The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘Had much success with this method in the past?’ he asked as I locked it behind me.

  ‘Not a lot, but it's dark, so we might surprise him.’

  ‘Right. But essentially,’ he glanced in the bucket, ‘we're counting on his physical appetite, triumphing over his sexual one?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose,’ I said impatiently. ‘Whatever.’ Whatever. When had I ever said that? But quite good. I should have dropped the T for more chavvy effect.

  ‘Come on,’ I set off. ‘Less theorizing, more action.’

  ‘Mind if I take a couple more of these?’ He turned to grab a pair of head collars hanging over a stable door.

  ‘Wha'ever.’

  I strode off, pleased with myself, towards the paddock. I let us in through the iron barred gate, then sent it sailing back to click shut with a clank, behind us.

  ‘Now. They're usually down by the river in a huddle. Jiggle your nuts.’

  Ludo's face in the moonlight lit up. ‘How I wish you were ordering me to do that under different circumstances,’ he breathed.

  I swallowed. Felt the blood in my cheeks. ‘Just… shake them,’ I muttered. ‘Hector!’ I called, striding out down the hill. ‘Hec-torrr!’ Quite hard to call out and not feel ridiculous. My voice warbled operatically.

  ‘Aren't you just alerting him to our presence?’ whispered Ludo, beside me. ‘I thought an element of surprise was part of our plan?’

  Bloody man. I didn't answer him, but he had a point. Hector was probably even now nudging his mares, saying – eh up, girls, the old bag's here. Bolt when I give the word.

  We advanced river-wards, like a drummer boy and his army of one, I thought, as our battle cry rang out in the still, starry night. Ludo was deliberately jiggling much too loudly, I decided; enjoying himself rather too much, an annoying smile on his face. I wasn't convinced he was taking this seriously.

  Sure enough, as we marched down the grassy slope, we saw Hector standing under the willows with his two grey mares lying at his feet in an idyllic, pastoral scene, like a Stubbs painting.

  ‘How cosy is that,’ muttered Ludo. ‘Three in a bed.’

  ‘You can see why he likes it.’

  ‘But hasn't he had the snip? He can't be a stallion.’

  ‘No, a gelding.’ We inched forwards. ‘But Caro reckons he might be a rig.’

  ‘What's that?’

  ‘A stallion who's had the op but it hasn't quite worked. He's lost most of his tackle, but some of it might have got left behind. So he still gets the urge.’ I was quite glad it was dark.

  ‘Blimey. Poor bastard.’

  ‘Now. You rattle, and I'll go round the back.’

  ‘Hang on.’ He stayed my arm. ‘Can I just try something?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You'll see. Wait there.’

  I folded my arms. Whatever it was, it wouldn't work. Recently, possibly because he wasn't coming in at night and being handled much, Hector had turned rather feral. Had taken to tossing his handsome head at me, rolling his eyes and with a flick of his heels, trotting away in the equal and opposite direction. Gone was the impeccably mannered, biddable Hector, a vision in purple with immaculately groomed mane and oiled hoofs, and in his place, a thuggish, intimidating Hector, with a very muddy hoody. He'd be in a mall soon, sipping Red Bull straight from the can.

  I watched as Ludo put his bucket down and stole across to the pliant, sleepy mares, one Jack's, one Phoebe's. Within seconds he'd slipped the ropes round their necks and got a head collar on each. They got to their feet, bewildered. Hector, sensing their captive state, instantly tossed his head and trotted away, metaphorical fag in mouth. Ludo ignored him and led the mares to me. I took their halter ropes, somewhat taken aback.

  ‘You've done that before.’

  ‘Alice had a pony. I have put the odd head collar on, but other than that, it's common sense. Or sexual psychology. Never chase a man. Ignore him, and he'll come running. You'll see.’

  He challenged me with his eyes. I turned away abruptly and walked off, taking the mares with me.

  Annoyingly, Hector, who'd initially bolshed off towards the river, had turned, and was even now following us to the gate, albeit at a wary distance.

  ‘Shall I have a go at getting him now?’ I asked, realizing I'd lost control in so many ways.

  ‘No, let him suffer. Wait till he's desperate. Don't tell me you've never kept a man at a distance, Evie? Made him wait?’

