Well Groomed (32 page)

Tash glanced at Niall again. The only thing he was making patently obvious tonight was how hysterical he thought Minty’s sense of humour was.

‘Exactly.’ Her confidant knew precisely what she was thinking and grinned across at her broadly. ‘I was wondering why too. It only started yesterday – just after he said you were coming up to visit. If this is some sort of game you two guys play, then I’m only too happy to join in. I must say, you are a simply gorgeous creature.’

Suddenly a warm hand started to creep on to her knee. As Tash’s stay-up stockings had again fallen down, it encountered nothing but wrinkled nylon and rubber. She whipped her chair back further, but the hand slid onward, fingering its way inside the stocking tops.

Her mouth full of mushroom soup, Tash started to splutter and cough in alarm.

Feeling childish tears prickling at her eyes now, she mumbled something about going to the loo, pushed away from the table and fled back to her room.

There, she paced around for twenty tearful minutes, wishing that Niall would follow her to check that she was okay. When he plainly wasn’t going to appear, she lit a cigarette with shaking hands and stalked out on to the cloistered balcony to gaze at the loch and think up a way of winkling Niall away from Minty to bawl him out. It was perishingly cold and her flimsy nylon slip whipped back against her skin like a slap of water from a bucket. Tash closed her eyes and shivered, wondering what the hell he was playing at.

Inside the room, the phone rang.

Racing inside, Tash snatched it up within seconds, fighting resentment that Niall was calling her from the bar after his meal and not bothering to walk the fifty or so yards of lobby that separated them.

‘Miss French – call for you,’ announced a soft Scottish voice.

‘Tash?’ came a breathless pant.

‘Penny, what is it?’ She fought disappointment.

‘Okay, don’t get in a panic, but I knew you’d kill me if I didn’t tell you. Snob’s got a bloody awful bout of colic.’

She froze. ‘How bad?’

She could hear Penny drawing in breath through her teeth.

‘Well, Jack Fortescue thinks we’ve made it in time, but we’re still battling, to be honest. Gus found him cast at eight – just couldn’t get up. Poor devil’s in agony.’

Tash clutched the bed for support, dragging acres of counterpane over her in her distress. Penny never minced words, and for that she was grateful, but she felt utterly panicked and helpless. Colic was at the least a painful bout of equine tummy ache, at worst life-threatening. Because a horse is physically incapable of being sick, any poison it eats causes distressing pain as its stomach distends with gas and its body tries frantically to expel it. If more serious, the stomach starts to spasm and the pain is excruciating. The risk is that the horse’s bowel will twist during spasm, cutting off the blood supply and causing an internal rupture. It was this that could kill. Tash knew that for Penny to call, the colic had to be about as bad as it got.

‘How long has he been like it?’

‘Hard to tell – the trouble is he always paws in his stable so much and makes such a hullaballoo that no one realised the poor devil was in pain. And he’s bloody difficult to treat. It took four of us to get him up.’

‘But what – I mean, why?’

Penny drew in another sharp breath. ‘Kirsty let him out for a leg-stretch in the menage this afternoon and then raced inside to take a call from Hugo. God knows what he found to eat in there – someone must have thrown down an apple core or something – but the stupid idiot seems to have eaten great fist-loads of sand along with it. Now it’s all bunged up inside him.’

Tash closed her eyes, ‘And Kirsty never thought to . . .’

‘. . . never thought to mention that it might be sand until the horse was writhing in agony. No.’ Penny sounded extremely angry.

‘But Jack definitely thinks he’ll pull through?’

Penny didn’t answer for a few seconds. ‘He’s pretty certain, but the sand is blocking his gut so he’s still in agony, poor lamb. Jack’s working like mad – Gus is with him.’

Knowing what that meant, Tash almost broke down. ‘I’m coming back.’

‘Christ, no!’ Penny sounded appalled. ‘It’ll take you simply hours. You’re better off there with Niall. I’ll call you the moment we know.’

‘I’m coming home,’ Tash sobbed, and slammed down the phone.

Not bothering to change, she piled all her stuff into her bag. As she raced towards the dining hall to tell Niall what had happened, she heard loud whoops of laughter and stopped in her tracks. She couldn’t see the group’s table through the door, but Minty’s voice was ringing throatily above the cackles as she regaled the others with a series of acid comments.

Cowering behind a huge, baronial pillar, Tash didn’t have to listen for long to hear who she was describing.

