Polo. Part 61

He must love her to spoil her like this, and it meant that now, with Spotty and Tero, she'd have eight ponies. She gave a start of horror. She'd come back so late last night and been so knocked out by the splendour of Red's house that she hadn't even asked after them.

'Spotty and Tero are OK, aren't they?' she asked the grooms, who all looked s.h.i.+fty.

When they had driven down to El Paradiso El Paradiso she understood why. Spotty had dropped a lot of weight, but actually looked splendidly fit and well muscled. she understood why. Spotty had dropped a lot of weight, but actually looked splendidly fit and well muscled.

'You spoilt him. He was always much too fat,' said Red in answer to Perdita's furious complaints.

Spotty was sulking so much that Perdita had deserted him that for the first few days he stoutly refused to acknowledge her presence, even spurning Polos.

Tero was a different matter. Perdita found her standing alone in one of the paddocks - a caricature of her former, sleek self. Her l.u.s.treless coat hung from her jagged backbone. You could have stacked plates between her ribs.

Her two-inch-long mane and tail were spa.r.s.e and motheaten, her once tender, glowing eyes now sunken and dull, as she s.h.i.+vered in the burning sunlight, unsteady on her legs, the picture of despair. But at the sound of Perdita's wail of horror the little mare p.r.i.c.ked up her ears, stared for a second, whickered incredulously and then went as crazy with delight as her desperately weak condition would allow. Perdita was motionless and speechless with shame as Tero staggered forward. Then, as she frantically cuddledthe pony, Tero proceeded to nudge her feebly in the ribs trying to comfort her.

'What happened to her?' Perdita screamed later at Manuel, Red's headgroom.

'She pine. She wouldn't eat nothing. Eef anyone ride 'er, she shake, then bolt. So we let 'er out, no good. We keep 'er in, no good. So we geeve up.'

'f.u.c.king useless idiots. Why didn't you ring me?'

Manuel shrugged. 'You didn't leave a number.'

And would she have listened, wondered Perdita, appalled. Red had bewitched her. She was humiliated, shattered at what she had done. Sobbing, she vowed never to leave Tero again, not to rest until the pony was better.

Red thought Perdita was making a most awful fuss. It was only a pony. Even a letter and a birthday present from Bart, waiting when they had driven back from the barn, didn't cheer her up.

'Dear Perdita,' he had written, 'Glad you're back in time for the season. I've fired the Napiers, and I can't play with Miguel and Juan any more because the sonofab.i.t.c.h APA have put me up to six. The good news is that Angel's about to get US citizens.h.i.+p, so with him, you and Red, we've got a world-cla.s.s team to play in the States and the UK next year. First date: Fathers and Sons next month. Happy Birthday. Yours, Bart.'

The present was a diamond necklace.

'We'll have to hock that for a start,' said Red.

Having ignored a mountain of fan mail, final reminders and unopened bills, and remarked how quiet it was for Palm Beach, Red checked his three telephones and found they'd all been cut off. When he sent Perdita into the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee, she found the gas and electricity had been cut off too. The maid, when she came in, announced she would give Red notice unless he paid her for the last five months. Red gave her a wad of notes and told Perdita they'd better go and tap Grace.

'Mom always chews me out, but she coughs up in the end.'

And puts her hand over her mouth while she's coughing, thought Perdita remembering Grace's obsession with good behaviour.

'I can't leave Tero. I've got to get back to the barn,' she snapped.

'We'll only be gone half a day.'

'And I can't meet her with roots like this.' Mutinously Perdita examined her piebald hair. The white-blonde now growing half an inch into the jet-black looked deliberately aggressive and punk.

'Mom's interested in different kinds of roots. She's a G.o.dawful sn.o.b.'

'What shall I wear?'

'The Crown Jewels. She'd only be happy if I was marrying the Queen of England, so you might as well settle for disapproval.'

Red borrowed a company jet to fly up to New York that afternoon. Grace was waiting for them in her apartment overlooking a now leafless Central Park. The sitting room was enchanting with rose-red lacquered walls and paintwork, sofas and chairs covered in white chintz splodged with huge, dark pink roses and embroidered cus.h.i.+ons. There were dark red and pink roses in vases everywhere. Pictures included a Fragonard and a Watteau of charming lovers sitting on swings.

Leather-bound books rose to the ceiling on either side of the mantelpiece, which could hardly be seen for invitations. Below in the grate apple logs burned merrily. Nothing could have been prettier or more welcoming. But Grace, who had an impeccable clippings service and had familiarized herself with Perdita's every misdemeanour from playing Lady G.o.diva to dunking Enid Coley and swearing at the future King of England, radiated disapproval. Perdita felt as though she'd come out of the bitter November cold and climbed into the deep freeze.

'It's Perdita's birthday,' said Red, kissing Grace on her rigidly unyielding cheek, 'so she's brought you a present.'

Acquired with one of Red's cheques which would certainly bounce later, it was a red-and-white Staffords.h.i.+re cow, so adorable Perdita could hardly dare to pack it up.

