All in all, for a man who was supposed to be staying in England because of her, he was behaving in an odd way. Standing in Desdemona’s box, ruffling her coat which had thickened from being turned out during the day, she gave her the last glacier mint.

Looking out of the half-door she saw a small pale sliver of new moon curling itself round the weather cock. Turning the fifty-pence piece in her pocket, she sighed, realizing there was no point wasting a wish on Billy anymore.

“Please, Moon,” she said, “give me a gold.”

A week later Jake came home. It was a perfect October afternoon with all the trees, silhouetted, against a rain-heavy navy blue sky, turning color. There was not a speck of dust anywhere in the yard or an inch of tack unpolished. Only Dino’s horses and four of the novices who were still going to shows were in their boxes. The rest of the horses were out in the different fields which checkered the hill behind the stables.

But they sensed something was up. They had been restless all day, snapping and shrieking at each other, not settling down to serious grazing, but hanging round the gates. Only now, just before Jake was due, had they all galloped off out of sight to talk to Macaulay, Africa, and Africa’s foal, who were grazing in the top field. Darklis and Isa weren’t back from school yet, although a huge banner saying, “Welcome Home, Daddy,” which they’d painted with Sarah and Dino’s help, hung from the two largest willows across the gateway. Above the murmur of the millstream Fen heard the sound of a car on the bridge. Sarah darted forward to remove a couple of willow leaves which had floated down into the yard. Then Wolf, who’d also been jumpy all day, gave an excited bark. As the car drove into the yard he leapt forward, scrabbling hysterically at the paint with his paws.

“Welcome home,” cried Fen, running forward. “Steady boy.” She caught Wolf’s collar before opening the car door. “You don’t want to send your master flying.”

But when he realized it truly was Jake, Wolf remained motionless for several seconds as though he’d been stunned. Then he put back his head and let out a series of spine-chilling howls. Jake noticed tears were coursing down the lurcher’s rough brindled cheeks.

“Come on, boy,” said Jake gently as the dog crept forward, laying his head on his master’s knee, tail rammed between his thin trembling legs, as though he couldn’t believe such a miracle. No one spoke as Jake stroked Wolf’s head over and over again, smoothing away the tears. Then, as he struggled out of the car, Dino went forward to give him a hand.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s so good to have you home. Even the sun’s come out to welcome you.”

Jake nodded, face impassive, not trusting himself to speak.

“Come inside and rest, darling,” said Tory.

“I want to see the horses.”

“You must take it slowly,” she pleaded. “Today’s been such a strain.”

“Pass me my crutches,” snapped Jake.

“Here they are,” said Fen.

As he stumbled painfully across the cobbles, slipping and once falling to his knees, Fen was about to rush to help him.

“Don’t,” said Dino sharply, grabbing her arm.

He tried not to show how shocked he was by Jake’s appearance in the sunlight. Gray with exhaustion, desperately thin, he’d had to make two extra holes in his belt to keep his trousers up.

“Oh, God,” said Fen, as he stumbled again.

“He’s got to do it on his own,” said Dino.

After what seemed an eternity he reached the gate, leaning on it, gasping, to recover his breath. Laboriously he managed to open it and stagger inside, leaning back against it for support. The field sloped up to the skyline, dotted only by a few orange beeches and lemon yellow ashes. Not a horse in sight. Jake put his hand to his mouth and whistled. There was a long pause. He was about to whistle again when suddenly over the brow of the hill they came, black, dark brown, chestnut, bay, gray, roan. Some of them jumped over fences from nearby fields, thundering down the hill, manes and tails flying. It was like the last furlong of the Derby as they hurtled towards Jake. Hardy came from the back, elbowing, nipping, shoving the others out of the way, squealing jealously. Already plump from their rest, they had never moved faster in the height of their fitness as they stampeded the gate.

“They’ll kill him,” whispered Sarah.

“They’re going to crush him to death,” cried Tory in anguish.

“Get him out of there,” urged Fen. “Oh, Dino, do something.”

