by Jilly Cooper
Taggie couldn’t wear her silver-grey hat. All this was also particularly disappointing for Mr Tong, who had been planning to wear white tie and tails, while his wife Aiguo, who had been watching My Fair Lady, had purchased a red hat too huge to get through the gates of the Royal Enclosure and been practising shouting ‘Not Bruddy Likely’.
As a result, the meeting was a riot for Cosmo, with Ash as his first jockey winning seven races including the great St James’s Stakes with I Will Repay, which qualified him for the Breeders’ Cup Turf in October.
ROYAL ASHCOT shouted the headlines. Tarqui, still being punished for not winning the Guineas, and given horses with 50–1 odds to ride, was about to walk out.
54
No one, as Roberto’s Revenge edged up the Leading Sire list, was more in despair than Rupert. But change was afoot.
The Leading Sire charts had hitherto been divided into different localities. Rupert and Cosmo, for example, were competing to amass the most prize money just in races in Europe, with the title being awarded on 31 December. Other Leading Sire titles were awarded at different times in the Far East, Australia and South and North America.
For the first time, however, a massive new category had been introduced for a Global Leading Sire, whose progeny had stacked up the most prize money worldwide. The title would be awarded at the end of March, after the World Cup in Dubai.
In this, Rupert would be competing against stallions from Japan, the Americas and Australia and New Zealand, as well as Europe and Great Britain. Verdi’s Requiem had just announced his retirement, so Roberto’s Revenge was a favourite to win this mighty new overall title. Rupert, as a result, became even more obsessed with taking his horses overseas in search of the biggest prizes. So obsessed that at the end of June, whilst he was in the Far East, he forgot Taggie’s birthday. His PA Geraldine who, as had been said, would have liked to be the next Mrs Campbell-Black, should have reminded him.
Jan, however, remembered and alerted the children. At 6.30 in the morning Taggie was woken by Timon, spilling milk over the carpet, bringing her Cheerios in bed.
‘Happy birthday, Granny.’
‘It’s a bit early, darling,’ mumbled Taggie.
‘Can I eat them instead?’ asked Timon.
‘Please.’ Taggie tried to burrow back into sleep, particularly when she was roused five minutes later by Timon in her bathroom.
‘Gran-ee, can you come and hold my willy so I don’t have to wash my hands.’ And when Taggie staggered in, he went on: ‘It’s easy for girls. You just sit down, you’ve got a hole.’
Taggie giggled. So beautiful, so blond, Timon had his father Wolfie’s dark eyes.
‘How did you know it was my birthday?’
‘Jan told us. You’ve got to come downstairs. My birthday’s next month. I want an Aston Martin and a tattoo on my willy like David Beckham.’
‘I don’t think he’s got one there.’
‘Come on, Granny, Happy Birthday!’ shouted Sapphire up the stairs.
Taggie gasped as she went into the kitchen. There were red Happy Birthday Taggie balloons bobbing from every chair, crisps and sweets all over the kitchen table and Jan thrust a glass of fresh orange juice into her hand.
‘Many, many happy returns, mam.’
‘You are so unbelievably kind,’ gulped Taggie, as she opened scent and bath salts from the children and then a huge pink fluffy rabbit, to join the blue teddy bear, now mended, at the bottom of her bed.
The telephone went. It was Rupert, jubilant that Fleance had won a big race in Singapore.
‘That’s wonderful.’ Taggie retreated into the larder, glimpsing a huge birthday cake.
‘Everything OK? How’s Banquo?’
‘Missing you – we all are.’
‘So am I,’ said Rupert. ‘One day we’ll organize our lives so we’re never apart.’
Through the glass Taggie could see a layer of green mould on a pot of raspberry jam.
‘OK, love you, see you Wednesday.’ Rupert was clearly in a hurry.
‘Love you, darling.’ Taggie scraped the mould off the raspberry jam: quite OK underneath, like her marriage.
Back in the kitchen Young Eddie, who’d brought her a huge bunch of red roses, gave her a hug.
‘Grandpa remembered, after all.’
Taggie shook her head.
‘I hope you told him. He’ll be mortified.’
‘I didn’t want to ruin his day. Fleance won the cup.’
‘You’re too bloody saintly,’ said Eddie. ‘He’ll be much crosser when he finds out and that Jan Pan has taken over.’
