by Fiona Walker
Still Lough stood firm, his eyes not leaving Tash’s face, although she was feigning interest in one of the lobby’s portraits. The hall was the traditional hanging-place for Hugo’s uglier relatives, and this one – a great-great-aunt with a face like a walrus’s – was particularly hideous, she noted, hoping Cora hadn’t inherited any of those Beauchamp genes.
Realising that this was ludicrous – she and Lough facing one another bearing trays and wine like a couple of inefficient banqueting waiters while Hugo the butler sniped at them – Tash marched forwards and managed to squeeze past Lough and into the kitchen.
Busying herself by assembling a cheese board, she heard raised voices echoing along the lobby.
Wearily, she set aside a slab of cheddar and waded back in.
They were going hammer and tongs, arguing about Badminton.
‘Someone took a knife to Gal’s boot-straps and Cub’s girths yesterday,’ Hugo was raging.
‘What exactly are you saying, Hugo?’
‘You know damned well what went on.’
‘I had nothing to do with it.’
‘Like hell!’
Tash could see both men’s knuckles whitening as they edged closer, veins rising on wrists and necks.
‘Stop this!’ she shouted now.
‘Shut up, darling,’ Hugo snapped.
‘Don’t tell her to shut up,’ Lough rounded on him.
‘She’s my wife.’
‘She’s nobody’s property.’
‘Which is why you think you have a right to try to get in her knickers, I suppose?’
‘Stop this!’ Tash pleaded.
They ignored her.
‘Don’t fucking lower this to biology, Hugo.’
‘You’ve been trying to slip her one every time my back’s turned, Lough!’
‘Please stop it!’
‘I love her!’ Lough raged.
For a moment both Hugo and Tash were silenced, rocked back on their heels by the reality of what was happening.
Then Lough’s huge, coal-furnace eyes fixed on Hugo. ‘You told me to take her, remember? You said I was “welcome to her”.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Tash bleated, looking from one to the other.
Without another word, Hugo marched along the corridor, straight past Lough and Tash, so that for a crazy moment she thought he was going to walk out of the house for good. She glanced across at Lough and was hopelessly lost in his eyes for a second, before ripping her gaze away.
He stepped towards her, but she bolted back, taking cover in the shadow of the kitchen door.
Her voice sounded horribly strangled when she spoke. ‘What d’you mean, Hugo said “you’re welcome to her”? Was he talking about me?’
Before he could answer, footsteps marched back across the kitchen and Tash turned to see Hugo returning with a shotgun. She screamed.
Lifting the barrels to point at Lough, he asked him very politely to leave his property straight away.
Equally civil, Lough nodded and, his eyes not leaving Tash’s face as he walked along the corridor towards her, he paused briefly at her side.
‘Come with me.’
Tash turned away from him, her heart bursting from her chest with shame and pity. ‘I can’t, Lough. I can’t leave my children. Hugo. My life.’
Nodding courteously, he left without another word.
Emotions churning through her, Tash was distraught.
To make matters worse, Hugo took his gun back to lock it in the cabinet, fetched a bottle of scotch and proceeded to get blind drink, which meant she couldn’t get a straight answer out of him.
She was too angry and humiliated by Hugo’s actions to know if she ever wanted to talk to him again. Any rapprochement seemed totally undermined by his lack of trust and his utter hypocrisy.
Having gathered at the far end of the lobby to witness the high drama, the majority of the Beauchamps’ guests agreed that this was the most entertaining post-Badminton party they’d ever been to.
Chapter 66
For the next twenty-four hours, the atmosphere at Haydown remained volatile, with Lough’s horses still in situ, like unwitting hostages annexed by a civil war. Lemon arrived to muck out before dawn, pointedly ignoring early-bird Beccy; Lough kept his distance; Hugo’s brooding silence made everyone on the yard cower as he passed.
Gradually, however, as his hangover lifted, so did his mood. He remained snappish and sarcastic but there was no doubt that Lough’s departure had reset the clock on the time bomb – although nobody knew how long it could last.
