Mount!

by Jilly Cooper

  She was heartbroken about Love Rat and worried stiff about Safety Car and Lark, who’d unaccountably vanished on the night of the World Cup, evidently with Bao who everyone said was an evil villain but who had given her such a beautiful necklace.

  And what had become of Jan, who’d been so lovely to her and never shouted? Rupert, beyond saying he’d walked out, didn’t elucidate and Taggie didn’t want to upset him by appearing too interested. However, when Dora came to see her, bearing a big box of marrons glacés, she had, in a whisper, asked where Jan had gone.

  ‘He walked,’ said Dora. ‘No one seems to know where. Rupert came back and told him to bugger off and he did.’

  Later in the day, however, Constance Sprightly popped in to see Taggie, bringing a bunch of narcissi.

  ‘So exciting about the World Cup,’ she cried. ‘Gavin Latton did so well. We were glued to the television. I must remind Gavin, he owes me a bunch of lilies.’

  ‘Really?’ said Taggie.

  ‘Well, he hit your hubby across the nave on the morning of your surprise do, and Hubby sent a big vase of lilies I’d just arranged flying.’

  ‘Gav?’ said an amazed Taggie.

  ‘Yes. He told your hubby he’d got to go to his birthday party in no uncertain terms, and evidently Hubby did.’

  ‘But that was Jan,’ protested Taggie.

  ‘No, no, I know Jan, he’s an occasional worshipper. It was definitely Gavin Latton. Very brave when he’s so much smaller than your hubby.’

  But Gav had never come to the party, thought Taggie. He must have got back from America, heard Rupert had gone missing and routed him out – and Jan had claimed it was him. Taggie felt a distinct sense of disquiet.

  There was endless speculation about what had happened to Lark. Everyone was worried stiff – but Eddie was utterly demented. Suddenly he’d realized how much he loved her. Why couldn’t Rupert offer £1,000,000 reward as well as the half million for Safety Car?

  Quickly, the great World Cup winner, flew home on Monday, outraged to find no Safety Car and no Lark awaiting him. Safety’s sheep never stopping bleating, driving everyone crackers.

  Only the weather picked up, so lovely on Tuesday afternoon that Rupert and Taggie sat out rather self-consciously on the terrace and Rupert tried hard not to look at his iPad. There was a pale-green mist of young leaves on the trees, softened by white blackthorn blossom. A gentle breeze mingled wafts of wild garlic and balsam poplar, reminding Rupert of the Friars Balsam his old nanny had made him inhale for chest infections when he was a child. Why did everything make him cry? The birds were singing their heads off; what right had they to sound so perky when Lark and Safety were still missing? Clutching Taggie’s hand, asking her for the hundredth time if she were warm enough, he heard the chugging of a plane.

  They were then startled by a chorus of bleating as Safety Car’s sheep hurtled across the field, to be greeted by hoarse whickering. Taggie and Rupert looked at each other, frantic with hope. Could it be?

  Hearing the commotion, Quickly, throwing off jet lag and a squawking Purrpuss, jumped clean over his half door, clattering across the yard, leaping over the gate into the field.

  ‘He’d better go chasing,’ said Rupert, then gave a shout of joy as a still weak Safety Car, supported by Lark and Bao, tottered into view, trailing overjoyed sheep, and an ecstatically whickering Quickly.

  Returning from jogging – to work off all the celebratory booze before the flat season began – an incredulous Eddie raced towards Lark yelling, ‘Stable-lassie come home,’ and despite her laughing that she was all dirty and scruffy, he kissed her almost unconscious, begging her never to leave him again.

  Word hurtled round and Safety Car received a greater if more restrained welcome than for any of his thirty wins, as yard and stud poured out and gathered round. Every inch of him was stroked and patted, particularly by an ecstatic, incredulous Marketa.

  ‘He could probably use a drink,’ said Rupert in a shaken voice. Only after he had summoned Charlie Radcliffe to check every hair of Safety’s emaciated body was the old boy bedded down in the barn. Here, jealously watched by Quickly and with a thunderously purring Purrpuss curled up between his front legs, Safety Car, counting sheep friends, fell into a deep sleep.

  95

  ‘Time for you and me to talk.’ Rupert shook Bao’s hand. ‘You can have the £500,000 reward as long as you don’t put it on a horse – and at least the Green Galloper will get worldwide coverage.’

