Polo. Part 26

'Not 'ungry,' said Claudia, trying to force potato puree into little Paolo.

'Not 'ungry, angry. Angel,' he explained to Ricky, 'was an ex-Mirage pilot. He 'ate the English, but when he gets to know Perdita,' Alejandro smiled at her from under the peak of his cap, 'he will forgeeve.'

Perdita, having taken far too much, was now feeding the rest of the steak to the s.h.a.ggy lurchers who ringed the table, but kept their distance.

'They're so thin,' she protested to Alejandro. 'Raimundo don't feed them. They live on hares and badgers they catch out in the pampas.'

Perdita didn't think she could eat another thing, but the figs in syrup that followed were so delicious she was soon piling on great dollops of cream.

'Angel is stupid,' went on Alejandro. 'The rest of us in Argentina 'ave forgiven you for the Falklands War.'

'Oh good,' said Perdita, brightening up. 'Why is that?' 'Because of Benny Hill,' said Alejandro. 'We love heem, and all those lovely girls with no clothes on. I love Eenglish programmes, Upper Stairs, Down Stairs. Upper Stairs, Down Stairs. The only thing I watch else is polo on cable, and we've got a veedeo of last year's Open. I'll show it to you, Reeky.' The only thing I watch else is polo on cable, and we've got a veedeo of last year's Open. I'll show it to you, Reeky.'

'And you can point out all the ponies you've just showed me who allegedly played in it,' said Ricky drily. Alejandro giggled. 'Some was previous year.'

'Our doctor has tiny plane that was conscripted during the Malvinas War,' said Claudia. 'The military say they want to fly 'rockets on it, but when they see 'ow small it was, it didn't get called up.'

'All the food parcels people sent us from abroad was stolen by the post office,' said Alejandro.

What heavenly people, thought Perdita. They're so merry and funny.

The spear-shaped leaves of the gum tree were dappling their faces as the sun moved towards the Andes. A dragonfly was bombing the table. Luke pointed out a stork, black and white between the silver trunks. Beyond, the pampas seemed to swim in the midday heat.

'Ow long are you weeth us, Reeky?' asked Claudia, who'd had a secret crush on him in the old days and was appalled to see how grey and tense he looked.

'Probably the day after tomorrow.'

'But you said you'd stay a week,' said Perdita in horror. 'Where are you going next?' asked Luke.

'Palm Springs.'

'That's great,' said Luke. 'My half-sister Bibi's out there. Working in LA. You must call her. She doesn't get out enough. She's on a zero handicap, but she'd play super if she played more.'

'Who's your patron now, Reeky?' asked Alejandro. 'Dancer Maitland,' chipped in Perdita proudly. Alejandro nearly fell off his seat. All the Mendoza chil dren were roused out of their pallid apathy.

'You get his autograph?'

'You send us records?'

'He numero uno this week.'

'Is he nice? Please breeng 'im 'ere.'

'He's a sweet man,' admitted Ricky. 'But he's very busy, and has difficulty even finding time to stick and ball. You stupid b.i.t.c.h,' he murmured furiously under his breath to Perdita, 'now Alejandro'll quadruple his prices.'

'Please stay, Reeky,' pleaded Claudia. 'You need a holiday. Let us pamper you.'

'Let them pampas you,' said Perdita bitterly.

She loves him, thought Luke. Perdita was very pale now, her skin the parchment colour of her white-blond mane. She'll be like a little palomino when she turns brown, he thought.

'Have a siesta,' Claudia urged her as they'd finished coffee.

'No, I want to look at the ponies with Ricky,' said Perdita, frantic not to miss a minute.

'Just for an hour. We all do,' said Claudia soothingly.