‘They’ll have to sort something out soon,’ Franny said to Jenny. ‘Lough can’t sleep in his horsebox indefinitely.’
It was the Moncrieffs, so stoic and practical, who came up with a solution. Lough and Lem could relocate to Lime Tree Farm for the short term. There was enough room, and they badly needed the money. Lough’s rent, riding skills and increasing appeal to sponsors and owners was a life-saver for the perennially cash-strapped yard, and it would relieve the impossible situation at Haydown.
‘He’s far too good a rider to lose,’ Penny told Tash when she rang to broach the idea. ‘We know he’s been terribly impetuous, and we adore you and Hugo of course, but Lough deserves a chance to get on with the job for the rest of the season, don’t you think?’
Tash tracked Hugo down to the tack room after Penny had rung off.
‘They’ll only go ahead if we’re absolutely okay about it,’ she told him anxiously.
‘Lime Tree’s hardly out of bloody earshot. Can’t anybody else take him?’ Hugo snapped, making Lough sound like a delinquent in need of foster care. He stalked past her and out on to the yard.
‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer,’ came a voice.
Tash jumped, realising that Beccy was quietly cleaning tack in a corner.
With a worried look, she raced after Hugo.
Beccy was miserable at the thought of losing Lough. She was happy to see the back of Lemon, who had hijacked her body and whose hatred of Hugo had poisoned her mind for so long. She was relieved he’d soon be gone, but Lough was an inspiration. He rode as though the horse was a part of him, like a centaur. He was one of her best-ever daydreams, and losing him refocused her heart painfully and exclusively on Hugo once more.
In all of the recent high drama, nobody had thought to tell Beccy what was going on. When Rory had suddenly loaded four horses into his lorry and driven off that morning, she’d found herself wondering if he was having an affair with Tash, too. It was Jenny who explained that Rory was spending six weeks on the Continent, teaming up with Marie-Clair Tucson’s young protégé, Kevin, to compete at Saumur and Dijon before heading to Germany. It seemed everybody in top-level eventing was aiming for Germany that June, with Kreuth and Luhmühlen three day events running on successive weekends, the European Championships in Aachen straight after that, and Jenny’s wedding to popular German rider Dolf Bauer sandwiched between.
Beccy was dreading Jenny’s departure. The Beauchamps’ jolly headgirl had already begun to hand over her duties to irascible replacement Franny, whose new job had been gifted her more by luck than design since Hugo and Tash hadn’t found time to look for anyone else, and Franny’s dire straits made her the obvious choice because her horse dealer ex had given her marching orders and she had no family to fall back on. Her dedication to Hugo was unquestionable, and her work rate was fearsome. She made even Faith look unproductive.
This left Beccy’s nose thoroughly out of joint. Jenny rarely trusted the capricious Haydown team member with anything much more demanding than a water bucket, which suited Beccy just fine. But Franny gave her tasks of great responsibility and cajoled, bullied, huffed and puffed when she failed to come up to scratch.
With no Lough and with Rory’s easygoing good humour absent too, it seemed the life force was draining from Haydown. And with the summer season really kicking in, and competitions coming in quick succession, the yard would be left with s
keleton staff.
Beccy had started to contemplate going AWOL again, this time on a more permanent basis.
But then Tash reappeared in the tack room looking much more buoyant.
‘How would you like to start competing?’ She sat down and steepled her fingers over her nose, her mismatched eyes watching Beccy’s face hopefully.
‘You’re more than ready,’ she went on. ‘I know how much your riding’s improved. We need another work rider now we’ve lost Lough and Rory’s away, so what d’you think?’
For a moment, ten years of Beccy’s life dropped away and she was an eager seventeen-year-old desperate to break into the sport where her hopes and heart lay.
‘What does Hugo say?’ she asked cautiously.
‘He’s willing to give you a trial run at Haddenhill. They know us really well there, so we can swing it with the organisers to let you ride one of ours hors concours.’
‘But that’s tomorrow!’ Beccy bleated.