'Thank you,' said Grace, not deigning to open it. 'How old are you, Perdita?'

'Twenty.'

'And what did Red give you?'Red shot Perdita a look of warning, but it was too late.

'Six ponies,' sighed Perdita happily. 'They're amazing. One dark brown mare. Manuel says she's a bit green, but she's got a tremendous amount of speed, and a chestnut who evidently turns like a ballerina, and a bay who's so pretty she must be clean bred, and two little Walers who are as tough as s.h.i.+t.' She blushed. 'I mean awfully tough.'

'May I see your engagement ring?'

Perdita held out her hand. The sapphire trembled like a great blob of ink.

'Pretty,' said Grace. 'Red has very good taste. I hope you don't play polo in it.'

'Good for blacking Shark Nelligan's eye,' said Perdita.

'I'm drafting an announcement of the engagement for The New York Times,' The New York Times,' said Grace frostily, 'and I need to know a little more about you, Perdita. I gather you started as a groom. I so admire people who work their way up. What part of England are you from?' said Grace frostily, 'and I need to know a little more about you, Perdita. I gather you started as a groom. I so admire people who work their way up. What part of England are you from?'

'Eldercombe in Ruts.h.i.+re.'

If this was not a place that held very happy memories for Grace, she didn't show it.

'And what does your father do?' Grace was writing in a rose-patterned notebook now. Perdita was beginning to sweat. She detested using Hamish, but Grace was looking at her as though she were a large dollop of French dressing that had fallen on a new silk dress.

'He's a lawyer, but now he works as a producer in Hollywood.'

Rackety, she could see Grace thinking.

'I'm flying to Beverly Hills next week,' Grace went on. 'Perhaps I could meet him and your mother.' flying to Beverly Hills next week,' Grace went on. 'Perhaps I could meet him and your mother.'

Perdita went green.

'My parents are divorced. M y mother paints.'

'And your grandparents?'

'Mum's father's dead. My grandmother's a lush.'

'And where did the Macleods come from?' asked Grace. 'I know some Perths.h.i.+re Macleods. There was a t.i.tle somewhere.'

'Not us.' Perdita was fed up with being interrogated. ' 'Grandpa was a hen-pecked old wimp, but good-hearted. Granny Macleod is a b.i.t.c.h. You wouldn't need to be very tall to reach the drawer she came out of.'

Grace's lips tightened. Her silver pen quivered. She expected humility from lesser mortals.

'Which school did you go to?'

'About eight, and I was chucked out of seven of them.'

'You'll certainly find Perdita's name in the Ruts.h.i.+re Anti-Social Register,' said Red, who was laughing himself sick.

'Now you're engaged to Red, I a.s.sume you'll give up playing polo professionally.'

'Certainly not,' boasted Perdita. 'I'm going to play for your ex-husband next season.'

Red was still laughing on the way home.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' moaned Perdita. 'Go to Yale, do not pa.s.s go, do not collect two hundred pounds.'

'I'm certainly not going to collect the half million I needed from her to settle a few bills. We're going to have to put you to work, baby.'

Three days later Perdita came back from the barn at lunchtime, pa.s.sionately relieved after an all-night session that Tero was at last eating and responding to treatment. Making herself a h.e.l.lman's and Philadelphia sandwich, Perdita settled down to read an interview with Red in Esquire Esquire magazine. magazine.

Was he going to stop oversleeping and get to matches on time? asked the interviewer.

'I don't need an alarm clock,' Red had replied. 'Who'd want to stay asleep in the morning if they had Perdita beside them?'

Perdita clutched herself with joy. Red really did love her.

Accompanying the piece was an incredibly violent photograph of Red riding off Shark Nelligan. His body bent at the waist, like the head of an arrow, swung two feet out of the saddle, hitting exactly the right pressure points as he drove Shark off the line. Red was smiling, Shark was scowling.

'Lovely piece,' she said, as Red walked in, 'and a heavenly photograph.'

'These are better,' said Red, throwing a hard-backed envelope down on the kitchen table.

Inside were some black-and-white prints he'd taken ofher in Kenya and had blown up. She was wearing a black polo s.h.i.+rt, breeches and boots. Her face was slightly s.h.i.+ny and her hair hanging in damp tendrils.

'Wow! I look OK,' said Perdita in amazement. 'Perhaps you should give up polo and take up photography.'

Red ruffled her hair, which was now all black again.

'You're gonna take up modelling, angel, and start earning your keep. I spent the morning with Ferranti's.'

'Dino Ferranti?' said Perdita in excitement. 'The show-jumper? I had such a crush on him.' Then, seeing Red's face, 'But that was yonks ago.'

'Ferranti's Inc. They're a multi-national,' said Red. 'One of their big moneyspinners is cosmetics and perfume. Dino's on the main board. We had lunch today. They're launching a new perfume next year and thinking of calling it "Perdita".'

'After me?' asked Perdita, delighted.

'After you. I hope it's better than "Auriel". If it takes on, they're thinking of sponsoring a polo team. Dino's always wanted to play polo. It'll be fun playing with Dad and Angel this season, but it might pall. We should keep our options open.'

