Riders

62

Afterwards Fen couldn’t recall if she ate any lunch. Ivor ate his way solemnly through two steaks without realizing it. Billy came too, cracking jokes with Rupert, keeping up everybody’s spirits. They knew they wouldn’t win, the margin was too big, but they were quietly elated. They had conducted themselves with honor.

Prince Philip, who was an old friend of Rupert’s, came up and congratulated them.

“Really tremendous! Well done, all of you! Don’t know why you bother to ride with any hands at all, Rupert.”

“I’d better go back and wind up Dudley,” said Billy, getting to his feet. “He says I must be more enthusiastic about the other nations. Good luck, everyone. Take care of yourself, Rupe.”

Rupert raised his hand. He wished Billy could stay. He was beginning to feel desperately tired and the pain was really getting to him.

“Can you give me something?” he said to the doctor.

“It’d be better nearer your round or the effect might wear off. I daren’t give you two shots or you’ll pass out in the ring.”

When the riders came out for the second round, it was soon apparent that the first round had overstretched the horses. Despite menacing clouds on the horizon and the rumble of thunder, the sun was at its height, beating down on to the stadium at a heat of over 100 degrees.

Only the top ten teams went through, but it still meant nearly forty rounds for the crowd to watch. The Americans, who had been led to believe that their team couldn’t lose, came back in anticipation of slaughter. Bored now by foreign rounds, screaming and hysterically cheering on their own riders, their chauvinism was equaled only by Billy’s in the commentary box.

“He’s a nice guy, he deserves it,” he said when Ludwig went clear, dashing British hopes, but he was unashamedly delighted when Mary Jo put in an unexpected twelve faults, and Lizzie Dean hit two fences and put in a stop, and the early French and Swiss riders knocked up cricket scores.

Ivor came in so elated by his first round success that he knocked up only eight faults.

“Marvelous,” said Billy. “That’s really marvelous. Now, with all the second riders gone, Great Britain’s edged up to third place, and the Germans are moving right up behind the Americans.”

As it became apparent that a duel to the death was setting in, people ran in from the halls and the stands filled up to bursting.

“I must have another shot,” said Rupert.

“You can’t risk it,” said the doctor.

Carol Kennedy went clear again. Once again Fen had to follow him.

“The Americans are on thirty-one; we are on thirty,” Malise told her.

Fen’s nerves were in tatters. Last time they’d had so little to lose; now they were in with a chance. If Hardy started kicking out fences, all was lost.

“Kiss me, Hardy, e’er I die of fright,” she said.

In England, they were televising only the second round of the competition. Dino checked the video for the hundredth time to see if there was enough tape for Fen’s round.

“Tory, darling,” he called into the bedroom, “Fen’s about to jump. I think you ought to come and see it.”

He could hardly bear to watch her, she looked so small and defenseless as she rode into the ring. He had seen Rupert patting her hand and giving her encouragement. The bastard looked so impossibly handsome and, with his dislocated shoulder, a more romantic figure than ever. And even worse, Billy Lloyd-Foxe was doing the commentary. What the hell was he doing in America?

“And here comes Fenella Maxwell, riding her second round for Great Britain,” said Billy. “Only nineteen and easily our most brilliant and beautiful girl rider, and voted Sports Personality of the Year in 1979. Come on now, Fen, darling.”

“Oh, shut up, Billy,” howled Janey and Dino from different parts of England.

“Please don’t cheer,” Fen prayed to the crowd as Hardy plunged all over the place. “Please don’t distract him. Let us get around. Concentrate, Hardy, my darling.”

Suddenly Hardy decided to behave, jumping over the fences as though they were fallen logs in the wood.

“I want to go clear, oh please, let me go clear,” prayed Fen, getting excited. But Hardy took such an unexpectedly huge jump over the wall that it didn’t give him enough run into the water and he landed well in with a splash. Fen felt her face covered with tepid water. Hardy was drenched. He loathed getting wet. He lashed his tail, ears flattened.

“That’s done it,” groaned Rupert. “He’ll never clear the upright; he’s come in too close.”

