Page 86 of Polo Fever
My eyes fall to my shoes as I shift my weight from one leg to the other.
‘But I don’t want you to think that no one here cares about you. So, if you want to talk about it, please don’t think that because I’m in DQ and you’re in Maycourt, we can’t.’
I look up at him, fixing a smile. ‘Thanks. How are you feeling about the match today?’
After the slog of getting through yesterday in one piece, I’m desperate to talk about anything other than this. Jules messaged to say that if I needed today off, I could have it, but I wanted to keep busy. I needed to. So I came to the stables this morning with my game face on and thankfully, aside from Jules checking in, no one else has mentioned it. I’m hoping from the way I’ve thrown myself into things this morning, they know I’d rather pretend like nothing had happened. A few pointed looks and whispers from the grooms on other teams this morning have been unavoidable and unsurprising – every article announcing Chris’s memoirs has mentioned me, reiterating that after losing my job from the fallout of the scandal, I now work at the Maycourt Polo yard.
As Mum told me on the phone yesterday, this is just another wave for me to ride out and I’ve already proven I can do it once. I can do it again.
‘I’m feeling confident,’ Basilio answers, reaching up to pat Byron. ‘What about Maycourt? I hope you’re planning on giving us a bit of a challenge out there today.’
‘No doubt about it.’
The corners of his lips twitch. ‘Should be an entertaining match, then.’
‘Certainly for our side.’
His smile breaks and he chuckles. ‘Don’t count on it, Ash.’
We’re interrupted by Mateo, who’s marching past on the hunt for something when he stops dead in his tracks on seeing us. His expression darkens as he comes over.
‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he says to me before glowering at Basilio. ‘Shouldn’t you be warming up with your own team?’
Basilio sighs tiredly. ‘Good morning to you, too, Mateo. How did you enjoy the party the other night? You seemed to be having a great time. I was sorry not to see you there, Ash.’
I frown at him. ‘What party?’
‘The night before last. It was organised by one of the sponsors of the tournament at a bar on the marina,’ Basilio explains, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. ‘You didn’t know about it? The Maycourt team were all there.’
‘It was the night you went to bed early,’ Mateo tells me. ‘You messaged to let me know you’d be going straight back to the hotel and the others persuaded me to go last minute.’
I don’t say anything, irrationally bothered that I didn’t know anything about it.
‘And we missed you yesterday on the yacht, Ash,’ Basilio adds, ‘but I appreciate you had other things on your mind.’ His eyes flicker across to Mateo. ‘I hope you didn’t have to go through it all alone.’
‘I think it’s time you go,’ Mateo says bluntly. ‘I would like to speak to Ash.’
Basilio nods. ‘Of course. See you on the field.’
Smiling gently at me, he strolls off. My jaw tensing, I avoid looking at Mateo, instead returning my attention to Byron and crouching down to finish bandaging his legs.
Mateo’s voice, soft and worried, comes floating above me. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ I respond coldly.
‘I haven’t seen you all morning.’
‘I’ve been working.’
‘I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.’
I finish securing the bandage and straighten, moving across to the other leg. ‘I don’t want to talk about it today.’
There’s a moment’s pause. ‘You should have let me come over,’ he says dismally.
‘You were busy.’
‘Ash,’ he says, coming round to join me on the other side of Byron, ‘would you stop doing that for a second so we can talk?’
