Free Friends & Rivals by Tilly Bagshawe

he’d laid eyes on Kendall, since when he’d barely been able to stop drooling into his chicken. Cat didn’t think she’d ever seen Hector blush in his life, but he was certainly making up for it now.
    â€˜I do,’ said Kendall, grateful for the change of subject. ‘I used to ride all the time in Malibu when I was a kid. I adore horses.’
    â€˜Great,’ Hector beamed. ‘We can go for a hack tomorrow then. You can ride Sparky if you like. He’s Rosie’s pony but he’d be the right size for you.’
    â€˜Hey. Don’t offer people
my
pony,’ said Rosie on autopilot. Then, realizing she might have been rude, added to Kendall, ‘You’re welcome to take him, though, if you’d like. And you can borrow my riding gear too.’
    â€˜But, darling, you and Dad were going to go fishing tomorrow, remember?’ said Catriona, handing out bowls of raspberries and cream. ‘Right, Ivan?’
    â€˜That’s right,’ said Ivan dutifully. ‘Looking forward to it.’
    â€˜Oh, that’s OK,’ said Hector, gazing at Kendall adoringly. ‘It’s more important to make our guest feel welcome. Dad can come riding too if he wants,’ he added magnanimously. ‘Although don’t feel you have to, Dad. Kendall and I’ll be fine on our own.’
    Catriona and Ivan looked at one another and grinned. Apparently Kendall Bryce’s surprise visit wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
    At eleven the next morning, Kendall waited with Hector and Ivan outside the stable blocks while Irene, the groom, saddled up Sparky.
    It was a glorious day. A pale summer sun blazed down on the yard and the sweet, heady scent of buddleia bushes and honeysuckle filled the air, mingled with the delicious smell of horsehair and leather. To the left, across the valley, you could see the steeple of Burford’s ancient medieval church. To the right the rose garden erupted in a riot of white and yellow and pink in front of the newly mown lawn, as perfectly striped as a man’s bespoke shirt. Behind it, The Rookery looked even more picture-perfect than it had last night, with its elegant sash windows and flagstoned front path, flanked on either side by rows of lavender bushes, like a purple guard of honour.
    Despite the beauty of her surroundings, Kendall struggled to shake off her bad mood. Jack had called at eight o’clock this morning, midnight his time. Despite herself, Kendall’s heart had soared when his name flashed up on her cell phone. It wasn’t like him to call so late. Was he missing her? Had he realized, finally, after dinner with another one of his thirty-something floozies, that she, Kendall, was the one he truly loved? The only one who could make him happy?
    Apparently not. After a couple of perfunctory questions about her flight and whether she was settled in London, and the most cursory of congratulations on her performance supporting Adele in Hammersmith, he proceeded to lecture her on not ‘overburdening’ Catriona Charles.
    â€˜She’s run ragged as it is, babysitting half of Ivan’s acts and being everybody’s shoulder to cry on.’
    â€˜I didn’t ask to come down here, you know,’ Kendall said stiffly. ‘Ivan invited me. He thought I needed to unwind after the Apollo gig.’
    â€˜Without asking his poor wife first, I dare say,’ said Jack. ‘Look, it’s fine you’re there. Not even you can get into too much trouble in Oxfordshire.’
    â€˜Thanks a lot!’
    â€˜Just make sure you clean up after yourself and treat the place with respect, OK? It’s really kind of Catriona to have you.’
    Kendall liked Catriona, but she was beginning to get tired of hearing what a saint the woman was. So she had the occasional house guest. Big deal! The way Jack banged on about it you’d think she was Mother fucking Teresa. The conversation deteriorated further