Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
A cheer erupts in The Old Greyhound as Mum announces a round for everyone on her in honour of her daughter scoring ‘England’s best ever penalty’.
Jasper and I share a look, both of us shaking with laughter as she tells a flustered Lucas to ‘bloody well crack open that champagne’, before placing a hand on the shoulder of Malcolm, leaning on the bar next to her, and asking him how he came to play polo.
‘I think your mum has taken a shine to my teammate,’ Mateo remarks, raising an eyebrow at them.
Everyone has come back here to celebrate, even the DQ team who played today and their supporters.
It was the Maycourt lot who persuaded them to join us.
While Ambrose may have looked as though he was suppressing a ball of fury ready to explode in his chest at any moment as he marched away to his helicopter, everyone else appreciated that today was ultimately a bit of friendly rivalry between stables equally passionate about ponies and the sport.
DQ has already requested a re-match and Lady M has announced that if Ambrose is game, she’d happily make it an annual event. Jules is working up ideas for a trophy.
One of the best things about today has been Mateo getting on with Sam and Mum so well.
It made my heart swell when I watched them chatting away on the sidelines earlier and Mum has already taken me aside to tell me she heartily approves.
She’s also hit it off with Lady M. When I think about it, they have a lot in common, even though they’ve had wildly different lives.
Both underestimated in professions where they’ve been made to feel as if they have to earn their position there every day, while their male counterparts never question themselves and certainly never wonder if anyone else is.
It makes sense that while my mum might be brash and Lady M is reserved, they’d be fans of one another.
What I wasn’t expecting is how many other fans Mum would acquire today. When I emerged from the stables earlier, I noticed she was surrounded by Malcolm, Fitz and a couple of the DQ lads, and they were howling with laughter at one of her anecdotes.
My mum’s funny. She’s not that funny.
‘If Molly lands a polo player tonight and I don’t, I’ll be fuming,’ Sam says in response to Mateo’s comment about Malcolm, surveying her options in the crowded bar.
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Please don’t talk about my mum “landing” anyone. If anything, it would be a… flirtation. Right? Right?’
‘Have you seen your mum? She’s brilliant, successful, authoritative and hot,’ Sam points out. ‘Malcolm would be punching big time. He knows that.’
‘Ugh! Can we please change the subject?’ I grumble. ‘This is weird.’
She brightens, throwing an arm around me and squeezing me tight. ‘Yes! How about we talk about how amazing you were out there today? Ash, you are a fucking pro!’
‘She is.’ Mateo grins, beaming at me, his eyes sparkling with pride.
I smile bashfully down at my shoes. ‘Hardly. But it was fun.’
‘And you proved to everyone that you were born to play!’ Sam gushes, releasing me. ‘If you’d never left London to escape to here, you might never have tried polo in your life. Isn’t it funny how life has a way of working out?’
‘It is funny,’ I say, gazing up at Mateo, who winks at me.
‘Ren made a huge mistake letting you go, Ash, but he knows that by now. I’m surprised he hasn’t been calling you day and night begging for you back!’ Sam exclaims, momentarily distracted by a handsome DQ groom who brushes past her, flashing her a winning smile.
‘Why would he do that? I accidentally sabotaged the biggest launch of his career, remember,’ I remind her drily.
She frowns at me as though I’ve lost the plot. ‘Sabotaged? Honey, you made him. He should be thanking you! His sales are through the roof. Your… um… involvement made sure his brand became a household name. The publicity was more than he could have dreamt.’
‘But it was bad publicity.’
‘What, that a guy wearing his clothes can attract beautiful girls like you?’ she says, eyebrows raised.
‘That jacket that Chris wore to the launch, the one in the photographs? Sold out faster than any other piece. Trust me, Ash, I know you went through a shitshow, and I’ll forever hate that disgusting pig of a tennis player – but Ren?
That moron is laughing all the way to the bank. ’
I blink at her, astonished. ‘Wow. I did not see that coming.’
‘Like I say, sometimes, things have a way of working out. You have to keep the faith.’ Sam shrugs, accepting the three glasses of champagne that are passed to us from the chain of people surrounding the bar. She holds her glass aloft. ‘To our polo champion, Ash. Cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ Mateo echoes, clinking his glass against hers.
‘Thank you for coming today, Sam,’ I say, taking a sip.
‘Oh, the pleasure is all mine,’ she murmurs suggestively, her shoulders rolling back and her wicked smile broadening as we’re joined by Fitz and Eric.
‘Here she is!’ Eric cries, nudging me with his elbow.
‘Feels good to win, doesn’t it? That penalty was spectacular.
Are you sure you’ve never played polo before you came here to Maycourt?
It’s a shame you didn’t come to it sooner.
A bit of training in Argentina, Chile, maybe Florida, and you could have made pro. ’
I laugh. ‘Thanks, but I’m happy to stay behind the scenes in the polo yard. There are a thousand grooms more skilled than me when it comes to polo, so if anyone should be backed to play, it’s them. I was by far the weakest on the field today.’
‘It’s great that you feel so at home at Maycourt.’ Eric smiles at me. ‘I hope we’ll see you back here next summer. Have you thought about what you’re going to do in the meantime?’
I hesitate. ‘Uh…’
‘A lot of the grooms work for my aunt on a seasonal basis. Not as much to do around here during the winter months,’ Fitz reminds me. ‘They go where the high-goal polo is.’
‘Singapore, Australia, and Argentina coming up,’ Eric says.
‘Eliza also hires grooms all year round,’ Mateo notes.
‘The all-year round positions are filled with grooms who have been here a long time,’ Fitz says. ‘Did she say this was a permanent position when she hired you?’