‘Please say yes.’ Tash chewed her lip. ‘I’m not sure I’d be able to talk Hugo into giving it a go another time.’
Suddenly Beccy found herself smiling so much it hurt. This was her chance to prove herself. There was no way she was going to refuse. Perhaps Lough departing had its compensations after all.
The following morning, after the Haydown HGV had departed, Lough moved his horses to Lime Tree Farm, overseen by Franny.
‘She’s like a bloody Rottweiler,’ Lemon complained as Franny frisked his tack boxes to make sure he wasn’t trying to make off with anything of Hugo’s.
Lough said nothing. Looking around the beautiful strawberry-pink yards one last time, he went to say goodbye to Dove’s foal. Tash had named him Liberty, but today didn’t feel like any sort of liberation.
Beccy’s first competition in ten years was at a busy weekday trials just across the Wiltshire border.
Tash put her on a very safe and very classy homebred novice that Beccy knew well and got on with. Their dressage was unremarkable, but Beccy was simply relieved that she didn’t forget her test which she’d learned overnight. An hour later, she just about remembered the show-jumping course to make it round with just one pole on the ground.
‘Point and shoot,’ Hugo remarked ungenerously, knowing the horse was a four-star prospect and had been expected to win hands down with Tash on board.
Beccy gritted her teeth.
She’d always lacked the finesse of her stepsister, but she rode across country with absolute determination and her adrenalin so high that she knew no fear. The fierce, competitive streak that she’d believed she had cast off during her travels was back with vengeance. Working alongside top riders had given her great insight into the drive and skills required to win, and she focused completely on the challenge. The horse didn’t put a foot wrong, and neither did Beccy. They would have came a creditable sixth in their section had they not competed hors concours.
Tash was over the moon. She seemed far more pleased with Beccy’s modest placing than the three wins she and Hugo clocked up between them, although Beccy was convinced that she was being condescending.
Nonetheless, Hugo was impressed enough to support her inclusion in the Haydown competition team.
‘Okay, you’ve got the gig.’ He fixed Beccy with that direct stare that turned her belly to molten lava. ‘You’d better not let us down.’
‘I won’t.’ She turned predictably red. ‘I’ll ride for my life.’
Hugo had just been through a week he never wanted to repeat and was permanently in a foul mood as a result, but for the first time in days he laughed. ‘Spoken like a true eventer. Welcome to the squad.’ He stooped to give her a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and when he straightened up Beccy thought she might lift up like a balloon attached to his lips by static.
As the Haddenhill trials were local, they got home early for once, coming back just before the children’s bedtime. Tash rushed into the house to take over, leaving Hugo and Beccy to unload the lorry.
All Lough’s horses had gone, Beccy realised sadly. It made her feel horribly hollow. The thought of going up to the empty stables flat without Lemon there was equally daunting. They hadn’t spoken for over a week and she guessed life would get better with him gone, but she’d got used to knowing there was somebody else close by. She took a long time to rug up the horses, putting off the moment she’d have to go up.
‘Come and have supper with us.’ Hugo leant over the stable door. ‘We can plan the next few weeks.’
Looking up, Beccy couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him smile like that, his eyes creasing deliciously. Now the New Zealanders had gone, it was as though tens of tiny splinters had been removed from his face, allowing it to animate again.
Beccy beamed back at him, realising she was being invited in from the cold at last. She’d won her first stripe and it was time to start earning respect, just as she’d promised Lough she would. Riding and winning was everything now.
Twenty minutes later, standing in the kitchen and staring blankly into the fridge, Tash wished Hugo had offered to fetch a takeaway, but he’d taken a second scotch up to the bath and the local Indian didn’t deliver so far away from civilisation. She was shattered and they only had a few eggs, Cora’s processed cheese strings and some ancient salami. She hadn’t had time to go food shopping since before Badminton.
She heard his step behind her.
‘What do you want to eat?’
‘You.’
He kissed the back of her neck. It felt delicious. She could smell the soap on his skin. The next moment, his hand was undoing the buttons on the front of her shirt.
