Jump. Part 57

Even Marius looked ecstatic and told the press he'd never expected Mrs Wilkinson to return so spectacularly after six months off. Corinna had once again covered Mrs Wilkinson with red lipstick kisses. Dora made her shake hooves with handsome Lord Vestey, the Chairman of the Course, and Chisolm took a bite out of his yellow check suit.

Finally, after they'd collected Mrs Wilkinson's cup, the syndicate gathered round and said they'd like to send a message to Etta Bancroft, who'd rescued Wilkie in the first place.

'You were right all along, Etta, you kept faith,' said the Major, mopping his eyes. 'We all miss you, it's not the same.'

'Come home soon,' cried Debbie.

'That's you they're talking about,' said Drummond, fingering his twenty pounds and looking at his grandmother with new respect.

Next moment her mobile rang. It was Amber, in heaven.

'Oh Etta, Rupert congratulated me for the first time, and at the bottom of the hill Rogue told me to go for it and I could win. Wasn't she wonderful, and Marius put five hundred quid on her at 101. He must trust me now. Only sad thing, Dad couldn't make it.'

As Etta listened, wondering what had become of Valent, she suddenly caught a glimpse of Bonny in a exquisitely cut grey-flannel coat, with snowflakes in her tousled ash-blonde hair, lovely as ever. She was flanked by Seth and Valent, who were both looking so proud.

'It's my first win,' Bonny was telling Derek Thompson, and how it had enriched her life experience, and how spiritual and epic a journey it had been, getting Mrs Wilkinson back on the race track.

'You were nothing to do with it,' Etta shouted indignantly. 'You wanted to dump her.'

'She was a birthday gift from my partner Valent Edwards,' went on Bonny, giving Valent a kiss, 'and I'm a very proud owner.'

'C'est Bonny Richards,' said Mr Marcel in awe.

As the syndicate swarmed off to the Royal Box to celebrate, Etta sat down on an apple with one bite out of it, feeling the euphoria drain out of her. Then she felt bitterly ashamed.

It should be enough that Wilkie had made such a dazzling comeback. Why shouldn't Bonny, Seth and Valent enjoy themselves?

'Mummy, Daddy,' cried Poppy as her parents swept in, 'Mrs Wilkinson won, and Miss Flood and Uncle Alan have been on telly and Granny cried and cried.'

It would have been nice if Romy and Martin had been even fractionally enthusiastic. One plus was that Drummond had been totally converted to racing.

'Granny had a bet for me,' he said, waving his twenty-two pounds. 'Can I have a bet tomorrow?'

Fortunately an enraged Martin and Romy were distracted by a journalist, alerted by Mr Marcel, rolling up to interview Etta about her great victory.

'Don't forget to mention the Sampson Bancroft Memorial Fund,' hissed Martin.

Next day the papers were full of Rogue Rogers. .h.i.tting Killer O'Kagan across the weighing room and also being suspended for ten days. So the battle for champion jockey was still wide open.

Etta returned home feeling very flat, and was vastly cheered by a message on her machine from Valent, saying how wonderful Wilkie had been, and how they'd all missed her at the races.

She was almost more touched that Priceless was absolutely ecstatic to see her. He had lost a lot of weight and he smiled and smiled when he saw her, snaking his head round and round her hips in the most loving way. They were both so tired from not sleeping, they fell into bed, Priceless immediately taking up three-quarters and Etta not minding, even when Gwenny joined them in the middle of the night.

90.

To cheer up the gloom of winter, a mega jaunt was planned in early February. The syndicate would watch Mrs Wilkinson run at Warwick, then move on to Stratford to stay in a hotel and see Seth and Corinna open in Antony and Cleopatra Antony and Cleopatra, followed by a party afterwards.

In the preceding weeks, a great din could be heard issuing from the Old Rectory as the two stars hurled insults and objects and re-enacted the play together. As a demanding, charismatic applause junkie, with the ability to charm, seduce and manipulate, the part of Cleopatra might have been made for Corinna. Having been with Seth for fifteen years in which she had been more successful, she was aware he played around while she was away. Yet on stage as Cleopatra the enchantress, she felt sure she could win him back and was excited by the challenge.

As the din increased, there was great local speculation over Seth's ebony locks, which were suddenly much greyer. Had this been caused by Corinna's tantrums or was grey considered more suitable for the battle-scarred Antony, or was it his natural colour which he'd stopped dyeing black?

