me up so much,’ said Etta, hugging Cadbury. ‘Oh, look at that glorious horse,’ she added in wonder as a huge black gelding with a zigzag of white blaze came pounding past, hooves sending up sparks from the road.
‘That’s Ilkley Hall,’ said Dora. ‘He belongs to Shade Murchieson, a rich and incredibly difficult owner. Half of his horses are with Rupert and half with Marius Oakridge. Marius is terrified Shade’s going to take his horses away and send them all to Rupert because Rupert’s more successful. Shade likes to keep trainers on the hop.’
Etta remembered Shade Murchieson at Sampson’s funeral, saying ‘Fuck’ when he got an email that his horse hadn’t won. Shade of the brutal good looks and the hard, indifferent eyes.
‘Hang on a sec.’ Etta rushed into the bungalow and rushed out again waving a beautiful royal-blue collar studded with brass dog’s heads. ‘I noticed Cadbury’s collar’s a bit worn. I’d like you to have this one, given to Bartlett for her last birthday.’ Etta’s voice trembled. ‘She never wore it.’
‘Thank you so much,’ said Dora. ‘I love it to bits and it will really suit Cadbury, thank you so much, see you very soon.’
13
Etta’s day got better and better. She managed to pick up, feed and get pyjamas on Poppy and Drummond and supper of baked potatoes and beef stew into the oven at Harvest Home before Martin and Romy returned from a day spent wrestling over the legal aspects of fundraising.
‘You’ve no idea how hard it is even to print raffle tickets these days,’ grumbled Romy.
Clinging on to willow branches, Etta walked for a second time down the steep path, wishing Bartlett was waiting with waving tail and big loving brown eyes, only to find her son-in-law waving a bottle on the doorstep.
‘Carrie has gone to Tokyo, so I thought I’d drop in and see how you were.’
‘Wonderful,’ cried Etta. ‘Sorry about the mess.’ She removed a pile of Dornford Yates so Alan could sit on the sofa.
‘As long as we can find the corkscrew.’ Alan rootled around in the kitchen drawer. ‘You must get a special hook for that utterly crucial instrument.’
‘I’ve had such a good day,’ sighed Etta. ‘An absolutely darling child called Dora banged on my door with those lovely roses and such a sweet dog, which she says I can walk. She took me on a tour of the village and told me all about Valent and Bonny, and the Travis-Locks – we saw her biking off like a Valkyrie – and the Major and his wife Direct Debbie and lots of gossip about Seth and Corinna, and Ilkley Hall pounded by. Nor did I know that someone called Toby Weatherall, who lives here, works for Carrie.’
‘I don’t know for how long.’ Alan filled two large glasses to the top with red. ‘Toby’s pretty thick and chinless and addicted to long weekends slaughtering wildlife, which doesn’t fit my wife’s 24/7 work ethic.’
‘But Dora’s such a darling, so clever, and so kind to geriatrics like me.’
‘Dora has a lot of artistic older brothers and sisters, and a much older father, who died a few years ago, who she misses dreadfully.’
‘She doesn’t like her mother very much.’
‘Anthea’s an absolute bitch who doesn’t give Dora any money, so combined with a truly kind heart, she has a dubious ability to flog stories to the nationals, so watch it. Dora’s now staying with Miss Painswick, an old biddy who used to be the school secretary.’
‘Who lives in Ivy Cottage,’ said Etta triumphantly. ‘Dora suggested we went to the cinema together.’
‘You need someone more exciting than that.’
Etta noticed Alan was looking unusually smart in a blue and yellow striped shirt and light blue corduroy jacket. His blond curls, usually rumpled after a day of writing, were brushed smooth. As he bent over to top up her drink, she smelled lemon aftershave and toothpaste.
‘I shouldn’t,’ she said, putting her hand over her glass. ‘I’m terrified of turning into an old soak.’
‘Marius Oakridge’s horse Stop Preston is running at Stratford on Thursday.’
‘I saw him today, he’s gorgeous.’
‘He’s a very good horse, but rather given to mulish antics. Why don’t you come?’
‘I’ve got to look after Drummond and Poppy,’ said Etta wistfully. ‘Martin and Romy are still on their charity course.’
‘I’ll put on twenty quid for you,’ said Alan, then idly, ‘Did Dora say anything about Bonny Richards and Valent?’
‘That she climbed up a walnut tree and saw them disappear into an upstairs room for hours and hours, and Bonny