The editor, Mike Pardoe, nearly had a coronary when he saw the total and summoned Janey from Gloucestershire. Billy had gone to some evening show in Warwickshire and she was at a loose end. Fink they’re God’s gift. The night was so warm they could smell the honeysuckle and syringa a hundred yards away.
He’d had a good win in the show ring that day and, having met me, was keen to keep on riding all night. “Sweetheart, I’ve been frantic. Mavis ran on ahead, picking up her blonde feet like a hackney pony, delicately tiptoeing along the runnels of the puddles. The walls were covered in fans and castanets and pictures of ladies in mantillas.
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