I look at myself in the mirror with my hair done up in a bun, and I’m disheartened. I can’t believe that I’m really forced to show myself in public like this.
But I am. The car stops at the polo club to let Delphina and me out and, looking at myself one last time in the rear view mirror, I feel like I’m dying inside.
It’s a beautiful sunny day and we shelter under marquees; it’s no circus stuff, though: they’re elegant wrought iron gazebos with fluttering immaculate curtains made of linen and organza.
There are small groups of people sitting on wicker chairs in several small lounges within the marquees and a swarm of waiters circulate offering champagne in elegant glasses and fresh fruit to all.
Delphina knows everyone here, apparently. She waves her hand to the right and the left, and every time I turn my head, I have to avoid being bumped by the large brim of her hat.
Yes, let’s mention the hats! Every woman is wearing a monument on her head! Mine is quite fancy, and I felt stupid until a moment ago with this life size dinghy which slips on all sides of my head, but I’m starting to realise that it’s probably one of the simplest.
I take a seat on one of the sofas near the sideline, surrounded by those old crocks who are Delphina’s friends. If nothing else, Lady Audrey Davenport and Lady Valéry Fraser are very kind to me and, as soon as Lord Neville comes to greet me, they all fidget on their chairs.
“Dear Jemma, what an honour! His Highness the Lord Neville came to greet you personally!” Chirps Lady Audrey.
“And he lets you call him Cedric!” Adds Lady Valéry.
“Our Jemma has this innate gift of getting people to love her from the very first moment,” comments Delphina with a fake smile. “And yes, Neville is really a wonderful man. He’s always had much respect for our family, but ever since Ashford married Jemma, I could say that our friendship is even stronger.”
Delphina enthuses about her relationship with Cedric who, to be very honest, didn’t even say hello to her. I wonder how it’s possible that all these stories sound credible.
“Speaking of Ashford, we haven’t seen him, yet!” Says Lady Valéry, looking around.
“We didn’t come here together. He arrived earlier to get his horse ready in the stables.” Here’s my chance to duck out! “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and call him, ask him to come and say a quick hello before taking to the field.”
Lady Audrey claps her hands. “What a wonderful idea.”
I ask a waiter to show me the way to the stables, where I see men busily coming and going and tending to their horses.
I hear Ashford’s familiar voice coming from a stable and I stop, perplexed: is it my imagination or is he really laughing? I look inside the stable and I have confirmation: he is actually laughing.
He’s in there with someone, but I can’t see who it is, because he’s behind the horse.
As soon as Ashford notices I’m there, he stops laughing, clears his throat and greets me as formally as usual. “Jemma. You’re here.”
Wow, what a keen eyed observation!
“Yeah, I came to look for you. The ladies at the table would like to see you before the match.”
A young man of his age emerges from behind the horse; he’s got messy dark blonde hair (that kind of messy hair which is the result of hours spent at the barber’s), blue-grey eyes and a cheeky face.
“Parker’s brand new bride, I guess,” the man comes closer and shakes my hand. “Kenneth Harring, Kid for friends. Or Harring. Or lucky bastard, for those who hate me.”
I can’t hold back a laugh. “I’m Jemma.”
Then he turns towards a girl who’s crossing the lane between the stables with a horse. “Hey, got up all pretty, today, eh?”
The girl blushes. “I’m wearing nothing different from last night.”
“I was talking about the mare…” Harring replies.
The girl looks at him with narrowed eyes. “What a bastard.”
I stare at Ashford and Harring alternately, then Ashford explains. “Harring is an experienced playboy with no inhibitions whatsoever.”
“With a special inclination for coarse, saucy and politically incorrect jokes,” his friend points out.
“We’ve been friends since school, then Oxford and everything in between.”