Perdita always felt dizzy with happiness when he talked in terms of their future.

'All they want you to do,' went on Red, 'if they choose you, is have your picture taken looking unbelievably glamorous and make a few personal appearances when they launch it in the spring. And they're talking megabucks.'

A week later, when Perdita was practising cut shots into goal on Spotty and totally concentrating on the job in hand, Red, without warning, brought Dino Ferranti and two of his brothers to watch her. Next day she and Red lunched with the Ferranti Board in New York.

'We better Scotchtape your mouth,' said Red. 'Don't call anyone an a.s.shole.'

Ferranti's, however, were enchanted and promptly signed her up. Red said he'd handle the money side.

'Dino is kind of attractive,' said Perdita as they flew home.

'Don't be deceived. He's very tough.'

Perdita looked down at the pastel houses and the yachts that dotted the hyacinth-blue ocean as the plane began its descent to Palm Beach Airport.

'What about Venturer?' she asked. 'Aren't I under contract to them?'

'Winston Chalmers'll get you out of that. No sweat,' said Red.

'Hum,' said Perdita.

'Dino doesn't like Rupert Campbell-Black by the way, so he'll be delighted to take Venturer out,' said Red. 'Dino once made a pa.s.s at Rupert's first wife. And Rupert was very close to Dino's wife, Fen, before she married Dino, so it makes both guys edgy. Rupert is convinced Dino slept with Helen. Dino swears he didn't, but Rupert can never forgive a right.'

55.

Back in Ruts.h.i.+re on an October afternoon, Ricky, having worked young ponies all day, by way of light relief was hacking Wayne through the Eldercombe woods. Little Chef, riding pillion on the pony's plump quarters, bristled at rabbits and occasionally leapt down to chase them through leaves still starched by the morning's frost. A sinking sun, like a day-glo grapefruit, caught the s.h.a.ggy silver pelts of the traveller's joy and gingered the last leaves of the turkey oaks.

In the distance Ricky could hear the mournful pa, pa, pa of the horn. The hunt must be on their last run of the day. He pa.s.sed Daisy's cottage. A few pale pink roses still clambered up the walls. Fuchsias drooped in tubs, clas.h.i.+ng with the scarlet nasturtiums which splayed across the path. The lights were on in the sitting room and the first flickerings of a fire in the grate. Gainsborough, perched on the wall was.h.i.+ng his orange fur, crashed fatly through the cat door at the sight of Little Chef. Ricky suddenly thought how comforting it would be to follow Gainsborough in for tea, crumpets and fruitcake. But he didn't want to inflict his black gloom on poor Daisy who was unhappy enough over Perdita's defection.

So, opening the gate, he turned right up the long, green ride to Robinsgrove. Bracken the colour of Red Alderton'shair singed the sides of the valley, yellow ash wands clogged the stream and Ricky's muddy, unrecognizable ponies, whisking their burr-filled tails, stood head to tail gently gnawing at each other's withers. As he reached the top of the hill a sycamore was systematically shedding shoals of amber leaves, as if slithering out of a silk dress and, in the sunfired waters of the lake, the beeches rinsed their last red leaves.

The most beautiful autumn he could remember was coming to an end, and he was no nearer winning his bet and getting Chessie back. He had two painful cracked ribs from the hoof of a recalcitrant pony. He was worried about Dancer who had a cough that wouldn't go away. He missed Luke's endless good humour and rea.s.suring solidarity since he had returned to America, and, although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he missed Perdita horribly - and so did Little Chef and the ponies, who had all responded to her pa.s.sionate attentions. All the fun seemed to have gone out of the yard. And now he had to start welding a new team with the twins, who were charming but foxily unreliable, and the on dit on dit was that Bart was spending so much on ponies that next year he really would be unbeatable. Ricky felt like Sisyphus whose boulder had not only rolled down the hill but squashed him flat as well. was that Bart was spending so much on ponies that next year he really would be unbeatable. Ricky felt like Sisyphus whose boulder had not only rolled down the hill but squashed him flat as well.

As he rode into the yard, Louisa, having taken the geraniums out of the tubs, was planting wallflowers and forget-me-nots instead. He had not forgotten Chessie, but she had not left Bart.

The other grooms raced round the boxes of the ponies that were still inside, chucking wodges of hay into their mangers, anxious to get off and dolled up for Sat.u.r.day night jaunts.

'Don't forget the clocks go back,' said Louisa to Ricky as she took Wayne from him. 'Heaven to have an extra hour's sleep.'

Or an extra hour's insomnia, thought Ricky wearily.

A second later a dark blue Ferrari roared up the drive scattering an appropriately red carpet of beech leaves and screeched to a halt. It was Bas and Rupert on their way home from hunting, their white breeches spattered with mud, jerseys over their s.h.i.+rts, red coats chucked in the back. Both were in tearing spirits. Ricky thought for the hundredth time how well being happily married suited Rupert. Suddenly the grooms seemed in not nearly such a hurry to slope off.