'That's all I b.l.o.o.d.y need,' snarled Perdita.

Daisy blushed. 'I'm sorry to barge in,' she faltered. 'I just came to see how Luke was. How are you?' She handed him a bunch of roses as pink as her face. 'They don't smell much, I'm afraid. Violet's doing her A levels, but she's sent you a card and some poems by Kingsley Amis, and some Lucozade as a joke.' She plonked them down on the bed.

'Wow, that's kind,' said Luke, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. 'You are an incredibly nice lady.'

My mother, thought Perdita furiously, has a thumping great crush on Luke.

'What the f.u.c.k are you doing here anyway?' she asked Daisy.

'I went to London to see the Annual Exhibition of the Royal Society of Portrait Painters. Marvellous stuff,' mumbled Daisy, then, changing the subject, she turned to Luke. 'We were all so worried about you. Have you got a ghastly headache?'

'Not nearly as bad as ours,' said Seb, putting down the p.o.r.n mag and pouring Daisy a gla.s.s of champagne. 'You look stunning today, Mrs Macleod.'

'This is my brother Red,' said Luke.

Oh, what a beauty, thought Daisy in wonder - that staggering perfection of feature allied to that rain-soaked red setter colouring.

'This is Perdita's mother,' added Luke.

'Jesus!' Red was shaken out of his habitual cool. 'You kidding? She must be Perdita's daughter.'

Strolling over to Daisy he idly zipped up her jeans and removed a b.u.t.tercup petal from her hair. Then, grinning down at her, he murmured, 'I always figure the best way to see paintings is lying down,' as he poured her a toothmug of champagne.

'I shouldn't,' said Daisy, who'd gone absolutely scarlet. 'I'm driving.'

'Why don't you come to Paris with us?' said Red, realizing in a trice that Perdita was wildly jealous of her mother and such an invitation would irritate the h.e.l.l out of her. 'If we leave in twenty minutes we can have an hour at the Louvre before it closes. My father's lent a painting to the Renoir exhibition. We can book in to the Ritz, dine at Maxim's and I'll take you to Montmartre tomorrow.'

'Come on, Mrs Macleod,' urged Seb. 'If we can't show you a good time, no-one can. We're coming back tomorrow lunchtime. We've got a four-thirty match at Cowdray.'

Seeing the two of them so brown, carefree and handsome, Daisy suddenly thought how heavenly it would be to take off.

'I can't leave Ethel and Gainsborough,' she stammered.

'Course you can,' said Seb. Perdita'll look after them. Haven't I been trying to seduce your mother for ages?' he added over his shoulder to an absolutely spitting Perdita. 'Dommie's been a long time with that nurse. This must be him.'

But instead Drew walked in. Taking in the number of bottles and people, he went straight up to Luke's bed.

'You poor sod, how you feeling? Besieged, I should think. You don't want this mob here, do you?'

'They're OK,' Luke grinned weakly.

'I'll get rid of them in a minute. I've just spoken to Ricky. He's had another look at Fantasma. She'll be fine. If it's any comfort, we had five ponies lame after thesecond match. We're all going to be out of horses by the Gold Cup.'

Putting more grapes and a new book on polo pony management down on the bed, he nodded to the others.

Daisy, who'd gone as red as a peony, again pretended to gaze out of the window. She'd popped in on Luke to establish an alibi and her blood froze at the thought that Perdita might have decided to go for a walk in Windsor Park and disturbed Drew and her in the bracken.

Drew, following her, removed more b.u.t.tercup petals from her hair.

'That was heavenly,' said Daisy faintly.

'It always is with you, my love,' whispered Drew. Then, more loudly: 'D'you need a lift back to Rutshire?'

'No, I've got the car,' said Daisy, which Drew already knew.

'Oh my G.o.d,' howled Red as Chessie swanned in carrying two bottles of Dom Perignon, a vast box of chocolates and a new translation of Dante's Inferno. Inferno. 'How you've got the gall to barge in here, having nearly screwed Luke's match yesterday?' 'How you've got the gall to barge in here, having nearly screwed Luke's match yesterday?'