Upstairs, feeling utterly suicidal, Perdita looked round her tiny bare room. The only furniture was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers with no lining paper, a straight-backed wooden chair and a narrow single bed with a carved headboard. There was an overhead light with no lampshade and a bedside lamp on the floor which didn't work. The only colour came from a picture of a gaucho cracking a whip, a tiny red mat and a shocking pink counterpane. She ought to unpack, but she only got as far as getting out Ricky's photograph in its blue silk frame and putting it beside the bed. The thought of all those blonde movie stars in Palm Springs pursuing him made her feel quite sick. She'd gone off Luke since he suggested Ricky ring his sister.

She'd just lie on the bed for a minute. Did she imagine it or did a head of bronze curls pop round the door, and were a pair of peac.o.c.k-blue eyes gazing at her with implacable hatred? Then the door slammed shut and next moment she was asleep.

24.

Waking the next morning, she was outraged that they'd left her to sleep. Luke and Alejandro's three eldest sons had won their match. The teachers had suddenly ended their strike, and the four youngest children had gone back to school. Ricky, exhausted but elated after haggling all night with Alejandro, had bought eight horses.

Perdita, not in the best mood after a cold shower, found him having breakfast.

'You promised to wake me.'

'You needed sleep.'

He poured her some black coffee. Sulkily she added milk and b.u.t.tered a croissant.

'Nice family,' said Ricky.

'Very,' said Perdita. 'I'm not sure about that Angel. He looks as though he wants to Exocet me.'

'Luke'll look after you,' said Ricky. 'Look, I'm leaving at teatime - catching the eight o'clock flight.'

'You can't,' said Perdita hysterically.

'I've got the horses I need. Luke's going to get them into America. From there we'll fly them to England.' 'But why so early, for Christ's sake?'

'Alejandro's got business in Buenos Aires. He's giving me a lift to the airport.'

Whatever Alejandro's business was in BA, it necessitated a silk s.h.i.+rt, light grey trousers, a jacket hanging from a coathanger in the back of the car, his Herbert Johnson cap and about fifteen pints of Aramis.

Perdita cried unashamedly after they left, fleeing to her bare room and hurling herself down on the pink counterpane. Half an hour later there was a knock on the door.

'b.u.g.g.e.r off,' she howled.

It was Luke. 'Poor baby. Feeling homesick?'

'No, Ricky sick,' sobbed Perdita. 'I can't live without him.'

Luke sat down on the bed and put a huge arm round her.

'You'll see him in less than three months.'

'That's a whole school term. I don't want want it,' she snapped as he handed her a large vodka and tonic, then took such a huge gulp that she nearly choked. it,' she snapped as he handed her a large vodka and tonic, then took such a huge gulp that she nearly choked.

'Isn't Ricky kind of old to play Florizel?' asked Luke. 'Not having a father, I'm only attracted to older men,' said Perdita.

'I used to hero-wors.h.i.+p the guy when he played for my father,' said Luke. 'He was awesome. I watched him yesterday. He'll be as good as ever when his elbow heals. He must go to ten.'

'All he's interested in is getting b.l.o.o.d.y Chessie back.' 'She's not b.l.o.o.d.y.'

'How's she getting on with your ghastly father?'

'Pretty happy, I guess. Doesn't appear to be in any hurry to quit.'

Perdita sat up, blew her nose and looked at him with red, swollen eyes.

'Jolly odd having a stepmother the same age as you. D'you fancy her?'

'Couldn't help it at first, but we've become friends. Her marrying Dad didn't screw me up like the other two. Red and Bibi have given her h.e.l.l.'

'Serve her right.'

'She lost a kid,' said Luke reasonably.

'Does she still miss Will?'

'Yeah, but she won't show it.'

'Like Ricky. He's so good at bottling things up, he ought to work in a ketchup factory.'

Luke picked up Ricky's photograph. 'You gotta treat being down here as a chance to learn polo. Meet them halfway and you'll improve out of all recognition. And you'll like it here; it's kinda fun.'

'How come you're so nice?' asked Perdita.

Luke yawned. 'My brother Red's better-looking than me. He gets all the girls - very good for the character. Dinner's about ten, I'll boil up some water so you can have a shower.'

'What time do we get up here?'

'Six o'clock. And on the horses by seven.'