Everyone else remembered. Bianca and Feral, Xav and Aysha, Marcus her stepson from Moscow, Declan and Maud, her brother Patrick, Caitlin her sister who sent a pretty vase accompanied with a request to drop her children off for a week in July. Taggie also received a charity card from Rupert’s first wife Helen: Probably be in your neck of the woods next month.
Among the presents she most adored were a ravishing silver-tinted leopardskin dress from Bao, and a blown-up photograph of Forester on the front of a cushion, from Gala.
In the evening, Jan organized a birthday bash. Among the guests were Sapphire and Timon’s mother Tabitha, who’d been riding in some local three-day event, and who was bored by her husband Wolfie’s obsessively filming in France. Arrogant, blonde and beautiful, Gala found Tab disturbingly like Rupert, but, if that were possible, even more high-handed. Rupert’s star horse Promiscuous, who’d gone to stud but been found infertile after two seasons, had just been gelded. Tab wanted to retrain him for eventing. Gav, however, felt that small, nippy, lightning-fast Promiscuous might do better as a polo pony and should be steered Luke and Perdita’s way. This didn’t endear him to Tab.
Other guests besides Gav and Gala included Bao, Dora and Young Eddie.
The only condition was, Taggie was to do nothing. Jan, who was determined to serve up a feast, had a sweating Bao racing round, helping him.
Despatched to change, wanting to look her lushest, Taggie couldn’t find her new leopardskin dress anywhere, so had to settle for her old cream lace. Everyone raised their glasses as she came out on to the terrace.
‘You are still the most impossibly glamorous grandmother,’ sighed Dora.
‘Hear, hear,’ said Jan, as he turned steak on the barbecue.
It was a magic evening, the setting sun caressing the utterly still trees. The birds had given up singing, overtaken by the buzzing of insects. Dora was making a daisy chain.
‘Gosh, I’m starved,’ said Eddie.
Going up to change, Tab had taken with her a vast Bloody Mary. Everyone gasped as she came out, silver-tinged leopardskin showing off a wonderful body and legs.
‘That’s Taggie’s dress,’ said Eddie in surprise.
‘Yeah, but I didn’t know there was going to be a party so I didn’t bring anything special.’ Tab beamed at Taggie. ‘I know you’re never heavy about clothes.’
‘Bao had the dress specially made for Taggie,’ said Jan icily.
‘Really? I thought it was pretty big in the bust.’
‘Take it off.’
‘Wowee, macho man.’
‘Naughty Mummy,’ said Sapphire gleefully. ‘Go and sit on the naughty step.’
‘She is Taggie’s naughty step,’ said Dora, as Tab filled up her empty glass with champagne.
‘Take it off,’ insisted Jan. ‘Go and change into something else. And that’s her scent you’re wearing.’
‘You should know,’ taunted Tabitha, flouncing out. She returned in borrowed black five minutes later.
Taggie somehow managed to hide the fact that she was livid; she’d so longed to look gorgeous in the dress for Jan.
Everyone except Gav proceeded to drink a lot, particularly Tab who was difficult from the start.
‘I want Promiscuous,’ she kept saying to Gav. ‘You’ve got to persuade Daddy.’
The food was wonderful, Master Chef had excelled himself. ‘How d’you ge
t this beef so tender?’ asked Gala.
‘I’ve marinated it.’
‘Ought to marinate Grandpa. Might make him a bit more tender towards Taggie,’ said Eddie, ‘and remember her birthday.’
‘Oh stop it,’ blushed Taggie.
After sunset and the blowing out of candles on a cake, decorated with sugar greyhounds, Safety Car arrived, lapping up a bowl of wine, and being petted by everyone.
‘We ought to give him bread dipped in salt like The Maltese Cat,’ said Gav. Safety Car then retreated to play football with Gilchrist and Cuthbert, booting their ball down the lawn, so they hurtled off fighting to be the one to retrieve it, and drop it at his feet to roars of applause from the terrace.
Jan kept ordering Bao to pour drinks and take plates away. ‘Sit!’ he ordered Taggie, whenever she leapt up to help him.
While Dora, Gav and Gala talked Penscombe horses, Tab targeted Jan, telling him about her eventing career and finally dragging him off to Rupert’s office to look at a framed picture of her Olympic horse, The Engineer.