‘Did you see her stockings? They were dangling around her knees like old hockey socks! I kept expecting her to bully off.’

‘Instead she just ran off dribbling!’

‘Poor thing,’ Minty giggled. ‘She probably had soup in her mous-Tash.’

Biting her lip, she backed away, feeling as though she’d been branded on both cheeks by a red hot iron that read ‘LOSER’. She knew she’d behaved like a wimp all day, but couldn’t believe Niall wasn’t leaping to her defence. Fighting not to cry, she rushed back to the room again to leave a scribbled note of explanation.

Her only small pleasure was that she wrote it in thick black eye-liner all over a page of his dialogue script for the first scene scheduled the next day.

Reversing the design classic with a squeal of tyres on Tarmac, she didn’t notice the glow of a cigarette end from the darkened garden as Niall, standing alone in the shadows, watched the car he had bought her speeding away from the hotel.

WEIGHED DOWN WITH THE most exclusive carrier bags Sally had ever had the pleasure of hooking over her arms, she and Lisette snatched a quick drink in the Fifth Floor at Harvey Nichols, sitting in a bright corner to watch Knightsbridge bustling below.

‘So the wedding’s all set for the first Saturday in June, is it?’ Lisette took the top inch off a long gin and tonic with a delighted roll of her eyes. ‘Only I have to liaise with the
Cheers!
magazine people soon to arrange their photo-shoot. They want loads of pictures of frothy bridesmaids and celebrity guests.’

Sally nodded. ‘From Fosbourne, according to Henrietta, not James’s place after all. They still haven’t sent out invites – apparently Tash and Niall haven’t bothered writing a list yet. Tash is even planning to compete at Badminton the weekend before the wedding.’

‘And Niall will be in my bed.’ Lisette gave her a wink.

‘What?’ Sally almost spat out a mouthful of vodka and orange.

‘Four Poster Bed.’ She lit one of her low-tar cigarettes. ‘The film, darling. Try at least to learn the name if you’re going to work on the fucking pic – that sort of thing impresses backers.’

‘Sorry.’ Sally grinned. ‘So you’re definitely going to try and change Hugo’s mind?’

‘What d’you think this is for?’ Lisette nodded towards the plushest of her carrier bags in which nestled an acre of tissue paper delicately wrapped around one of the slinkiest dresses Sally had ever seen. Lisette had bought it especially for Hugo’s birthday party, at which she was planning finally to persuade him to relinquish his house for a fortnight to let her team film there on location. She’d already asked him twice and been turned down flat both times, but she was determined to win through.

‘It is a beautiful house,’ Sally sighed, having driven past it with Tash once.

‘Beautiful owner.’ Lisette’s eyes twinkled.

Sally looked at her in shock, her mouth forming into an O.

‘Not Hugo?’

‘It might be fun.’ Lisette smiled thoughtfully, indulging herself with a mental image for a second or two. ‘I’ve always wanted a crack at him, but he’s so fucking aloof, I can’t read him.’

‘Shouldn’t think he’s particularly well read either,’ Sally said disparagingly.

‘Maybe not, but that doesn’t stop him being unfairly bright. I’ve never met anyone with such a sharp tongue.’ Lisette’s luminous eyes twinkled greedily.

‘Sounds painful.’

‘I reckon that beneath that six-inch steel veneer, he’s incredibly passionate.’ She winked. ‘And you have to admit, he’s divinely constructed.’

‘My mother-in-law thinks he’s the sexiest man on God’s earth,’ Sally giggled. ‘She spent ages trying to set him up with Tash one summer.’

‘Hugo?’ Lisette spluttered. ‘Matty’s mother tried to set Hugo up with Tash?’

‘More or less – she was certainly hinting hard. Anyway, Tash went off with Niall in the end so . . .’ She covered her mouth in embarrassment.

But Lisette shrugged. ‘Ancient history, darling. I always said I wasn’t set up to be a me-Niall house-wife. He needs someone much more placid – Tash is great for him. Now tell me more about this wedding. Is Tor going to be a bridesmaid? She’ll look so fucking cute.’

A few minutes of wedding gossip later, Sally took a deep breath.

