Boatly had returned to bed, certain he was coming down with some flu bug as he kept on sneezing and his head ached. He was dabbing more Olbas Oil onto his handkerchief when the bedside phone rang. It was Marcus, asking if everything went all right with the meeting.
‘Yes, everything that needed to be was said, I think; there was no need to even mention it. He might want to know when you came to stay with Amy because I couldn’t remember; it was when she was horse-mad, but it sort of makes me pissed off.’
‘So you never brought it up?’
‘I just said so, didn’t I, and I’m sorry if I sound a bit tetchy but I feel horrific, like I’m coming down with flu or something. The fucking woman who’s supposed to clean the place seems to have done no dusting at all so I might have some allergy, unless it’s the bloody dog hairs.’
‘Listen, thanks, I really appreciate it, and I’m sorry about the rent not being paid.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, forget it, you’ve enough to worry about.’
‘Thank you. Obviously the divorce is sort of on a back burner at the moment, but as soon as that’s finalized I’ll repay you and you know how grateful I am about you funding Jacob Lyons.’
‘Let’s meet up for dinner. I’ll call you when I’m next in town.’
‘Right, look forward to seeing you. Bye for now.’
Boatly hung up and sniffed the handkerchief, lying back on the pillow as Grant walked in with a hot lemon and ginger drink. He was as suntanned as Boatly, with long hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing torn jeans and an expensive shirt in heavy linen.
‘I heard him leaving, thought it best not to be visible. Do you want me to make you some lunch?’
‘No, I feel terrible. Can you get me some aspirin and I’ll try and have a sandwich or something later.’
Grant put down the mug and went to a drawer in the dressing table, rooted around and took out a bottle of aspirin. ‘Here you go, Simon. I’ll be cleaning up downstairs, and then doing a grocery shop, so if there’s anything you feel like eating I’ll bring it back.’
‘Thank you; maybe some pasta – nothing too heavy – or spinach soup, get a load in, as I am sure I’m coming down with something, and we need bread and cheese.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’ve made out a list. Drink up and take the aspirin and I won’t be too long.’
Boatly held out his hand. ‘What would I do without you, darling one?’
Grant laughed and picked up Boatly’s wallet. ‘Can I drive the Porsche?’
‘Yes, but for God’s sake be careful, you’ve only just passed your driving test.’
Grant opened the wallet and removed two fifty-pound notes, wafting them towards Boatly who was taking his aspirin and sipping at the hot drink. ‘See you in a while. Maybe get some more wine as you had a skinful last night.’
‘Whatever,’ Boatly said, sighing and closing his eyes.
He thought to himself that he was not going to stay much longer in England and wouldn’t mind selling up the house and the flat and never returning. The sound of his Porsche being revved up as if at Goodwood racetrack irritated him. He got up and crossed to the window as Grant drove out far too fast. The wretched girl from his neighbours was riding across the lawn, Wally bounding after her. He tried to open the window to reprimand her – not that the lawn was in pristine condition, it was the fact she had been told to keep off his property. But the window was stuck firm and he slapped the frame with the flat of his hand. He was even more annoyed as he saw Wally taking a crap and scratching at the grass, sending turf flying. ‘Fucking dog,’ he muttered as the horse jumped over a small row of bushes and the girl whooped and hollered. It was then that he recalled how he had been standing at the same window – how many years ago? Maybe two or three? Amy slapping her thigh with her riding crop and wearing her riding hat, hacking jacket, white shirt and a cravat, jodhpurs and black polished boots.
‘Daddy, Daddy, are you coming to watch me jump, Daddy!’
Boatly had turned to Marcus, who was naked and sprawled across his bed. They had both got very drunk the previous evening, and he had to nudge him awake.
‘Amy’s waiting for you,’ he had said.
Marcus roused himself and had an obvious hangover. ‘Bugger! What time is it?’
It was eight o’clock, and Marcus had been too drunk to return to his own bedroom the night before. He grabbed a dressing gown and stumbled to the window, but even back then it was stuck firm. He hurried from the room and somehow managed to pull on his trousers and a sweater. Boatly followed him downstairs and laughed as he watched from the doorway as Marcus hopped barefoot over the gravel towards Amy.
He remembered she was very angry, shouting and swiping at him with her riding crop. ‘You said you would be at the stables to ride with me and I’ve been waiting ages. I have to have a practice before the fete this afternoon.’
Marcus had apologized and said he’d overslept. He promised he would join her and ride out to the fields to watch her jumping. He ran back over to the house, shouting as he went.
‘Simon, SIMON, can I borrow a pair of your boots?’
Boatly smiled as his mind returned to the present and he went and lay back down on his bed. He remembered thinking that Amy was a right little madam; if she’d swished her riding crop a little closer she’d have slashed her father’s face. Marcus had burst into the bedroom, asking again if he could use a pair of Simon’s riding boots. Boatly had gestured to his wardrobe and said there was a pair in there or a pair of old ones by the back kitchen door. Marcus had sat on the bed, pulling on the black leather boots; they were too large and he had to tuck his trousers inside them.
‘Christ, this could be embarrassing. I hate bloody horses. What’s the one I rode out on once with you?’
‘It’s an old police horse – they use him for children with special needs. He’s called Puddle; he might not get up the energy for a trot but he won’t throw you off.’
‘Fuck off, I am going to look a right arsehole.’ Marcus stamped his feet in the boots.
It was strange to remember it all so clearly after such a long time. Whether or not it was due to Detective Reid asking when Amy had stayed, or seeing the annoying girl on her horse, he wasn’t sure. He remembered when they both returned from the ride and the outcome had made him laugh until he ached. Marcus, covered in mud, described Puddle’s slow ponderous walk and how it had left him far behind Amy. Suddenly confronted by a thick thistle bush, Puddle was spooked and took off at a gallop. Amy described the way she had first been impressed as her dad sped past her – she didn’t think Daddy could gallop so well – but then seeing him hurtling through the air headfirst into the ditch had made her hysterical.
Boatly remembered they were all sitting at the kitchen table, with a bowl of hot water and Dettol; Amy dipping in a wad of cotton wool to clean a nasty scrape on the side of Marcus’s face. Her cheeks were flushed, her blonde silky hair falling around her shoulders, and she had loosened the cravat of her shirt. Tall and boyishly slender, she tenderly washed out the graze. Boatly recalled how envious he had felt, her adoration and sweetness touching him, because he knew he would never experience that kind of affection from a child of his own. He also remembered just how beautiful she had become when he had seen her on the beach in Antigua, the tiny bikini showing off her perfect pubescent figure. The way she had lowered her sunglasses to look at him, it had felt provocative; even the way she had sipped her fruit-filled glass with a straw had not been like a young teenager. But similar to the way Lena had behaved towards him when they had first met.
When Lena had refused to allow her daughter to go water-skiing, Amy had given him a knowing glance and a shrug of her shoulders. He left after lunch to join his friends on the waiting speedboat, and when he turned back, she had been waving and smiling. ‘Bye-bye, Simon,’ she had called out. That was the last time he had seen her, and now it really saddened him that she was missing, but there was also a niggling unease that perhaps Marcus might have had something to do with it. He hoped that he had not, but at the same time it had registered with him that their affection towards each other was very intimate.