Kate's Progress

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  ‘Mouth like a kitten,’ Ed boasted. ‘I just wish I could be here all the time so I could ride him more. It’s one of the things I like least about going to London three or four days a week – leaving him behind.’

  ‘And you’re entering him at Buscombe? Are you going to win?’

  ‘Not really. He’s not experienced enough,’ he said, stroking the other side of the neck. Graceland stopped rubbing his eye and investigated Kate with his prehensile, rubbery lips to see if any part of her was good to eat. ‘I’d really love to have the time to three-day-event him. If I could be here all the time, running the estate, we could get into training. He’s got it in him to be a champion – haven’t you, Gracie? You could be a Badminton star, couldn’t you, old boy?’ His voice took on a note she had never yet heard in it. The horse regarded him with a kind and humorous eye.

  ‘It’s a shame to let your dream go by the board,’ Kate said, quietly, so as not to break the mood. ‘Do you really have to go to London?’

  ‘My business needs me at the moment. We’re expanding, and I have to keep a hand on the rein. And …’ He sighed instead of finishing the sentence.

  She thought she knew what the end was. ‘It’s a break for you, I suppose,’ she suggested.

  ‘It’s nice sometimes to face problems you have the answers to,’ he admitted. She almost held her breath at this admission: he was letting her further into his confidence than she had any right to expect. What might he tell her next?

  But Gracie stuck his nose up between them and blew out sharply, giving each of them a blast in the ear, breaking the mood. And there was a peremptory banging from the box next door. The other horse had belatedly cottoned on that there were humans about, had stuck its head over and was rapping the door with a forefoot.

  ‘Henna’s getting jealous. We mustn’t neglect her,’ he said, and led Kate over.

  ‘What a perfect name for her,’ Kate said. The mare was about fifteen-two, and a wonderful dark red-chestnut in colour, with not a white hair on her. ‘She’s very Rita Hayworth. I’d better not stand too near her – we might clash. Is she bred?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ed. ‘She’s fast, and she has tremendous stamina. It’s a shame she’s so wasted.’

  Henna was tossing her head up and down and swinging from foot to foot, and her investigation of their hands and collars was much more urgent than Gracie’s. She had all the classic signs of a bored horse.

  ‘She needs more exercise,’ Ed sighed. ‘We bought her for Camilla, but she hardly ever rides, so Jack took her over, but he doesn’t take her out regularly enough.’

  ‘Well, now you’re back …’ Kate suggested. An idea had formed in her mind, but she didn’t like to push it.

  ‘But I really need to be riding Gracie,’ he said. He stroked the mare’s neck, and then looked down at Kate as if it had suddenly occurred to him. ‘Would you like to go riding again tomorrow? But this time on a proper horse?’

  ‘You’d let me ride Henna?’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re up to it?’

  ‘I’d love to try her – but remember today was the first time I’ve ridden in ages.’

  ‘You obviously didn’t have any trouble. It’s like riding a bicycle.’

  ‘Not entirely,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘You know what I mean. If you do it properly and for long enough when you’re young, you don’t forget. Will you? A long ride, to get the fidgets out of their feet.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Kate said, feeling her insides swoon with how much she’d really love to.

  ‘That’s great,’ he said, and then, ‘I won’t be taking you away from your work?’

  ‘I’m my own boss,’ she said. ‘I can take time off when I want. Though I don’t know if Jocasta will forgive me. I think she sees me as her friend and no-one else’s.’

  ‘Oh, she can come too,’ he said easily, and Kate cursed herself for having mentioned it. ‘She needs to get Daphne hardened up for Monday. We don’t need to go fast, so he’ll be able to keep up. We’ll do a long ride and lots of hill work and get some muscle on their quarters.’

  Jocasta came trailing back from the field, laden with saddles and bridles which she dumped unceremoniously on the ground. ‘I don’t really have to take the dogs out, do I? Can’t they just run about in the field?’

  ‘You know it’s not the same thing,’ Ed said. ‘There’s no mental exercise in it.’ He picked up one saddle and started towards the tackle shed, so Kate picked up the other leaving Jocasta to gather the bridles. ‘I’d take them myself,’ Ed went on, with a hint of sympathy for the beleaguered child, ‘but I have to go and see Jacobsen about his sheep, and then I have to go over the estate books, which will take all afternoon, at least. Be a good girl.’

