Lots of Love (55 page)

There had been a huge mother–daughter confrontation when they’d sobered up, Ellen realised. No wonder Pheely had been so crotchety the day before. She smiled awkwardly. ‘She
is
looking out for you, I promise. We both were. You did set out on a bit of a mission.’

Dilly hung her head and looked at Ellen through her lashes as she watched her milk the tea. ‘I know. A missionary-position mission. Did you and Spurs fight when you went to check on Rory? Mum thinks you pushed him into a water-trough for having designs on me.’

Ellen laughed. ‘No, he just waded into the pond.’

‘He’s a bit crazy sometimes, isn’t he?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘He really likes you, I can tell.’

Ellen grabbed the mugs and carried them outside, barely noticing that the scalding china was burning her hands.

‘Did he say anything to you?’ Dilly followed her. ‘About me, I mean.’

‘Only that he thinks you’re adorable.’ Ellen settled on Spurs’ favourite bench.

‘Really?’ Dilly’s face lit up and she stooped to rub Snorkel’s belly. ‘Godspell was really funny about him. She calls him Squire Hard-on. I don’t think she likes him much.’

‘So you and Godspell are friends again?’ Ellen didn’t want to talk about Spurs.

‘Sort of. She still won’t tell me where she disappeared to on Saturday night. She kept getting these text messages, and then just before you and Spurs got back a car horn beeped outside and she upped and left so fast she forgot her purse. I went round to Manor Farm yesterday to return it and she showed me her new boa. We sort of talked.’

Ellen had a brief image of Dilly and Godspell sharing girly confidences, makeup and accessories before the notion was shattered.

‘She’s called him Noose,’ Dilly went on. ‘I had no idea snakes were so warm and smooth. Mum’s wrong about her. She might not say a lot, but she’s really bright and funny. And you can’t blame her for being a bit odd with a father like Ely. He’s horrible. You know he makes his children sign contracts about everything? Their allowances, their education, even the amount of work they do around the house. He’s always done it. Giles Hornton draws them up.’

‘Blimey. Is that legal?’

‘Dunno, but they’re too scared of him to argue.’ Dilly chewed her thumbnail nervously. ‘At least Mum’s pretty easy-going, even if she does spy on me when I’m out on the pull. Oh, heck, I am
so
embarrassed.’ She put her face into her hands. ‘Spurs must think I’m such a baby. He’s taking Otto out for the last time today. Rory’s found him a horse to ride in the race, and he says it’s about time I got to know Psychotto better. I’m sure it’s only because they’re both too disgusted by my behaviour to ever want to see me again.’

‘Rubbish. If you want to ride in the race too, you’re going to have to get on Otto again soon. I’m sure they’ll both help you – Rory and Spurs.’

‘I can’t bear not seeing him. Please, Ellen, I need your help.’

‘What can I do?’

‘Talk to him for me. Tell him I’m sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’

‘I was really horrible to him. I said horrible things. I think I’m in love with him, Ellen.’

Ellen rubbed her face tiredly. ‘In that case you should talk to him, not me. I have a lot to do, Dilly. I’m leaving soon. It’s really better that I’m not involved.’

‘Mum was right.’ She stood up huffily. ‘You’re just playing with us for fun – like dolls. I can’t believe I thought you were so lovely. You’re horrible and selfish. I’m glad you’re leaving. I hope I never see you again. And leave my mother alone!’

‘Dilly!’ Ellen called after her, as she sprinted away.

‘Screw you!’ she called, starting to run backwards. ‘You were right when you said you were like Spurs. You’re both so easy to fall in love with, but you have no souls. You’re not soulmates. You’re soulless, both of you.’

Why? Ellen asked herself wretchedly, as she wandered up Giles Hornton’s hot Tarmac drive, trying to stay in the shade of the poplars. Why am I doing this?

River Cottage, a low-slung, white weatherboard boat-house conversion, was tucked well back from North Street and faced out over the Odd towards Devil’s Marsh. Otto’s field spread out beyond the poplars to the right.

Thankfully the flashy Aston Martin was missing from the triple garage when Ellen skulked past the house to greet Otto at the gate. The crotchety strawberry roan was already waiting for Spurs, head bobbing and tail twitching against the flies.

They greeted one another warily. Ellen offered him a Polo and he nudged her shoulder with his pink lips as he ate it.

