Chapter 16
Sixteen
Sam
I need to ask you something important
Ash
Yes, of course!
What is it?
Sam
When the polo hottie kissed you in the stables, were you on hay bales?
Ash
SAM!
You said it was important
Sam
It IS important!
I need to know!
Ash
Aren’t you supposed to be at work?
Sam
I’m on lunch break
Ash
It’s 11.30am
Sam
Early lunch
Stop deflecting
Answer the question
Ash
No it wasn’t on hay bales!
Sam
That’s disappointing
Ash
It was up against the stable wall
Sam
OH MY
Ash
I know
Sam
I googled him
He’s an underwear model
Ash
I think you googled the wrong person
Sam
Nope
It’s him
Seriously
I had to take a cold shower after I saw it
I’m sending you a picture
*IMAGE*
Ash
WHOA
What the fuck?!?!
How did I not know this?!?!
Sam
Because you’ve been avoiding the internet
Tell me again why you turned him down?
Ash
He doesn’t do anything serious
Polo is his life
Sam
So?
This could be exactly what you need
Just a bit of fun, a nice summer fling, no strings attached
Ash
My last fling didn’t work out so well
Sam
This is different
We know he’s not married
This could be a simple sexy stable boy romance
Wait
YOU ARE ACTUALLY A STABLE GIRL
You’ve switched the fantasy on its head and brought it to life
Disney will want to buy the rights to this heartfelt true story
Ash
Are you having wine with lunch?
Sam
You’re definitely not going to go there, then?
*IMAGE*
Ash
Why have you sent me the same picture twice?
Sam
You might need some encouragement
His muscles are very defined and oily
Those boxers are tight
And filled
Ash
It’s probably socks
Sam
You’re over that tennis scumbag, right?
Ash
Ugh YES
I actually am
He’s made it quite easy
Lying to me, ghosting me, blaming me
Disappearing from my life
Sam
So why not enjoy yourself?
Don’t put any pressure on things with polo hottie
If you both know it’s just a bit of fun, then what’s the harm?
Unless…
Ash
Unless?
Sam
Unless you like him
If you liked him, then I can see why you’d be nervous to go there
It would be understandable
Especially after everything that’s happened
You’re protecting your little heart, I get it
…
Ash? Ashley Slater?
You LIKE him, don’t you?
Ash
I don’t know
I don’t want to
Sam
I mean, I did have my suspicions
You talk about him a lot
Almost as much as the horses
Ash
Shit, I’ve got to go
It’s chaos here in the lead-up to Queen’s Cup
Sam
I don’t know what that is but GO MAYCOURT
Also call me tonight
We can talk about him
Ash
Xxx
Sam
Quickly before you go…
He might like you, too, Ash
Don’t let what Chris did get in the way of giving a good thing a chance
You deserve to be happy
Ash
You’re the best xxx
Sam
Also…
*IMAGE*
Ash
Really?
A third time?!
Sam
As your friend, I support your choices
But I think you should consider doing some important research that will benefit us both
Ash
What research?
Sam
Find out if that is a pair of socks down there
‘What have you done to Mateo?’ Jules asks bluntly a few days later as we shuffle forwards in the queue at Clara’s Cocina Café in Guards Polo Club.
‘Nothing! What do you mean?’
‘The whole week, he’s been so tense and brooding, and he can’t keep his eyes off you. Everyone’s talking about it. Did you guys shag and then you binned him or something?’
‘No! God,’ I hiss, checking around us to make sure no one’s listening.
At this time in the morning at Guards, the queue is mostly made up of grooms from other teams and the security stewards who are pulling up in their golf carts to get their coffee before they zip off again, inaudible information blasting from their walkie talkies every now and then.
I made friends with one of them, Alvin, the morning of the first round because he has his gorgeous German Shepherd who drives round with him in the front passenger seat of the golf buggy.
It was too cute for me not to go over and ask if I could take a picture.
‘Maybe Mateo is annoyed because he knows DQ made it through to the Queen’s Cup semi-finals, too, so Basilio will be around here somewhere,’ I continue, flustered.
‘No, that’s not it. They see each other all the time and openly hate on each other. No, there’s something bothering Mateo.’ She sighs impatiently. ‘Whatever’s going on with him, it’s made him play like a fiend this tournament. I’ve never seen him so fired up.’
We reach the front of the queue and order the coffees before sitting down on the bench at the nearest table while we wait for them.
Jules replies to a message on her phone while I try not to think about Mateo and that world-altering kiss.
Things between us have been tense and confusing ever since.
Neither of us said anything the next morning, acting on edge around each other in front of the other grooms, and then when we found ourselves alone in the yard, he’d asked if we could talk about it.
‘I want to make sure you’re okay,’ he said in a low, urgent voice, his eyes filled with concern. ‘Ash, if I did something wrong, if I crossed a line, I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or unhappy.’
‘You did nothing wrong. It was… it was wonderful.’
His brow furrowed as he stepped closer to me. ‘Then why can’t we—’
‘Mateo, please,’ I said, moving away from him, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from giving into temptation and melting into him if we stayed too close.
‘I don’t understand,’ he’d mumbled.
Glancing around the yard to make sure no one else could overhear, I said, ‘Polo is a small community. As soon as you got this out your system, I’d be left as the idiot again. I’m sorry Mateo, but I won’t take that risk.’
He flinched. ‘Is that what you think this is? Me getting something out my system?’
