but not too accusingly because others were present.
‘We’re celebrating,’ said Seth. ‘Let me buy you both a drink. You look ludicrously beautiful, Mrs Bancroft. I’m sure Chris can knock up some Glühwein.’
‘We can’t really, kids in the car,’ said Romy, delighted Seth should be seeing her at her best. ‘They’ve had a long journey. We’ve just popped in to round up Mother.’
‘She’s busy,’ snapped Alan.
‘She’s had a long break,’ joked Martin, but his eyes were cold. Etta, who was still reeling from Seth’s stroking soliloquy, jumped up, knocking over her glass of wine.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’
‘That settles it,’ said Martin briskly as Etta dropped to her knees, mopping with a paper handkerchief.
‘Come on, Mother. No,’ he added to Chris, who was approaching with a bottle of white, ‘she’s had quite enough.’
‘She’s had one small glass,’ protested Alan. ‘You’re staying, darling.’
‘Don’t interfere,’ snapped Martin.
Priceless wandered back again, weaving his head round Etta’s bottom.
‘Your mother’s very kindly agreed to look after Priceless next week,’ said Seth, shooting Romy a hot glance.
‘Impossible,’ snapped Martin. ‘She’s far too busy and dogs give Drummond asthma.’
‘No he don’t,’ cried an even browner Drummond, rushing into the bar and hugging Priceless. ‘I like him, he’s got short fur. Can I have a drink, Dad?’
‘You’re very tired, little man,’ said Romy.
‘No I’m not, I’m thirsty,’ said Drummond.
‘Have a large Scotch,’ suggested Alan.
‘Hello, Granny.’ Poppy came racing in to hug Etta and then Priceless, who flashed his teeth at her, hitting his ribs on either side as he wagged his long skinny tail.
‘Come away,’ shrieked Romy, snatching up Poppy. ‘He’s going to bite you.’
‘No, that’s smiling,’ protested Poppy. ‘He’s pleased to see me.’
‘He’s coming to stay with Granny,’ said Drummond.
‘I can take him for walks, he never pulls,’ crowed Poppy. ‘Skiing’s boring. I missed you, Granny.’
‘Poppy and Drummond seem to know that greyhound rather too well,’ said Romy ominously as she and Martin stretched out in the clean sheets Etta had ironed and put on their bed that afternoon. ‘I think Mother may have been minding it already. But we don’t want to antagonize Seth and Corinna by forbidding it. They’ll be invaluable for attracting punters when we have events.’
‘Norman was just telling me Lester Bolton’s joined the syndicate,’ volunteered Martin. ‘We must ask him round. He’s very wealthy and desperate to be accepted.’
‘Kitchen sups with Seth and Corinna, Bonny and Valent perhaps?’
‘Excellent.’ Martin put a sunburnt hand on his wife’s full white breast. ‘Seth’s right, you do look ludicrously beautiful.’ His hand slid down between her thighs, encountering warmth and wetness. ‘Exciting that you still fancy me.’
Romy smiled, closing her eyes, growing wetter and warmer as she thought of Seth. Gratifying to have the two handsomest men in Willowwood in love with her.
The next Becher’s Brook was stopping Furious eating Cindy and Bolton alive when they viewed him at the yard. Dora, however, had dreamed up a cunning plan. The moment Marius and Michelle set off to Hereford, Furious was locked away in the isolation box and a very kind, docile chestnut called Cheesecake was imported from the nearest riding school for the day and polished all morning by Tommy and Dora. Cheesecake’s blaze was as white as the clouds above, an expression of delight on his sweet face, as he nuzzled the pockets of Cindy’s tight white breeches for Polos provided by Dora.
‘You must have a ride,’ urged Dora.
Cindy’s shrieks and giggles, according to her neighbour Alban Travis-Lock, were more earsplitting than the drills screaming on metal of her husband’s workmen. As Rafiq and Dora led her round the home paddock, she was in full throttle. All the lads, on a lunchtime break, stifled their laughter and clapped and cheered. Furious, in his isolation box, snorted, neighed, gnawed and scraped his hooves against his locked door.
‘Hubby,’ announced Cindy, ‘is very keen that my next movie should be Lady Godiva.’
‘How brilliant,’ cried Dora.
‘We’ll be auditioning mounts soon,’ said Cindy loftily. ‘Perhaps we should keep it in ’ouse and use Furious. He’s so gentle yet so good-lookin’, and if I’m going to be getting my kit off I don’t want anything too frisky, what’s going to buck me off on the cobblestones.’
‘Furious would fit the bill perfectly,’ said Dora, kissing Cheesecake. ‘You two are made for each other. Want to trot on?’
‘Might get a black eye from one of my boobs. Perhaps that handsome Rafiq could give me some lessons.’
‘He might,’ whispered Dora. ‘He’s been looking after Furious for yonks. He’s desperate for him to go to a good