The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton - Catherine Alliott [126]
‘Not a problem,’ I croaked. ‘Don't you worry, Caro. You, um, tuck in. Enjoy your meal.’
I pressed the over-and-out button. When I glanced up, Felicity had been nabbed by a prematurely aged young man with a high, academic forehead, a type quite prevalent in this city. She was making wild ‘help-me’ eyes at me over his shoulder. Ludo, on the other hand, was at my elbow.
‘Problem?’
I gazed up into his dark eyes. The greeny-yellow flecks in them were glinting.
‘What's your experience with sexed-up horses?’ I whispered.
He returned my gaze steadily. ‘Extensive.’
‘You're lying.’
‘Of course. But how else am I going to keep a grip on your company tonight?’
I took a deep breath, dithered momentarily, then: ‘Come on,’ I said grimly. ‘We're leaving.’
24
‘Where exactly are we going?’ Ludo asked, not unreasonably, following at a more leisurely pace as I hurried down the stairs. I tumbled out of the open front door and across the street to my car. ‘Why not take mine?’ he called after me, as I fumbled for my car keys. Again not unreasonable; we'd just got out of his.
Because I want to feel in some sort of control, was the answer, but I substituted it pathetically with, ‘Because I know the way. To my brother's place,’ I added, in answer to his first question as he got in beside me. ‘The farm, where your sister's getting married. It's where this wretched horse is.’ I turned the ignition, and because I'd left the car in gear, we kangarooed elegantly down the road.
He clutched the dashboard in mock terror. ‘The horse with the unnaturally small faeces? Christ, steady.’ He braced himself against the door as I found second and picked up speed, wheels screaming as I took the corner.
‘The very same.’ The car righted itself. ‘And the voracious sexual appetite that keeps him out in the field with the ladies, and not in the stable where he belongs, and where the woman who owns him thinks he is right now, and is hot-footing it to come and check.’
‘Now? In the middle of the night?’
‘Oh, Ludo, you have no idea.’ I passed a harassed hand through my hair as we sped towards the ring road. ‘No idea. These horsy women are unbelievable. Particularly this one, Camilla.’
‘Not… the Camilla?’
‘Oh, no, not that one. Much more terrifying.’
‘Good Lord.’
‘That one would be fine. I could imagine having a giggle and a fag with her. This one… well, you'll see.’
There was a silence as he sensibly let me negotiate a roundabout in peace, his white-knuckled grip on the upholstery the only giveaway.
‘Have you actually imagined a giggle and a fag?’ he asked lightly as we embraced the A40.
I flushed in the darkness. Not stupid, was he? I glanced at his profile, his twitching mouth.
‘What – you mean have I fantasized about knowing her when she was ordinary old Mrs Parker-Bowles, and now she's married to Sir, and on account of our long girly friendship, I'm forever at Highgrove toasting muffins by the fire with the pair of them?’ Well, if that didn't put him off nothing would. And put him off I surely needed to do.
He grinned. ‘Not the sexiest fantasy I've ever heard.’
‘I'm not a sexy person.’
‘I'm not sure you can be the judge of that.’
‘Oh, for God's sake…’
I wondered if I should go further. Mention that I didn't call him Sir any more, and that we were planning a holiday together, the four of us: a riding safari in Botswana – Charles being very taken with Ant in a Laurens van der Post sort of way. Perhaps not. I wanted to put him off, not think I was mentally unstable.
‘Do you always drive as if you're about to throw up over the dashboard?’
I gritted my teeth and sat back. No, it didn't work for me. I assumed my edge-of-the-seat position again, wheel to chest.
‘We're here,’ I announced some minutes later, as, having belted at record speed down the lanes, I swung the car round the stone gate post, only just grazing