‘Hi.’
‘I haven’t seen you properly all day – I mean, obviously I’ve seen you, but we haven’t had the chance to…’ I frown, my heart hammering as he watches me. Just being in his vicinity is scrambling my thoughts and words. ‘I wanted to say good luck.’
He gives a small nod. ‘Thank you.’
Not knowing what else to say, I turn to leave, shaking out my hands to try to get rid of the tingles. And then it’s time to go, the clock ticking nearer and nearer to the first throw-in.
The Redwoods control the first two chukkas, scoring early on and infuriating Fitz with their smug celebrations that cause him to lash out irresponsibly, handing them an easy penalty when their number three has line of the ball and he crosses over to steal it. Mateo snaps at him to calm down when Fitz complains about the umpire, but Eric does a better job of mellowing things by speaking to Fitz in between chukkas and talking to him calmly. After that, Maycourt mount a good comeback, channelling their anger into fiery play and narrowing the gap in goals that leaves the stands cheering with enthusiasm.
At half-time, The Redwoods are leading seven-five. I can feel the sweat across my forehead, my shirt is damp from hosing down hot ponies and there hasn’t been one moment of rest, but I don’t care. It’s been exhilarating andbrilliant. Mateo is with the other players discussing tactics and I can see Fitz nodding along vigorously to whatever he and Malcolm are saying. Even Fitz has been motivated enough that he didn’t go out last night.
The team go into the fourth chukka, reinvigorated and ready, and at the end of the fifth, the score is tied. The tension is high and the poor umpires have had their work cut out for them with the number of fouls from both teams as players begin to feel the pressure. Plied with champagne, Pimm’s and beers, the spectators are getting louder and rowdier, and the two teams couldn’t have given them a better match. The play today has been extraordinary.
In the short few minutes before the final chukka, I’m walking Wickham up and down the end of the pitch to cool him down, proud of his excellent performance, and praying that Violet doesn’t let Mateo down in the next. I still think he should be giving Serafina a try, but he thinks it’s too important to risk her stubbornness, while I argued that it’ssoimportant, it’s the perfect time to finally take that risk. She can outrun any of the Redwoods ponies, of that I’m certain. I was overruled.
‘Ashley!’
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Basilio sauntering towards me in aviators, navy chinos, a white shirt and a cream linen blazer with two glasses of Pimm’s in his hand. Smiling broadly, he offers me one of the drinks, which I politely decline.
‘I’ll drink yours and then buy you another after the match. How does that sound?’ he says, taking a sip of one of the drinks and mercifully not waiting for me to answer his question. ‘I have a confession for you.’
‘Really?’ I say, distracted, glancing nervously over at the Maycourt team in their huddle discussing the forthcoming final chukka.
‘I’ve been watching you ride. In the mornings when you’ve been helping warm up the ponies. You’re brilliant. You ride as though you’ve been doing it all your life,’ he says.
‘Thank you. I love it.’
I turn Wickham to circle back again and Basilio turns with us.
‘It’s made us all nervous about the grooms’ match, I have to admit. I think Ambrose may have been over-confident. Clearly, you are an excellent addition to the Maycourt yard. I have no doubt that you will be the best on the field when it comes to the polo.’
‘Mateo is a great teacher.’
His easy-going smile falters. ‘Is that right? I find that surprising. Mateo isn’t the sort of person who puts time aside for someone else, especially to teach them. I would have thought he’d think that beneath him. Even as kids, he never had time for anyone else. He wasn’t a team player. He always put himself first.’
I don’t say anything.
‘I only hope he’s giving you his time for the right reasons,’ Basilio adds.
I shoot him a look. ‘What does that mean?’
‘You know what he’s like, surely,’ he says, looking surprised I’d even have to ask. ‘He has a reputation for… using people. Every woman he dates knows not to get attached. I think dating is his way of blowing off steam. I, of course, am a little biased.’
‘Because you don’t like him.’
‘It’s more complicated than that. He hasn’t told you about Emma?’
I shake my head.
‘Emma was my girlfriend a long time ago. A sweet, lovely girl. Then she met Mateo and, after he pursued her, she left me for him. A week later, he dumped her. That’s the truth.’
I chew the inside of my cheek.
‘She thought she was special to him, but in the end, he broke her heart just like everyone else’s,’ Basilio continues, ‘and he broke mine too. For what? To prove he was better? That he could have whoever he wanted? It was all for nothing. Mateo is like… a hunter. He sets his sights on his quarry and he won’t be satisfied until he’s got it. Then he disregards it once it’s served its purpose.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ I mutter, turning Wickham around again.
‘Because… I like you,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I don’t want to see you get hurt. You don’t know him like we do.’
