Lester Bolton meanwhile was seething. Not only were his lifts killing him, but Marius had been so unbelievably rude when Cindy had announced that she wanted to ride into the fête as Lady Godiva, on her ‘frisky mount’ Furious. She planned to offer whatever little kiddie was crowned Flower Queen not only a ride but also a part as one of Lady Godiva’s children.
‘Furious shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near children, particularly at a fête,’ snarled Marius.
So instead Family Dog and Not for Crowe, with a large placard saying ‘I came third at Bangor’ round his scrawny neck, were now proudly obliging round the fête field. Led up by Angel and Dora, they were enjoying more treats than Chisolm.
Apart from Angel, the rest of the Throstledown lads had been invited over to Penscombe for the annual rounders match against Rupert Campbell-Black’s lads, which was always a great party.
‘I’d like to come back to life as a Penscombe stallion,’ sighed Josh, ‘and have one hundred and fifty mares a year.’
Rafiq, however, couldn’t relax at the rounders match when he noticed Michelle hadn’t joined them. Of all people, she would have wanted to admire the wonders of Penscombe and have a gawp at Rupert. Why had she offered to stay behind and man the yard? He didn’t trust her, and rightly. Hitching a lift back to Throstledown, he found Furious’s box empty, Dilys, his sheep, bleating pitifully, and belted down the fields up through the woods to the fête ground.
Corinna had just crowned the Flower Queen when cries of amusement and excitement rose from the field. Cindy, in an eight-denier body stocking, that left zero to the imagination, hair extensions swinging round her ankles, was screaming and squealing as Michelle, tipped £500 by Bolton, led her up to the platform on a plunging Furious.
Furious loathed and feared Michelle, who in the early days had hit him once too often with a spade. Now she was leading him up in a really vicious American gag, which caused him great pain if he took the smallest pull. Despite the pain, Furious, his rolling, darting eyes looking everywhere for escape, leapt this way and that, scattering spectators.
The Major, who’d also been bunged by Lester, seized the microphone: ‘Pray silence for Mr Lester Bolton.’
Lester then announced he was offering the Flower Queen a wonderful opportunity to star as Lady Godiva’s daughter. In addition, he hoped as many people as possible from Willowwood would turn up at North Wood to be paid as extras and take part in crowd scenes. Details would be posted on the Lady Godiva website.
Next moment the steam engine hooted and hissed, the band struck up ‘The Galloping Major’, the microphone screeched and Furious went berserk. Plunging his teeth into the shoulder of Michelle, who dropped the lead rope, he dumped a shrieking Cindy on the rock-hard ground, lashed out at the platform and the Major and took off through the stalls, kicking down the coconut shy, sending second-hand books, home-made cards, bric-a-brac including a yellow teapot, ten lavatory hippos, plants and cakes flying, charging straight through the microphone wire and upturning the tombola table with a great crash.
Treading on his lead rope, causing himself untold agony, he was now bearing down on the bar. Seth snatched Trixie out of the way and Alan grabbed Tilda as Furious sent the table, glasses of Pimm’s and bottles flying. Seeing a way out, Furious, blood gushing from his mouth, hurtled towards the crèche where a dozen village children were painting each other’s faces.
‘Stop him,’ screamed Romy.
He was twenty yards away, ten yards, when a figure leapt out, catching his lead rope, tugging him to one side.
‘Steady, boy, steady, boy, it’s OK, it’s me,’ cried Rafiq, who, after being dragged along the ground, managed to jump on to Furious’s back and steer him away from the children, until they came to a shuddering halt against a hawthorn hedge.
Leaping off the terrified, maddened animal, Rafiq hugged and stroked him, crooning and murmuring, ‘It’s all right, boy.’
Next moment, Charlie Radcliffe had panted up with his bag.
‘Well done, bloody well done.’ Then, as Furious lashed out with his off fore: ‘I’ll give him a shot.’ Seeing blood was pouring from Furious’s mouth he asked, ‘Christ, what’s he done to himself?’
‘This fucking gag,’ hissed Rafiq, who was drenched in blood too. ‘Look what she put on him. No wonder he go crazy, poor horse.’ He was ruffling Furious’s mane and rubbing his forehead to distract him as