He and Rupert were joined at the hip, read each other’s minds and finished each other’s sentences.
On the surface Billy was too kind, easy-going and generous, but he had won Olympic medals for showjumping and had become an adored BBC commentator. Somehow, too, Billy had managed to stay married to his rackety, promiscuous journalist wife, Janey. But to cope with the strain, Billy had always drunk and smoked to excess, which had now taken its toll. Billy made light of the pain but his stocky figure had dwindled away, the thick curly grey hair was sparse, and only the huge smile dominating the emaciated face was the same.
Although Billy remained in hospital, he was still hoping and fighting to be well enough to fly up and swell the team of BBC presenters covering the Grand National.
The National was the only big race that had evaded Rupert and he had caught Valent up in his desire to crack it. He therefore made colossal headlines by announcing that from now on he would be training Furious and Mrs Wilkinson at Penscombe and they would both be joining Lusty in the National in three weeks’ time. Despite his love-hate relationship with young Eddie, he would have adored his grandson to ride his three-thousandth winner on one of the three horses.
Most of the Willowwood syndicate were absolutely thrilled by the move to Rupert. Not only had they cleaned up financially with their share of the £600,000 Valent had paid for Mrs Wilkinson, but there was also the 1 per cent share they’d retained in her, and Valent had promised to fly them all up to Aintree where he’d taken a box.
‘Marius who?’ mocked Shagger.
‘Rupert’s two top stallions, Peppy Koala and Love Rat, charge stud fees of a hundred thousand,’ announced Alan.
‘I’d pay that to sleep with Rupert,’ said Corinna.
‘If we all put in ffity thousand we could have a gang bang,’ chortled Phoebe, then, although she’d never visited Mrs Wilkinson at Badger’s Court or Throstledown, she added, ‘I hope we’ll have lots of access to Wilkie so she won’t get lonely.’
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Rupert’s wonderful yard,’ said Tilda.
So was Alan, for his book, but he was not sure how accommodating Rupert would be.
‘“At the base of these aristocratic races,”’ quoted Seth, ‘“the predator is not to be mistaken, the splendorous Blond Beastie avidly rampant for plunder and victory.” Never underestimate Rupert.’
Etta had missed the meeting held on the Monday after the Gold Cup, at which the Major told the syndicate of the move to Rupert’s. Romy and Martin had buzzed off to London for an evening fundraiser, leaving Etta with the children. She therefore heard the news later in the evening from an outraged Painswick and was so distraught she immediately rang Valent:
‘How dare you desert Marius after all the love and work he’s put into Wilkie, and what about poor Tommy! They know what she’s capable of – not bloody Rupert Campbell-Black.’
‘I thought he was your pin-oop and you’d be pleased to have him training Wilkie for the National.’
‘The National?’ screamed Etta. ‘How could you!’
‘You were always saying your favourite book was National Velvet and as a little girl you dreamed of winning the National.’
‘The Pie in National Velvet was huge, Mrs Wilkinson’s had all the stuffing knocked out of her by the Gold Cup and she’s only fourteen two.’
‘So was Battleship.’
‘Everyone quotes bloody Battleship. Anyway National Velvet was fiction.’
The rest of the syndicate tried to talk Etta round.
‘You’re being too harsh on Valent, Granny,’ protested Trixie, remembering the greenbacks after the Gold Cup. ‘He loves Mrs Wilkinson and he’s saved her so many times, look at the time he came all the way back from Dubai to talk the syndicate round. And think how exciting it will be to see Rupert’s yard.’
Rupert’s yard was indeed glorious, with its lovely honey-gold house lying back against its pillow of beeches, now showing a green blur of spring. The old showjumping yard had been enlarged to house his racehorses, but he had colonized the entire valley to build the stud where his stallions strutted their stuffing and the boxes for his brood mares and their foals. Electronic security gates and CCTV cameras monitored operations in field and stable.
‘It’s a good thing they didn’t operate in the old days,’ said Dora, ‘when Rupert was pulling every girl groom in sight.’
There were multi-screens in his office to watch his horses wherever they were running