win on Mrs Wilkinson, ‘And there was a big piece in the Express about racing’s new pin-up. Rafiq’s terribly embarrassed but so pleased, he asked for five copies in the village shop to send home to Pakistan. Tommy’s so excited for him. Amber’s still a bit beady, understandably, poor child.’
Valent, who kept tabs, knew all this but he liked hearing Etta’s version as he tested the lamb and the new potatoes.
She was now telling him about Amber sneaking out and illicitly riding Bullydozer over the new Gold Cup fences.
‘Marius is so clever at recognizing a horse’s potential. Bully’s sweet, like a great puppy, and really responding to TLC.’
Valent just managed not to point out that he’d paid for all the fences and bought Bully, after Tommy’s tip-off. As he turned the new potatoes, however, he couldn’t resist telling Etta he’d got a lovely present that day, ‘in that box over there’.
Inside was the most beautiful decanter shaped like a ship.
‘Oh,’ gasped Etta, ‘how ravishing. What does it say on the prow? “God speed to a great boss.” Who gave you that?’
‘The card’s tucked in the side.’
On it were hundreds of signatures, all over the inside and even on the back of the card, accompanying the words, ‘With admiration from all your friends at Goldstein Phillipson’.
‘Oh, how wonderful. That was the American bank you felt guilty about abandoning. What an amazing compliment.’
She listened and remembered, thought Valent.
But as Etta took the glass ship out of its box to examine it, it slipped from her hands and smashed into a hundred pieces on the floor.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry,’ wailed a distraught, disconsolate Etta.
‘It doesn’t matter, pet.’ Leaving the new potatoes, Valent put his arms round her. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s only glass, not a heart, that’s broken, please, please don’t cry. Stay there on the window seat, Priceless luv, you don’t want to cut your paws. Now let’s find a doostpan and broosh.’ Then, when Etta couldn’t stop crying as she seized them from him and began sweeping frantically: ‘It’s all right, luv, I’ve got the names on the card, I was so tooched by that, that’s what matters.’
Sampson would never have forgiven her, thought Etta.
Valent was so, so kind, topping up her drink, leading her out into the dusk and turning up the sound fortissimo so Mahler’s second movement, a lovely galumphing dance, erupted down the valley. On cue, the sinking sun burst through a rain cloud to light up Etta’s blonde curls, her smudged mascara, her still falling tears.
To stop her crying, Valent swept her into a waltz and soon had her shrieking with laughter as their feet flew over the grass.
‘I’d no idea you were such a good dancer, de dum, de dum dum, de dum, de de de de dum,’ sang Etta, as Priceless gambolled after them.
Next moment, Valent caught his foot round a rustic pole on the edge of the lawn and pulled Etta over on top of him in the wild garlic.
Both stopped laughing hysterically and gazed into each other’s eyes.
‘Oh Etta,’ muttered Valent, ‘you OK, not hurt?’
‘Far from it, you make a lovely cushion.’
Their hearts stopped, but not Mahler. Then they both jumped.
‘Will you kindly turn down that din,’ roared a voice, ‘or I’ll call the police. There are kiddies trying to sleep here. Valent Edwards will not be pleased when he hears about this.’
It was the Major.
Valent was about to shout back, when Etta put a hand smelling of scent and wild garlic over his mouth. Then, clambering off him, she shot back into the kitchen.
‘He’s got his grandchildren staying,’ she explained, giggling helplessly as she tried to slow her beating heart. ‘I took Drummond and Poppy to tea there yesterday. Drummond pulled up all Debbie’s bamboos to use in a sword fight, then he peed in the Major’s rain gauge. The Major, assuming it was four inches of rain, promptly rang the Met and The Times – so embarrassing. I fled.’
‘How’s dear little Trixie?’ asked Valent.
‘She worries me,’ sighed Etta. ‘She’s so miserable and ratty. I can’t work out if it’s normal teenage behaviour or something more serious. Oh, I’m so sorry about the decanter.’
Tomorrow she would write to Goldstein Phillipson and ask them to engrave another ship, which she would pay for, even if she had to sell the Munnings.
102
Valent flew off again, coinciding his return with Bonny having a week off from her tour of Private Lives, which she told