  Rupert gave Eddie’s carer strict instructions to take Taggie straight back to bed, then took Bao into his office and poured him a vast vodka and tonic.

  ‘I can’t begin to thank you for saving Safety. I want to know exactly how you and Lark found him, but first I must apologize for totally misjudging you. We heard you were at Valhalla with Wang, and Jan claimed to have found one of my lucky shirts in your room, and a photograph of Wang and your mother in a pocket.’

  Bao took a huge gulp, eyes watering at the strength, and then collapsed on the sofa.

  ‘Mr Campbell-Black, you are very good kind man.’

  ‘That’s pushing it a bit.’

  ‘But you have wicked enemies and they are very bad men. Wang is on bed with Cosmo Rannaldini. He give him many billions. He has spend forty million on stallion called Boo Sucks. He want to be big racing man. He kill anyone in his way.’

  ‘My God,’ said Rupert.

  ‘He kill husband of Milburn Gala, because he try to save rhino. My father is successful workaholic, my mother loved him but feel he should have stop adoption of my sister, so marriage in trouble. Wang hates my father for his success, and he wanted my mother because she is beautiful, so he murder his first television star wife and marry my mother and promise to find my sister, but he never did. My mother not happy with Wang. I worry stiffly for her. I went to Valhalla to check she was OK.’

  Bao got up and started pacing the room.

  ‘Wang was there, he much like Dame Hermione and opera. I play the piano for Dame Hermione, she sing Schubert Trout. That Chablis was there.’

  Rupert smiled slightly. ‘You mean Sauvignon.’

  ‘Sorry, Sauvignon. I heard Wang ask her if she was having a baby. She say she miscarry in January, but I think she and Cosmo make whole things up to divide you and Young Eddie.’

  ‘Well, we’re back together now,’ said Rupert, as Gilchrist and Cuthbert scampered in from their dog walk with Clover, and went into growling battle to be the one to sit on Master’s knee.

  ‘I hear Wang say he would help Sauvignon have baby,’ went on Bao, ‘and he much fancy her. This makes my mother sad, so I must rescue her, because Wang takes out wives when he wants to move on.’

  ‘Christ, where does Jan fit into all this?’

  Bao took another large gulp.

  ‘I think Jan wish to destroy you. He know you love Safety and kidnap him to upset Quickry. Mr Old Eddie’s loving horses give him chance to visit stud. Jan let out Love Rat. He hack into all your calls. He off tip Cosmo about red Filly and tell him moment you take on Tarqui and sack Young Eddie. He take lucky shirt. I’m sure he frighten Quickry in Leger. And Smith black, Marti Farrell, who put nail through Quickry’s foot in Derby now works for Wang in China.’

  ‘Jesus! Why aren’t you working for MI5?’ An outraged Rupert poured himself a vast whisky and topped up Bao’s vodka. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I want to tell you these things but think I might imagine mistake like I gave Quickry too big water before Derby. Then I hack into call and hear Jan’s kidnapped Safety, taking him to Italy, and learn detail of lorry he is using. It was terrible there, poor boy. Horses must never travel like that. Lark was wonderful, she save his life, and gun you gave me.’

  ‘You saved it too. Who sabotaged Quickly’s saddle in the World Cup?’

  ‘I do not know. Jan was in England. Could have been Chablis, I mean Sauvignon, but I do not think she know enough about horse. Difficult with much security, but someone from Cosmo’s team in same
barn could have done it.

  ‘It go on. I think Jan give horses virus before Royal Ascot. Wang knew my father excited to come and wanted to spoil it. Jan put Russell Jack,’ Bao smoothed Gilchrist’s brown and white forehead, ‘in horse walker and bugs in your bedroom.’

  Bao, who also loved Taggie, wanted to broach the subject of her and Jan, but quailed seeing Rupert’s narrowed eyes and drumming fingers. Stifling a yawn, Bao asked: ‘You are good man so why Cosmo and Isa hate you?’

  ‘That’s very ancient history, but I’m not sure why Wang detests me so much.’

  ‘Because women like you too much and you and my father and Edwards Valent have plans for racing in China. So does Wang. He has done too many bad things to stay in Zimbabwe, so he want power back in Beijing to join government and become first Minister of Racing.’

