That’s where your clients are. I hope you’ll become one of my clients, Bonny.’
‘Isn’t Shagger amusing?’ Bonny murmured to Alan, then calling down the table: ‘And you must be Toby and Phoebe, who live in Wild Rose Cottage, my favourite house in Willowwood.’
‘I cannot tell you what big fans Toby and I are, Bonny, congrats on your BAFTA,’ cooed Phoebe.
Toby, in a new yellow, red and brown check suit which looked good on his tall lean body, was quivering with excitement.
‘I work in a gallery,’ added Phoebe. ‘I hope someone’s painting you, Bonny, you are so lovely.’
‘Lovely,’ sighed Seth to Alan. ‘Delicate as a wood anemone.’
More like bindweed, thought Joey darkly, white, innocent face concealing the murderous tendrils that curl round and round the towering plant before toppling it.
‘The Blossoming sounds so moving,’ cried Phoebe, who was gazing at Bonny in such wonder that Debbie was getting quite jealous.
‘Shall we order some grub?’ said Corinna.
‘The point is,’ Phoebe hissed to Shagger, ‘is Valent paying? Because if he isn’t, I’ll skip the first course.’
‘And I’ll have cheese and biscuits,’ said Shagger.
‘I am so hungry,’ said Alban and ordered Yorkshire pudding and onion sauce for a first course and Yorkshire pudding and roast beef for a main course.
‘You can have Yorkshire pudding and treacle for dessert,’ said Debbie, consulting the menu.
‘Good idea,’ said Alban.
No one was anxious to fork out for an entire round.
‘Get another bottle of champagne,’ Corinna ordered Seth.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Alan.
Bonny, who was vying with Corinna to dazzle the waiters, announced that she’d like a glass of water. ‘And a castle of sweet seasonal melon with elderflower-scented compote.’
‘As a starter?’ asked Phoebe hopefully.
‘No, as a main course.’
Shagger, whose huge hairy nostrils were twitching as roast loin of pork went by, looked as though he was going to cry.
‘You ought to get something hot inside you, Bonny,’ said the Major heartily.
‘Preferably yourself,’ said Seth.
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ snapped Debbie.
‘If Valent’s paying,’ whispered Phoebe, ‘I’ll have smoked salmon, if not, I’ll skip a starter.’
‘I’m going to have steak and French fries,’ said Joey. ‘I’ve got a monkey on Wilkie to do the business, good little girl.’ Then he glanced up at the television: ‘Fuckin’ hell.’
‘Joey,’ thundered the Major.
‘She’s not running.’
Sure enough, on the blue ribbon along the bottom of the screen beside ‘NR’ in the 3.15 were the words ‘Mrs Wilkinson’.
‘Fucking hell,’ said Alan and Seth simultaneously.
‘What’s going on?’ demanded the Major.
‘Mrs Wilkinson’s been withdrawn.’
‘But we’ve come all this way,’ squawked Debbie, ‘and booked a room.’
‘Marius ought to be sacked, why in hell hasn’t he notified us?’ said Shagger, who hadn’t had a bet. ‘Toby and I have taken a day off work.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Running up the table, Phoebe put an arm round Bonny’s shoulders.
‘I’ll phone Oakridge,’ spluttered the Major.
Marius of course wasn’t answering his mobile.
‘Can’t organize a piss-up in a brewery,’ seethed Shagger.
Painswick’s number was engaged too.
‘Perhaps that’s why Etta and Valent have been so long down there,’ said Alan. ‘Poor little Wilkie. Shall we go down to the stables?’
The runners were already going down to the start for the first race.
‘We’re owners, we should have been consulted,’ puffed the Major.
‘We’ve come all this way in the bloody minibus,’ said Corinna furiously. ‘Seth turned down a commercial. And we won’t get to go into the parade ring.’
‘This is most disappointing,’ said Bonny, who was clearly furious.
Next moment Valent stalked into the restaurant, blue collar turned up, hair dark with rain, and the room went quiet, such was his impact.
‘He was in Midsomer Murders,’ said a Check Republic wife.
‘No, I’m sure he was Mr Rochester a few years ago. Very dishy,’ said her friend.
‘No, he was in The Bill.’
Valent as usual looked as though he brought the stormy weather in with him, black brows lowered, mouth set, followed by a cringing, apologizing Etta. He strode straight up to the table. Lunchers hastily pulled their chairs in to let him through.
‘What’s going on?’ blustered the Major. ‘Oakridge is refusing to answer his mobile. Damned disgrace. We’ve come all this way, no one’s consulted us.’
‘Is Wilkie OK?’ asked Alan.
‘She wasn’t, worked herself up into a terrible state,’ said Valent. ‘Furious took a piece out of her. I’m sorry you’ve come so far but Marius is quite right not to run her. Very gutsy of him. It’s too dark, going too heavy, like quicksand, mud flying around. She’s a great little mare, let her live to fight another day. She’ll not let us down.’ Then he glanced ruefully up the table at Bonny