  I clenched my teeth. I certainly wasn't going to tell him I'd always done the chasing. We'd reached the gate and Ludo went ahead to swing it open for me. I led the mares through, one on either side.

  ‘Now?’ I glanced back. An uncharacteristically anxious Hector was hovering.

  ‘No, take them up to the yard. We'll teach him a lesson.’

  Feeling like a pliant old grey mare myself, I dutifully led them away into the night. When we got to the stables I waited on the hard standing with them, three heads drooping submissively together. A few moments later, Hector's smooth clip-clop clip-clop came at a smart trot, up the cinder path. He appeared out of the darkness looking pretty worried, I must say, not his usual arrogant self at all. The ponies all whinnied to each other in relief, and Ludo popped Hector in a stable, bolting the door firmly. Then he jerked his head at me and the mares. Clearly I'd morphed into the sort of woman who understands the jerk of a man's head, because I instantly turned and led the bemused mares back to their field. As I slipped off their halters and let them go, I watched them saunter off down the valley without even a backward glance: not looking overly disappointed at having a quiet night in in front of the river, away from Himself and his demanding ways. Not looking too deprived.

  Back in the yard, Ludo was propped up against a stable door, hands in pockets, one knee bent, looking impossibly handsome and pleased with himself.

  ‘Are we done here?’

  ‘Not quite. But you can wait in the car, if you like. I won't be long.’

  I disappeared into the tack room to get a bucket of water and a sponge. Please go.

  ‘Why, what happens now?’

  I was inside Hector's stable now, bolting it firmly behind me. I wondered if I could do this in the dark, with just the diffused light from the yard. There was a stable light, but I certainly didn't want to turn it on.

  ‘Oh, I've just got to change his rug,’ I muttered, whipping off the muddy one and seizing the little purple number from a hay rack. I slipped it on him. ‘Amongst other things…’ I was buckling him up underneath.

  ‘What other things?’

  ‘Um… give him a wash.’

  ‘A wash? Here – look, there's a light.’

  He flicked it on, just as I'd crouched down with my bucket and sponge and teased out Hector's…

  There was a highly charged silence as I determinedly finished what I'd set out to do. After a while I couldn't bear it.

  ‘Please wait in the car,’ I whispered.

  ‘You're kidding,’ he drawled breathlessly. ‘I wouldn't miss this for the world. Do you do this to all the boys?’

  ‘It's Camilla,’ I hissed, red-faced. ‘She insists. She'll check.’

  ‘I've changed my mind about Camilla,’ he said after another long pause as he watched me. ‘I love her. I want to have her babies.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don't.’ I straightened up and threw the sponge in the bucket. ‘Camilla's husband won't get this sort of treatment, I'd put money on it. Camilla's husband probably gets missionary position sex only on his birthday.’

  ‘And what sort of sex, hypothetically speaking, d'you think he'd be missing out on?’

  I regarded him lolling, arms folded over the stable door, eyes dancing.

  ‘Shut up, Ludo, and pass me that hoof pick.’

  ‘I love it when you talk horse,’ he moaned as I pointed to the pick, hanging on a hook by the door.

  ‘Just belt up and – oh. Shit!’ I stood stock-still in the middle of the stable. Listened.

  ‘What?’<
br />
  ‘She's here!’ The unmistakable sound of thundering tyres and hissing air brakes filled the night, as the lorry surely rumbled through the front gate. A cab door slammed, echoing in the quiet night, making the dogs inside the house bark. I recognized Brenda, sleeping over whilst we were supposedly in Yorkshire, yapping shrilly; Megan's throaty old woof.

  ‘Quick, turn off the light.’

  Ludo flicked it off, and in an instant I was out of there, the stable door shut and bolted behind me. I looked around wildly, quivering with indecision. Too late, her heavy footsteps, like a man's – like a giant's, actually – came earthshakingly towards us. Fi-fi-fo-fum… I longed for a handy beanstalk and glanced, terrified, at Ludo. There was only one way into the yard, and she was coming through it. We were trapped.

  ‘In here,’ he muttered.