Determined to prove Rupert wrong, Hardy did an incredible cat jump; up and up he went as if he was climbing a ladder. Then with a merry flick of his back feet he was over.

Dino put his arm around Tory.

“Go on, Fen,” yelled Darklis.

“Don’t look round,” screamed Isa. “Daddy’ll murder you.” He stopped, remembering, and looked in embarrassed apology at his mother. “I mean, for goodness sake, hurry.”

Fen thundered down to the last triple — she was over.

“Hooray,” yelled Billy, stamping his feet in the commentary box.

The applause was so defeaning, Fen didn’t realize she’d got a time fault.

Once again, everyone got out their calculators.

“That puts us on thirty-five, very much in contention,” said Malise. “The Germans are on thirty-four, the Americans on thirty. But we can’t afford any complacency. The Italians are on thirty-nine, with Piero Fratinelli to come.”

Rupert was seriously worried. The morphine wasn’t having the desired effect this time. He hardly warmed up Rocky at all; every stride was agony. There was no point risking a fall and finishing himself off altogether over a practice fence. He sat in the tackroom on an upturned bucket, with his head in his hands. He daren’t go near the First Aid Post in case they stopped him riding.

“You going to be able to make it?” said the doctor.

“Sure,” said Rupert, “but I hope they bloody hurry.”

Hans Schmidt had eight faults.

“That’s good for us,” Billy was saying in the commentary box.

Then, blighting everyone’s hopes, Piero Fratinelli came in and jumped clear for Italy.

“That’s not at all good for us,” sighed Billy. “Good round though.”

He grinned across at Fen, who was biting her nails in the riders’ stand, and mopped his brow.

In came Peter Colegate, who’d replaced Dino. The American crowd was in a state of hysteria. All across the stands U.S. flags were being waved in encouragement, as the big striding bay thoroughbred, who’d won several races in his youth, ate up the course.

“I don’t fancy anyone’s chances against him if there’s a jump-off,” said Billy.

The thoroughbred’s racetrack origins were his undoing, however. Picking up the tension from his rider, hearing the hysterical yelling of the crowd, he was reminded of his youth and, thundering towards the final fences, he cleared the pink wall with ease, then accelerated and flattened both parts of the double and, hearing the howl and groan of the crowd, only just scraped over the last massive triple.

“Hooray,” said Billy from the commentary box. That’s absolutely marvelous for us, but admittedly not great for the Americans.”

Carol Kennedy turned to Fen, shaking his head. “Our mutual friend would have gone clear.”

“What’s the score?” Fen asked Malise.

“Italians forty, Americans thirty-eight, Germans forty-three.”

They looked at each other for a minute.

“That means if Rupert goes clear we get the gold, four faults we get the silver, eight faults we’ll have to jump off, which will be too much for Rupert.”

Rupert rode into the ring.

“And here comes Rupert Campbell-Black on Popstar,” said Dudley. “He has a dislocated shoulder, which was put back yesterday. The suspense is absolutely killing, but I think we are about to witness a great display of courage.”

“Courage is a quality the Campbell-Blacks have never lacked,” said Billy. “One of Rupert’s ancestors was on the King’s side during the Civil War, and even though he was tortured by Roundheads, he never squealed.”

All the vengeful heat of the sun seemed to be concentrated on Rupert’s black velvet hat. The colored poles and the flower arrangements swam before his eyes. The officials in their coral blazers seemed to be dancing, the derby rising and falling by itself, the red and blue boat sailing away. The pain was excruciating now. If Rocky played up, he was doomed. Somehow he removed his hat, but, as Rocky sidled away, it took hours to get it back on again.

Where the hell was the first fence? For a panic-stricken moment he couldn’t remember. He looked up at the sea of faces, curiously still for once, the peaks of their caps like a million beaks. He had a terrifying hallucination — they were going to swoop down and peck him to death. Everything went black, he swayed, then forced himself to look down at Rocky’s blond plaits. His good hand was shaking violently — like a wanking schoolboy. The thought made him laugh. Thank God, there was the first fence. He kicked Rocky into a canter.

