Maddy dragged her sister inside. ‘Oh, good. You’re just in time. Fran’s dress was hopeless. I want that white top thing of yours, Suzy. The one that drapes…’

‘Holy hell!’ Suzy’s heavily kohled eyes blinked in astonishment. ‘You didn’t, did you, Mad? You opened the door – like that? I wondered why Bernie Pugh’s bike was more shaky than usual. And for heaven’s sake come away from the window. You’ll frighten the horses. Why,’ Suzy sniffed with all the superiority of a seventeen-year-old sister over one ten years her senior, ‘are you dressed like a tart?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Maddy sighed. ‘And can I have that white blouse for tonight?’

‘Nah, it’s in the wash.’ Suzy was tugging off her mud-caked boots. ‘You can have the pink one.’

‘I can’t wear pink!’ Maddy wailed. ‘I’ve got red hair!’

‘So have I – sometimes. Of course you can wear pink. Where are you going, anyway?’

‘Diana and Gareth’s drinks party.’

Suzy arched an eyebrow. ‘Really? I wouldn’t have thought you had the right number of hyphens in your surname for one of Diana’s parties. What’s the catch?’

‘No catch. Diana thought I’d enjoy it.’

‘Can’t imagine why.’ Suzy had removed most of her riding clothes and was striding through to the kitchen. Maddy watched her waif-like figure without envy. Although it was thoroughly sickening to be faced with a pert size eight – especially when it was related and lived in the same house – there were compensations. Suzy favoured voluminous jumpers and stretchy tops. Maddy borrowed them at every opportunity.

She sucked in her breath. ‘Because Peter is going to be there.’

There. She’d said it. She waited for the explosion. It wasn’t long coming.

‘Holy hell, Mad!’ Suzy paused in the middle of slapping golden syrup on to a chunk of bread. ‘Have you got a death wish? Are you going to let Peter the Perv perform another public execution?’

‘Don’t call him that – and no. I’m not. I’m going because I want him to see how well I’ve done without him. He’s thinking of coming back to Milton St John, Diana says, and she thought –’

‘She thought she’d make you look a complete fool. Diana James-Jordan is a cow. Look what she did to Richard and Fran. I thought they were your friends?’

‘They are. Fran knows I’m going. I’ve promised not to say anything about Richard being jocked off in favour of Newmarket’s golden wonder. And, after all, Diana does put work my way.’

‘And loyalty to your friends takes a nosedive because she’s invited Pete to snuffle in her trough!’

Maddy groaned. Sometimes she despaired at Suzy’s coarseness. It was mixing with all those stable lads that did it, her mother had said. Maddy was pretty sure that Suzy could teach the lads a thing or two about colourful epithets. She really didn’t want to get dragged into a discussion on the ethics of race riding – or Peter Knightley. Suzy was very strident in her views on both.