  ‘Oh all right,’ Jocasta said moodily, and then brightened. ‘Will you come?’ she asked Kate.

  ‘I have to go home and do some work,’ she said.

  Jocasta thought rapidly. ‘Well, if you’re walking home, I can walk with you with the dogs, can’t I?’

  Kate took pity. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It’ll be nice to have the company.’

  And as well as Jocasta’s instant joy, her reward was an approving look from Ed, who was obviously fonder of his half-sister than she appreciated, and was glad someone was being kind to her.

  Fourteen

  She went over to Kay’s at a quarter to six so they could get away by six. Darren had just arrived, having left work a bit early; Kay was rushing about like a scalded hen.

  ‘I’m all behind like the cow’s tail,’ she wailed. ‘Darren’s having a quick wash and changing his shirt, but I haven’t even brushed my hair and I’ve still got to feed the kids.’

  The children were in the kitchen, sitting at the table ready, and there was a smell of fish in the air.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Kate said. ‘What are they having?’

  ‘Would you? Oh, you are a love,’ Kay cried. ‘It’s fish fingers, beans and mash. It’s all ready, bar the serving up. I did you some too, seeing as you’re coming over so early. I didn’t think you’d’ve had time for tea. Fish fingers are in the oven, should be done now. And the kettle’s boiled, if you want to make yourself a cuppa—’

  ‘Come on, girl, get your skates on!’ came a male bellow from up the stairs.

  ‘Go,’ said Kate, making a shooing motion. ‘I’ll see to it.’

  She was starving, actually. She served the fish fingers, baked beans and mash on to three plates and sat down at the table with the children while upstairs various bumps and scrapes attested to hasty preparation. Darren came down, put his coat on and stood by the front door jingling his keys. Kay appeared at last, looking flushed, one side of her jacket collar caught under and one side of her hair sticking up more than the other. ‘All right?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘Oh, you found the tomato sauce. Don’t let Dommie have too much. He just swamps it. And—’

  ‘Come on, Kay,’ Darren called, halfway out of the front door now. ‘We’ll be late.’

  ‘I can manage,’ Kate said. ‘Have a nice time and don’t worry about anything.’

  And they were gone. The children carried on eating serenely. Dommie picked up a piece of paper from beside his plate and pushed it across to Kate. ‘I did you this at school yesterday, but it got squashed.’

  It was a sheet of paper with some smears of paint on it, and two other odd shaped pieces of paper stuck on it for no apparent reason. One corner of the large sheet was torn off, and there was what appeared to be a muddy footprint across it.

  Kate handled it gingerly. ‘What is it?’ She had noticed now that the word Mummy was written in wobbly letters at the bottom. The child was a chancer.

  Dommie stared at her across a bulging mouthful of potato and beans as if she had asked a totally irrational question. Finally he swallowed massively and said, ‘Jason trod on it. When he fell over. Miss Cornish says we’re having a feel trip tomorrow. About weather.’

  ‘Whether what?’ Kate asked, distra
cted.

  ‘But only in the playground, cos of elfin safety. We have to be-tend.’

  ‘Pretend what?’

  Dommie’s face became costive with effort. At last he started afresh. ‘Jason cut his chin. There was all blood.’

  She realized she had lost the moment. ‘Don’t just eat potato and beans. Eat some fish finger, too,’ she said, noticing he had been concealing it under the mash and the sea of tomato sauce.

  ‘I like fish fingers,’ Hayley announced, a piece teetering on a fork towards her open mouth.

  ‘Good. I do too,’ said Kate.

  ‘Do fish have fingers?’ Dommie asked. His face brightened as the full glory of the thought expanded in his mind. ‘Kate, do fish have fingers? I bet they do. Do they have fingers and feet and noses and ears?’ He began to giggle.

  Kate could see the situation deteriorating. ‘Eat your supper,’ she said, trying to be stern.

  ‘Fingers and toes and noses and heads and legs,’ Dommie chanted.

