Polo. Part 24

'I wish she occasionally made us laugh at home,' sighed Daisy.

'Giving you a hard time, is she?' Ricky filled up Daisy's gla.s.s.

It was not in Daisy's nature to b.i.t.c.h, but faced with Ricky's almost clinical detachment, everything came pouring out - Perdita's endless tantrums, her impossible demands, her spite to the other children.

'I haven't got many wits, but I'm I'm at the end of them. That was lovely.' She handed her plate to the waiter. 'Hamish going affected her dreadfully. They fought the whole time, but underneath she was frantic for his love and approval.' at the end of them. That was lovely.' She handed her plate to the waiter. 'Hamish going affected her dreadfully. They fought the whole time, but underneath she was frantic for his love and approval.'

'Who was her father?'

'It's so shaming,' whispered Daisy.

'Can't be that bad.'

She was saved by the waiter s.h.i.+mmying up with the partridges, making a great show of how pink they were inside, pointing out the foie gras stuffing, the celeriac puree and the exquisitely dark and glistening Madeira sauce. But the moment he left Ricky returned to the attack.

'So, what happened?'

Being Daisy, she blurted it all out. 'I should have told Perdita years ago, but I'm such a drip I funked it.'

Tears were flooding her face and she wiped them frantically away with the sleeve of her jersey. Aware a drama was taking place and dying to know if this was Ricky's latest, the waiter sidled over.

'Everything all right, Meester Franch-Lynch?'

'Perfect, now push off.' Ricky put a hand over Daisy's, a large rough hand with callouses beneath the base of each long finger from endlessly holding a polo stick.

'You are a good mother,' he said gently. 'I can read between Perdita's lies. I know what sacrifices you've made, working in that ghastly Christmas pudding factory, not buying any new clothes for years.' He picked up the frayed, very pointed collar of her s.h.i.+rt.

'I didn't know I was going out to dinner,' said Daisy defensively.

'Course you didn't.'

'I don't know what to do with her.' Daisy blew her nose on her red-checked table napkin, then realized what she'd done. 'Oh G.o.d, I'll wash it and send it back.'

'She needs polo,' said Ricky, 'but serious polo. She ought to be playing ten chukkas a day with really good players, and she ought to get miles away from you so she can't kick the s.h.i.+t out of you.' As he filled her gla.s.s again he knocked over the salt cellar and quickly chucked the spilt salt over his left shoulder. 'Are you painting?'

'Not much.' Daisy was pleating the edge of the tablecloth. 'All my inspiration seems to have dried up since Hamish left and I seem to have lost all my confidence as a woman. Not that I had much, anyway.'

'In what way?' Ricky was stripping the partridge leg with his teeth, very white and even except a front one chipped by a polo ball. 'Come on, eat up.'

It is quite difficult cutting up a partridge when your elbows are glued to your ribs. Daisy started forking up celeriac.

'Last week I went to dinner at Philippa's. She insisted she'd got a lovely man for me. But it was just as an excuse to get her latest lover into the house. He wasn't remotely interested in me and brought Philippa some goat's cheese that looked like Tutankhamun's brain. They disappeared for hours to look at some rare book and Lionel insisted on seeing me home.' Her lip trembled. 'I'm sorry, this is awfully boring.'

'Horror films aren't boring,' said Ricky.

'And suddenly he leapt on me.'

'Disgusting old goat!' Ricky was comfortingly furious.

'Appropriate, really! He tasted of goat's cheese. I've never been very good at rejecting people, so I told him I was frigid. He just leered and said, "I'm a psychiatrist, little girl. I can cure that." ' Daisy gave a shudder.

'I'll chuck them out,' said Ricky angrily.

'Joel says they're model tenants,' said Daisy. 'They're always cutting their lawn.'

'Can't imagine Lionel modelling anything. You're not to have anything more to do with them. Understand?'

Ricky put his knife and fork together. 'Let's get back to Perdita. I'll take her to Argentina with me next week. No, it's a good idea. You know Alejandro Mendoza?' Then, with incredulity, 'But he's the greatest back in the world. The Mendozas are blood rivals of the O'Brien brothers, Juan and Miguel, who used to play for David Waterlane before the Argies were banned. They invariably end up on opposite sides in the Argentine Open. I'm going out to buyponies from Alejandro. He takes a few players every year on his estancia. estancia. They bring on the young ponies and in return he teaches them. My handicap went up in twos the winters I spent with him. There are always young boys hanging round the place. Perdita needs a boyfriend. I'll leave her with Alejandro till Christmas.' They bring on the young ponies and in return he teaches them. My handicap went up in twos the winters I spent with him. There are always young boys hanging round the place. Perdita needs a boyfriend. I'll leave her with Alejandro till Christmas.'

