A Rural Affair - By Catherine Alliott Page 0,99

aloft and on high on their stamping, snorting beasts, bits jangling, and oozing … what was it, sex? Money? Status? Then down below, people like me and Jennie and Frankie, who’d help the publican pass up the port in little plastic tumblers, looking on in awe and wonder. Later, the whole ensemble, horns blowing, hounds alert, would trot smartly off up the lane. As Sam would trot too, flanked perhaps, on either side, by Angie and Hope, sexy in their tight breeches, hairnets, lipstick, nipped-in jackets. I was pretty sure I had one of those jackets somewhere …

I gazed at the mist. An idea began to form. Consolidate and thicken, like the grey haze outside. Suddenly, on an impulse, I plucked my phone from my pocket and perched sharply on the arm of the sofa. It rang a moment, then answered.

‘Hi, Dad, it’s me.’

‘Darling. How lovely. How are you?’

‘Really well,’ I assured him. I hadn’t been, as recently as a couple of days ago, but was determined to be now. Not to go backwards. Fall in any holes. I rushed on. ‘Um, Dad, a favour.’

‘Of course, my love. Fire away.’

‘Can I borrow a horse?’

‘A horse?’

‘Yes, there’s a meet here the day after tomorrow. The opening meet, actually. I thought I might go out.’

There was a long pause. Finally, when he spoke, incredulity and delight filled his voice. ‘But you haven’t ridden for years, Poppy!’

‘I know, but I can ride, can’t I? One doesn’t forget?’

‘Oh, sure, it’s like riding a bike, but –’

‘But what?’

‘Well, hunting is a slightly different kettle of fish, love.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, everything goes up a gear. Fences, ditches – the horse itself. More adrenalin. Much more speed.’

I thought of Sam, galloping along on some gleaming steed, spurred and confident, the Grangers behind him.

‘I can go up a gear.’

‘Of course you can!’

My dad had a terrific can-do attitude. All he’d felt honour-bound to do was voice some caution, which he’d surely done. Now, however, the brakes would come smartly off.

‘Come over tomorrow,’ he said eagerly. ‘I’ll see what I can fit you up with. Tosca, perhaps. Or even Badger? Quite a challenge. A mount for my girl! Yes, pop by tomorrow and we’ll sort you out. Day after tomorrow, you say?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you can take it back in my lorry. Leave your car here.’

‘Except … where would I put it?’ I glanced wildly around my very small sitting room.

‘Hasn’t your friend Angie got stables? You can pop it in with hers for the night, can’t you?’

‘She has got stables …’ I stood up from the sofa and caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror above the mantle: quite flushed for me. Some unfamiliar bright eyes looked back too. I licked my lips. ‘Except, I quite wanted to keep it a secret. Just – you know. Turn up. Surprise everyone.’

My father barely missed a beat. If there was one thing he liked more than a challenge, it was a surprise. ‘Oh yes, much better! That’ll show them. Anyone who’d written you off as a wilting widow.’

‘Well, quite,’ I said quickly. He’d got the gist. I walked to the window, arm still clenched round my stomach. ‘But … where would I put it, Dad? Would it be all right in the field with the sheep at the back, if I cleared it with the farmer?’

‘Farmers can be awfully antsy about that sort of thing. Haven’t you got some sort of outbuilding at the bottom of your garden?’

‘It’s called a garden shed, Dad. With a lawnmower and spades inside it.’

‘Well, you can move the lawnmower, love. Don’t get bogged down by the minutiae.’

I sensed my father warming to this. He’d been known to employ some pretty eccentric dwellings for animals in the past and we’d once had a miniature Shetland pony that wandered into the kitchen when it rained, to lie down by the stove. And of course the fish in the bath. I could sense him powering on regardless.

‘Saw the door in half,’ he said firmly. ‘I can’t visualize that shed offhand but I’m sure it’s big enough. Anyway, don’t you worry – we’ll sort something out. I’m just so thrilled you’re up for it Poppy! Atta-girl! Good for you.’

It occurred to me as I put the phone down, that for all his relaxed attitude, Dad might have been more worried about me than he’d let on. He was clearly thrilled to bits. I should have taken more time previously, to reassure him. Oh well, he was certainly reassured

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