Mount! by Jilly Cooper

gardener Mr Pocock, another dumped member of the syndicate. Then she picked up a spade to fill in the earth. Quickly, alas, had been taught by Chisolm to butt. Spying Ione’s large tweed bottom, he gave it a sharp nip before shoving her into the hole.
    ‘Quickly!’ cried Etta in horror, as everyone else tried not to laugh. Click, click, click went the cameras.
    ‘You little monster,’ bellowed Ione. Struggling out, plastered in mud like a jump jockey, she brandished her spade at him, whereupon Quickly spooked and took off round the churchyard, narrowly missing screaming onlookers and tombstones, little feet hardly touching turf, soft and springy from being fertilized by the dead beneath.
    ‘Christ, he’s fast,’ said Niall’s tree surgeon, Woody, in wonder. ‘Won’t have any difficulty winning the Derby.’
    ‘But not for us,’ said the syndicate sourly.
    ‘He’s going to trip over his lead rope,’ wailed Etta in anguish, as Quickly only just missed the rusty iron spiked fence surrounding a flat, mossy tombstone.
    Next moment, Gav, who’d been lurking behind a plaguestone, dived forward and grabbed Quickly’s lead rope, and after being dragged a few feet, tugged the foal to a halt, stroking his neck, talking to him quietly, circling him until he calmed down.
    Then Mrs Wilkinson trundled up with an ‘I’ve been searching for you all day’ look on her face, whickering and nuzzling Quickly, who proceeded to have a good suck as Gav took hold of Mrs Wilkinson.
    ‘Isn’t he very small,’ said Direct Debbie, the ultra-tactless wife of Major Cunliffe, the syndicate’s bank manager treasurer.
    ‘Rupert won’t allow work riders to be more than ten stone,’ said Dora.
    ‘No, the foal,’ said Debbie scornfully.
    ‘First foals are often small,’ Dora countered.
    Seeing Quickly was safely moored by rather an attractive man, and that Ione had finished filling in earth round the willow tree, Niall addressed the embattled syndicate.
    ‘I’d like to thank Mrs Travis-Lock so much for planting a willow for Master Quickly and to end with a special prayer, asking all of you to pray for your neighbours. Even those,’ he added, ‘you are fighting with, because like you, that neighbour is one of God’s children.’
    ‘Very debatable,’ said Ione’s gardener, glaring at Major Cunliffe, who’d failed to include breeding rights in the contract.
    ‘Very,’ agreed Alan Macbeth, Trixie’s father and Etta’s son-in-law. Then, as Quickly lashed out with both back legs at the Major, ‘That colt’s clearly a child of Satan.’
    Quickly then turned back to his mother for another suck and Valent said, ‘I think we all need a drink too.’
    Wild garlic, warmed by the sun and trampled on by the crowds, gave off a heady smell, which made everyone hungry for lunch.
    ‘I’ll walk the horses and Chisolm back to Badger’s Court,’ said Gav. Anything to delay tackling that bunfight.
    ‘Oh, would you?’ said Etta. ‘It was a bit of a hassle getting them into the bus, and you seem to have a magical effect on Quickly.’
    ‘Lucky Quickly,’ said Trixie in admiration. ‘That guy’s well fit.’
    ‘Yeah, he is,’ said Dora as Gav set off. ‘Been screwed up by an awful marriage. Please look after him at lunch.’
    ‘What’s his name?’
    ‘Gavin Latton.’
    Trixie laughed. ‘Small Latton and less Geek.’

10
    By the time Gav reached Badger’s Court, without incident except for Chisolm nicking a bunch of grapes from the village shop, a roaring party was under way.
    Having tarted up in the portaloo in anticipation of Rupert, the ladies of Willowwood had joined their other halves on the lawn, and were getting stuck into the Bollinger.
    ‘Well done, Gav,’ said Dora, whisking Quickly and Mrs Wilkinson off to meet the press.
    New blood, thought the ladies, eyeing up Gav. Tugging her skirt down and her top up, Etta rushed over to welcome him.
    ‘Thank you so much for sorting out Quickly – such a showoff. You