“And there goes Rupert,” said Billy in a voice that was not quite steady. “All our hopes go with him.”

Rocky, aware that his master was wildly untogether, jumped the first fence wrong, rapping it really hard, jarring Rupert’s shoulder appallingly. To a man, the crowd winced. The next jump was almost as unhappy. Rupert lost a stirrup, his balance all awry. Then he jabbed Rocky’s mouth over the sailboat and the horse pecked on landing.

“God, that must hurt,” moaned Billy.

Coming up to the derby, Rupert found his iron and somehow managed to stay on.

“Oughtn’t he to retire?” said Fen in anguish. “It must be killing him.”

Suddenly, with a relentless surge of courage, Rupert cleared the gate, and turned to the water, riding at it like a man possessed, clearing it by two feet. The crowd roared in ecstasy and then in apprehension. Rupert was beginning to do a bit too well. Suddenly an American victory was in jeopardy. Now he was turning towards the big combination: three vast brick-red fences with their clashing bright green pools of ferns. He left the first element to Rocky, who jumped it big, leaving him too close to the second element. With a brilliant shift in the saddle, Rupert swung Rocky to the right so he had more room and could get in an extra stride before clearing it, then swung him back again so he had the same extra diagonal. Rocky clouted the final pole, which was almost indistinguishable from the greenery filling the jump, but it stayed put.

The crowd burst into a spontaneous yell of applause.

“ ‘The gods who live forever,’ ” muttered Malise to himself, “ ‘are on our side today.’ ”

“That was the most glorious piece of riding,” said Billy. “Oh, come on, Rupe. I can’t bear to look anymore. You take over, Dudley.”

There were only three fences between Britain and a medal and, because of this, they all seemed higher than the grandstand.

Rocky was jumping majestically, but Rupert realized he must speed up. He couldn’t afford time faults. Through a haze of pain the three fences receded and came towards him; he’d never judge the distances; he couldn’t really gallop on with only one hand.

“He can either go carefully and risk time faults, or risk knocking them down,” said Billy. “Knowing Rupe, I bet he chooses the latter.”

Rupert did. He came thundering down to the first fence.

“Oh, steady,” said Malise in anguish.

“Too fast,” gasped Fen. “Oh, God help him.”

Rupert was over the first fence, meeting it absolutely perfectly.

“We’ll have to jump off for the bronze,” shouted Billy excitedly.

Rupert was somehow over the two treacherous uprights of the double.

“We’ve got the silver,” yelled Billy. “Come on, Rupe, come on.”

Rocky gathered himself together, took a mighty leap, and sailed through the air, over the triple and into the history books. Pandemonium broke out in the commentary box. Billy was hugging Dudley, both yelling at once. Dizzy burst into tears.

“I’m awfully sorry, ma’am,” said Fen, realizing she was hugging Princess Anne. Suddenly she heard a hoarse strangulated sound behind her; it was Ivor, cheering like an old mule.

“We got the gold!” screamed Fen, jumping up and down. “We got the gold!”

As Rupert rode out of the arena at a walk, the whole stadium rose to their feet to applaud him. The cheers went on for a full five minutes. Naturally disappointed the home team hadn’t made it, the crowd were prepared to honor such a display of courage.

Rupert rode up to Malise. His face was expressionless.

“What price fairies now?” he said.

Malise grinned up at him. “On the day, my fairies came good. Bloody marvelous.” Then, surprised at Rupert’s lack of excitement, “You went clear you know. We’ve got the gold.”

Rupert shook his head. A loudspeaker confirmed his victory. He stayed absolutely calm. He didn’t smile or give Rocky great slaps of joy on the neck which was his normal practice. His hand didn’t even tremble. He slid off the horse, gave him a quick pat, and leant his head for a second against the red-gold satin neck. Everyone swarmed round him, cheering and yelling.

“Great, Rupe, terrific, you showed them.”

Rupert broke away from them and stumbled towards the tunnel. Everyone followed him, cheering. Malise fought his way back to Rupert’s side.

“Leave him alone,” he snarled at the pack, suddenly losing his temper. “Can’t you understand the strain he’s been under?”