  Quick as a flash, he'd bundled me into the adjoining stable, which happened to be Felix's. Felix eyed us in astonishment, but he was a mild-mannered little pony, and a very greedy one, and once he'd given us the cursory once-over, he carried on pulling at his hay net, munching hard. Ludo and I scuttled to a far corner of his stable and crouched down, Ludo's arm clamped pseudo-protectively around my shoulders, but I knew better. I glared at him and tried to shake him off, but he clamped himself even harder, frowning at me to be quiet, a finger to his lips, enjoying himself hugely, not remotely scared. Not like me. But then he had no idea of the ramifications. No idea of the magnitude of Camilla's wrath, nor my sister-in-law's, nor Anna's grief when her beloved pony was taken away.

  I shut my eyes, bent my head and began to pray hard, hands clasped. There was the sound of a bolt shooting back on the adjacent door: Hector's box. Then the stable light went on, and then… I was going to say the unmistakable tones of Camilla Gavin rang out into the night, but although it was undoubtedly her voice that came, one could be forgiven for mistaking her. Instead of her usual clipped, posh bark, came the breathy, treacly tones some people reserve for small babies, some for their lovers, and some, for animals.

  ‘Oh, Heccy Heccy, wath he a lubberly, lubberly boy then? Wath he? Kissy kissy, Hec. Brrr… brr…!’

  Sounds of a horse being open-mouth-snogged ensued. Or something horribly similar. I couldn't look at Ludo. Knew it was vitally important to keep staring straight ahead at Felix's broad brown backside and think about, um, Gordon Brown's position on, er, global warming.

  ‘Wath he Mumma's precious? And hath he been looked after like Mumma's precious boy should?’

  Thank God Hector couldn't talk. Ludo was squeezing my shoulder, trying to catch my eye and, foolishly, I glanced, just once, at his delighted incredulous face. Memories of Tim in church threatened. I bit the inside of my cheek and thought hard about Gordon Brown's wife, Sarah. Rather stern, I imagined. No fast food for her children. No Big Mac cartons in front of the telly.

  ‘Hath she been picking out your feet, then? Hm?’ Pause while she checked.

  ‘No, Mumma,’ came a high-pitched, tremulous lisp. ‘She hathn't.’

  Oh dear God, he could talk. It was too much for Ludo. He snorted.

  A horrible hush ensued. It hung there in the night air, suspended. I shut my eyes tight, held and clenched everything.

  ‘Who's there?’ The unmistakable tones of the real Camilla Gavin rang out from next door. ‘Who's there?’ she barked again, fearlessly. Oh, no, no fear, not like me. I was the fourth-former hiding in the loos, and she was the headmistress, out of Hector's box in a trice, bolting it shut. Working her way along the line of stables, happily away from us, in the opposite direction, we heard her kick in the doors, one by one. Not a headmistress now, but a cop looking for villains, like something out of The Sweeney. She wasn't even armed, I thought in awe. There could be anyone in there. But then again, who'd tangle with her?

  ‘Come on – come out! Bloody gypos – out!’

  She marched back our way, towards the only box she'd yet to kick in, Felix's. I moaned low. My fate was sealed. As she opened the door and expertly pushed the pony back, simultaneously flicking on the light, Ludo seized my face in his and kissed me very hard on the lips.

  ‘Good God,’ she spluttered.

  I pushed Ludo away and sprang to my feet.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Her incredulous eyes darted from me to Ludo, then back to me. She knew exactly what we were doing.

  ‘Well, excuse me, Mrs Horse-lady,’ Ludo drawled, straightening up. ‘This is Evie's family home. One might just as well ask what you're doing here, interfering with horses in the middle of the night. But since you ask, I came to check out the lighting for my sister's wedding here. Found Evie checking old Hector's rug – she's that fussy about his layers. The fact that I backed her into a stable and stole a kiss is really none of your business.’

  ‘Good gracious,’ she gaped, momentarily stunned. ‘Evie, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered pathetically, hanging my head. It wasn't hard.

  ‘What's the matter, Milly?’ Ludo teased. ‘No one ever backed you up into a stable before? Except old Heccy, perhaps?’

  ‘How dare you!’

  He sauntered past her, hands in his pockets, out into the yard. She stared after him, her mouth hanging open. Ludo turned to flash her a grin, then strolled off whistling, around the corner towards the gate, and out into the night. When he'd gone, she turned to me, aghast.

  ‘What a dreadful man!’

