rubber padding round the walls so the horses didn’t hurt themselves.
‘See that little ramp, it’s for smaller stallions to stand on.’
‘Like jockeys,’ said Dora.
‘Some stallions are very slow and take at least ten minutes.’ Bianca rolled her huge brown eyes. ‘Others only take ten seconds.’
‘Just like jockeys, according to Amber,’ said Dora, who, not having had any lunch, was eating Mrs Wilkinson’s Polos.
‘You need five people for each covering,’ continued Bianca.
‘One man to hold the mare with a twitch, one to hold the stallion, one to hold the tail out of the way, one to see if the stallion has ejaculated and one to guide the penis in.’
‘Poor mares, just like a levee after a royal wedding,’ said Dora indignantly.
‘Whatever. Talking of weddings,’ said Bianca, ‘should I marry Feral?’
‘Bit young, he’s lovely but only twenty.’
It was a beautiful evening, robins and blackbirds singing their heads off, tree shadows striping the frost-bleached fields. A little foal in a paddock below, his beige coat darkened by rain, was attempting to shag his mother.
‘That’s one of Love Rat’s,’ said Bianca, ‘starting early.’
‘God, I love foals,’ sighed Dora. ‘Where is Love Rat?’
‘Here,’ said Bianca, turning right.
Unlike Rupert’s other stallions who were confined to barracks, Penscombe Love Rat, father of Lusty, had a low boredom threshold and was allowed to roam free for part of the day in an electrically fenced field.
With his huge hindquarters, barrel chest and noble head he was a splendid sight, particularly as, like a teenager, he tossed his long blond mane, through which the setting sun was streaming. From the branch of a huge sycamore, already putting out acidgreen buds, hung rubber tyres, even a rubber horse to keep him amused.
Love Rat’s stud fee was £100,000 but the mares frequently presented to him did not flutter his pulses. He was a free spirit who disliked formalized cover.
‘Are you sure your father’s in Dubai?’ asked Dora, as Love Rat wandered up to them.
‘Quite,’ said Bianca, but she turned paler than Lysander when Dora suggested a bit of nooky, known in the trade as ‘stolen service’.
‘Daddy’d kill you.’
‘He won’t know,’ said Dora airily.
‘One of the screens in Daddy’s office looks straight into this field,’ protested Bianca.
‘Go and switch it off,’ said Dora. ‘It’s the ideal time, March or earlier. The gestation period is eleven months so she’d foal in February.’
‘What about the National?’ quavered Bianca.
‘They can run up to five months,’ said Dora, scribbling excitedly in her notebook.
Dora and Bianca put covering boots like great fluffy Uggs on both Mrs Wilkinson and Love Rat so they didn’t hurt each other, then fed Mrs Wilkinson into Love Rat’s field.
Instantly she became very skittish, whinnying, bucking and flashing her fanny at Love Rat. They then had a heavenly time consummating the marriage.
‘At least nine minutes,’ said Dora proudly. ‘Much better than jockeys. And they didn’t need five humans to guide anything.’
Afterwards Love Rat nuzzled Mrs Wilkinson and licked her very fondly.
‘He doesn’t do that normally,’ said Bianca.
‘Just rolls over and goes to sleep,’ grinned Dora, and rewarded Love Rat with the rest of Mrs Wilkinson’s Polos.
As a result Mrs Wilkinson cheered up no end and ate a large tea when she returned to her box.
‘Eating for two already,’ said Dora happily. ‘Love matches are best.’
‘Then I should marry Feral,’ declared Bianca, ‘and Daddy won’t bully me to get a job.’
‘What are you two laughing about?’ asked an ashen Lysander, limping back after being bucked off and attacked by Furious.
Dora couldn’t resist telling him. Lysander nearly fainted:
‘Christ, Dora! Rupert’ll fire me, and send you a bill for a hundred thousand.’
‘You’ll have to sell a lot of stories for that,’ said Bianca. ‘Better not put it in the Racing Post. The marriage has been arranged between Love Rat Campbell-Black, and Mrs Usurper Wilkinson.’
‘Don’t call her Usurper,’ shuddered Dora. ‘That’s what hideous Harvey-Holden called her.’
Mrs Wilkinson sank back into gloom. Young Eddie, who’d been ordered on to Furious by an absent Rupert, didn’t want to get savaged so instead he put the horse on the horse walker for the first time. Instantly Furious went berserk, and nearly wrecked himself and the horse walker, kicking the sides out.
Over at Throstledown, Marius, despite Amber moving in, was absolutely devastated by the departure of his two star horses. He’d picked himself up from the floor once too often. Chisolm was on hunger strike and bleated incessantly for her friend. Mrs Wilkinson’s box was left empty. All the horses, particularly Sir Cuthbert and Count Romeo, peered in hopefully. The lads, in