“It’s all right,” he said gently to Rupert.

Rupert turned, his eyes streaming. “A moron, a schoolgirl, and a cuckold,” he said. “We took on the whole bloody world.”

“And beat them,” said Malise.

Halfway down the tunnel Rupert slumped against the wall, shutting his eyes, battling to stop the tears.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Been a bit of a strain the last few days. Too much dope, not much sleep. Oh, Christ.”

“Look,” said Malise, patting Rupert’s good shoulder, “over the years I’ve seldom seen eye to eye with you. But I have to hand it to you today. Without doubt you produced the finest and bravest display of riding I’ve ever seen. You made the other riders look like gymkhana kids. No one in that stadium or watching it on television will ever forget it.”

Rupert sniffed and wiped away the tears with the back of his hand.

“Think Jake would’ve beaten me?”

“My dear boy, today no one could have beaten you.”

Rupert stretched out his good hand and grabbed Malise’s arm.

“I’ve always given you a hard time,” he said shakily, “but I guess you’re the best, too.”

Odd, thought Malise, how the moments of greatest happiness come from the people you least expect.

Suddenly Rupert brightened perceptibly. “I put a monkey on our winning,” he said. “I must have made a fortune.”

Chestnut, dappled gray, and dark bay, they walked proudly into the arena, ears pricked, eyes bright, knowing they were the best in the world. On their backs rode Rupert and Ivor in their red coats, with Fen in black in the center. And realizing once again they were riding one man short, the magnanimous crowd cheered them to the top of the stadium. Everywhere, Union Jacks seemed to be waving.

‘And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless three,’ thought Malise.<span>

“Mummy,” said Georgina Hamilton in Scotland, “you really must allow me to meet Rupert. I mean, he may be old and frightfully wicked, but he is phenomenally attractive. And they always say it’s best to start with an older man.”

Tabitha, who’d been allowed to stay up, bounced on Amanda’s knee.

“Daddy jump,” she said. “Daddy jump well.”

“He did indeed, darling,” said Amanda. She turned to Rollo, trying to keep her elation within bounds. “If that doesn’t get Rupert a safe seat, nothing will.”

“He is stunning,” said Georgina. “Oh, promise you’ll introduce me.”

It’s a good thing, thought Amanda, that Georgina is going back to boarding school next week.

“Want Mummy. When will I see Mummy?” said Marcus for the hundredth time that day.

“I’m so proud of her,” said Tory. “She rode so wonderfully well. It’s so awful that such a marvelous victory should be blighted by the other thing. Jakey must be heartbroken not to be part of it.”

“He couldn’t come back into that,” said Dino. “I guess he didn’t want to rock any more boats. If he’s coming back, I figure it’ll be later.”

* * *

Malise followed them with his military walk, marching on air. The crowd once again gave an extra cheer in appreciation of Dizzy and Sarah in their Union Jack shorts.

As she stood on the highest middle step of the podium, Fen was still smaller than Carol Kennedy.

“Dino will be very proud of you,” he said, kissing her.

“You’d have pulled it off if he hadn’t dropped out,” said Fen.

Carol shrugged: “You’d have pulled it off more easily if you’d had Jake.”

“We might not have,” said Fen. “We were more of a team than ever before.”

The president’s wife came forward in a pale blue dress and Fen bowed her head as the pink, blue, and green ribbon was hung round her neck. As though it were in braille, she put her hand up to touch the gold, tracing the lady with her sheaf of corn on one side, the athlete borne aloft on the other.

“We got a gold,” she said incredulously.

“Team gold’s the best,” said Rupert.

They watched the British flag slide up the white pole. A breath of wind stretched it out. Never had the National Anthem sounded so beautiful.

“God save,” began Fen, then found she couldn’t go on. Tears splashed onto her high cheekbones. Rupert put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

When the music stopped she turned back to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“What shall we do this evening?” he said.

“You ought to go to bed,” said Fen.

“How about a really marvelous fuck?” said Rupert.

Fen burst out laughing.

“I’ve always wanted you,” said Rupert, kissing her.