She flushed. ‘Listen, now I’m working for you, I’ve been looking through all those notes you gave me and I’ve come up with a bit of a publicity idea for Four Poster Bed.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Lisette looked at her watch dismissively. ‘The thing is, hon, we’ve really worked out the publicity strategy alrea—’

‘It might help you get in with Hugo too.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Lisette suddenly looked far more interested. ‘Will it cost much?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s a sort of a wedding present for Niall and Tash really. I was going to ask you whether you thought it might work . . .’

Tash had driven into the dawn and through the morning, slowing up as the traffic began to choke the roads and fatigue started to twitch at her tired eyes. After a snatched lunch, she had fought her way through the Birmingham motorway system and was now heading for home. She was absolutely shattered and driving so badly that she was amazed she made it to Berkshire at all. The design classic was in an even worse state, clanking and groaning as though trying to throw up its entire engine after bingeing out on so much high-octane petrol, its windscreen now bearing two gleaming, wash-wiped arcs amidst a thick coating of mud and grime. The batteries had gone flat on Tash’s cassette player hours ago, and she was trying to keep herself awake and focused by singing Abba songs at the top of her voice – they were the only ones she could ever remember.

It was almost dark again by the time she reached the farm, her lungs hoarse as she belted out ‘Fernando’, somehow unable to stop even though she was home. She was so tired that she felt an over-riding urge to burst into tears of relief for having made it back, feeling like an Arctic explorer who’s battled for hours and hours through a blizzard to make it to base camp. As she parked the car beside Zoe’s never-used old Merc, Wally and Beetroot raced into the yard barking their heads off in greeting while Enid hid behind the Land-Rover, her spotty tail glued between her legs, amber eyes peering at Tash from beneath the chassis.

Noticing that the horse-box was missing, Tash almost fell out of the design classic and stumbled on cramped legs straight for Snob’s box, pursued by an ecstatic Beetroot. Both of the doors were shut and her heart stuck in her throat like a bulimic’s fingers as she slid back the top bolt with shaking fingers and peeked in.

With a juggernaut whicker, Snob’s pink nose was thrust through the gap and rammed into her face, accompanied by an enormous amount of slobber coated with green slime. Tash almost fell backwards as he head-butted her grumpily, eager for a snack to appease his aching, empty stomach. His huge, purply eyes rolled with greed and bad temper.

‘Hardly a model patient,’ laughed a voice behind her. ‘The bugger’s almost had my arm off twice this evening. Gus says he’s being disarming. Or was it armless?’

Tash spun round and spotted Ted, lounging against the box next door and scratching Mickey Rourke’s grey lop ears.

‘So he’s all right?’ she said anxiously, glancing at Snob who was trying to snap at her coat collar. She was still wearing her nylon slip and riding jacket; her hold-up stockings had slipped deep beneath her long snakeskin boots now.

‘Not one hundred percent yet,’ Ted said. ‘Jack reckons he’ll be feeling pretty rough for a couple of days. But he’s not going to be Kit-e-kat, if that’s what you’re worried about. You look fantastically horny, by the way.’

To Ted’s surprise, he was the sudden recipient of an enormous hug before Tash bounced back to hug Snob, who inserted his pink nose into her coat and bit off the strap of her slip.

‘Now you’re back, will you cut my hair?’ Ted patted Mickey who, wildly jealous that Tash hadn’t yet said hello, was whickering like a revving lorry engine, his big, pale face stretching towards Snob’s stable to see what all the fuss was about, wall eyes bulging.

‘I’d better show my face in the house first.’

‘Gus and Penny are taking a clinic in Hampshire.’ Ted started to wander back to the tack room, his denim behind coated in dust from sitting down on one of the feed bins to clean tack. ‘But Zoe’s around somewhere, cooking one of her killer curries. If you hurry, she’ll count you in too – Kirsty’s invited Hugo over for it, poor sod. I hope his guts are lined with more lead than a church roof.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he’s too keen to curry favour with Kirsty to care.’ Tash gave Snob a final kiss before closing his top door.

In the kitchen, Zoe and India were chopping veg and watching
Neighbours
simultaneously.

‘We’ve been expecting you.’ Zoe looked up, her smooth, Slavic face not entirely friendly.

‘Oh, yes?’ Tash nicked a carrot and gathered up Beetroot, who was still weaving around underfoot. She had grown so big of late that Tash groaned as she lifted. Her back was aching from driving for so long.

‘Niall called – said you’d done a bunk,’ Zoe clattered through the cutlery drawer disapprovingly, selecting a huge chopping knife. ‘He was beside himself with worry.’