Free Mount! by Jilly Cooper

Rupert visited him at Badger’s Court, Master Quickly pretended to be fast asleep, then leaping to his feet, he snatched off Rupert’s cap and scampered away up the orchard. From the moment he was born, he had attitude.

8
    There was a tradition that every time a boy was born in Willowwood, as part of his christening ceremony, a weeping willow would be planted for him in the churchyard. As Mrs Wilkinson had been such a local heroine, this honour was being bestowed on her son, Master Quickly, by the Lady of the Manor, Ione Travis-Lock. Born Ione Framlingham, she and her sister were the only descendants of Sir Francis Framlingham, who had once owned the village and whose stone effigy lay in the church with a little whippet at his feet.
    Ione’s husband Alban, a charming ex-ambassador and reformed alcoholic like Gav Latton, had nobly driven the Willowwood syndicate minibus to the races. As he had been dumped along with other members of the syndicate, it was considered very magnanimous of his wife Ione to plant a willow for Quickly. In fact, the seriously green Ione had only agreed on condition Valent installed solar panelling at Badger’s Court.
    ‘Hurrah,’ said Dora, who’d set the whole thing up. ‘We can have a big christening party to celebrate.’
    ‘Not too big,’ pleaded Etta. ‘People can handle not being asked to a small party, but not a great big one.’
    She was already tearing her newly streaked hair out over the guest list. Because the Travis-Locks and Niall and Woody were invited, she would have to ask the rest of the disgruntled syndicate, which included Seth Bainton, the egregious,glamorous, middle-aged actor father of her granddaughter Trixie Macbeth’s baby. Seth’s mistress Corinna was such a famous actress and so self-obsessed, she hadn’t twigged that Seth was the father. The party, if Dora had anything to do with it, would be swarming with press to promote Love Rat as Quickly’s sire and Etta’s son-in-law Alan Macbeth’s biography of Mrs Wilkinson, which had just come out in paperback. And if a party were thrown to help Alan, Martin – Etta’s fundraiser son – would push even harder for Badger’s Court to be opened for one of his charity bashes. Etta hated her family imposing on Valent’s generosity.
    Many of the female members of the syndicate had threatened to boycott the party until, learning that Rupert Campbell-Black had been invited, they changed their minds and rushed off to buy new dresses, followed by new coats, in case one got frost or snow in mid-April.
    To Gav’s horror, Rupert had summoned him the evening before and ordered him to attend the christening in his place, virtuously claiming that he was taking Taggie away to France for a few days’ break: ‘She’s been looking very tired.’
    Then, when Gav looked mutinous: ‘Need you to keep an eye on things. Quickly’s an extremely valuable colt, might easily get loose. I don’t trust that frightful syndicate not to sabotage things. And you’ll get a bloody good lunch.’ Seeing Gav looking even more sullen, he added, ‘Do you good to get your nose out of a book or a horse for an hour and meet a few people. Can’t live like a monk for ever.’
    Bastard, thought Gav, behaving as though he was doing me a favour. Parties were torture. In the past, the only way he coped with his shyness and lack of small talk was to arrive three parts cut. Nor did a lovely evening with pink sky along the horizon, pale-green leaves blurring the trees or paths starry with primroses calm or cheer him, as he walked down to the Long Meadow by the lake, which was filled with foals and their mothers.
    As he hung over the gate and whistled, his beloved New Year’s Dave bounded out of the herd to talk to him, ready for any amount of patting.
    The little colt was such a dream, Gav lived in dread that someone might find out he had been born on New Year’s Eve. He’d managed to keep nympho Celeste at arm’s length, saying he didn’t want to