‘It’s no good,’ screamed Caitlin. ‘I wanted Archie to see me in his jersey. I’ll kill her, I’ll absolutely kill her.’

Nothing Taggie could say would calm her down.

‘I’ll ring up Rupert and see if you can have a bath there,’ said Taggie in the end.

Throat dry, heart thumping, hands drenched in sweat and trembling, Taggie misdialled the number three times in her nervousness. When Rupert didn’t answer immediately, she nearly put the telephone down.

‘Hullo.’ He sounded irritable and very sleepy.

‘It’s Taggie.’

‘My darling.’ His voice softened.

‘I’m desperately sorry,’ she began. Then, stammering worse than ever, she explained what had happened, but didn’t mention Archie’s name. ‘Could I possibly rush Caitlin over to wash her hair and have a bath?’

‘Of course,’ said Rupert, ‘as long as we can all have it together.’

Rupert hadn’t shaved when they arrived. He was wandering around in bare feet, having obviously just put on the white shirt and the black dinner-jacket trousers he’d been wearing last night. He looked bugeyed.

‘I won’t stop,’ mumbled Taggie, desperate not to impose on him. ‘I’ll pick Caitlin up in an hour, OK?’

Rupert pulled her into the house. ‘Don’t be boring. As I’m such a notorious reprobate, you ought to stay and chaperone Caitlin.’

Caitlin promptly started raging on about Maud. ‘Bloody old cow, nicking all the water, and my seducing kit. What does she want with it? I bet she’s up to someone, the old tart. It’s high time my father came home.’

‘Caitlin,’ remonstrated Taggie, going pink. ‘Rupert hasn’t got all day. I thought you wanted to be ready by twelve. Go and have a bath.’

Grinning, Rupert took Caitlin upstairs and showed her where everything was. Taggie glanced at some photographs of Tabitha at Wembley which were lying on the kitchen table.

‘Aren’t these gorgeous?’ she said, as Rupert came back. ‘I saw a bit of it on television at Sarah Stratton’s, but I missed the final. Did her team win?’

‘No, but they came third, and she did well. Horse and Hound described her as a “chip off the old Campbell-Black”; which was nice.’

‘Marvellous,’ said Taggie. ‘Am I in your way?’ she asked as Rupert paused on his way to the fridge.

‘No, I just like standing behind you. I know you’ll spring to her defence, but your mother is an absolute disgrace. Swanning off with all Caitlin’s clothes at her age. Maud’s trouble is that she wants to have her cake and eat it, and make trifle out of it as well.’

Taggie giggled, but she said, ‘I know, but it’s such a relief that she’s happy and working again. She might even start doing it professionally, and she’s so beautiful,’ Taggie sighed. ‘It’s hardly surprising all the cast’s in love with her.’

Rupert privately deduced that Maud must be in love with one of the cast to have lost enough weight to get into Caitlin’s jeans, but merely said, ‘I’ve got a hangover. Let’s have a drink.’

‘I mustn’t,’ said Taggie, ‘or I’ll make another cock-up of cooking tonight.’

‘Don’t say you’re working again?’ said Rupert, appalled. Taggie nodded dolefully.

‘Jesus,’ said Rupert. ‘I’d better make a date with you for next October.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ stammered Taggie, hanging her head, ‘It’s n-not that I wouldn’t love to.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Rupert. ‘My children are coming over this afternoon. Why don’t you come out with us for the day tomorrow, and help me entertain them?’

‘I’ll make a picnic,’ said Taggie, suddenly excited.

‘No, you won’t. For once you’re not going to cook a thing.’

With both Maud and Caitlin plundering her wardrobe, Taggie was at her wit’s end as to what to wear. Feeling desperately guilty, with the Electricity Board, the television hire firm, the village shop, and God knows who else baying to be paid, she blued, or rather greyed, Friday lunchtime’s cash wages on a pale-grey cashmere polo-neck which brought out the silver-grey in her eyes and clung to her in all the right places. There was no more money, so she’d have to wear her old black cords.

Next morning Maud whizzed off very early to yet another rehearsal. Caitlin, who nobly said she’d dogs it and read Antony and Cleopatra, hustled Taggie out of the house.

‘You look delectable. Randy Rupe won’t be able to keep his hands off you. Don’t hurry back. I’m quite OK on my own — ’ she smirked wickedly — ‘or, almost on my own. The Hon Arch will be dropping by plus tard. Or Marble Arch, as I call him, now he’s lost his suntan.’

Tabitha, amid the swirling pack of dogs, answered the door looking belligerent. She was wearing a pink sweater embroidered with blue flowers and a blue puff-ball skirt.

‘Hullo,’ said Taggie in delight. ‘I recognize you; you were on television last Saturday. You were wonderful, and what a beautiful clever pony. He was much the fastest. What’s his name?’