One evening, as Oscars and BAFTAs started whistling past his head, Seth escaped. Armed with a big bunch of alstroemerias and a bottle of Moet, reeking of Terre, he banged on Etta's door.

'Darling, darling, I'm so sorry about the two Mrs Bancrofts, I only made a pa.s.s at Romy to irritate her t.o.s.s.e.r of a husband. I only called you "Sorry with the fringe on top" because you're so sweet and always apologizing for everything. Please forgive me.'

And of course Etta did. Priceless was less forgiving. At the pop of the champagne cork he retreated, with a deep sigh, to Etta's bed.

'How are things going?' she asked.

'I feel as though both the Tiber and the Nile are flowing through our drawing room.' Seth filled two gla.s.ses. 'If we were doing Oth.e.l.lo Oth.e.l.lo I could smother her with a pillow. She's given up drink to lose weight and reduce any red veins and it makes her really mean. Antony's such a demanding part, I've got 24 per cent of the lines. Corinna's only got 19 per cent and hers are far more beautiful and more dramatic. You must help me to learn mine.' I could smother her with a pillow. She's given up drink to lose weight and reduce any red veins and it makes her really mean. Antony's such a demanding part, I've got 24 per cent of the lines. Corinna's only got 19 per cent and hers are far more beautiful and more dramatic. You must help me to learn mine.'

Etta tried not to melt as he gazed into her eyes and, in his deepest, huskiest voice with a slight break in it, declaimed of love finding a new heaven and a new earth.

'It sounds wonderful,' said Etta as they paused for a break.

'Fascinating plot, the great warrior destroyed by s.e.xual desire,' observed Seth.

'Sampson was destroyed by Delilah,' mused Etta. 'I remember being shocked when I overheard my father saying Eisenhower had a mistress. I thought he meant a schoolmistress and that Ike was a bit old for that.'

'Your son-in-law's got a schoolmistress,' said Seth idly. 'Very keen on her, doesn't notice her teeth any more. Poor Carrie.'

'You didn't think about poor Martin,' said Etta tartly.

'I try not to. A great warrior destroyed by s.e.xual desire,' repeated Seth wickedly. '"The triple pillar of the world transform'd into a strumpet's fool". Do you think Valent's been destroyed by Bonny?'

Etta struggled out of a sunken cherry-red armchair, which needed re-upholstering, and banged a log to shake out any woodlice before putting it on the fire.

'Course not, Bonny's not a strumpet, and no one pushes Valent around. He recovered the c.o.c.kpit as an office. According to Trixie his voice was "rattling thunder" when he chewed out Corinna for being foul about Pauline, and he hasn't allowed Bonny to chop suey his house. He allowed Wilkie to stay against her wishes.'

'Macho man,' mocked Seth, kicking back another log which was scattering sparks. 'D'you fancy him?'

'I like him enormously,' said Etta firmly.

In fact she liked Valent so much, she was always thinking of ways to repay him. On a flying visit to Willowwood, Valent had found his c.o.c.kpit so sweetly scented with her indoor bulbs, he'd taken a couple of bowls back to his house in London. And he'd so liked a big bowl of African violets she'd nurtured for him, he was thinking of using the glowing purple of the flowers and the dusty green of the leaves as his colours when Furious raced.

Glancing out of the window when he arrived one evening, he was surprised to see the lawn of Badger's Court covered in snow. Only when he stepped outside did he discover they were great sweeps of snowdrops, their little heads hanging and nodding like Etta's.

Fed up with Seth spouting poetry all the time, particularly to Bonny, Valent had devoured Etta's anthology, hoping to find lines to quote himself. But his voice coach had made him self-conscious about his Yorkshire accent. He must remember to rhyme 'one' with 'fun', not 'gone'.

'Shall I compare thee to a Soomer's day.

Thou art more luvely and more temperate.''How do I luv thee? Let me count the ways.'

He hated Bonny mocking him.

Ringing Etta, he was livid when Seth, sounding drunk, picked up the telephone.

'Etta's been absolutely marvellous helping me learn my lines. She's so good at being Cleopatra. Do you want a word?'

As it was only to say he'd liked Etta's poetry book, her hyacinths and her snowdrops, Valent snapped he wouldn't interrupt her, he'd ring another time.

'Give her my love.'

Etta, who'd heaved herself out of the cherry-red armchair, hand out to take the cordless, fell back in disappointment.

'Said he'd ring again,' said Seth.

Later, to wind Bonny up, Seth told her about Valent calling Etta. Bonny was further irritated that Seth wouldn't let her hear his lines. He hated her correcting him all the time, suggesting poncy interpretations.