‘You know him pretty well by now.’ She looked at the suspicious dark eyes and then, remembering Spurs telling her that horses found that intimidating, looked up at his ears. ‘What do I say?’

He snorted unhelpfully and tried to nip her. Then she noticed that his ears had pricked and, as she heard an engine approach, she followed his gaze, her ribs curling anxiously in on themselves.

Spurs was puttering along the drive on the Manor’s mini-tractor, a saddle and bridle slung over the carrying rack in front of him.

‘Down, boys,’ Ellen hissed at her goosebumps.

He braked hard when he saw her. ‘Come to see Giles?’ he shouted, over the noise of the engine. ‘I think he’s out.’

Looking at him, Ellen was almost winded by a sadness so acute that it took all her willpower not to run away. She knew the moment she saw him that he had slid the same bolt across his feelings as she had. His haughty, freckled face was a guarded mask, his shoulders yoked by heavy self-control and his back rigid with a rod of his own making. He had doused the fire as surely as she had, leaving the coals to smoulder and spit, the red-hot heat still broiling deep beneath the hissing surface, now starved of oxygen in which to burn.

‘No.’ She fished in her pocket and pulled out the twisted nail. ‘I’ve come about this.’ And I’m about to bang it into my own coffin.

Still astride the tractor with the engine switched off, he listened warily to her request. When he heard what it was, he burst into sardonic laughter. ‘You want me to
what
?

‘Treat Dilly to a night out,’ she repeated, ‘for a proper dinner date. Wear a suit, spoil her rotten, flatter her, take her home, kiss her on the check and then leave. That’s my wish.’

‘Bollocks it is. She’s put you up to this.’

‘It’s my wish. You gave me twenty-four hours to make it and there it is.’

‘You said you wanted your money back.’

‘So I changed my mind. I wish you’d take Dilly out.’

He sucked in one cheek and looked away, silver eyes glaring at Giles’ poplars. ‘Why?’

‘To make up for Saturday night. Pheely and I ruined it for her – for both of you.’

‘And last night?’ He swung his leg over the tractor and jumped down.

She turned away and stroked Otto’s soft muzzle. ‘Let’s forget about it.’

‘I’m sorry, Ellen.’ He carried the saddle over to the field, not looking at her. ‘I couldn’t stay.’

‘Sure.’

He hooked the saddle over the gate and leaned on it, rubbing his forehead beneath the dark curls. ‘I had to go out on an errand.’

‘So your mother said.’

He turned away, taking the head-collar from his shoulder and buckling it on to Otto. ‘You spoke to my mother?’

Hell’s Bells clearly hadn’t passed on the message. ‘She suggested that you didn’t need my friendship.’

‘I don’t “do” friends.’

‘I didn’t want to be friends last night.’ Her heart hammered in indignation.

‘That,’ he glanced over his shoulder, the flints in his eyes sparking with that familiar amusement, ‘was pretty obvious.’

Lanced by rejection, she looked away.

Spurs handed her the lead rope, pulled the cuff of his sleeve into his hand and brushed the dust from Otto’s back, then went to fetch the saddle. He paused when he spotted the nail and picked it up. ‘Mother sent me to London to see the Queen.’

‘Rather late for a social visit?’

‘The Queen is nocturnal.’ He smiled sadly at her baffled expression. ‘It’s what we call Uncle Belvoir – keeper of the Belling family jewellery.’ He tapped the nail against his nose. ‘We had quite a chat. I told him all about you – I was rather fucked off with myself at the time – and he agreed that I mustn’t let it happen,
dear boy.
The family’s future is at stake if I don’t behave myself, after all. Too much passion is a very bad thing, you see. One should never let oneself be swept away by a mere popsy when one has one’s heritage to protect.’ He recited the lines bitterly.

Ellen could hardly believe her ears. ‘Are you saying I’m too common for you?’

He laughed, holding up the nail. ‘Oh, Ellen, my little beggar-girl, if this were a horse, maybe I’d get you riding after all.’

Ellen felt her adenoids crackle with fury and hurt, a red mist forming in front of her eyes as the red carpet was pulled from under her feet.

It had been simply a matter of class all along. She was from the wrong social drawer. She needed him like a hole in the head because her silver spoon was missing. That’s why Hell’s Bells had been so rancorous. Ellen Jamieson, with her Somerset accent, her state-school education and her tattoos would sully her prodigal son now that he’d cleaned up his act. Last night, when she’d been ready to offer herself on a plate, had he bolted because he’d thought she wanted the wedding breakfast and the full Crown Derby dinner service on the gift list as well?