‘We mustn’t! Beccy’s coming to supper.’
‘I told her to give us an hour.’ He reached into her bra and teased out an eager nipple.
Still mud-splattered and sweat-stained from her day in the saddle, compared to Hugo’s freshly-showered cleanliness, Tash experienced a strange role reversal from the many times last season that she’d spruced up to welcome him back from a competition still wearing grass-stained breeches. He stripped her bare, laid her back on the kitchen table and tasted every piece of delicious, dirty, aching skin until it quivered and jumped with desire.
‘Beccy will be here any minute!’ She tried to wriggle away, shame-faced.
‘I’ve locked the back door.’ He held her down until she came with such a delicious burst of pleasure that she swept a huge pile of paperwork to the floor and kicked over a chair.
‘You’re mine’ – he looked down at her now – ‘and don’t forget it. Now go and change while I cook.’
In their bathroom a few minutes later, she looked at her reflection in the mirror above the basin, uncertain if she’d been forgiven or indeed if there was anything to forgive. Was temptation as much of a betrayal as true infidelity?
When Beccy wandered into the main house to find Hugo cooking a vast omelette her heart flipped over in sympathy with the sizzling contents of his pan.
‘Tash is just upstairs – open a bottle of wine and we’ll get planning.’
It was suddenly like her daydreams in the early days. Beccy allowed herself a quick fantasy that she was Haydown’s top rider, and that this was their usual debrief after competitions.
‘You look lovely,’ Tash said when she appeared, having managed just a quick flannel wash before changing into jeans, the hot water in the house having been used up by the children’s baths and then by Hugo.
Beccy flushed happily. She’d scrubbed from head to toe, anointed herself with scented oil and dressed in her favourite tie-dye dress. She now had a stake in the yard’s future, and was determined to impress.
‘Right, let’s get started.’ Hugo dished up great wedges of omelette on to cold plates. ‘I’ll just open a window – smells like a fire in a joss stick factory in here.’
‘It’s the burnt food,’ Tash told Beccy quickly, seeing her crushed face. The pong of patchouli oil was admittedly rather overpowering, but Tash preferred it to h
er own horsy reek.
She worried that Beccy would be as flaky as ever, but instead she seemed shot through with a positive energy that infected them all.
Like a depleted but undefeated army, the new Haydown competition squad discussed their strategy late into the evening, consulting the big year planner and event schedules and agreeing that, with Lough gone and no Rory in play for the coming weeks, Tash would need to ride alongside Hugo at some of the bigger events as well as orchestrating the young horses at the smaller competitions with Beccy as her co-pilot.
‘Now you’ll be riding full time, I’ve asked Franny to put the word out among her cronies to bring in more hands on the yard,’ Hugo told Beccy. ‘But you’ll still act as travelling groom at the big trials and I’ll need you to groom for me in Germany.’ He consulted the planner, which had a line through most of June that indicated he would be away.
‘Of course,’ Beccy agreed, although she kept herself firmly in check. Not long ago the prospect three weeks on the road with Hugo would have had her dreaming night and day, imagining the nights they would share living in the horse box, fantasising that they’d find what they’d lost at New Year, this time with no hurry and nobody to interrupt. She knew she mustn’t risk blowing an opportunity to experience the excitement of the big European events by letting her crush run riot.
But Hugo was eyeing the planner more closely now, spotting all the events still pencilled in it for Lough during the Germany run. ‘On second thoughts, Tash should come instead.’
Both women looked at him in horror.
‘I’m needed here,’ Tash protested. ‘I’ll fly out for Jenny’s wedding and stay on to support you at Aachen if you’re selected. That’s what we always agreed.’
‘Someone needs to compete the horses here,’ Beccy pointed out.
‘You can do that. Franny will be in charge. We’ve plenty of time to get you up to speed before we go.’
‘Absolutely not.’ Tash shook her head, clearly thinking he’d gone mad. ‘Beccy can’t ride above novice, for a start, and—’