But miraculously, about ten feet away, they jammed on their brakes and, although the ones behind cannoned unceremoniously into the leaders, they all slithered to a halt, not even touching the tips of Jake’s shoes. They stood there, gazing at him goofily. Then, with a thunder of whickering, they edged forward and with the utmost gentleness started to nudge and nuzzle his face, his hands, and his coat, occasionally getting jealous, flattening their ears at each other and giving each other a nip or a squeal. Hardy, true to his character, stropped Jake all over with his tongue, then gave him a sharp nip on the sleeve of his coat, just to show he was still boss.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” said Dino, looking down and seeing tears pouring down Fen’s cheeks. Finding her hand in his, he gave it a gentle squeeze. Fen looked down, started, blushed scarlet, and snatched her hand away to wipe her eyes.

“Someone’s missing,” said Sarah.

“It’s the big fellow,” said Dino.

Next minute they saw Macaulay standing on the crest of the hill, like Bambi’s father. Jake gave another whistle and the next moment Macaulay came crashing down the hill like an out-of-control steamroller, so fast that all the other horses parted in self-preservation to let him through. When he reached Jake, he chased all the others away with enraged squeals, instantly returning to press his great white whiskery face against Jake’s. Jake put his arm round Macaulay’s neck, clinging on for support, his shoulders shaking.

“D’you think he’s okay?” said Fen in dismay.

“Leave him,” said Dino. “He’s best alone with the horses.”


45


Having dreaded Jake’s return, Fen found it easier than she’d expected, because he and Dino got on so surprisingly well. Dino was unruffled by Jake’s black moods and biting sarcasm, and didn’t take them personally.

“The guy’s in a lot of pain,” he told Fen. “Got to get his act together. He needs to jackboot around a bit to regain his self-respect.”

Together they worked on the horses, and on Hardy and Manny in particular, with Jake giving orders, stumbling around the yard, first on two crutches, then one, and by the end of November with a walking stick. He also plugged relentlessly away at the exercises. Mr. Buchannan was delighted with his progress and said, with any luck, he’d be riding by February.

At night after supper, instead of collapsing in front of the television, Jake and Dino would talk over a bottle of wine until they dropped. Dino asked most of the questions, but while Jake gave Dino the benefit of all his gypsy secrets and remedies, Dino was able to counter with information on the latest medical and dietary breakthroughs in the States. Soon all Jake’s horses were taking extra vitamins. “They all rattle as they go past,” said Fen crossly.

Dino also encouraged Jake into a new regime to get him back into peak condition. Fen was staggered to see Jake, who seldom managed more than a cup of the blackest, sweetest coffee for breakfast, actually sitting down to slices of apple, dried apricot, prunes, and sticks of carrot, followed by one of Dino’s multivitamin cocktails.

“All the same, Dino’s just picking Jake’s brains,” said Fen indignantly, as she dried up one evening. “You wait till America gets the team gold and Dino the individual. Then you’ll be sorry.”

“Don’t be mean, Fen,” said Tory gently. “Dino’s doing it for Jakey’s sake as well. He looks so much better and it does him so much good to feel needed.”

Fen was also finding Jake’s criticism very hard to take. After all, she’d made more money during the last year than he ever had and she was fed up with Dino sticking up for Tory. She was only drying up tonight because Dino’d torn another strip off her for treating Tory like a slave.

“You all just leave her with the dishes. Why the hell doesn’t Jake buy her a dishwasher?”

“But she’s quite happy,” protested Fen.

“You talk as though she was some retarded kid in a mental institution.”

Dino had been particularly touched by Tory’s surprise Thanksgiving dinner.

“Where did you get this pumpkin pie recipe?” he said, amazed. “It’s better than they make at home.”

Tory went pink. “I rang up Helen Campbell-Black,” she stammered.

Fen and Jake looked at her incredulously. She must adore Dino to seek advice from the enemy camp.

The only thing that cheered Fen up during those weeks was her own increasing success. She had two good wins at home shows. All the papers regarded her as a cert for L.A. Her fan mail grew bigger. She was expected to have instant opinions as magazines called daily, asking her for her views on men, clothes, slimming, food. Hardly a day passed without some journalist coming down to Warwickshire to interview her. You couldn’t walk past a magazine rack without seeing her face peering out. Fen was not conceited by nature but she couldn’t help brooding on the admiration of the outside world, compared with the distinct lack of reverence with which she was treated at home. Jake and Dino believed there was a job to be done and she was there to get on with it.