as the withers went higher, gripping that golden neck, waiting for the horse to drop down again. But a moment later Heart had tipped back, past his balance point.

‘Jump off!’ Hugo yelled, hurdling the gate.

Rory only just leaped clear as the big horse crashed backwards onto the sand arena.

Nell was topless in the paddling pool with Giselle, cooling off from the scorching sunshine that bounced around the Cotswold stone of her parents’ courtyard garden. She took a call on her mobile, only half listening as Hugo Beauchamp started banging on about horses.
Taking control of Dillon’s eventing interests only suited her when she had something to gain, and since he flatly refused to run the new million-pound horse at Burghley she’d lost interest in it all.

‘You really need to talk to Dillon,’ she said, although she knew perfectly well he would be away in Greenland recording his Christmas video until mid-week. He’d promised to take her for a weekend away when he got back, which was why she was topping up her tan.

‘It can’t wait that long.
You
own this horse, Nell. You have the final decision.’

Not for a moment did Nell belie her surprise. Suddenly she was very interested in the problem indeed.

‘And he’s had a bad fall?’

‘He’s fine. We legged Rory back up and he took him over a few poles and gave him a pipe-opener on the Downs. They pulled together again pretty well, but the horse is unsettled. It’s not the rider, it’s the partnership. If it was The Fox going to Burghley I’d be right behind Rory. He’s a great pilot, and he has more than enough competitive experience, but this horse is more sensitive. He can’t take a last-minute jockey swap and still perform reliably.’

‘You’re saying Dillon’s bought me a dud?’ Nell flicked water at Gigi to make her laugh.

‘He’s one of the best horses in training,’ Hugo said impatiently, ‘but he’s not a machine. We all agree it’s better to wait and aim him at Pau, where The Fox is headed. Forget Burghley this year.’

Nell’s mind was racing and her heart swelling as she realised what Dillon must be planning.

‘It’s bound to be a big blow,’ Hugo was saying. ‘We appreciate how much you want to run a horse there, and I know Dillon’s pulled a lot of strings to rent that cottage on the estate for the week, but you can still both go. We can always field the horse and withdraw him after the dressage.’

‘Is that what Rory wants to do?’

‘He says it’s up to you, but I strongly advise you to back me up here.’

Which meant that Rory was willing to ride the full three days, Nell was certain. ‘Would you put him on the phone?’

‘He’s had to leave – he’s teaching at his yard now. He’s happy to come back here first thing tomorrow morning to ride Heart again before he travels, but there’s no point if you agree to pull him out. That’s why I wanted to speak to you personally.’

Heart. Nell registered the name. Dillon had said he was giving her his heart. She’d been so ungrateful. Now she had the opportunity to be at his side in a glorious stately setting far from his boring farm, in the full public glare, with their own love nest to escape to every night. That was his surprise weekend away; she wasn’t about to give it up in a hurry.

‘I will agree to no such thing until I’ve spoken to my rider,’ she told Hugo, hanging up.

Infuriatingly, her rider wasn’t answering his phone. Undeterred, Nell fished Gigi from the pool and hurriedly handed her to her mother. Pulling a T-shirt dress on over her bikini bottoms she jumped in her car to drive the short distance to Rory’s yard, cramming in her hands-free earpiece as she reversed.

In Sisimiut, Dillon’s Christmas video shoot was overrunning. The film crew were being hampered by a lack of snow in Greenland and continual delays, not least of which was the star’s girlfriend phoning him every five minutes.

The storyboard featured Dillon on a dogsled, singing wistfully of failed love while six huskies pulled him at speed across the snow. It was bitterly cold. Between takes – of which there were many because the dogs were uncooperative and the musher so enthusiastic that Dillon kept falling off the sled – Nell phoned endlessly to complain about his schedule, his ex-wife and his staff.

Now she phoned breathlessly as she drove between her parents’ barn and Rory’s yard.

‘I love you!’

A big smile spread across Dillon’s face, cracking the ice on his designer stubble.

‘You bought me a horse!’

His smile dropped away almost instantly.

‘How did you find out?’ As if he couldn’t guess. Rory was hopeless at keeping secrets – a typical event rider from what Dillon could tell.

‘He sounds great,’ she told him down the crackling line. ‘He’s already dumped Rory so we have something in common. Hugo thinks it’s too risky for Rory to try Burghley, but I think I can talk him round.’

‘Well, Hugo’s the boss.’

‘He’s my horse!’

‘For a year, yes.’

‘A
year
?’ She was singularly unimpressed by the time limit.

Dillon cleared his throat and kicked the powdery snow that barely covered the stubbly grass. ‘A year.’

‘I don’t want a horse for a year. What’s the point of that?’

‘You need to make the most of him,’ he said with feeling.

‘In that case we’re definitely going to Burghley.’

‘Thing is, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it back—’

But the line had broken off.

Heart hammering painfully, like an old-fashioned alarm clock ringing out, Dillon switched off his phone so he’d have peace, although that still meant listening to the endless playback of his Christmas single, a retro cover he was starting to hate. He’d wanted to change plans and record a cover of ‘Heart of Gold’, but his management insisted on sticking to something more festive.

‘And why should the world take notice of one more love that’s failed?’
His voice sang out to him now.