  Rupert shook his head. ‘OK, but why does Jan hate me so much – unless he’s simply being paid by Wang and Cosmo to take me out?’

  As Bao took another slug of vodka and a deep, deep breath, a flush stole across his face.

  ‘I should not say but I think Jan is very, very madly loving of Mrs Campbell-Black.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Rupert and then, five minutes later: ‘I’m going to call the police.’

  Rupert then rang Chief Inspector Gablecross, with whom he’d had an on/off relationship when Gablecross had been tracking down the murderer of Cosmo Rannaldini’s father during the filming of Don Carlos. The Chief Inspector was actually in the thick of another big murder hunt but promised he and his men would be over as soon as possible.

  Having thanked Bao yet again, Rupert insisted that he must stay on and that his mother must use Penscombe as a safe house. He then checked on Taggie and found her asleep, a smile on her lips, Quickly’s World Cup blanket spread over her as a counterpane and Forester lying beside her.

  She looked so lovely yet so frail. His heart blackened against Jan. He didn’t trust anything while the bastard was still free. He had better check on Safety Car.

  He found Marketa sitting in the straw beside him.

  ‘Safety is Wee-I-Pee now,’ she whispered. ‘Look at him on Facebook.’

  The sun had gone behind dark-grey clouds; fog rose from the valley after a night of rain. Where was Banquo, normally his shadow? He hadn’t seen him for hours. On the way down to the yard, he was accosted by Dora.

  ‘We’ve got to organize a press release to announce Safety’s return, and Quickly hasn’t had his victory parade yet. He’s won the World Cup, for goodness’ sake. Penscombe expects.’

  ‘Don’t be so fucking stupid.’

  ‘Well anyway. Gossip, gossip, gossip.’

  ‘I haven’t got time.’

  ‘You will for this. You know Rufus Rutshire asked Eddie to ride in a charity race to commemorate the anniversary of James Northfield’s death?’

  ‘Eddie mentioned it. Frankly I’ve had more important things to—’

  ‘Well, Rufus has discovered some long-lost relation who’s a direct descendant of James Northfield and wants him and Eddie to re-enact the race through the woods and the water meadows in aid of the Injured Jockeys Fund.’

  ‘Fatally injured, in James’ case. Eddie mustn’t touch it.’

  ‘But Eddie’s very keen – says it would make him feel he really belongs if he represents the Campbell-Blacks.’

  ‘Not for much longer if he rides in that race.’

  ‘Well, it looks as though we’re going to have to put out another press release, about him and Lark and Gav and Gala, wedding bells ahoy. And, and, and – Sauvignon lost the baby in December, so you’re not going to be a great-grandfather any more.’

  ‘I know that – just bugger off.’ Jolted and threatened, Rupert couldn’t wait to hand things over to Gablecross.

  Just then, there was a clatter of hooves and into the yard rode an ashen Roving Mike, who on his day off had gone hunting. A fine dog fox had run into Rutminster woods and once again hounds had halted in full cry and turned back whimpering. But, even stranger, from deep in the woods, Mike was sure he could hear the desperate howling of a dog.

  ‘Sure it was the ghost of James Northfield’s Seeker – it froze my blood.’ Mike crossed himself before sliding down off his big horse.

  A second later they were joined by a distraught Clover who’d been walking the dogs.

  ‘Oh Rupert, I’m so sorry. I’ve lost Banquo. He’s always so good, but Forester pushed off after a deer and by the time I’d got him back, Banquo’d gone missing. I brought the other dogs home and went back and looked for him for ages. He must have gone hunting. I’m so sorry.’

  Banquo never went hunting. He was the sweetest, kindest, most undemanding dog, Rupert’s shadow, who never complained if Forester or the Jack Russells hogged the limelight, but was the one who suffered most if Rupert were away.

  ‘Perhaps the howling I heard in the woods was Banquo,’ said Mike.

  96

  Leaping into his car, Rupert drove like a maniac, ringing Gav on the way.

  ‘Can’t find Banquo, going to check out Rutminster woods. Give me the opportunity to check the course. Eddie’s riding in some crazy match race on Sunday week. Won’t be long. Police are on their way. Can you and Bao wise them up about Jan, stall them until I get back?’