'We couldn't possibly afford the plane fare,' mumbled Daisy.

'Dancer'll pick that up,' he said. 'He wants Perdita to play for him next year. She'll add some much-needed tone. He's been nagging me to take her back for weeks. He can just advance her some salary. There's no need to cry.'

'I'm sorry.' Daisy wiped her eyes on her sleeve again. 'I ought to get the Niagara Falls Award for bawling. I'm just not used to lucky breaks. Are you sure?'

'Positive. Now Rupert's Minister for Sport, he can fiddle her a visa.' As he smoothed back his dark hair, his signet ring caught the light.

'What's your motto?' she asked.

'Never surrender,' said Ricky bleakly.

And he won't until he gets Chessie back, thought Daisy. Three-quarters of a bottle of wine had loosened her tongue.

'I've been moaning on about Perdita all evening, but at least she's alive, whereas Will '

isn't,' said Ricky watching the bubbles rise in his gla.s.s of Perrier. 'Suffering's supposed to make you nicer. Didn't work for me. That's probably why I've been so b.l.o.o.d.y to Perdita. The guilt still knocks me sideways - just being alive. Sometimes I panic because I can't remember what he looked like. Chessie took all the photographs. She needed them. He'd be six now, old enough to start hitting a ball-around. It comes in waves, doesn't it?' He glared at her. 'Look, I really don't want to talk about it.'

'I just think you ought to try and forgive yourself,' mumbled Daisy. We're like two chickens side by side trying to defrost, she thought.

'When are you coming back to England?'

'February or March. I can't stand another English winter. Dancer's fixed up for me to make a bomb coaching movie stars in Palm Springs. My elbow still plays up when I play too long.'

After that they talked about Dancer and Ethel and Little Chef and Ricky's ponies, and drank so many cups of coffee and Daisy even had a crme de menthe frappe crme de menthe frappe that it was long after midnight when they left. that it was long after midnight when they left.

'The colandered Barbour,' said Ricky, holding out her coat for her. 'You've been crawling through my barbed wire!'

Outside, in the back of the BMW, Ethel's great spotted goofy face was grinning out. Beside her, his front paws on her shoulder, tail wagging his small body into a frenzy, was Little Chef.

'It's easy for dogs,' said Daisy with a hiccup. 'I've had such a lovely time,' she said as Ethel fell on her in ecstasy, 'and Ethel's lick is much more efficient than cleansing cream.'

'This road is awful,' said Ricky as they bounced down the rough track to Snow Cottage. 'I must get it fixed before the winter.'

Seeing all the lights on, Daisy quailed. Surely Perdita wouldn't kick up when she knew she was going to Argentina. Desperate Ricky shouldn't think she was giving him the come-on, she had the door open before the car stopped.

'Do come in and tell Perdita. She'll be so excited,' she called back as she scuttled up the path. If Ricky was there Perdita might not make a scene, but he had paused to look at the front gate which needed mending.

Perdita sat on the kitchen table dressed all in black. She looked like a h.e.l.l cat, sloe eyes glittering, teeth bared in a terrifying rictus grin, body rigid with loathing.

'Darling - the most heavenly news,' said Daisy.

'How dare you go out to dinner with Ricky?' screamed Perdita. 'I bet his telephone wasn't off the hook at all. You just wanted an excuse to vamp him. You can't do without it, you b.l.o.o.d.y old tart, can you? I bet you asked him him out.' out.'

Next minute Ricky had walked into the room and slapped her across the face. 'Don't you ever talk to your mother like that again, you revolting little b.i.t.c.h,' he howled. 'Now go to bed!'

Perdita gazed at him, her white left cheek slowly turning bright scarlet, her eyes widening in horror.

'Nothing wrong with your elbow if you can hit like that,' she spat. 'She's poisoned you against me, I knew she would.'

'I said go to bed,' said Ricky harshly. 'Go on, b.u.g.g.e.r off.'

With a stifled sob Perdita stumbled upstairs, slamming the door so hard that every ornament in the house shook.

There was a pause, then both Ricky and Daisy jumped at the sound of clapping. Slowly Violet walked into the room.

'I always heard how marvellous you were,' she said to Ricky, 'but I'd no idea how how marvellous. I've been waiting for years for someone to do that.' marvellous. I've been waiting for years for someone to do that.'

'Good,' said Ricky, unmoved.

