Friends and Rivals. Tilly Bagshawe

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      Ivan smiled at Catriona. ‘Joyce came over weeks ago to talk about renegotiating her contract. The silly girl left some sheets of one of her concert pieces behind. I haven’t had a chance to return them.’

      ‘Oh. I see.’ Catriona smiled back, stamping down her creeping sense of unease as she cleared away the plates. It had been years since Ivan had last cheated on her – those days were behind them – but old anxieties took a long time to fade. Catriona’s own parents had divorced bitterly when she was eight, and the thought of anything threatening her own marriage filled her with utter dread. Still, Joyce Wu was hardly more than a child. I’m being ridiculous.

      Ned caught Kendall’s eye and gave her a sympathetic smile. She seemed like a nice girl, and was certainly drop-dead gorgeous. How was she to know that Ivan Charles was a philandering prick?

      ‘Kendall … er, do you like riding?’ Hector asked shyly. Ivan and Catriona’s eleven-year-old son had been in an almighty sulk about his father bringing a ‘work person’ home, until 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.

      ‘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.’

      ‘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.’

      ‘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.’

      ‘But, darling, you and Dad were going to go fishing tomorrow, remember?’ said Catriona, handing out bowls of raspberries and cream. ‘Right, Ivan?’

      ‘That’s right,’ said Ivan dutifully. ‘Looking forward to it.’

      ‘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.

      ‘She’s run ragged as it is, babysitting half of Ivan’s acts and being everybody’s shoulder to cry on.’

      ‘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.’

      ‘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.’

      ‘Thanks a lot!’

      ‘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 when Jack started lecturing her about her rehearsal schedule, and making sure she ‘knuckled down’ and didn’t let Ivan Charles distract her. If he didn’t want her spending time with Ivan, why on earth had he insisted that she stay at the Eaton Gate flat? At least Ivan knew how to enjoy himself, and didn’t spend twenty hours a day chained to a desk and the other four bitching at his acts.

      At last Sparky was led out into the yard, tacked up and ready to go. A barrel-chested grey with a distinctly mischievous look in his eye, he wasn’t the most elegant of mounts, but Kendall vaulted onto his back in better spirits. A gallop through the English countryside was just what she needed to blow Jack Misery Messenger out of her hair.

      ‘Ready?’ said Ivan. He looked especially handsome this morning, Kendall thought, in dark-green corduroy trousers and a tweed hunting jacket, his blue eyes sparkling happily as he chatted to his son. Whatever else Ivan might be, he was clearly a devoted father, as happy to be with Hector as the boy clearly was to be with him. Kendall thought of her own, distant father and felt an unworthy pang of envy. But Hector was too cute a kid to dislike, especially as he clearly had a thumpingly huge crush on her and was too young and naïve to know how to hide it.

      ‘Race you to the river!’ he shouted, taking off through the yard gates like a bat out of hell.

      ‘Is he always this keen?’ laughed Kendall.

      ‘Actually no,’ said Ivan, riding up beside her and casually resting a hand on her jodhpured thigh. ‘It’s you, sweetheart. You overexcite him.’

      ‘You think so?’

      ‘Definitely.’ Ivan’s thumb traced a languorous circle on her leg.

      Kendall felt a jolt of desire run through her. It was nice to be flirted with. ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she blurted. ‘The Joyce Wu thing. I wasn’t thinking.’

      ‘That’s all right,’ drawled Ivan. ‘I dare say I’ll think of a way you can make it up to me.’ Digging his heel into his horse’s side, he cantered off after Hector before Kendall could respond.

      It was a wonderful day. After two hours exploring the valley, riding through the woods towards Aston then doubling back along the Roman road towards Shipton-under-Wychwood, they stopped at a gorgeous riverside pub for a late lunch of pâté and bread, washed down with refreshing home-made lemonade. Ivan made a few work calls while Kendall and Hector played about a hundred rounds of rock paper scissors, much to Hector’s delight.

      Watching Kendall Bryce kidding around with his son, her dark hair wild and tangled and her face СКАЧАТЬ