them a new science block, I’ll get in anywhere.’ She smiled at Seth.
Alan knew he should send her back to school, but he was so proud Seth thought she was pretty. Trixie, however, fancied Woody and took a large drink and the seat next to him.
Down the bus, Dora, also playing truant, had three mobiles to her ears and was reading the Racing Post.
‘What does it say about Mrs Wilkinson?’ asked Woody, who had rather nervously taken another day off from the big job of clearing Lester Bolton’s wood.
‘It says,’ giggled Dora, ‘connections have decided to persevere with Mrs Wilkinson because of her very promising homework. More than can be said for Trixie and me.’
‘What do they say about Count Romeo?’ Marius had entered him in the same race.
‘“At least Mrs Wilkinson won’t come last,”’ read Dora. ‘“That place is reserved for that dreadful lazy pig Count Romeo.”’
‘Goodness,’ gasped Etta, ‘I hope Bertie and Ruby Barraclough don’t read that. They’re threatening to ask for their fifty thousand back.’
‘That’s Rupert Campbell-Black’s place,’ shouted Alban, pointing to a beautiful golden house against a background of beech trees. The bus nearly keeled over as everyone rushed to the right to have a look. ‘Declan O’Hara lives in the Priory across the valley,’ added Alban.
‘Declan’s daughter Taggie, who married Rupert, cooked break-fast for us the day we met Marius,’ called out Phoebe.
Guiltiest of all syndicate members was Tilda Flood. Yesterday, with lowered eyes, she had asked for the day off for ‘personal reasons’ and not elaborated. Whereupon the head, Mrs Hammond, aware how often and how uncomplainingly Tilda covered for staff members when their children were ill, had urged her to go. Tilda rolled up in a new dark crimson suit and medium-heeled brown boots bought especially to impress Shagger, only to learn when they were halfway to Newbury that he’d ratted without telling her.
Aware that she’d risked her job with a lie, Tilda burst into tears.
‘Don’t worry,’ Seth hugged her, ‘you’ll have much more fun without him and it’ll give us blokes a chance. Come and sit here beside Alan.’ This gave him the opportunity to move nearer to Trixie.
Alan poured Tilda a large drink and soon decided she was much less skittish and silly when Shagger wasn’t around.
‘Mrs Wilkinson’s the first horse I’m not frightened of,’ she confided. ‘I like petting them and feeding them carrots, but with a fence between us.’
‘D’you feel that way with men?’ teased Alan. ‘That’s a very pretty suit.’
‘Bit too bright for the races,’ stage-whispered Phoebe to Miss Painswick. ‘You should wear brown and greens, camouflagey things that blend into the countryside. Trixie’s pink coat is completely OTT.’
Phoebe then launched into hostess mode.
‘You should be sitting next to Niall, Tilda, singletons together. Nice seeing Etta next to Pocock, both lonely people.’
‘Alban, Pocock and the Major all have crushes on Granny,’ snapped Trixie, who was painting her nails purple.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ hissed Phoebe. ‘Etta’s quite the wrong class for Uncle Alban.’ Then, raising her voice: ‘Sure you’re going to be warm enough in that thin suit, Mrs Bancroft? You should invest in a thick coat. I saw such a lovely snuff-brown one in Larkminster with a big bow, it’d really suit you.’
‘I’m not great in brown. It’d look lovely on you.’
‘Oh no, it’d be much too mature for me.’
‘I’d invest in a pair of earplugs first,’ muttered Dora. ‘Yes, Seth Bainton, he’s just done a stint in Holby City,’ she added into her mobile.
Joey’s arm along the back seat had drifted down to stroke Chrissie’s white neck.
Etta was aware of Pocock’s bony body pressing against hers each time he leant across to make disparaging remarks about everyone’s gardens as they passed. She tried to chat cheerfully to hide how devastated she’d been by Valent’s harsh words after the Worcester disaster. She’d never dreamt he’d be so bothered over Mrs Wilkinson. Horrified he thought her ungrateful, she had written a crawling letter of apology, wondering which of his six houses to send it to, and planted a lot more bulbs and shrubs in his garden, where Joey’s men had finished. She couldn’t stop fretting and felt so guilty about the sweet judge who’d given her the horse.
Oh, please let Wilkie redeem herself today.
Looking up, she saw they were overtaking two lorries with WILKINSON on their sides, promoting Wilkinson’s shops. Everyone was delighted by such a good-luck sign and giggled that Mrs Wilkinson must be branching out.
After they accelerated on to the motorway, Niall called for a two-minute silence to pray