'Good girl,' said Seb, relieving her of the bottles. 'We've just run out of drink.'

Having nodded fairly coolly to everyone else, Chessie kissed Luke. 'So sorry you had a shunt, angel, b.l.o.o.d.y bad luck.' Then, lowering her voice: 'Has Ricky been in?'

'First thing this morning,' said Luke.

'h.e.l.l, I missed him,' said Chessie furiously. 'How was he?'

'Tired,' said Luke, lying back on his pillows. The snowstorm was whirling in front of his eyes again. He couldn't handle all the cross-currents.

Chessie departed almost immediately but no-one else showed any signs of shifting.

'Your taxi's arrived, Red,' announced Seb, who'd started on Luke's chocolates as Auriel's pink helicopter landed on the lawn outside, sending patients on crutches and in wheelchairs leaping for safety.

As everyone crossed the room to have a look, Daisy noticed how green Luke had gone. Getting an envelope out of a carrier bag she timidly handed it to him.

'I thought you might like this.'

Opening it, Luke had great difficulty in not breaking down.

'Wow, it's terrific, beautiful!' he said finally in a choked voice. 'Thanks a million.'

It was a miniature of Fantasma standing fetlock deep in Ricky's watermeadows, faintly rose-pink in the rising sun, ears p.r.i.c.ked, lovely eyes slightly suspicious and with ash woods soaring up like organ pipes behind her.

'It is good, isn't it?' said Drew, who'd already seen it in several stages, trying to subdue the pride in his voice as he ran a hand up the back of Daisy's jeaned thigh.

'It's very very good,' said Red, topping up Daisy's gla.s.s. 'How much d'you want for that pony?' good,' said Red, topping up Daisy's gla.s.s. 'How much d'you want for that pony?'

'She's not for sale.' Luke was still gazing in wonder at the painting.

'She will be,' said Red arrogantly. 'Everyone'll be after her after yesterday.'

'They already are,' snapped Drew, who didn't like Red, 'and we ought to leave Luke alone.' Then, as a couple of nurses staggered in buckling under more bunches of flowers, 'Christ, you're popular.'

Just for a second Red's face tightened. Then he turned to Daisy: 'Did you say you'd just been to an Exhibition of the Royal Society of Portrait Painters?' he asked softly. 'What did you think of Auriel's portrait?'

'I'm afraid there was so much to look at I didn't get round to it,' said Daisy, going crimson again. Mercifully Perdita was nose to nose with Seb on the other side of the room.

'Hardly surprising,' drawled Red, just above a whisper. 'The exhibition closed yesterday. Nice one, Mrs Macleod!' Then, laughing at her discomfort, added, 'What's it worth not to tell your cantankerous daughter?'

'Oh, please don't,' begged Daisy.

She was saved by the arrival of Jose the Mexican brandishing a huge bunch of clashing mauve and salmon-pink gladioli, and by the return of Dommie and Nurse O'Grady with more flowers and her white cap on back to front.

'Rosie's coming to Paris with us,' said Dommie joyfully. 'She's off duty in ten minutes.'

'That's great,' said Seb. 'You can tell us apart, Rosie,because I've got a scar on the inside of my right knee and I'm the one Decorum loves best.'

'He b.l.o.o.d.y doesn't,' howled Dommie, brandishing an empty bottle.

'I very sorry.' Jose the Mexican handed Luke the gladioli and accepted some champagne in a teacup. 'I hop you very better now.'

'Thanks a lot,' said Luke, trying to sound really grateful. The snowstorm had become a blizzard. For a second he closed his eyes.

'h.e.l.lo, Luke. Ayve brought you some Lucozade and some Penhaligon's Bluebell to remaind you of Rutshire.' It was Sharon Kaputnik wafting graciousness and Jolie Madame. 'h.e.l.lo, boys, h.e.l.lo, Red. Victor's absolutely delaighted you're goin' to be on our team. He's convinced he's got a winning formula at last.'

