Mount! by Jilly Cooper Page B

the masses, Mother, we must earmark some dates for charity functions,’ Martin began hectoring her. ‘And make sure you introduce me to Rupert C-B the minute he arrives. I’ve got a proposal he’ll find hard to resist.’ Then, taking in Etta’s cleavage: ‘Not sure about that dress, Mother – it’s much too short and low-cut. You’re seventy now, try and act your age.’
    ‘Bastard,’ snapped Trixie as a crestfallen Etta, tugging down and pulling up simultaneously, rushed off to welcome some new arrivals.
    ‘“The truth that’s told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent” – except it’s not the truth. Granny looks gorgeous. “A robin redbreast in a cage puts all Heaven in a rage”,’ she went on.
    ‘“A dog starved at his master’s gate predicts the ruin of the state”,’ quoted back Gav.
    ‘“A horse misused upon the road calls to Heaven for human blood”,’ ended Trixie in delight. ‘That is such a good poem. I’m doing Blake for A-levels. He ought to be running the RSPCA– wouldn’t squander fortunes attacking hunting and the Grand National.’
    ‘Blake probably wouldn’t have been very keen on hunting. What other stuff are you doing?’
    ‘
Kubla Khan, The Prelude, The Waste Land.
’
    God, I adore this girl, thought Gavin in bewilderment. Everything turns upwards, her eyelashes, her little nose, her dark slanting eyes, her mouth when she smiles, her nipples lifting the soft brown suede. If she were lying in bed beside me, just talking and reading, holding hands, no pressure, I’m sure in time I’d be able to get it up. God, she was sweet. Look at the freckles on her nose and the little bitten nails.
    ‘What happens after A-levels?’ he asked.
    ‘I’d like to go to Oxford, but I’ve got a baby of six months – called Hereward. I ought to go and check him,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Would you like to see him?’ She flashed a white blob on her telephone.
    ‘Sweet. Why didn’t you have him christened today?’
    ‘It’s rather complicated. His father’s an actor, who’s known locally as Mr Bulging Crotchester.’
    Unlike me, thought Gavin wearily.
    ‘And I don’t want to upstage Quickly.’ As she reached out and brushed cherry blossom from Gav’s hair, a 100 volts went through him. ‘My father’s a good writer, he’s done really well with a book about Mrs Wilkinson.’
    ‘It was very good, I enjoyed it.’
    ‘And he’s just shacked up with Tilda the village schoolmistress.’
    Gavin shook his head. ‘Just like
The Deserted Village
.’
    ‘Oh, I love that poem too. “The bashful virgin’s side-long looks of love, The matron’s glance that would those looks reprove”. That sums up Direct Debbie Cunliffe, that old bat over there, who rushes round Willowwood disapproving of everything.’
    As a waitress came up with more food, Trixie picked out the paté and the smoked salmon and the vol au vents for Gav. ‘You must be starving. I bet you got up at five. I didn’t know that people who rode, also read. You’re well-rode and well-read. Eddie doesn’t read.’
    ‘He reads the
Racing Post
.’
    ‘Only when they write about him. He’s divine but starry, and unlike the stars that appear to twinkle in the sky, the planets remain steady.’ Just for a second Trixie betrayed the hurt she’d suffered. ‘I want a planet. Was your wife nice?’
    ‘Not a planet.’ Gav was amazed he hadn’t bitten her head off.
    ‘How do you get over it?’
    ‘Not sure.’ Gavin had reached out for a vol au vent, when a blond child rushed up, scooping up canapés in both hands.
    ‘Where are your manners?’ snapped Trixie.
    ‘Gone on holiday.’ The child stuck a green tongue out at her and ran off.
    ‘That little toerag is Drummond, Hereward’s first cousin once removed – which is not nearly enough. That’s his awful father Martin who was hassling Granny.’
    Valent meanwhile had sought out his wife, who had covered herself in a pashmina, which he promptly