at the Fox, which to his disappointment neither Corinna, Seth nor Bonny was able to attend, he suggested chucking out the Ford Transit and going to the races in something smarter.
‘I appreciate we need a minibus to retain the corporate feel,’ he told the group, ‘but if we each put in a grand or two we could afford a Mercedes Sprinter with infinitely superior facilities.’
Seeing Woody, Joey, Tilda, Pocock and Painswick turning green, Etta interrupted that the point of the syndicate was to make Mrs Wilkinson affordable to all of them.
‘We keep back any extra money for vet’s bills and things.’
‘The wages of syndicate is debt,’ murmured Alan, ordering red and white.
Bolton then suggested finding a sponsor for the bus and kitting out all Marius’s stable lads in smarter gear.
‘Tommy looks a mess and Rafiq needs an ‘aircut and a smile occasionally. Marius needs six monfs in a charm school. Pretty Michelle is the only one who gets it right.’
Painswick, who was embroidering a church vestment, raised an eyebrow.
It became plain that Bolton was not going to pick up bar and food bills like Valent. At this first encounter, he didn’t buy a round and suggested in a loud voice that if they were worried about costs, why didn’t they take turns to have meetings in people’s homes rather than at the Fox, buy any refreshments from the supermarket so they wouldn’t have to fork out pub prices and each bring food on the day. The Major, who’d been shocked by the prices of Chris’s hampers, agreed heartily.
‘Fun to go to different houses,’ cried Phoebe. ‘You’re welcome at Wild Rose Cottage any time, although you’d have to sit on the stairs. As it’s your lovely idea, Lester, why don’t we start with Primrose Mansions? We heard from the Major how exciting it is.’
Lester bowed. ‘Cindy and I would be happy to receive you.’
‘We’ll give a pah-ee in the summer,’ promised Cindy.
From then on Bolton continually bullied for improvements and was constantly on the telephone to Marius, whose calls were fielded by Miss Painswick. He was unable to understand why horses couldn’t run every day. Nor could he appreciate that a lack of rain made the ground too quick for Furious, or that Mrs Wilkinson was still pulled down by her trip to Wetherby.
Bolton’s ambition was to showcase his princess, who would prefer a stretch limo to a minibus and was anxious to put a pink bridle on Mrs Wilkinson: ‘She is a girlie after all.’
Mrs Wilkinson’s first race since Ludlow was a novice hurdle at Cheltenham in the middle of April. Cheltenham had been chosen because it was only twenty miles from Willowwood and wouldn’t upset her, particularly as she was being accompanied by Count Romeo, History Painting and, best of all, Chisolm, who stopped bleating instantly she discovered she was coming too.
The day was full of incident. Bolton’s electric gates fused shut and Pocock and the Major leapt from the minibus and much enjoyed helping Cindy over them with much shrieking.
Toby’s lack of chin dropped.
‘Good God,’ exclaimed Alban from the driving seat, as Cindy tottered towards the bus, tossing her long blonde hair, flashing boobs, bare shoulders and a massive expanse of mantanned, tattooed bare leg. Hanging from her arm was a pale yellow bag in the shape of a unicorn. Flung round her shoulders, despite the mild spring day, was a floor-length mink.
‘How many animals died to give you that coat?’ hissed Dora.
‘Only my mother-in-law,’ giggled Cindy, which cracked up the bus.
Lester followed in a shiny, light brown suit, jewellery flashing in the sunshine. Despite Bolton’s call for austerity, Alan was circulating the champagne and everyone was lapping it up.
Corinna was on tour, Valent in China. Bonny, in a neat little grey tweed suit and a white silk shirt, was sitting with Seth, who introduced her to the Boltons.
‘A little birdie told me you was thirty-five, Bonny,’ shrieked Cindy. ‘I cannot believe it, I hope I’m as lovely as you when I get to your age.’
‘Where’s Valent?’ asked Lester.
‘Shopping,’ said Bonny. ‘He bought a mining company in South Africa last week.’
Not to be outdone, Bolton took his BlackBerry to the back of the minibus.
Trying not to mind Seth sitting next to Bonny, Etta feasted her eyes on primroses and celandines starring the verges, above which blackthorn blossom foamed in a tidal wave. White toadflax festooned the lichened walls and weeping willow branches hung like feather boas, with little lime-green leaves and yellow catkins curling outwards.