Polo by Jilly Cooper

drive Daisy reached a fork. To the left, past vast unkept rose bushes and a dovecote, lay farm buildings which had been converted into garages, stables and a tackroom with paddocks behind. To the right, flowerbeds edged with box and a paved terrace led down stone steps to the back of Brock House. Shaggy with creepers, long and low, with its little lit-up windows, the house had a secretive air. On the far side, beyond a large lawn edged with herbaceous borders, the land dropped sharply into the Appleford Valley, thickly wooded with oaks and larches, and famous for its badger sets.
        Inside was chaos. Daisy had made heroic attempts to get straight after moving, but now the children had come home bringing their own brand of mess. Violet and Eddie were in the kitchen, and greeted their elder sister guardedly.
        `What's for supper?' asked Eddie, who was circling advertisements in Exchange and Mart.
        `Chicken casserole and chocolate mousse to celebrate Perdita's first night home,' said Daisy.
        `There was,' said Violet. `You left the larder door open and Gainsborough got at the chicken. Then he was sick. I cleared it up, and I got some sausages from the village shop.'
        Thank God for Violet, thought Daisy. Violet Macleod had inherited Daisy's sweet nature and round face and Hamish's solid figure, freckles and curly, dark-red hair, which clashed with her high colour when she blushed. Shealso had beautifully turned-down amethyst eyes, which, she pointed out ruefully, matched her plump purple legs. Less bright than Perdita, she did much better at school because she was hard-working and methodical and because she knew you needed straight `A's to become a vet. Violet spent much of her time sticking up for her father and grandmother and protecting her mother from Perdita's tantrums. She was now combing the recently sick, long-haired ginger tomcat, Gainsborough, who was mewing horribly.
        `Stop it,' said Violet firmly. `You know fur balls make you sick.'
        Eddie, at eight, looked not unlike a bouncer in a nightclub. Slightly dyslexic, hugely entertaining, he was interested in making a fast buck and enjoying himself. He had already found another prep schoolboy across the valley with whom to spend his time. His current ambition was to have a gun for Christmas. Daisy was dragging her feet because she felt Eddie might easily murder his elder sister.
        `Give us a fag, Perdita,' said Eddie as Perdita got out a packet of Silk Cut.
        `Eddie!' said Violet, shocked. `You are much too young.' `Want us to show you round?' asked Eddie.
        Unloading the car, listening to the thundering feet and yells of excitement as the children raced along the passages, Daisy prayed that in this house they would at last be a really happy family.
        `The stables are fantastic,' said Perdita with rare enthusiasm when she returned twenty minutes later with the others.
        When the telephone rang, Daisy answered. From the way their mother stiffened and her voice became nervous and conciliatory, the children knew it was their father. Now she was apologizing for forgetting to get his suit back from the cleaners.
        `I'll pick it up first thing in the morning. Perdita's home. Would you like a word?' For a second Perdita's normally dead-pan face was vulnerable and hopeful.
        `Well, you'll see her later. Oh, I see, you must be frantic. See you tomorrow night then. He's not coming home,' explained Daisy, putting down the receiver.
        `Because he knows I'm back,' said Perdita flatly.
        `Nonsense,' blustered Daisy. `He sent tons of love.' All three children knew she was lying.
        `He's only got love for Eddie,' sneered Perdita, `and not-so-shrinking Violet. Can I have a vodka and tonic? I am fifteen now.'
        `Oh, all right,' said Daisy. Anything to keep the peace.

9
        
        `Dark, dark, dark,' wailed Daisy a week later. `The Hoover's gone phut, the