'G.o.d!' said Perdita, appalled. 'What else do we have to do?'

's.h.i.+ft the cattle, work the horses, stick and ball, come back for lunch, an hour's siesta, and you go out like a light I can tell you, then we play chukkas in the afternoon. At least you won't be roped in to build the swimming-pool.'

He left her not much happier. She tried to sleep, but she was desperately nervous about tomorrow. What if she made a complete fool of herself and let Ricky down? At least he wouldn't be here to witness it. She felt twitchy about that vile Angel who hovered shadowy in the background, waiting to perform some dreadful mischief. She started violently at a knock on the door. Frantically wiping her eyes, she went to answer it and found Luke with only a small towel round his waist. For a terrifying moment Perdita thought he was going to pounce on her. Instead the bull-dog face creased into a huge smile.

'Honey, I am absolutely s.h.i.+t-scared of spiders, and there's the biggest son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h in the shower. Could you possibly remove it for me?'

Giving a scream of laughter, Perdita felt better.

Luke Alderton had been only three years old when Bart dumped his mother for Grace and his first memories were of tears and endless shouting. Grace had proceeded to have two children, Red and Bibi, whom she and Bart adored and spoilt impossibly. Grace, however, tended to ignore Luke when he came to stay, doing her duty without love or warmth. Then his mother had married again, to a PT instructor who beat Luke up so badly that a court ruled he should go and live with Bart full time. Here he had always felt an outsider.

At eighteen, because they wouldn't let him read Polo at Yale, he chucked up any thought of an academic career. Determined to be utterly independent of Bart, he slowly worked his way up, starting as a groom and finally getting his own yard, buying ponies cheap off the race track, or from other players who couldn't get a tune out of them, making them, and selling them on, which he detested because he got so fond of them. Invariably riding green ponies, his handicap at six was lower than it should have been. He didn't have the natural ability of his brother, Red, but he was bigger and stronger. You didn't want to be in the way when Luke hit the ball.

Because he'd missed out on higher education, and because he could seldom afford to go out on the town with the other players, he spent his evenings listening to music and devouring the cla.s.sics. On long journeys in the lorry he'd keep the rest of the team entertained reciting great screeds of poetry, Longfellow, Macaulay, whole scenes from Shakespeare, now even bits of Martin Fierro, Martin Fierro, in an 'orrible accent. in an 'orrible accent.

All the Argentines adored him and nicknamed him Senor Gracias because he was so grateful for the smallest favour. It was the same in the States. He was always in work because he was cheerful, absolutely straight and very good company. But although he smiled in the face of the direst provocation, underneath he was as determined as Ricky to go to ten.

After such a lousy start in life, and not a penny of the Alderton millions, people often expressed amazement that he was so unchippy. The answer was always the same. 'There's nothing to be gained from blaming your background or other people. You've got to get out and help yourself.'

A second after Perdita fell asleep, it seemed Luke was banging on the door telling her to get up and to wear a sweater as it was cold first thing. Out in the yard, Alejandro had turned from the charming rogue of yesterday into a roaring tyrant, bellowing instructions to all the boys. In the corral the ponies waited, mostly chestnut, all young and timid, ducking nervously behind each other to avoid being caught. When Alejandro yelled at Perdita to tack up a little chestnut gelding, she was so nervous she could hardly do up the throat lash or adjust the stirrups. Once up, she felt she was straddling an eel. Every male from the neighbouring estancias, estancias, except Luke, who was off moving the cattle, seemed to be gathered round the paddock to watch her as she set off in the milky, misty morning light towards a row of poplar trees. Alejandro shouted after her to do turns at the canter. except Luke, who was off moving the cattle, seemed to be gathered round the paddock to watch her as she set off in the milky, misty morning light towards a row of poplar trees. Alejandro shouted after her to do turns at the canter.

'I'll show them,' she thought, shoving her nose in the air. 'Don't jibe at me, Argentina.'