  Hayley banged her fork down messily in her potato, splashing herself with dots of tomato sauce in a scarlet pattern that would send a forensic investigator into delirium. ‘Fingers!’ she shouted.

  ‘Eat properly, or there’ll be no pudding,’ Kate commanded. They were both banging forks now, shrieking with giggles at the splashes. She wondered for a moment why anyone had children.

  To calm them down after their Mr Men yoghurts, she took them both on the sofa to watch a Postman Pat DVD (Pat – The Glory Years). Hayley curled up in her lap and Dommie scooched up as close to her as he could get without actually ending up on the other side. Hayley only watched for a few minutes before her thumb went in her mouth, she turned her face into Kate’s chest, and was soon slumbering deeply. Dommie watched with close attention what was obviously a favourite DVD, for every now and then he would tell her what was going to happen just before it did. Whenever the theme song came on – which seemed agonizingly often – he sang it with his own words: ‘Postman Pat, Postman Pat, Postman Pat in his silly old hat.’ And repeat. He was obviously delighted with himself for thinking of it, because he giggled inordinately each time.

  Kate was afraid the stories were just too drama-packed and he’d never settle down.

  But at the end of the DVD he went unexpectedly meekly to bed, doing his own teeth while she put the still sleeping Hayley down. She heard him singing quietly to himself in the bathroom. When she went in, she found he had spread toothpaste all over his face and was shaving himself with the handle of his toothbrush.

  When he was in bed too, she went down and cleaned up the kitchen, then back to the sofa to watch an episode of Grey’s Anatomy she discovered (oh, the glories of satellite!) on one of the many channels she didn’t get. She didn’t get to the end of it, however, for she woke with a start to a completely different programme as Kay and Darren came in, very cheerful and smelling sweetly of curry.

  ‘You all right?’ Kay asked.

  ‘Fine,’ Kate said, struggling upright and covertly wiping a bit of drool off her chin. ‘Just watching TV.’

  ‘Kids all right?’

  ‘Yes, they were no trouble at all,’ Kate said with mental crossed fingers. ‘Did you have a nice time? Was the film good?’

  ‘Ooh, that Daniel Craig,’ Kay said. ‘I’d have him between two bits of bread, any day of the week. Darren liked the Bond Girl an’ all, didn’t you?’

  ‘Nice,’ he said. He wasn’t a chatty man.

  ‘So,’ Kay said, and looked at Kate speculatively, her head slightly on one side, as though she had something to impart.

  ‘Yes?’ Kate asked.

  Kay opened her mouth to speak, but Darren said, ‘Kate’s tired, she wants to get off to bed. And I’ve gotter get in early tomorrow. Want me to walk you to the door?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ Kate said. She patted her pocket. ‘I thought to bring a torch with me this time.’

  So they said their goodnights. Outside it was black, and her eyes took time to adjust after the lit house. She shone the torch on the path in case of trip hazards. It was a feeble little blue light – the sort of torch you hang on your keyring to help you find the keyhole – but it was enough to show her her way. Her gate squeaked under her hand; she tramped carefully up her own overgrown path, and pulled out her key, and as she reached the door, shone the torch on it to locate the keyhole.

  Someone had painted something on her door. She touched it cautiously, and her finger came away sticky. She opened the door and turned on the inside light to see better.

  Large, rough letters, and the paint was red – of course! She hoped it was paint, anyway. Hastily, splashily painted, so that there were drips on the doorstep. She found herself thinking of the kids and tomato ketchup. Better think of that than the words someone had felt strongly enough to paint roughly on her front door.

  GO HOME

  YOUR NOT WANTED

  She was out at first light with turps and a rag, but the paint had sunk deeply into the old, dry wood and was hard to remove. Darren came out of his house to go to work while she was still labouring, and came across to her gate to say, ‘You’re starting early.’ Then he saw what she was doing. He came up the path and stood beside her silently a moment while she rubbed, then said, ‘Probably some drunk kids having a laugh. Don’t mean anything.’

  ‘That’s what I’m telling myself,’ she said, though she was quite shaken inside.

  Darren’s big hand reached across her shoulder and he touched the paint and scraped at it with a fingernail. ‘Try sandpaper,’ he said. ‘The paint’s loose underneath.’