‘We didn’t go into specifics,’ I say, biting my lip. ‘She spoke about Serafina and the summer season…’
As I trail off, Eric clears his throat. ‘Well, during today’s performance, you made the whole Maycourt yard proud.’
‘I think you played well,’ Fitz decides, taking a sip of his drink. ‘Room for improvement, but I’m sure Mateo will dedicate more than enough of his time to that.’
His comment is noticeably pointed. There’s an edge to his tone. A dash of irritation, maybe? He’s miffed about something and he’s choosing not to hide it. Mateo picks up on it. I feel him tense up next to me.
‘It wasn’t just Mateo’s teaching that got me out on the pitch today, but also his calming effect,’ I say chirpily, refusing to rise to it. ‘I was terrified, playing in front of all those people. I don’t know how you lot do it!’
‘The lead-up to the match is always worse than playing it,’ Eric says, nodding in understanding. ‘You’ve got to have the right mindset.’
‘Composure under pressure,’ Sam says.
He smiles at her. ‘Exactly.’
‘I work for Studio magazine and one of our writers, Iris Gray, profiles athletes. She often writes about their mental resilience and its importance to their success,’ she explains.
‘Interesting. Has she ever written a polo article?’ Eric checks.
‘I’m not sure; I don’t think so. It would have to be a good story to get her attention,’ Sam warns. ‘A player having a big comeback or facing an unexpected new challenge. Something along those lines.’
‘How about an inexperienced stable groom who blazes to the top at a polo yard and ends up replacing Fitz on the Maycourt team?’ Eric says, grinning at me.
‘I like it!’ Sam cries, while I laugh it off.
Fitz balks. ‘Oh, very funny. If anyone should be replaced, it’s not me, is it? I’m not the one who’s been bringing us down recently.’
‘Whoa, it was only a joke,’ Eric says hurriedly, slapping Fitz on the back and glancing nervously in Mateo’s direction.
Mateo isn’t laughing.
‘What does that mean?’ he asks sharply.
‘It means that we’re all aware that priorities have been changed,’ Fitz answers, boldly refusing to wither under Mateo’s glare and instead meeting it head-on. ‘Come on, Mateo, you’re not going to admit it to yourself? It’s blindingly obvious to everyone else.’
‘All right, Fitz,’ Eric says, noticing Mateo’s eyes flare with anger. ‘Come on, you’ve had a drink or two today. Let’s not bring down the—’
‘I’m only saying what everyone is thinking,’ Fitz claims with a shrug.
‘And what is everyone thinking?’ Mateo demands to know.
‘That since you took up with your pretty groom, leading our polo team to victory is no longer your main concern,’ he responds loftily, the alcohol giving him an air of confidence to say what he’s obviously wanted to say for a while.
Sam looks at me, wide-eyed. I swallow, hit with a wave of guilt and embarrassment that I’ve been earmarked as a major distraction by the rest of the team.
Mateo looks to Eric. ‘Is that what everyone thinks?’
Shifting uncomfortably, Eric opens his mouth to speak but Fitz intervenes: ‘You’re late to practices.
You’re distracted. We’ve been losing but you don’t seem to mind.
Revised tactics promised never come to fruition because you’re busy doing…
other things. I suppose it is the end of the season, but I thought every match mattered to you pros. ’
‘Every match does matter,’ Mateo contends.
‘Could have fooled me.’ Fitz holds up his hands, the liquid sloshing over the top of his glass at the jerked movement and splashing on Eric’s arm.
‘Look, I’m no saint. It’s not like I’m one to talk, and I’ll admit it.
I’ve had my fair share of delightful distractions, shall we say.
’ He winks at me and I shudder. ‘But I’m also not the one being paid to do a job here.
I’m not the one trying to get an all-expenses paid trip to Argentina.
After we won the Gold Cup, I thought you’d be a shoo-in for every patron on the lookout, but I guess things change. ’
A muscle in Mateo’s jaw flicks.
‘All right, let’s drop it there, Fitz,’ Eric says desperately. ‘This is meant to be a celebration! We don’t need this kind of talk.’
‘Do you agree with him?’ Mateo asks Eric directly, not letting it go. ‘You think I’ve been bringing down the side?’
‘Hey, we’re a team,’ Eric says kindly, prompting Sam to give him a wistful look.
‘This isn’t about individual play. We all have bad days.
Maybe your focus has been a little bit off recently, but you want to know what I think?
It’s a good thing! It’s healthy. I mean, let’s face it,’ he forces a chuckle, ‘you were way too intense about polo before, mate.’
Mateo doesn’t say anything. Eric realises his take hasn’t been as welcomed as he’d hoped, his face falling.
For the rest of the night, Mateo is lost in deep, brooding thought.
‘Hey, are you all right?’ I check cautiously when I get him on his own.
‘I’m fine,’ he says with an almost-convincing smile.
But I’ve seen his real one and that’s not it.
‘Don’t take what Fitz says to heart, Mateo,’ I beg him, reaching for his hand. ‘He’s always been jealous of you and he’s only saying things to take the heat off of him. He’s late to everything! And never focused.’
‘Eric didn’t deny that things have changed.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘It’s fine, Ash, I’m okay,’ he assures me, squeezing my fingers. ‘Maybe I have been a little too invested in training you for the grooms’ match, but it’s over now. Polo can go back to being my main priority.’
Knowing he’s thrown tonight by this revelation from his teammates, I try not to read into that statement too much. Malcolm appears next to us to ask if we’re up for another round. Mateo drops my hand, my fingers cold without his grasp.
‘No, thank you. Early morning tomorrow,’ he says, looking around for his jacket. ‘Apparently, I have a lot of catching up to do.’