LITMIR.BIZ

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think you could brush him later.’ Lottie gave Alice a hug. ‘But he might turn into an icicle if we get him all wet now. Here you are, let me lift you up.’ Once in the saddle, Alice was as still, upright and elegant as her dressage rider father, unlike Roxy, who was bouncing about like one of the terriers.

      ‘Mummy, Mummy can we paint Woopert’s nails so they look like mine?’

      It was only then that Lottie noticed Roxy’s teeny tiny nails were sparkling like diamonds. In fact they could be diamonds, knowing Sam.

      ‘Course we can, babe, can’t we Lottie? He will look so cute with pretty feet.’

      ‘They’re not real diamonds, are they?’ Lottie hoped she didn’t sound as horrified as she felt.

      ‘Don’t be daft, hun.’ Sam giggled, a carbon copy of Roxy’s. She lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Don’t tell her but they’re diamante, like Scruffy’s collar, but she thinks they’re the real deal.’ Her voice lifted. ‘Cos she’s my little princess, aren’t you, babe?’

      ‘And Woopert is my pwince.’ Roxy for once sounded serious, then grinned.

      ‘It might come off quite quickly in the field.’ Lottie dreaded what Uncle Dom, or her gran, would say, if they spotted a diamond-encrusted pony in the paddock.

      Samantha frowned, then just as quickly smiled. ‘Well we can get him a nice sparkly harness thing for his head can’t we? Like Scruffy’s collar. I mean he’s got to look handsome when we go to Olympia and ride in front of all those people, hasn’t he?’

      ‘I don’t think …’ Lottie didn’t know quite how to put this.

      ‘We are going aren’t we, babe? Dave will be so proud, just like Wembley and him playing for England. When he played in the World Cup I was so proud of him, and he’ll be just as chuffed to see his little princess on her horse, won’t he, babe?’

      ‘It’s not that easy. Roxy has only just started riding, and,’ Lottie floundered, looking at Rory for help, wondering just how to explain that the three-year-old might not quite be ready to star at an international horse show. Whereas she often had doubts, Sam had none. She was an unstoppable force, totally confident of her own ability to conquer the world.

      ‘Bit of a challenge for next year, Sam. Have to see how it goes, won’t we girls?’ Rory supplied.

      Sam gave him a hug. ‘Oh, you’re so sensible and clever, isn’t he, Lots?’ She kissed him. ‘The best godfather in the world, isn’t he Roxy, babe?’ She giggled. ‘The godfather, oh that sounds bad, doesn’t it? Aww and it’s so nice of you to bring the horses inside. I mean it’s parky out, freeze the balls off a …’ She put a hand over her mouth and laughed again. ‘Listen to me, and in front of the kiddies.’

      ‘The horses aren’t supposed to come in the house.’ Lottie frowned in Rory’s direction.

      ‘Aren’t they babe? Well, why?’

      ‘Worwy said Lady Lizbet would let us.’ Roxy was now fed up of sitting on the motionless pony and spotting a way back onto centre stage went for it. ‘Catch me.’ And before anybody could stop her, she’d flung her leg over the pony’s withers and launched herself in her mother’s direction.

      ‘Isn’t she priceless? Bless.’ Sam kissed her daughter on the head. ‘Shall we take your little pony back to his bed, then?’

      ‘And then go shopping for nice sparkly things for him to wear?’

      Sam, who could never say no to a good shopping trip, especially one that included anything that sparkled, grinned. ‘Course we can, princess.’

      Lottie was pretty sure that it was impossible to buy a diamante bridle in Shetland pony size, and totally impossible to buy anything horsey with diamonds on. Pretty sure. But then she’d never seen a shaggy mongrel wearing a diamond-encrusted collar and an Armani jumper until Sam had rehomed Scruffy. Oh, what would the dogs’ home think of him if they could see him now?

      ‘Come on.’ Roxy tugged experimentally on the reins and the pony turned his head the other way. ‘Naughty horsey.’ Sam might be blond, busty and blingy (in her own words) but she was also ‘bloody determined’ when it suited her, and Roxy, it seemed, had inherited her mother’s genes by the bucket load. Heading round to the other side, she pushed.

      Rupert sighed, then yawned, showing a good set of teeth, and shook his head and neck with such vigour that he showered Roxy with what Lottie hoped was shavings, and not as she suspected, dried flakes of mud and poo. Then he rested a back leg as though to demonstrate his complete lack of interest.

      Roxy waved a finger. ‘I’m vewy disappointed in you.’ Lottie tried to keep a straight face, but one glance in Sam’s direction and she knew she couldn’t keep it up. Rupert the pony, sensing that his fun might be over, didn’t want to leave the party. ‘Uncle Worwy, make him move.’

      ‘Has your mummy never told you that boys don’t like bossy girls?’

      ‘Mummy tells Daddy she’ll,’ she grimaced, concentrating, ‘make him beg for more and he likes that. It makes him do his big smile.’

      ‘Roxanne!’

      Lottie and Rory, who had never heard Sam call her daughter by her full name, tried to avoid looking at each other.

      ‘When did you hear that?’

      ‘When you played horsey in your bedwoom. Now I’m playing horsey widing too.’

      ‘Rory maybe you should make him move?’ Lottie didn’t dare wait to hear what Roxy might come out with next.

      The thing was, Rupert didn’t want to move. Not even with Rory pulling, Lottie and Roxy pushing, and Sam waving the bowl of sugar lumps in front of his nose.

      ‘Hang on.’ Lottie was out of breath. ‘Idea.’ She held a hand up. They all waited until she could speak. ‘Backwards.’

      And so Rupert departed Tipping House in reverse. He very nearly got stuck in the doorway when he sped up, taking Sam with him, and nearly made her the filling in a sandwich between his hairy bulk and the door jamb, but pretty soon he was surprised to find himself at the top of the stone steps.

      ‘Don’t bring him in again, Rory. Please,’ Lottie begged, hoping she didn’t sound a complete spoilsport.

      But Rory was too busy putting Roxy back in the saddle to hear. ‘Ready to go, Alice?’

      Alice who had been watching the proceedings with interest, nodded. ‘I don’t think he liked going backwards,’ she said solemnly. ‘Once he started he couldn’t stop.’

      ‘Like the wheels on the bus,’ added Rory with a nod. ‘All day long.’ And broke into song.

      ‘Aww bless, isn’t he good with the kids? I can’t wait for you two to have your own.’ Sam winked at Lottie. ‘And you’d make an ace mum. I mean you’ve had all that practice with foals and puppies and stuff.’ She paused. ‘I mean I know it’s not my business, babe, but if you’ve got problems with your tubes I know this doctor.’

      Lottie shook her head.

      ‘You’ve got this lovely big house, you could fill it with kids and hardly notice.’

      Lottie thought she probably would notice, even one little teeny tiny baby. After a particularly drunken night at the pub Sam had shown her all her baby pictures of Roxy, every last one of her through the blooming stage of her pregnancy, and most of the in-labour ones, and she’d thought Lottie was kidding when she said that quite frankly she’d rather have a puppy.

      ‘He would make a lovely daddy, though, wouldn’t he?’

      ‘He would.’ Lottie agreed, which rather took Sam by surprise. But, as she watched the trio of the man she loved and the two little girls make their way to the stables all singing about the wheels on the bus at the top of their voices (well, Alice’s

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