“Hey, lay off,” howled Dino, hurling a cushion at the television set.

* * *

“Lucky thing,” said Georgina Hamilton. “She’s very attractive. Mind you, I expect she’ll console him now Helen’s pushed off.”

Amanda Hamilton was surprised how much she minded that embrace. She knew it was victory euphoria, but Fen really was very pretty. Amanda caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and pulled in her tummy. She’d been eating too much porridge, and must go on a diet before Rupert got back.

“I’ve seen a lot of things,” Malise told Prince Philip, wiping away a tear, as the riders galloped round the arena, their rosettes streaming like colored meteors, “when I went all through the war, but this is the greatest experience of my life. Makes you very proud to be British.”

“That was a staggering piece of riding by Rupert Campbell-Black,” said Prince Philip.

Jake Lovell, in a scruffy motel near Kennedy Airport, and rapidly running out of money, decided not to have another cigarette, as he had only half a packet left. With Helen in his arms, he lay in bed watching television.

“Hardy was your horse,” sobbed Helen. “You ought to have been up there getting a gold, too.”

“I’m on the winners’ rostrum already. I’ve got you,” said Jake. But his heart was like lead. Helen must never realize the colossal sacrifice he had made, or she’d never forgive herself.

Dino tucked Tory up in bed, making sure that she took both her sleeping pills. Her apathy worried him; he felt it would be healthier if she raged against Helen and Jake. Then he put the children to bed. Darklis was so overexcited she wanted a story. Every time Dino tried to skip, or missed a word because he was tired, she corrected him. He found Isa in floods of tears. Why had his father gone off with Helen? Why was the paper calling him a traitor and a deserter? What did treachery mean? Who would look after his mother now? Was it something that he, Isa, had done?

Dino comforted him as best he could. He didn’t really know the answer to any of those questions either, but he knew Jake going off had nothing to do with Isa, and he was sure that once the Games were over, Jake would want to see him and Darklis again. At last Isa fell asleep.

It was two o’clock in the morning. The Mill House seemed bitterly cold after America. Dino supposed it was the changeover from summer to fall. Now, jet lag was catching up with him and he felt absolutely shattered. For the hundredth time he asked himself if he’d been insane to indulge in this quixotic gesture of rushing off to Europe to look after Tory.

He had avoided going into Fen’s room because he was missing her so appallingly. Now, desperate for reassurance, he pushed open the door, breathing in the faint trace of her perfume and the mustiness of damp and dust and lack of use. All the china horses on the shelves and the teddy bears that used to fill up the entire windowseat had been put away. Perhaps that was his fault for telling her during that terrible row she ought to grow up. He’d liked the room better as it was before — except for the photograph of Billy Lloyd-Foxe, which had been removed.

Feeling he shouldn’t be snooping, he opened the top drawer of the chest and found a small pile of newspaper cuttings and photographs held together by a pink plastic paper clip. They were all of himself, making him feel slightly better. All the same, he’d been mad to leave her with Rupert and Billy. He went back into the sitting room and opened a bottle of wine. He felt shattered but not really sleepy; his time clock was still up the creek.

Turning on the television, he stretched out on the sofa. They were now showing the press conference. Everyone cheered and whooped as Malise and the British team filed in. There was a tremendous popping of champagne corks.

Rupert, who sat next to Fen with his good arm along the back of her chair in a vaguely proprietorial way, did most of the talking. He looked great; the earlier tears might never have occurred. He must have lost another half a stone since Helen left him, but it merely made his arrogant, slightly depraved face more finely planed than ever.

“Now, none of us want to talk about my wife or Fen’s brother-in-law, so no questions about that,” he said. “I think we proved that we can win medals without the others. Ivor had the most difficult task, as the pathfinder. He jumped quite brilliantly. Fen had to jump on a different horse, and he can be a sod, I promise you. He’s much too strong for her, but she kept him sweet, and I’d like to remind you that she’s only just nineteen and jumping in her first Olympic competition.”

Fen blushed as a huge cheer went round the room.