‘And what’s so awful,’ she told him, stumbling over a step, ‘is Furious, the horse Eddie screwed up on in the National, who had to be put down, and was only in the yard two weeks, is buried in the graveyard next to Taggie’s mongrel Gertrude and Rock Star, Daddy’s great horse, and soon there won’t be room for The Engineer. You must have seen the Stubbs,’ she went on. ‘I hope Daddy leaves it to me – Marcus gets asthma from horses. I must tell you the story of our ancestor, wicked Rupert Black.’
Jan was close to her now, dwarfing her, his white shirt showing off his beautiful suntanned brown chest. God, he was heaven.
‘Rupert Black’s our skeleton in the cupboard. During a match race, James Northfield and his horse Spartan were killed falling down a ravine.’ Tab took another gulp of champagne. ‘But did Rupert Black’s mare Sweet Azure hang right and push them over? The Northfields couldn’t give a stuff because James Northfield had got some kitchenmaid up the duff and even worse, married her. She was Dutch evidently, and was packed off back to Holland.’
‘What happened to the baby?’ Jan’s voice for once had sunk to a whisper.
‘History doesn’t relate.’ Tab was suddenly aware of him rigid and trembling violently beside her.
‘I want you too,’ she murmured, sliding her hands inside his shirt which was damp with sweat. ‘How about it? Daddy has another door leading upstairs – no one would miss us.’
Reaching up, she drew his head down and joyfully kissed him. Next moment Jan had thrust her away, muttering that there were too many people around.
‘Another time.’ He kissed her cheek.
Tabitha sauntered back to the kitchen where Taggie was loading up the dishwasher.
‘Jan has just made a pass at me,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘I think he pretends to be gay to keep the ravening hordes away. That’s a poem. I’m definitely going to use him for stud purposes.’ And she strolled off to the drawing room for another drink.
Why am I crying? thought Taggie furiously, breaking a precious glass engraved with a picture of My Child Cordelia as she rammed it into the dishwasher, and cutting herself picking up the fragments.
Then Jan walked in looking elated, so perhaps it was true.
‘What have you done?’ he shouted, seeing her hand gushing blood. ‘Why are you crying?’ He grabbed some kitchen roll, one piece to dry her eyes, the other to staunch the blood. ‘What’s the matter, mam?’
‘Nothing, just a bit tired, and such a pretty glass.’
Even when he applied plaster, blood immediately seeped through.
‘Can’t staunch love.’ For once the harsh Afrikaans voice was soft. ‘You’re the one I want, mam, not spoilt little Rupert Black’s kids. You must know I adore you and how hard I am trying to be good.’
‘We must, we must,’ gasped Taggie, terrified how much happier she felt.
Meanwhile out on the terrace, Gav was pointing out emerging constellations to Bao – Virgo, Leo the Lion, Boötes the Shepherd – and conversation moved on to Rupert’s obsession with landing Global Leading Sire.
‘My father’s hang-up,’ Tab filled her glass again, ‘is he can’t be Leading Sire himself. Some of us have done well enough – I got an Olympic Gold, Perdita’s played polo for England – but I’m a girl, so I can’t inherit and so’s Perdita, but she’s illegitimate and a girl so she can’t carry on the line either any more than you can, Eddie; and Bianca and Xav can’t because they’re adopted and not blood relations.’
‘Unlike you, who’s a bloody awful relation,’ snapped Dora.
‘Tabitha,’ warned Taggie, coming in with a tray of coffee cups.
‘Marcus, my brother,’ went on Tabitha, ignoring her, ‘is the most brilliant pianist, but he’s gay so he’s not going to produce an heir.’
‘Elton John did,’ protested Dora.
‘Lots of gays amongst the Campbell-Blacks,’ said Tabitha bitchily. ‘Uncle Cyprian, who left Daddy the Stubbs, was as gay as a daffodil, so is Daddy’s brother Adrian who runs an art gallery. I wonder if you can breed gays.’
‘Your father certainly isn’t,’ said Dora.
‘Oh, I don’t know. People often implied Daddy and Billy Lloyd-Foxe were a bit that way. It’s taken Daddy long enough to get over him.’