‘Biscuit,’ said Tabitha coldly.

‘Can I see him?’

‘He’s at my other house.’

‘Oh, what a shame. I’ve brought him some carrots.’ Taggie rummaged round in a carrier bag, ‘and I’ve made you some fudge.’

‘Thank you,’ said Tab, looking slightly mollified. ‘Can I have a bit now?’

‘I don’t see why not. I like your puff-ball skirt. I wanted to get one, but my knees are far too knobbly.’

‘Mummy says hers are, too,’ said Tab. ‘Perhaps they’re not suitable for grown-ups.’

Stroking the dogs, Taggie sat down on one of the stone seats inside the porch.

‘What’s your name again?’ said Tabitha.

‘Taggie. It’s really Agatha, isn’t that awful? Tabitha’s so much nicer. My parents call me Tag, sometimes, which sounds just like Tab, doesn’t it? I expect when Marcus shouts Tab we’ll both go charging into the kitchen to see what he wants and bump into each other in the doorway.’

Tabitha stared at her consideringly, and suddenly she smiled.

‘And you’re nine and a quarter?’ said Taggie.

‘Yes,’ sighed Tab, pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. ‘Can’t you see my wrinkles?’

Taggie giggled. ‘Still, it’s awfully young to be in the Mounted Games. Were you the youngest?’

‘Yes,’ said Tab. ‘If you come back to Warwickshire with us tonight you can see Biscuit. We’ve got a foal here. Would you like to come and see it?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Taggie.

The front door opened; it was Marcus. ‘Hullo,’ he said. ‘Daddy wants to know where you’ve got to.’

‘She’s talking to me, stupid,’ said Tab. ‘She’s brought you some fudge.’

‘Tag,’ bellowed Rupert from the kitchen, ‘where are you?’

‘Here,’ said Tab and Tag in unison. Then they both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Taking Taggie’s hand, Tabitha dragged her into the kitchen. ‘Can she come back to Warwickshire with us this evening and see Biscuit?’ said Tabitha.

Rupert, who was drinking black coffee and reading the racing pages of the Sunday Times, looked surprised.

‘Of course she can. I thought you’d kidnapped her.’

‘She’s brought us fudge, and carrots for Biscuit, and a big bottle of cough mixture,’ said Tabitha, unpacking the carrier bag.

‘It’s sloe gin,’ said Taggie, blushing. ‘I made it yesterday. You mustn’t drink it for three months.’

‘Thank you, angel,’ said Rupert, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I hope I don’t have to wait that long for you,’ he murmured in an undertone.

‘Come on, Taggie,’ said Tabitha impatiently. ‘I thought you wanted to see the foal. This fudge is smashing.’

They had lunch in Cheltenham in an up-market hamburger bar. The children, who insisted on sitting on either side of Taggie, had huge milkshakes. Rupert, who complained he had alcohol shakes, ordered a carafe of red.

‘That jersey suits you,’ he said approvingly to Taggie. ‘How d’you manage to keep it out of Maud’s clutches?’

Taggie blushed. ‘I slept with it under my pillow.’

‘We’re doing a “Messiah” at the end of term,’ announced Tabitha, sucking air noisily from the bottom of her milkshake. ‘There are going to be two trumpets and a drum, and real fathers in the chorus. I’m in the altos. They’re much naughtier because they’re mostly boys, silly twits.’

‘D’you like singing?’ asked Taggie.

‘No. Mrs Brown takes us. She’s just got married. She takes us for history too. She was reading a book called Improving your Home in class this week.’

‘She was reading a book about drains in our class,’ said Marcus.

‘And that’s what I pay your school fees for,’ grumbled Rupert. ‘I wish they’d organize a sponsored walk to Save the Parents.’

Having ordered, he looked across at Taggie, who was talking to Marcus about conkers.

‘We used to roast them slowly in the oven to harden them up.’

‘We soak them in vinegar,’ said Marcus.

‘My sister Caitlin used to put them in the hot cupboard and they always fell down behind the boiler and went mouldy. We’ve got masses at The Priory if you want any more, but I expect you’ve got hundreds already.’

Christ, she’s sweet, thought Rupert, noticing the way the grey cashmere moulded the full breasts.

‘Mary had a little lamb and surprised the midwife,’ said Tabitha to her father.

‘Really,’ said Rupert absent-mindedly.

‘Mary had a little lamb and surprised the midwife. It’s a joke.’

‘Ha, ha,’ said Rupert, filling up Taggie’s glass.

‘Why d’you always say ha ha and not mean it? Can I have a packet of Frazzles?’

‘No,’ said Rupert. ‘Here’s your lunch.’

‘Can I have punk hair like Cameron?’ said Tabitha, picking bits of mushroom out of her salad and putting them round the edge of her plate.