  ‘Dreadful.’

  ‘Is he a gypsy?’

  ‘Quite possibly. Some sort of vagrant.’

  ‘A very well-spoken one. Perhaps a drug addict? From the Varsity?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks to you.’

  ‘You should have slapped his face!’

  ‘I… was about to.’

  ‘Wish I'd slapped it for you!’

  ‘I wish you had too.’

  We stared at each other. I had a nasty feeling she wasn't entirely convinced. Could go either way.

  ‘Would you like me to put another rug on Hector?’ I asked unctuously. ‘I was worried he might be cold.’

  ‘No. No, I've felt behind his ears, he's fine.’ It was the right move, though.

  ‘Good, well, if you're sure… I'll be off then.’ I slid past her nervously in the stable. Out of the door.

  ‘Sure you're all right to drive?’ she said gruffly. ‘Want a lift?’

  ‘No, no, I'm fine, the car's just here. Thanks, though!’ I fled towards it, feet flying.

  ‘Good for you for checking on old Hector!’ she called after me.

  ‘Not a problem!’ I trilled back, throwing myself into the front seat. I glanced in the rear-view mirror. She was coming after me. Oh God.

  ‘Sure you're OK?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  I turned the ignition and performed an immaculate three-point turn in the drive. Then I roared out of it, wheels spinning in the mud, hopefully not splattering her too disastrously.

  A few hundred yards down the dark lane, under the lee of a tall elderberry hedge, and a smattering of stars, Ludo was sauntering along, hands in pockets. Swaggering, almost. I slowed down beside him, leaned across and threw open the passenger door as I stopped.

  ‘Get in,’ I muttered.

  He hopped in, grinning. ‘I thought that went rather well.’

  ‘Did you.’

  ‘Thought I got us out of a tight spot rather adroitly.’

  ‘Really. Except that when she's given it some thought and finds out who you really are, she'll realize we've duped her, and then it'll be all round the village in moments. Evie Hamilton, found snogging in a stable with a man half her age.’

  ‘Being assaulted in a stable,’ he corrected me, ‘by a man surely only a few years younger than herself. How old are you, anyway?’

  ‘None of your business.’ I suppressed a smile and drove on fast towards town.

  That shut him up. The driving, I mean. Occasionally I heard him utter a profanity under
his breath as we took a corner, but then, most people did.

  When I drew up outside Ludo's house, the lights were still blazing on the second floor, windows flung open to the night. The party was in full swing, music even louder. The noise drifted down the street, echoing in the still air. I turned to look at him. His eyes were shut.

  ‘Dare I look?’

  ‘Idiot. We're here.’

  ‘Thank the Lord.’ He opened his eyes, gazing around in mock wonderment. ‘You're quite a motorist.’

  ‘You're quite a liar.’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘Back there. In the stable.’

  ‘Oh.’ He shrugged. ‘Goes with the territory. I'm a journalist. I make up stories.’

  ‘Not that sort of journalist. Hardly gutter press.’

  He laughed. ‘No. True. That, indeed, was a lie.’

  The mirth in his eyes slowly subsided as he looked at me. Watched me, rather. Fondly. Consideringly. All the frivolity of the last couple of hours seemed to slip out of the car and down the street. It was as if a convenient cloak of disguise had been plucked away and tossed aside to reveal something altogether more dangerous.

  ‘Fun, though, wasn't it?’ he said lightly.

  I wasn't deceived by his tone but his steady gaze was very affecting. ‘Yes.’ I agreed softly. ‘It was.’ I sat, motionless, in the warm focus of his regard. The silence hung around us.

  ‘Night, Evie.’

  ‘Night.’

  He leaned across to kiss my cheek, but instead, his head dipped, and his lips brushed my neck. It was the gentlest of touches but the most electrifying.

  As the blood surged under my skin, I knew, in that instant, I desperately wanted him to kiss me properly. The thought shocked me. I was startled by my complicity.

  ‘Ludo —’

  ‘Shh.’ He put his finger on my lips and I saw in his eyes he'd read both emotions. The desire, and then the shock.

  ‘Don't panic,’ he told me quietly. ‘But don't go away.’ And then he got out of the car and was gone.

  25

  The following morning, Caro was on the phone before I'd even opened my eyes.