Chapters (36)
- Cover
- Also by Catherine Alliott
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- A Message from Catherine
"Always are at the opening meet," agreed Shona, totally at ease now, whilst I was still getting used to him being there. “So it's either right at the front, or right at the back to give them room, don't you think?"
"Front," said Hugo firmly. "Up with people like Babs, Iris and your Mum," he nodded at me. Ridiculously, I flushed. "Just don't go anywhere near my dad; he's over-horsed himself as usual. He'll be off at the first if he's not careful, causing a pile-up. Iris wanted him to ride his old faithful, but he's on that mad Piper."
"He's not!" Shona exclaimed. Piper was a notorious bucker, and we could see Roger even now, in his red coat, on a bunched-up black horse who had his head between his knees and was reversing at speed as Roger swore loudly at him.
"And Mona Hartley is to be given acres of space."
"Oh, we've already spotted her," I told him, finally managing to find my voice. The local hotty — all red lips and peroxide curls just about contained in a hairnet, her vast bosom straining at her skin-tight black coat, buttons fit to ping off, and looking equally likely to be pinged off her enormous dapple gray herself — was beside us.
"Just take him away," murmured Shona, watching. "Walk him quietly about."
“She can't, she wants to stick like glue to Neville the Devil," Hugo told us. We all giggled as, right on cue, the devastatingly handsome local farrier who, with his black curls, hooded eyes and wicked, flashing smile had more than a touch of the dark side about him, rode past on a flashy thoroughbred type, all jingling bit and glistening spurs. He swept his hat off in a debonair gesture as he greeted Mona and murmured something as he passed.
"What did I tell you? It's back to the forge for her later."
"Over the anvil," agreed Shona.
As we snorted, both secretly delighted to be talked to like this, I spotted Hugo's two friends, watching and wondering who he was speaking to. Debating, perhaps, whether to come across. Just then, Saintly Sean cleared his throat. He stood up in his stirrups and beamed around at everyone.
"Could I have your attention, please?" he called.