Rosie Dixon's Complete Confessions. Rosie Dixon
Читать онлайн книгу.
the locals.”
I am feeling so exhausted that I don’t argue with her. I suppose it was all the nervous tension I burned up worrying about the interview.
“Here we are, girls. Chin, chin.” Rex raises his glass and I am off again.
An hour later—give or take a couple of hours—I am not quite certain where I am. Although it is still daylight, a strange dark haze hangs over everything and I move as if in a dream. In fact, I am not moving. I am in a car. The countryside stops pelting past the window and reassembles itself in the shape of Branwell Riding Stables.
“Good,” I hear myself say, “I feel like a drink.”
“Capital girl,” says Rex who is driving. “A chip off the old block, eh Penners?”
“Absolutely,” says Penny. “Don’t do that, Rex. You’ll ladder my tights.”
“I wonder who else is going to be there?” says Rex. “Do you reckon there’s a chance of a game of ‘Hunt the Horseshoe’?”
“What’s that?” I ask in my fresh, girlish innocence.
Rex winks. “It’s like ‘Hunt the Thimble’ only more energetic. Just the thing if you feel like a spot of horseplay.”
“I like games,” I say. I do, too. It is probably rather childish of me but I think they help make things go with a swing. I believe lots of people feel like that only they are ashamed to admit it. Once they get stuck in and lose their inhibitions they really enjoy themselves.
When we go through the door it is obvious that we are by no means the first to arrive. There is a great buzz of conversation and about a dozen people are standing around with drinks in their hands.
“Rosie, I’d like you to meet Buffie and Tillie and …’ I don’t remember any of the names but they all seem to have something to do with the land, except for one man who is a solicitor.
“Do you hunt?” says a man with a complexion like a frost-bitten strawberry. “You know, wearing the pink?”
“Are you?” I say. “I suppose it’s the air.” I think he says “we’re in the pink”, you see. It is all very confusing, especially when one has had a tiny bit too much to drink. If this has been a typical day, they certainly know how to knock it back.
“Do take something off if you’re feeling hot.” Guy is the perfect gentleman and helps slide my jacket off my shoulders. After Penny’s remark I am glad to say goodbye to it.
“You’re going to be a very pleasant addition to the scenery, Rosie,” Rex pours some more champagne into my glass. I can see why Penny likes the place so much. And they are all such gentlemen. Geoffrey could learn a thing or two from them after his crude approaches.
“Thank you,” I say. “I feel I’m going to be very happy here.”
“I’m sure you will.” Rex takes my hand and presses it to his lips. How romantic Chingford was never like this. Even the dances at Woodford Rugby Club never achieved quite this level of magic.
“Come on, Guy. I fancy a flutter on the gees, what?” The speaker’s moustache looks as if it was cut out of a de Soutter advertisement and he is jerking his head towards the stables.
“Yes! ‘Hunt the Horseshoe’!” The shout goes up on all sides.
“What is this game?” I whisper to Penny.
“You’ll find out,” she says.
“Oh, come on! I hate surprises.”
“Well,” Penny looks doubtful. “The horses are driven out of the stables, somebody throws a horseshoe inside, and everybody tries to find it.”
“Is that all?”
Penny looks as if she is searching for words. “Not quite all. There is room for manoeuvre.” She looks at her watch. “Maybe you could just catch the seven thirty.”
“No, no. I’ll stay for the game. Perhaps you don’t get it until you play it.”
“I think that’s about it,” says Penny. “You certainly don’t get it if you don’t play it.”
“O.K. everybody. Let’s go. Ciggies out please. Who wants to heave the horseshoe?”
“Me, me.” The volunteer has front teeth that protrude so far they nearly cover her front buffers—and that is some feat, I can tell you. This lady’s bust development makes Jane Russell look like Twiggy’s kid brother.
“Any tips?” I say to Penny.
“The men usually supply their own,” she says. What is she talking about?
I am feeling so dozy that I can hardly steer a straight course to the stables. I usually go flat out to win but I think that, today, I may have to set my sights a bit lower.
“Look out!” Penny pulls me to one side just in time. The horses are streaming out of the stable and one of them misses me by a hare’s breath—or is it a hair’s breadth? Either way it comes very close.
“Stand back, everybody! Let the dog see the rabbit—or should it be the rare bit?”
“Shut up and get on with it, Guy!”
“Are you ready, Melissa?”
“Ready!”
“Right! One! Two! Three! They’re orf!!”
I see a horseshoe go sailing into the air and everyone makes a bolt for the barn. Honestly! I have never heard a noise like it. Grown men squealing and hallooing like kids at a birthday party. It is the drink, I suppose, and I must say, I feel in fairly high spirits myself.
I am the last through the barn door and the sight that greets my eyes makes me realise how seriously they take the game. Hay is flying in all directions and there are couples literally grappling with each other to be first to the key. I even see one girl taking her clothes off. I suppose she is frightened of getting her dress dirty. Penny has taken Rex by the hand and is drawing him towards a rickety ladder that leads to the loft.
“Are you supposed to have a partner?” I ask.
Penny nods. “It helps.”
When I look round the stable I see what she means. Lots of couples are working very closely together and some of them are looking in the most amazing places. Surely you couldn’t get a horseshoe—? Oh well, it doesn’t matter.
“Tally Ho!” Major Phipps runs past me in his underpants and dives on top of Melissa Big Boobs. They are taking it seriously! I look towards the loft to see if Penny and Rex have had any luck and—OH! An enormous bale of hay is plunging down towards me. I stretch out my arms instinctively and stagger back under its weight. Penny and Rex must have dislodged something. Not just something! Another bale comes down and I go sprawling over some sacks of grain. My feet are waving in the air but the upper part of my body is pinned down as if someone is sitting on my chest.
“Help!” I splutter. “Get these things off me!” I wondered afterwards if that was the right thing to say. I mean, what other explanation can there be for someone sliding their hands up my skirt and tugging down my panties and tights?
“Stop it!” I scream. “What do you think you’re doing?” I can’t see who it is, and he doesn’t answer my question, but there is no doubt that he knows what he is doing. While I struggle helplessly, his spam ram pays an unexpected call on my spasm chasm. “You brute!” I sob. “You’re supposed to be looking for a horseshoe.”
“I don’t need any more luck,” says the filthy swine.
“Eleven!?” says Penny.
“And big