  It was getting darker. Splashing across the water meadows, Rupert parked on the edge of the woods, already shrouded in mist. Trampling on primroses and wood anemones, effing and blinding, he clambered as fast as possible up to the original track along which Rupert Black and James Northfield had raced. Then he heard the spine-chilling howling of a dog.

  ‘Banquo,’ he yelled. Back came another howl. He raced up the track, slipping on wild garlic leaves, their green flames flickering treacherously, over twigs, stones, mossy roots, bramble cables and badger setts covered in leaves. There was no way Eddie was going to ride any horse over this course.

  Rounding the bend into Seeker’s Corner, on the right like black pillars reared up closely-packed trees, smothered in ivy. On the left, six feet down, was a narrow ledge and beyond that, treacherously filling up with fog, was the fifty-foot ravine into which James Northfield had plunged to his death.

  On the ledge, tied to an ash sapling, crouched a terrified, trembling Banquo.

  ‘Poor old boy.’ Scattering stones, an outraged Rupert slithered down the cliff face on to the ledge and unknotted the rope. ‘Who the hell’s done this to you?’

  Banquo’s leg was at a nasty angle, probably broken. How could he possibly hoist him back on to the track? But typically, Banquo, while groaning, apologetically wagged his tail.

  Next moment, the normally gentle dog went into a frenzy of growling and barking as a pair of green gumboots appeared above them. The mist swirled away to reveal a figure in a black Barbour, with a gun in his hands and madness in his eyes. It was Jan.

  ‘How dare you steal my dog!’ shouted Rupert, fury driving out any fear. ‘How dare you! I think he’s broken his leg and I’ve been talking to Bao. I know exactly what you’ve been up to. You came into my life to fuck up me and my marriage. What the hell have I ever done to you?’

  Next moment, Jan had jumped down beside them, dislodging more stones and clods of earth, brandishing the gun in Rupert’s face.

  ‘Rupert Black,’ he spat. ‘Your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather,’ the words came out like a funeral drum, ‘murdered my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather James Northfield during a match race. Rupert Black was so desperate to win because there was so much money at stake, he pushed James and Spartan down this ravine.’

  ‘Bollocks, you have absolutely no proof,’ yelled Rupert. ‘Black was just a bloody good rider.’

  ‘Then the Northfield family chucked out James’ young wife Gisela, my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother,’ intoned Jan.

  ‘The kitchenmaid,’ drawled Rupert. ‘The Northfields have always been frightful snobs.’

  ‘You bastard,’ hissed Jan, so close his acid b
reath was asphyxiating. ‘She gave birth to a boy, who should have inherited the title. She loved James so deeply that after the birth – no one recognized post-natal depression in those days – she killed herself in despair.

  ‘None of the Northfields gave a toss what happened to her or the baby, who was brought up in grinding poverty. But being Dutch, the Van Deventers worked hard and later migrated to South Africa where they prospered until the bastard colonial Brits came over and killed my great-grandfather in the Boer War.’

  ‘I can hardly be held responsible for that,’ said Rupert irritably, trying to calm a shuddering Banquo and pondering the best method of escape.

  ‘You and all bloody Brits were guilty. So I decided to come over and avenge James and Gisela – and quite by chance I caught sight of you on TV at the preview of the Stubbs exhibition: such an arrogant bastard sauntering in followed by a black Labrador, where no dogs were allowed, and no one complained.

  ‘I did my homework,’ went on Jan. ‘I’m actually a journo and discovered your father needed carers, which seemed the easiest way in, so I took a carer’s course in Port Elizabeth and met Gala’s sister.’

  Rupert glanced up. ‘Gala knew what you were up to?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Unnerved by Jan’s crazy ranting, Banquo tried to crawl nearer the edge of the ledge and gave a groan.

  ‘Look, I’ve got to get this dog to a vet.’

  ‘Shut up, you’re not going anywhere,’ snarled Jan. ‘Then I met you, pre-potent sire, and a total shit, just like Rupert Black. I was determined to bring you down by destroying you and your marriage. Having heard how insanely jealous you were, I pretended to be gay to lull your suspicions. Then I fell in love with your wife.’ Jan’s voice softened. ‘You treated her so badly, it made me even more determined to ruin you.’