Romy was even more irritated.

'Why don't you let me hear your lines?' she demanded, trapping Seth with her bicycle as he came out of the village shop.

'You're much too distracting,' murmured Seth, 'I'd want to do other things.'

'Oh Seth.' Then Romy's voice hardened. 'I hope you're not taking that bottle round to Mother-in-law, she drinks quite enough as it is.'

The mega jaunt to Stratford grew. Valent insisted the minibus leave an hour early so that, to please Etta, they could drop in on a snowdrop garden on the way.

'How can I wear the same thing to traipse through the woods, go to the races, to the theatre and on to a party?' grumbled Painswick.

'When I was young there was a thing called a dress'n'jacket,' reflected Etta, 'which looked like a coat and skirt until you took off the jacket and discovered a sleeveless dress, but I don't think my wrinkled little arms are up to it.'

She longed to stay in her Ugg boots all day, but didn't want the suede to get ruined if it were muddy at Warwick.

Seth and Corinna were travelling direct to Stratford separately, and Bonny also decided to miss the races and join everyone later at the theatre.

'So she can swan in looking a million dollars,' stormed Trixie, appalled at how much she was longing to see Seth again.

Everyone else was surprised how much they enjoyed the snow-drops, which drifted for miles round a ruined abbey and along a mysterious darkly flowing stream.

'I can joost imagine the Lady of Shalott floating past,' said Valent, showing off his new literary knowledge.

'Yes, and so many different kinds of snowdrop,' cried Etta.

'The common garden snowdrop Galanthus nivalis Galanthus nivalis of course predominates,' said Debbie importantly. of course predominates,' said Debbie importantly.

'As a symbol of hope in a long winter,' said Painswick.

Poc.o.c.k, not to be outdone in the poetry stakes, cleared his throat: 'The snowdrop, in purest white array, First rears her head on Candlemas day.'

When the others looked at him in amazement, Painswick said, 'Who wrote that, Harry?'

'It's an old Larkshire rhyme.'

'Harry now,' whispered Alan, making a thumbs-up to Etta, 'watch that s.p.a.ce.'

'When's Candlemas?' asked Etta quickly, to stop herself laughing.

'Feb the third,' said Niall, 'the day Mary presented Jesus at the temple, so it's a day of purity.'

'Like we're going to have today,' said Alan.

'Was it a sort of christening? I suppose b.u.mp will be christened at Toby Jug's family church.'

'You're like a brilliant guidebook, that's lovely to know,' Etta put her arm through Niall's. 'Isn't it beautiful here?'

'Not enough splashes of colour for Debbie,' said Alan.

Debbie's lips tightened, then she laughed: 'And you don't know much about purity, young man.'

'Touche.' Alan winked at Tilda.

'You oughta see the snowdrops Etta's planted at Badger's Court,' said Valent. Dropping to his knees, he tucked in a trouser leg which had escaped from Etta's boot, and she found herself trembling as she felt his hands on her leg. She was so happy they were all getting on, like in the early days.

'I don't want to leave here.'

'We can always come back next year,' said Valent.

'Chop chop,' shouted the Major from the minibus, who couldn't wait to get to Stratford and see Corinna in all her glory. 'We'll miss the first race.'

He and Alban had been discussing Lester Bolton's defiant plans for a moat to encircle Primrose Mansions.

'He's intending to divert the Willowwood stream,' said the Major, 'so we'll lose out on water, and also to divert Harvey-Holden's stream into it, so if we have a lot of rain it'll flood the village.'

'We need moat control,' said Alban, braying with laughter.

In the bus, Debbie sidled up to Valent, who was reading Antony and Cleopatra, Antony and Cleopatra, and said that Normie had given her the Iron Man for Xmas. and said that Normie had given her the Iron Man for Xmas.

'Changed my life. Irons shirts better than I do. Normie often wears three shirts a day if he has a lunch and an evening function. Sheets and duvet covers are done in a trice, when the family come to visit.'

'I'm glad,' said Valent, looking as though he really was.

Alban sighed. He was lucky if he was allowed a clean shirt every two days and a bath twice a week.

Woody was opening bottles.

'We must pace ourselves,' said Painswick, accepting a paper cup of white and handing it on to Poc.o.c.k. 'I'll have half of that.'

'I hope the going's not too heavy for Wilkie,' said Joey, checking his mobile. 'Says it's soft in places but yielding.'

'Just like you,' whispered Alan to Tilda.