  ‘I was going to sand this door down anyway,’ she said, ‘and repaint it properly. It wasn’t the first job on my list, though.’

  ‘Right.’ He laid his hand an instant on her shoulder. ‘Don’t take it to heart. People don’t think like that.’ And then, ‘Gotter go. Be late for work.’

  Kate gave up with the turps, went and fetched a can of undercoat and quickly painted over the whole thing. You could see a ghostly outline of the words, but only if you looked. From the road it would look like part of her redecorating. She hoped the perpetrators wouldn’t come back to admire their handiwork and feel obliged to restore it.

  With a pub at the bottom of the street, she told herself, there was always the possibility of drunks wandering past late at night and making fools of themselves. It was a shame she had fallen asleep, or she might have heard them – heard the gate squeak, anyway.

  She had the ride to look forward to today, and determinedly dismissed the incident from her mind. She wasn’t going to let it spoil her day.

  She was to drive over to The Hall for a ten o’clock start. At half past nine she was just thinking of getting ready when Kay appeared, back from taking the kids to school.

  ‘You all right? Darren rung me, told me about your door. Rotten little scrotes. You didn’t hear anything?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ Kate said. ‘But I’m not letting it upset me. I’m not even going to think about it.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Kay said, and hesitated with that same look of impending communication. ‘Last night,’ she began.

  ‘Yes?’ Kate said, mainly to hurry her along because she wanted to do something with her hair before the ride.

  ‘Well, Darren didn’t think I should tell you, but if it was me, I’d want to know.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Well, last night, after the pictures, when we went for a curry, we went past Coco’s – it’s like a wine bar, but quite posh. And we saw Jack Blackmore in there. With a woman.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Kate said neutrally.

  Kay looked at her with sympathy. ‘When I say “with a woman”, I mean he was all over her. Young thing, she looked, blonde hair, miniskirt up to here and low cut top – you wonder why some of ’em bother getting dressed at all. Anyway, they were smooching over the table and I don’t know what his hand was doing under it. I’m sorry, Kate.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ she said. There was
no denying she felt a pang, but she was sure now she had never been serious about him. Her pride might have taken a ding, but nothing else. ‘We went out a couple of times, had a bit of fun. That’s all.’

  ‘I did warn you about him,’ Kay said, still anxiously, not taking Kate’s assurance at face value. ‘This one we saw him with, she’s much more his usual sort. He likes ’em obvious. I was surprised he was making a play for you, you being a cut above, but then I thought maybe that was proof it was serious. So I was worried …’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Kate said, and smiled to prove it. ‘He wasn’t making a play for me. He only took me out really to thank me for rescuing the dog. There was nothing between us, just friendliness.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kay, looking at her carefully, as if she still didn’t believe.

  ‘Look, thanks for telling me, but I’m really all right, no broken heart, listen.’ She rapped her chest dramatically. ‘See? Sound as a drum. And now I have to chuck you out, because I have to get ready to go out.’

  ‘Going out?’ Kay was instantly interested.

  ‘Riding,’ Kate said.

  ‘Up The Hall? Jocasta again?’

  ‘And Ed.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kay, and it was quite different from the previous one. She gave a grin. ‘Better let you get glammed up, then.’

  ‘I’m just going riding!’ Kate exclaimed, exasperated. And then, ‘So you wouldn’t mind if it was Ed instead of Jack – not that it is, but I’m interested in your thought processes.’

  ‘Ed’s a different kettle of fish,’ Kay said mysteriously, and went away.

  Jocasta was thrilled that the three of them were going out together. Ed seemed, Kate thought, perhaps just a shade less grave than on previous occasions, as though he was looking forward to the outing.

  Henna looked enormous when she was led out, though that was just the contrast with Chloe, the last thing Kate had mounted. She also looked very fresh, and was skittering about, wanting to be off. Ed gave Kate a leg up, and held the mare while she adjusted her stirrups, and then told her to cock her leg forward while he tightened her girths. Jocasta was already up on Daphne. He went back and led out Graceland, checked the girth and was up in one graceful spring. Kate gave an inward sigh of pleasure. He looked simply perfect in the saddle. She didn’t know why that was gratifying, but it was. She’d have hated for him to look at all ungainly.