‘Isn’t it?’ I challenged. ‘Nothing matters but polo. Everything else is distraction.’
Mateo stared at me, anguished but unable to deny it.
We hadn’t spoken since then about anything but the job, and as much as I ache to be near him all the time, I know it’s best this way. It will be awkward for a little bit, but then with time, we’ll both move on and we can be colleagues and friends.
Not that he’s listened to me regarding work, though – during the first match of the tournament, I reminded him that Serafina was here in his selection of ponies, but he told me he’d be sticking with Violet for the final chukka.
I tried not to let his dismissal of both me and her put me in a bad mood, which is actually easy to avoid when you’re experiencing the Cartier Queen’s Cup at Guards Polo Club.
Not to be dramatic, but it’s magical here.
The grounds are vast and immaculate, the sun has been shining all week, and the atmosphere is electric.
I like the bit in the mornings, though before the spectators arrive – the calm before the storm – when there are pockets of activity around the tranquil grounds.
Grooms are busy preparing the ponies and stewards are being briefed, making their way to their checkpoints and chatting with each other about the teams and their chances.
Dog walkers strolling through Windsor Great Park will stop at the side of the field and watch the warm-ups before the first match of the day, some of them polo fans who strike up conversation with any grooms and trainers lurking around, others simply entranced by the ponies.
The waiters in the clubhouse are double-checking the place settings and the shine of the glasses; the staff at the main bar and the pop-up bars behind the grandstand are stocking up the fridges with bottles; and a bright-red tractor with a roller mower attached behind it is methodically trundling up and down the Queen’s Ground.
The café is busy first thing, providing coffee and traditional Argentine breakfasts to fuel the hard-working grooms keeping everything together and aid the patrons’ hangovers.
‘We really might win this tournament, you know,’ Jules declares, putting away her phone and tapping her fingers on the wooden table whilst watching someone’s scruffy terrier yap at a striking-looking and startled rough-coated vizsla on his lead.
‘Don’t jinx it.’
‘If we win the Queen’s Cup, we’ll be going to Paris on such a high.’
I smile as the barista calls out our order and we get up to retrieve it. ‘I’m so excited about Paris.’
‘Surely you travelled to Paris when you worked in fashion.’
‘It was always flying visits. I never saw any of the city. Apparently, we get time off when we’re there, right?’
‘Yeah, a little,’ she confirms. ‘Paris is amazing; you’ll love it. I’ll make sure you get enough time to do some exploring.’
‘Thanks,’ I say warmly as she shrugs like it’s no big deal.
She may not be the most open of people, but I’ve learnt that beneath the guarded exterior, Jules is thoughtful and kind. I like working with her and we’ve grown closer over the past few weeks, especially now I don’t hinder her work so much.
‘Do you get to travel a lot with polo?’ I ask as we both carry a tray of coffees each past The Prince’s Ground on the way back to the pony lines.
‘Paris, Florida, Dubai, Sotogrande, Aspen, Argentina,’ she lists. ‘You go all over the world. It’s pretty exciting.’
I sigh, getting my sunglasses out my back pocket and sliding them on. ‘One day, you’re shovelling horse shit; the next, you’re flying private jet to Paris. Fucking hell. The polo world is straight up bonkers.’
‘I know, right?’ she says as Alvin rattles by on his golf buggy, giving us a salute, his dog up front next to him wearing goggles and a neckerchief. ‘You can’t beat it.’
*
In the final chukka of the semi-finals, the entire Maycourt team is on edge.
In a spectacular shake up, DQ crashed out of the tournament earlier in the midday match, losing thirteen-twelve to the Breakwater team.
I couldn’t hear Ambrose from where I was standing but from his thunderous expression and his wild gesticulation, it was safe to say he wasn’t happy about the result.
Basilio dismounted, snapped at the groom ready to take his pony, and stormed off the pitch, punching the side of the DQ tent as he passed.
I glanced over at the spectator stand of The Prince’s Ground and Lady M happened to catch my eye.
She smiled serenely.
The result gave our team a boost of confidence, but has also served as a stark reminder ahead of the late-afternoon match that, in polo, no matter how well you’ve been playing up until go-time, nothing is guaranteed. Anything can happen.
We’re leading the match against Ember Crest eleven-eight, largely thanks to Mateo, who is playing so aggressively that I’m worried it’s going to lead him to foul at any moment.
He’s dominated the match start to finish and the Embers have picked up on it, leaving other Maycourt players open to mark him together, but despite their harassment, he’s managing to slip through any gaps they leave him.
When he whips the ball away from a scuffle and sweeps upfield with it, Fitz gallops to the goal posts waiting for the pass that soon comes his way only to hit it at the post, swearing loudly as it bounces back into play.
But Mateo is somehow there, like he predicted it all, like it’s played out exactly as he meant it to, and as he sails past the posts, he knocks the ball in between them with an unhurried nearside backhand.
He doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to see if it’s a goal.
He notes the reaction of the spectators, satisfied.
‘Mateo is unbeatable this week!’ Jules exclaims, as we pass each other on different ponies, cooling them down.
The whistle blows for the end of the match and the Maycourt team erupts into cheers, the players holding up their mallets in victory as they canter back towards us, grooms running to each other to high-five and embrace, jumping round and round in celebration, and Lady Maycourt behind the white picket fence raises her glass of bubbles to the players and takes a long, triumphant sip.
Elated, I reach to pat the warm, sweaty neck of Wickham who I’m cooling down. We’re through to the final!