Then, slowly, he looked round the kitchen and the sitting room at the flowers painted all over the pale green walls, like a meadow in summer, at the dark green ivy crawling up the stairs and the bears and tigers and dragons decorating every piece of furniture.

'Christ,' he said in amazement.

'I can always paint over it,' said Daisy hastily.

'It's stunning. You said you hadn't been painting. Stop shaking. It'll be all right.'

'Should I go to her?'

'Leave her to stew,' said Violet and Ricky in unison.

'Oh, and by the way, Mum,' went on Violet, 'Philippa rang and said could you man the bric--brac stall on Sat.u.r.day.'

'No, she can't,' snapped Ricky.

'I said you couldn't,' said Violet gleefully. 'I told her you'd gone out to dinner with Ricky. She sounded put out.' 'Oh goodness,' said Daisy.

'I've been hearing how marvellous you are,' said Ricky drily to Violet, 'but I'd no idea how marvellous. Might put the b.l.o.o.d.y nympho off.'

After he'd had another cup of coffee, he went up to see Perdita. She was crying great wracking despairing sobs into her pillow. Ricky sat down on her bed.

'f.u.c.k off.'

'It's me, Ricky.'

'f.u.c.k off even more. I hate you.'

'You better stop sulking and apologize to your mother or I won't take you to Argentina.'

'I'll never apologize to her,' said Perdita tonelessly. 'What did you say? How? When?'

'Week after next, to stay with Alejandro. He'll teach you a few manners and how to play polo properly.'

'Oh, thank you!' Perdita flung her arms round his neck.

He could feel her hot soaked cheeks, her wet hair, her lips against his cheek, the bars of her ribs, the softness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the contrasting bullet hardness of her nipples.

'And then can I come back to Robinsgrove?'

'If you behave yourself.'

Still she clung. He could feel her heart pounding. She was so like Chessie. He'd never wanted to screw anyone more in his life, but gently he disengaged himself.

'Go and apologize to your mother.'

Next day the weather turned cold, bitter winds systematically stripping the trees. Walking through Ricky's woods, Daisy noticed ruby-red sticky buds thrusting out on the chestnuts, although many of the trees still clung on to their shrivelled brown leaves. Like Ricky and me clinging on to the past, thought Daisy.

Ten days later Ricky and Perdita left for Argentina.

'I want to ask two f-f-favours,' said Ricky as he put Perdita's suitcases in a boot crammed with polo sticks. 'Could you possibly put flowers on Will's grave sometimes for me? And if Little Chef goes into a real decline will you promise to ring me?'

Perdita hardly bothered to kiss her mother goodbye. She hadn't forgiven her her night out with Ricky. The wireless blared 'I just called to say I love you' as Daisy went back into the house. She couldn't help envying Perdita.

It was a terribly long journey, even though they broke it in Florida. Ricky hardly took his nose out of a Frederick Forsyth novel. Perdita, bra-less, in a T-s.h.i.+rt and a skirt that b.u.t.toned up the front for easy access, writhed and burned beside him. She cleaned her teeth every three hours and had Juicyfruit continually at the ready in case he wanted to kiss her. She deliberately got a bit drunk at dinner and when the lights were switched out let her head fall on to his shoulder.

'I'm cold,' she murmured.

'I'll get you another blanket.'

As he would for any of his ponies, thought Perdita bitterly.'I'm still cold,' she whispered half an hour later.

Ricky put an arm round her shoulders, but made no pa.s.s and eventually she fell asleep. Ricky gazed out of the window at stars as sleepless as himself. If he slept he might have nightmares about Will and Chessie. He couldn't bear to wake up screaming on the plane as he so often did alone at night at Robinsgrove.

23.

Ricky got very uptight at Miami Airport when his polo sticks were nearly put on a plane to Hawaii by mistake.

'Expect the poor things needed a holiday. You work them hard enough,' said Perdita. But even Ricky telling her not to be b.l.o.o.d.y silly couldn't douse her sudden euphoria at the sight of the BA stickers being stamped on their luggage. She was going to Argentina, home of the greatest polo players and ponies in the world.

The Buenos Aires flight was delayed and the plane horribly hot, but this didn't upset the pa.s.sengers who seemed delighted to be going home. The men, very handsome and as many of them blond as dark, gathered at the back of the plane, embracing each other and eyeing Perdita with approval and chattering like a great drinks party. After a shamingly large second supper of chicken, sweetcorn and cake, a vast vodka and tonic and half a bottle of red wine, at one o'clock in the morning the chatter suddenly turned into the Frogsmore Stream running under Snow Cottage and she fell asleep until six to find the chatter going on as loud as ever.