‘The Queen is just looking out for the family,’ he was explaining, still strangely cheerful. ‘He’s always tried to keep his brother’s wayward son on the straight and narrow, much as it pains him that I’m not gay. He says popsies can never give the same pleasure as one’s own sex.’

‘Next time you see him, tell him to sit on his orb.’ She was almost incandescent with indignation.

He laughed. ‘Tell him yourself. He’s coming down for Ely’s garden party.’

‘I won’t be here. My flight leaves that evening.’

There was a long pause. Spurs stared minutely at the horseshoe clench. ‘So you’re getting your gorgeous wings to fly away?’ he said eventually.

She was tempted to point out that she was in cattle class, along with the rest of the beggars.

The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘They’re buying the cottage, the Swiss Family Robinson?’

‘She’s Danish and they’re called Brakespear.’

‘Forgive me for not giving a fuck who they are. I hate them.’

‘I was always going to leave as soon as the sale was agreed.’

He nodded. ‘Fuck.’ He turned away and glowered at the gatepost, then kicked it. ‘Fuck.’

Otto jerked his head back in alarm and Spurs turned to soothe him, laying a hand on his neck. ‘I told you you’d dissolve.’

When she didn’t answer, he turned back to her and ground the horseshoe nail into the soft wood at the top of the gate. ‘Forget friendship. We’d just be running in new shoes.’

Ellen watched the nail dig out splinters.

‘Do you know how to shoe a horse?’ he asked suddenly.

She looked at him curiously.

‘You say, “shoo, shoo.”’ He tushed with fake laughter at the bad joke, looking up into the trees. ‘D’you know how to shoo an Ellen?’

‘Tell me?’

‘You tell her you love her.’

‘And?’ There was a catch in her throat.

‘She runs away so fast her feet don’t touch the ground.’ He watched a magpie chatter and flap from the trees. ‘Who needs shoes when you can fly?’

She stared at the ground, her heart pinching.

He didn’t ask where she was planning to go. Instead, he pocketed the nail. ‘Where do you want me to treat Dilly to this meal?’

Ellen struggled to drag her mind back to her wish. ‘Somewhere sophisticated. But I’ll pay.’

‘Won’t you need all your money to hire camels and sherpas?’

‘I can just about cover it if you don’t drink Krug all night.’

He took the saddle and lifted it on to Otto’s back, but then he pressed his cheek to the black-leather knee-roll, sliding his eyes round to look at her. ‘We couldn’t have let it happen, you know.
Us.
Too messy.’

‘I’m glad it didn’t,’ she lied.

‘No, you’re not. Neither of us is.’ The clipped voice was pure Belling. Only the eyes remained untamed and vivid with emotion.

Ellen couldn’t hold the stare for more than a few seconds. ‘I must go – let me know how much I owe you for the meal,’ she said. ‘And treat Dilly gently.’ She was so wound up that she didn’t even notice Pheely’s teenage indulgence slip out. Ignoring his shouts, she sprinted along Giles’s drive.

Snorkel positively bungeed her lunge rope in the Goose Cottage garden a few minutes later when Spurs dragged the unwilling Otto into the garden and up to the pond, into which Ellen was staring with murderous intent.

‘I won’t grant your wish. I’m not taking Dilly anywhere, Ellen.’

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Something about his expression told her not to say a word.

‘You can be so blindly, stupidly selfless, you know that?’ he said angrily, loosening Otto to let him graze. ‘I bet you gave all your toys away as a kid, let the losers win to make them feel better, had friends you only kept up because you felt sorry for them, and let the ugly boys kiss you because you knew no one else would put up with it.’

She felt numb with shock that he could sum her up so cruelly and succinctly. ‘If you say so.’

‘Was that why you stayed with Richard all those years? Out of kindness?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She took a step back, but he marked her, cornering her by the bulrushes.

‘Maybe not,’ his eyes narrowed, ‘but let me tell you something as your newest “friend” – one who you no doubt feel sorry for because I have no others in this fucking village. You’re a brave, sassy woman, Ellen, but you won’t get round the world on kindness. You’ll be mugged for it everywhere you go. You’ll keep meeting bastards like me who fall in love with you for your kindness as much as that beautiful arse, and will want to steal it away from you.’