'Not if he's part of it,' murmured Red.

But Sharon had turned to the Mexican, feigning amazement, 'Well, h.e.l.lo, Hose. Fancy seein' you here.'

Dommie giggled. 'We've got a hose-pipe ban in Rutshire. You better keep your w.i.l.l.y under wraps when you play down there, Jose.'

'Have a look at Taller,' Taller,' said Seb, handing Sharon a p.o.r.n mag. 'I'm sure you'll find yourself in it.' But Sharon was gazing deep into Jose's black eyes. said Seb, handing Sharon a p.o.r.n mag. 'I'm sure you'll find yourself in it.' But Sharon was gazing deep into Jose's black eyes.

Drew was talking in an undertone to Daisy. Seb and Dommie were making plans with Nurse O'Grady.

'We'll buy you something to wear,' Dommie was saying.

I want to go to Paris, thought Perdita furiously. I want to go to Maxim's and the Ritz and the Faubourg St Germain. I want to deplete some man's cheque-book.

Red was getting restless. 'We oughta go. Are you coming with us, Daisy?'

'Don't be fatuous,' said Drew sharply. 'Daisy's got a family to look after and all her painting commitments.'

'Let Daisy answer for herself,' said Seb, dabbing Penhaligon's Bluebell behind his ears.

'I really can't,' giggled Daisy.

She was saved this time by the arrival of Matron, six foot high and breathing fire. 'A pink helicopter has just landed on the lawn seriously jeopardizing the lives of the patients,' she thundered. 'I a.s.sume it belongs to one of you.'

'You suspected right, Lofty,' said Red, gathering up Daisy's roses. 'These are nice. They'll do for Auriel.' 'They're Luke's,' protested Daisy.

'Any more flowers and he'll get hay-fever. Come on, you guys.'

Matron, who'd been mouthing ineffectually, found her voice.

'Where are you taking that nurse?' she demanded.

'To Paris.' Dommie handed Matron two empties as he sauntered out.

'She's off duty,' said Seb, handing her two more. 'See you,' they chorused to Luke.

'Where are you living?' he called after Red.

'With Seb and Dommie. I'll call you, and I'll certainly call you.' you.' Blowing a kiss at Daisy, Red vanished, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Blowing a kiss at Daisy, Red vanished, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Daisy was not sure who was angrier - Perdita, Matron or Drew.

Perdita disapproved of everything about Red. He shouldn't have stolen the job of his friend and fellow American, Bobby Ferraro. He shouldn't keep trying out horses, laming them, playing the h.e.l.l out of them in a couple of chukkas, then handing them back saying they were no good. His grooms worked for him for next to nothing because he was so handsome, and, even worse, on the field he was the soul of dishonesty, endlessly manufacturing fouls, and avoiding a sixty, if a ball crossed the line, by tapping it back and claiming it hadn't gone over.

The twins were wild enough, but in the company of Red they became impossible, whooping it up all night, with groupies coming out of their ears.

In the weeks running up to the Gold Cup one prank followed another. The twins, for example, pinched Victor's helicopter just as he was about to fly to Frankfurt for a Board Meeting in order to scour the countryside for a missing Decorum whom they were convinced had been stolen for pit-bull fighting.

Then there was the Sat.u.r.day afternoon they all got drunk round the pool and set off in Victor's open Bentley with Red lolling naked between the twins and using a road map as a figleaf. Stopping an old lady by a T-junction theyasked her to show them the way to Rutminster on the map, which she did until the map slipped upwards and she ran shrieking into the nearest beechwood. Next they pa.s.sed a deaf old man on a bike and asked him him the way to Rutminster. When the old man, who was deaf, didn't answer immediately Red shot him with a starting pistol, whereupon the old man had a mini-heart attack and fell off his bike. A yokel taking Victor's car number reported the incident to the police, who needed a lot of hush money. Victor was absolutely furious. the way to Rutminster. When the old man, who was deaf, didn't answer immediately Red shot him with a starting pistol, whereupon the old man had a mini-heart attack and fell off his bike. A yokel taking Victor's car number reported the incident to the police, who needed a lot of hush money. Victor was absolutely furious.

