The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton - Catherine Alliott [84]
‘Gets fed twice a day,’ came a voice from behind us. We swung around to see Camilla's departing back, heading on back to the yard. No sylvan scene-gazing for her. Caro and I scuttled after her. ‘Meadow mix, chaff, and I find a little sugar beet goes a long way if he's tucked up. Obviously he comes in at night.’
In? Tucked up? Visions of Hector beside me in bed in a purple hoody, hoofs neatly crossed over the duvet, sprang alarmingly to mind.
‘What?’ I gaped stupidly as we followed.
‘Of course,’ Caro said quickly, eyeing me, then jerking her head meaningfully towards the stables. Happily the moment was lost on Camilla, who'd marched to the cab of her lorry to ferret in the glove compartment. Her fox terriers were still sitting ramrod straight to attention. Were they drugged? No. Bloody terrified, no doubt. Weren't we all?
‘Drew up a little agreement.’ She was striding back to me now, a piece of paper in her hand. ‘Makes everything march simpler. One year's loan to you, all shoeing and vet's bills your shout. He's due a tetanus next week, incidentally. Eau, and not to be ridden by anyone other than your daughter. OK?’ She handed me the paper and a pen. I leaned it on my knee and signed dumbly, feeling the same weighty responsibility I imagine King John did when he signed the Magna Carta.
‘Get him in at eightish. Quick rub dine and rug him up well, and then put him ite again at seven o'clock in the morning, sharp.’
Seven? Seven in the morning? Was she mad? I hadn't even opened my eyes. Hadn't got my lippy on. I handed her back the pen and paper in a trance. In a trice she crossed the yard and was vaulting back into her cab. She slammed the door on us, energetically winding down her pre-war window.
‘Eau, and when you catch him…’ She started the engine; was revving it up like nobody's business, pumping hard on the gas and yelling at me out of the window as she manhandled the gear stick. Despite possessing a voice that would galvanize the Coldstream Guards, the hiss of air brakes and the roar of an HGV engine ensured that whatever she said was lost in the wind. She performed an efficient three-point turn in the yard, no mean feat when you weigh ten tons, and prepared to head off. But I was keen to hear, to be fully informed.
‘What?’ I yelled, running alongside her, cupping my ear as she shunted into first and rumbled through the gateway. She glared down at the urchin running beside her.
‘JARST NUTS!’ she bellowed crossly at me. Then she vroom-vroomed out of the gate, in a shower of mud and stones.
‘Just nuts to you, dear,’ I muttered, as Caro and I stood and watched her go, roaring off up the lane, needing to get on.
‘Pony nuts,’ said Caro faintly. ‘In a bucket. When you catch him.’
‘Oh,’ I nodded, equally faintly, back. ‘Right.’
17
‘Rude woman.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Caro agreed wearily. She turned and went to fetch a wheelbarrow, came back and began piling the blankets into it. ‘She can afford to be, I'm afraid,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘It's a measure of the respect she commands in circles round here.’
‘Well, not in my circle. And as if I'm going to fanny and fart-arse around a horse like that – worse than having a husband!’
‘Oh, much.’ She glanced round, surprised I didn't know.
‘An invalid husband, at that. Feed him twice a day, change his clothes… At least I don't have to clean Ant's cock. I am not doing that.’
‘She'll check!’ Caro squealed, dropping a rug in horror. ‘I swear, she's going to pop round, Evie. Do spot checks, pick up his feet, look in his ears —’
‘Let her. She'll find a dirty but happy horse. And seven o'clock in the morning – dream on.’ I went to let Brenda out of the car.
‘Oh.’ Caro stopped her blanket tossing, straightened up and turned to face me, hands on hips. ‘Oh, I get