“I’m incredibly proud of them,” said Malise. “I think today they all moved up a gear, and that people will talk about Rupert’s legendary second round as long as show jumping lasts.”

“And it wasn’t just us, either,” said Fen, holding out her glass for more champagne as the cheers subsided. “It was Malise who kept us all calm when we looked like going to pieces, and Dizzy and Sarah, our grooms, and poor Griselda who’s in hospital, and our families, who’ve had to put up with us being offish and totally self-obsessed for the last month…Also,” she added defiantly, “there’s my brother-in-law, Jake Lovell.”

Somebody booed, then everybody followed suit, stamping their feet, shouting, “Out, out, out.”

“No, shut up,” said Fen furiously. “He taught me everything I know, and he made Hardy the horse he is; Hardy who got a silver and a gold, so we ought to thank him and give him credit as well.”

“Particularly,” drawled Rupert, “for taking my wife off my hands.”

For a second there was an embarrassed pause, then everyone roared with laughter.

Rupert seized the champagne bottle, filling up his glass.

“In fact, the toast definitely isn’t absent friends. We like the people who stuck by us, don’t we, angel?” He stroked the back of Fen’s neck. There wasn’t a reporter in the room who didn’t respond to his magnetism.

“We noticed you had Fen in a clinch on the podium,” said the man from the Daily Mail.

“Who can blame me?” said Rupert insolently.

Fen looked wary. “Our horses are good friends,” she said.

“What about you two?” said the man from the Daily Mirror.

“This is quite unnecessary,” snapped Malise. “They came here to discuss the gold medal.”

The man from the Mirror ignored him. “Might be nice if you consoled Rupert,” he said.

“No, it would not,” said Fen furiously. “I’m going to marry Dino Ferranti.” Then she clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.

Dino knew that, where Rupert was concerned, Fen was unfinished business. He trusted Fen, but for the last three hours he had been through all the agonizing jealousy of a man deeply in love.

“Yippee,” he shouted, “Yippee.” Then, exactly on cue, he heard the bells pealing out in the village. He opened the window. It was a clear starlit night. Orion was climbing out of bed on the horizon, pulling on his boots. Not a breath of wind ruffled the curtains. The peal of the bells must be carrying miles down the valley. His darling, darling Fen had won the gold. The village hadn’t known what to do; they had been shellshocked by Jake walking out. Now they had another heroic exploit to celebrate. They could carry on with their Welcome Home celebrations. Not many villages in England could boast a silver and a gold.

Tory, woken by Dino’s shout of joy, pulled the blankets and pillows over her head to blot out the sound of the bells, remembering in anguish how they had rung out for Jake only six nights ago. Oh God, please, please bring him back. As the telephone rang, she experienced a frantic surge of hope, then the black, black despair overwhelmed her again as she heard Dino say, “Fen darling, you were fantastic, a bloody miracle. I never figured I’d want another country to beat America, but you were just great, great, great.”

“Dino,” said Fen in a small voice. “I’ve got something to tell you. I didn’t mean to force your hand. But they goaded me about Rupert at the press conference and I told them I was going to marry you.”

“I know,” said Dino. “Best program I’ve ever seen.”

“You saw it?” said Fen in amazement.

“I taped it, so you can’t change your mind. Means we won’t have to put an announcement in the New York Times, either.”

Fen giggled. “Oh, you are lovely. I didn’t want to trap you.”

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you? Look, are you coming home tomorrow? I’ve got the most god-awful withdrawal symptoms.”

“Oh, yes,” said Fen. “I can’t bear another minute away from you.”

“And when you get back, I’m going to frog-march you into the nearest Registrar’s office and marry you. What the bloody hell’s Billy doing out there?”

“Were you jealous?”

“Insanely — that’s why I want you home. I don’t trust either of those bastards.”

For a few minutes they talked nonsense.

“Have you said anything to Tory about us?”

“No, not really. I guess she knows. She’s not in very good shape.”

Tory, who had been listening at the top of the stairs, desperate for some crumb of comfort, some tiny piece of news about Jake, slunk back to bed. Only when Dino had checked that she was asleep did she give way to tears.