‘No, but the “back in uniform” did it. I’m out. Just get me to the pub.’
Palmer gave Craigh a small wink. He was just as relieved and suddenly Mike seemed like a good friend. He had, after all, let them both off the hook.
Ester took off her best suit and hung it in the wardrobe. She only had a little time before they were due out for the riding class so she pulled on her old jeans and a thick sweater and was just stamping into her right boot when Dolly came in. It irritated Ester that she was expected to knock if she entered Dolly’s bedroom, even her tinpot office, but she just barged in.
‘Is it sorted?’
Ester stamped into the left boot and stood straight. ‘Yep, it’s sorted and the tape’s back in their hot sweaty hands.’
‘You’ve not got any more tapes or business like that, have you?’
‘No, I haven’t. That was all I had.’
Dolly walked out halfway through Ester’s reply, and she could have slapped her. She picked up her riding crop and followed her into the hall.
Gloria and Connie were in the kitchen getting into their riding boots. Gloria was complaining about sewing the sacks; she’d cut her fingers and was pissed off that no one else seemed to be doing any work but her. Connie overheard and came charging out of the kitchen. ‘What you think I’ve been doing half the afternoon — enjoying myself? Well, if you want to take over and screw for—’
‘That’s enough,’ warned Dolly, pointing to the kids, and Connie glared at Dolly with hatred.
‘The leaf machine will be delivered tomorrow morning. It costs fifty-four pounds, cash on delivery, all right?’ She flounced back into the kitchen as Dolly drew on a pair of leather gloves.
‘Right, we all set?’ she said calmly, and walked out of the front door.
‘I swear before God I’ll punch her straight in that smarmy arrogant face,’ Ester said quietly.
‘I’ll get one in before you,’ Gloria said as they left.
They rode different horses from usual and were unsteady to begin with but soon got their confidence. They did not ride alone: their instructor was an older woman who spoke in a deep, theatrical, upper crust voice, which they all kept mimicking. Not that she appeared to notice as she was too busy giving them instructions. ‘Ever-ee-body, please pay h-attention, knees grip, oh so tightly, reins held loosely, and walk h’on.’
They walked sedately down the country lane and paused as Mrs Fruity opened the gate to the field and gestured for each one to enter with a loud booming, ‘Walk on, walk on and form a circle, please.’
Gloria was still imitating her when they returned to the manor two hours later. They cranked themselves out of the car to Gloria’s ‘Walk on, come along now, walk on...’
Julia galloped down from the wood and called out. They turned and watched the way she neatly skirted the building, plants and wheelbarrows.
‘How did it go?’
‘Oh, frightfully well,’ shouted Gloria.
Connie smiled. We’re h’all being pat down far the local hunt, lovey, she simply thinks we’re soooooooo good.’
Julia laughed and then turned Helen of Troy towards the stables. The women followed and grouped outside the loosebox as Julia took off her saddle and carried it inside.
‘You’ve each got to learn how to clad the horses’ hooves this evening so we might as well do it now. Practise on Helen,’ Dolly said, raking the mud off her boot.
‘Oh, what hever you say, Mrs Rawlins,’ Gloria said, still being Mrs Fruity, and Dolly actually managed a small tight smile.
Gloria had her hand under the cold-water tap; it was already swelling up. ‘The fuckin’ thing trod on me hand.’ She showed it to Angela.
‘I wish you wouldn’t swear so much, not in front of the kids,’ Angela said, peeling potatoes.
‘Oh, fuck off,’ Gloria said as the water soothed her hand. ‘Where’s the Queen Mother?’
Dolly walked in, already bathed and changed. ‘She’s here, Gloria, and Angela is right. Please don’t swear in front of the girls.’
Gloria screwed up her eyes, sure Dolly couldn’t have heard her. ‘Listening at keyholes now, are we, Dolly?’
‘With your voice it’s not necessary, you can be heard all over the house.’
With the bickering, Dolly reckoned it was time they talked but she didn’t say a word throughout dinner, and the edginess grew worse, mostly from Ester, until Dolly tapped her hand. ‘Ester, we will talk later. I don’t think we should discuss it now. Why don’t we all eat in peace and then have a drink together when Angela is clearing up?’
‘Just so long as we do,’ Ester said.
‘We will.’ Dolly passed the bowl of potatoes.
‘Well, this makes a change from pasta,’ Gloria said, shovelling more on her plate. They were all eating big platefuls because of the exercise they’d taken and each one of them seemed to have changed considerably. Their skins were fresher, hardly any trace of make-up on any of them; even Gloria’s usual thick eye shadow and mascara were no longer evident and Connie hadn’t a false nail in sight. Ester retained a glimmer of her old sophistication, more so that evening because she had been to London. Only Julia seemed to have changed physically. She was not as thin as she had been but, unlike the others, she was more used to country life and appeared to fit into the surroundings better.
Mike could have done with some food inside him. He hadn’t eaten all day and he got drunker than both Craigh and Palmer put together. By the time they had driven him home, he was feeling well pissed and stumbled out of the car as they parked outside his house. He leaned against the bonnet, banging it with the flat of his hand. ‘Thanks, see you.’
‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ Craigh said, opening the window.
Mike stepped back. ‘Yeah, but I’ll be having a lie-in for a change. Goodnight.’
They watched him reel up his path, heard the milk bottle crashing down the step but Mike ignored it as he tried to aim his key into the hole. He lurched into the house, banging the front door. He got as far as the stairs before he slumped down and sat there, his head in his hands, feeling sick as a dog. It all came down then and he moaned, resting his head against the banister.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
Susan stared at him from the top of the stairs. She had just bathed and washed her hair. ‘Your dinner is in the oven, probably dried to a bone, but if I knew what time you would be coming in then—’
‘Shut up, Sue leave it out — just for one night.’
Mike stumbled into the kitchen and she returned to the bedroom. She knew he was drunk, not only by the way he was reeling around but she could also smell it. Well, he could just stay down there, she wasn’t going to speak to him. She locked the bedroom door, picked up the hair dryer, turned it on full blast, and opened last week’s issue of Hello! magazine. She hadn’t intended having an early night but she would now.
In the kitchen, Mike burnt his fingers on the plate, almost dropping it, and then sat at the table, staring at the atrophied stew. He got a bottle of HP sauce and shook it, his chair scraping as he got up and sat down again. He picked up his fork and then couldn’t face eating. Instead he sat in a stupor, wondering what the hell he was going to do with his life. He had screwed it up badly and he wondered how he would pay for the mortgage, the kids’ schooling. He flopped forward, knocking the plate of stew on to the floor.
‘My bloody mother, she got me into this, the stupid cow.’ He laid on his arm on the formica table and looked with drooping eyes at the stew and HP sauce over the floor. ‘Sod it.’