‘Will you shut up, Tab!’ screamed Taggie. ‘If you’re going to be so foul about everyone, I’m not having you here any more. You can get out in the morning.’ She was amazed by the round of applause that greeted this.
A big black cloud had moved over the moon. Calling the dogs, grabbing her torch, fighting back the tears, Taggie stumbled into the garden, down to the lake. Then she gave a moan of horror as the torch gave out; she had only put a new battery in that morning. It was dark around her; a row of trees blocked the light from the house. There was a bridge over the ha-ha, below which flowed a deep stream, which had to be negotiated before she got back to the house. The dogs, all weaving around her, were no help; she couldn’t see a thing. Then she gave a sob of relief as, like an unleashed shooting star, a torchbeam came bobbing towards her.
‘Oh thank God,’ she called out.
It was Bao, who shyly took her hand and guided her back towards the house.
‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘You are wonderful.’
‘You are very kind to me, Mrs Campbell-Black. I was told English food very bad, but everything, even your lice is wonderful.’
‘Are you happy here?’
‘Velly, velly happy.’ Then, as Taggie kissed him on the cheek, ‘Tabitha is velly lucky to have a stepmother like you. My stepfather is not kind nor my stepmother, and Tabitha is velly lucky to have brothers and sisters. We only children in China, so that is another reason I am happy here.’
Mumbling more thanks, unable to face the din still going on out on the terrace, Taggie fled upstairs. She was just turning out the light when there was a bang on the door.
Jan, she thought, half thrilled, half terrified, but it was a sobbing Tabitha.
‘Oh Taggie darling, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what’s getting into me – not Wolfie any more; he’s having an affair with Sarah Western.’
Bao meanwhile went and dialled a number. It took a minute or two to pick up.
‘Yeah,’ snapped a half asleep, but still curt voice.
‘Mr Campbell-Black, it’s Bao.’
‘What d’you want? Is everything OK? Is Mrs Campbell-Black OK?’
Bao took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me for bothering you. Mrs Campbell-Black is OK, but she is very sad.’
‘Why, for fuck’s sake?’
‘Because it’s her birthday today.’
Rupert went ballistic. Bao’s arms weren’t long enough to hold the telephone sufficiently far away.
Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told him? He’d rung that morning!
‘It’s probably wrong, but she love you so much, I have never seen woman love man more, and he is not quite twelve o’clock.’
‘I’ll
ring her. Thank you, Bao, you did the right thing.’
Taggie was trying to comfort Tab, saying she was sure Wolfie wasn’t having an affair. He wasn’t the type and he adored her.
‘She had carpet burns on her back so they couldn’t film her,’ wailed Tab. ‘She’s a nympho – Dora sent Paris out there in a chastity belt. My problem is, I’m insanely possessive like Daddy.’
They were interrupted by Bao. Mr Campbell-Black was on the telephone.
Rupert was devastated. ‘Darling, I’m so sorry. Christ, I’m sorry. Why the hell didn’t you tell me? I love you so much – I’m so bloody self-obsessed. I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. We’ll go out to dinner, I’ll bring you the best present in the world. And now, thank God, I’ve got a legitimate excuse to fire Geraldine.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘Bao rang me. He’s a sweet boy.’
‘He’s given me a beautiful dress. Will you bring him a nice present?’
‘I’ll bring him a gun.’
Jan, next day, was absolutely furious with Bao. ‘How dare you interfere?’
55
Gav was uneasy. Rupert had been such a beast, it was not surprising Taggie was drawn to Jan, and his being foul to both had obviously triggered off a comfort fuck between Eddie and Gala.
There were also odd things happening – gates and stable doors being left open. Could Safety or Old Eddie be letting out their friends? How had Quickly picked up a flu bug, or Purrpuss got locked in that chest of drawers? And why was there no petrol in the small lorry, always kept filled for emergencies, like rushing a horse with colic to the equine hospital? About to pay for a horse at a sale, Gav found his credit card missing, only to find it later back in his flat over the tack room. Even worse, a terrified Cuthbert had been discovered shut in a turned-up rotating horse walker, nearly trampled to death by Chekov.
Gav didn’t think Jan was kosher. On the other hand, Rupert’s newest lucky shirt had been found in the back of Bao’s shirt drawer before a big race. Was the smiling teenager a snake in the grass?