she said, handing the plate to Etta. ‘Shade’s a terrible bully. He’s always rowing with Marius, who can’t be too rude because we need the money. Rupert Campbell-Black just tells him to fuck off. Shade tried to persuade Rupert to pull strings to get his son into Harrow, where Rupert went. Rupert said you have to put them down at birth, or lack of birth in your case.’ Olivia burst out laughing. ‘Isn’t that too dreadful?’ Etta was in heaven, two terriers on either side and one on her knee, all with wood shavings in their fur like Woody.
‘Do you terribly miss your husband?’ asked Olivia, collapsing on the sofa beside her, then answering herself. ‘I think it’d be awfully restful without one. No more “Where’s my blue shirt, where are my car keys?”’
She had a sweet way of rattling off these remarks that took the sting out of them.
‘It’s so lovely of you to have us over,’ said Etta. ‘India must come over to us. So exciting meeting all your horses in person – or in horse – after we’ve admired them as they ride out. When’s Preston going to run again? How old is he?’
When no answer came, she realized Olivia had fallen asleep, russet-curled head resting on the back of the sofa, like a poem about autumn. Her mug of tea, however, was at a dangerous angle. When Etta got up and removed it, Olivia woke with a start.
‘So sorry, so rude of me.’
‘I know you get up at five,’ said Etta. ‘I often see your light across the valley.’
They had all enjoyed themselves and Etta drove home in tearing spirits. But that evening, she received another sharp telephone call from Romy.
‘Drummond should never be taken near horses, Mother. He’s having great difficulty breathing and he said he was absolutely terrified and Poppy’s just told me she wants a pony like India Oakridge. We are not a horse family, Etta. We don’t want to go down that road – all that expense and time and snobbishness. And Drummond said they had fish fingers, frozen peas and tomato ketchup.’
Etta felt intensely irritated. Drummond was a bloody little liar and the children had loved every moment of it.
She did, however, feel guilty when she met Niall the vicar next day in the post office. She’d so meant to go to church but on Sundays Romy liked to go to Matins with Martin and expected Etta to cook lunch. When she returned, full of Christian spirit, she would complain that everything had far too much salt in it.
‘I know salt is a generation thing, Mother, but it is bad for you.’
At Evensong time, Martin and Romy would be working on the Sampson Bancroft Fund and Etta would be putting the children to bed. Afterwards she’d walk home through the wood, which got very dark and made her long for Bartlett’s reassuring presence.
At least she’d won over Mr Pocock, Mrs Travis-Lock’s gardener, who’d previously given her a very cold shoulder because Martin had sacked him. This was because Etta had rescued his black cat, Gwenny, who, when chased by a passing Alsatian, had taken refuge up one of Etta’s conifers. When Pocock came to collect Gwenny, he found her purring on Etta’s knee, having polished off half a tin of sardines.
‘She’s such a lovely cat.’
Pocock had burning yellow eyes, a big beaky nose, a crest of grey hair sticking up like a bird of prey and a lean sinewy body. He was very dismissive of Etta’s concreted-over garden and mature conifers.
Noticing the still empty bed Woody had dug out, which was now fertilized courtesy of Not for Crowe and Family Dog, and learning that Etta was saving up to buy some plants, Pocock said he might find her something that would flourish there.
‘Ferns, hostas, goat’s beard.’
‘Cowslips, hellebores, foxgloves, primulas, there’s a heavenly white one called Moonbeam,’ piped up Etta in excitement. And they were off.
Three cups of tea and three slices of chocolate cake later, Pocock was telling her about Mrs Travis-Lock.
‘She’s very Green, Etta, if I may call you Etta? Won’t even use slug pellets. She ought to use them on her neighbour Mr Lester Bolton. I ought to retire, but it’s lonely being a widower, so I’ll keep going as long as I can.’
With Gwenny mewing under his arm, he set off into the dusk.
18
The next day, Romy took the children off to visit Granny Playbridge and Etta was roused from a rare lie-in by a pounding on the