Even worse, Red held his birthday party in Victor's house. Victor had expected two dozen people. Nearly two hundred turned up and all treated Red as the host. Decorum ate one of Victor's toupees, mistaking it for a hamster.

'This is a genuine surprise party,' Red kept saying, 'because I asked everyone when I was looped and I have no idea who's coming.'

Apocalypse boycotted the party and went to bed early. Perdita, who longed to go, felt incredibly cheated. She was fed up with working long hours for a measly salary. At nineteen she wasn't getting any younger and she wanted some fun. It further irked her that she must be the only girl in the South of England whom Red hadn't made the slightest pa.s.s at.

The afternoon after the party Apocalypse met the Tigers in the opening match of the Warwickshire Cup which was played at Cirencester and was, after the Queen's Cup and the Gold Cup, the most prestigious tournament of the year. It was Luke's first match back and he was still feeling groggy. Ricky, laid low by a vicious bout of flu, was also very weak and a lot more of their horses had fallen by the wayside in the Royal Windsor.

But, as Victor was the only member of the Tigers' team who wasn't still plastered from the night before, Apocalypse had no difficulty thrashing them 12-1 and going on to win the entire tournament. As the three-week-long toil of Gold Cup matches started at the end of June, at last giving Ricky a chance to win the first leg of his bet with Chessie, he grew increasingly remote. Perdita had abdicated any hope of his love, but it still hurt that he might be seeing Chessie on the sly. He had certainly hit miraculous form.

49.

And so Apocalypse - the hottest favourites for years - came to play the Tigers in the finals of the Gold Cup. The Alderton Flyers, who'd never reconciled their differences since the Queen's Cup, were playing Kevin Coley's Doggie Dins in the second match for third place.

The long, hot summer had taken its toll. With pitches burnt brown from the hose-pipe ban and harder than the M4, a pony with four sound legs was as rare as an icicle in the tropics. Kinta was lame, Ophelia was lame, so were Tero, Willis, Sinatra, Hermia and Portia. Of the equine stars, only Spotty, Wayne and Fantasma soldiered on. Apocalypse were down to stick-and-ball horses; even fat n.i.g.g.e.r, Ricky's oldest pony, would have to be loaded up and taken to Cowdray.

The day before the match Ricky grew increasingly picky and b.l.o.o.d.y-minded. At sunset, to avoid coming to blows, Luke took Fantasma for a gentle ride round Ricky's estate, admiring the red-gold barley and the sudden, bright mauve flash of willow herb against the darkening trees. He also noticed conkers on the horse chestnuts as big as golf b.a.l.l.s, and realized with a shiver that the season was nearly over. After Deauville he'd have to leave Perdita and return to Florida. Earlier in the week, having a drink with Daisy, he'd asked her idly if she knew whether he was going up.

Daisy had blushed and said that on the grapevine (which, translated, meant on the pillow beside Drew) she'd heard that all the Apocalypse team were going up: Luke and Ricky to nine, Dancer to two and Perdita in a great leap to four. This meant their aggregate would be twenty-four, too high to play together any more in England. He would have to declare himself in Deauville. He and Perdita seemed to be growing further and further apart. She was very abstracted. He dared not think with whom.

Inattentive, he was nearly unseated as Fantasma gave a shrill, alarmed whinny like a skirl of bagpipes and went up on her hind legs. Luke saw nothing in the gra.s.sy ride to frighten her except an old disused tractor. She was obviously picking up Ricky's pre-match nerves. Butby the time he got back to Robinsgrove her fetlock had swollen to three times its size like a vast white beachball.

Phil Bagley, summoned immediately, was totally flummoxed until he shaved away some of the hair, saw small fang marks and diagnosed adder bite.

'She won't die,' he rea.s.sured a demented Luke, 'but she certainly can't play tomorrow. I'm terribly sorry. You've lost your lethal weapon.'

'At last she's met something that bites worse than herself,' snarled Ricky.