Reaching the middle of the field, she laid the nearside rein on the chestnut's neck to tell him to go right. Instantly he did a lightning U-turn and set out back to the stables, leaving Perdita swearing on the stone-hard ground while all the onlookers roared with laughter and Alejandro shouted in broken English at her. She had three more falls before she and a handful of other players started stick and balling. She was just getting used to the chestnut when Alejandro moved her on to a dark brown mare who, when it wasn't bucking, s.h.i.+ed at the ball, and then on to another chestnut, whom she had great difficulty in holding.

She was also staggered by how energetically the Argentines played, hitting b.a.l.l.s up in the air, juggling and tapping them, twisting, turning and stopping, followed by Ferrari bursts of acceleration before circling again. Then they didthe whole thing all over again without stirrups, and all the time talking and shouting to one another. She was also aware of Angel, the Brit-hater, who hadn't once eaten at the same table as her since she arrived, who was now riding harder and turning faster than any of the others, urging his pony on with great pelvic thrusts. It seemed he was deliberately galloping very close past her to upset her chestnut mare, who kept taking off into the pampas.

She had fallen off twice more and ridden twelve different ponies by lunchtime and was so tired she could hardly eat. Although Luke translated the whole time for her, she felt desperately isolated and sick with longing for Ricky. He must have nearly reached Palm Springs by now.

Tugged out of her siesta like a back tooth, she staggered groggily out to the yard. The sun was s.h.i.+ning platinum rather than gold now, and beating down on her head. To her intense humiliation, Luke, Angel, Alejandro, three of Alejandro's sons, and two of their friends who'd come to lunch were playing on one pitch while Perdita had been put on another with Alejandro's three younger sons and four of their cousins - none of them a day over twelve.

'Talk about going back to playgroup,' snarled Perdita.

The ponies were tied up in the shade to the branches of a row of gum trees which divided the two pitches. Gulls flapped around uttering their strange cry of 'Tern, Tero', and swooping down to scavenge whenever play moved on. A strong lemon smell, from a local herb known as black branch, hung on the hot steamy air. The mosquitoes went to work on any available flesh. After the throw-in the ball came out miraculously in Perdita's direction.

Now I'll show them, she thought, lifting her stick for a flawless offside drive. Next second she gave a scream of rage as she was hooked by an eleven-year-old cousin, who then proceeded to whip the ball away down field. One of Alejandro's sons playing back rode him off for the backhand and hit it up the field to his brother who dribbled it a few yards, then sliced it to Perdita. Instantly an eleven-year-old cousin pounced on her, s.h.i.+elding her from the ball and riding her off.

All of them played with such ferocious energy and skill that, for the next nightmarish seven minutes, she didn't touch the ball.

'Faulazo,' they yelled, as they teased her into crossing in front of them. they yelled, as they teased her into crossing in front of them.

Dejala,' they yelled as she rode in for the big swipe and missed it. they yelled as she rode in for the big swipe and missed it.

'Hombre, hombre, hombre,' they chorused, urging her to take her man, and they chorused, urging her to take her man, and 'Que 'Que lento,' lento,' they screamed when she failed to catch up with her number four, and he went up the field and scored to loud cheers. A huge cow bell was rung at the end of the chukka, but the boys went on playing. they screamed when she failed to catch up with her number four, and he went up the field and scored to loud cheers. A huge cow bell was rung at the end of the chukka, but the boys went on playing.

Perdita,' yelled Alejandro, 'change the horse.'

'Better change the rider,' said Perdita, fighting back the tears. She was sore all over, out of breath, pouring with sweat, and there were three more chukkas to go. 'I don't want to play with kids,' she screamed at Luke. 'They're all laughing at me.'

'Not at you,' said Luke soothingly, while saddling up a black mare with a white star for her. 'They always talk and joke among themselves. You're over-reacting. This pony's much easier. She follows the ball and positions herself for every shot. Just leave it to her.'

Perdita was settling down and had even hit a respectable forehand which only just missed the goal when Alejandro, out of some devilry, swopped one of his sons and a cousin for Luke and Angel.